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trevorendeavors · 2 years ago

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So. That Florida Bathroom Bill, huh?

TW: bathroom bills, transphobia, internalized transphobia.

I ain’t beating around the bush. I will be using strong language here. If that ain’t your cup of tea or if you’re just here for my usual brand of gay fanart and fic, it’s okay to scroll past this post. Really. I won’t judge. This is one doozy of a vent.

For the people in my DMs asking me if I’m okay (as a trans person in Florida considering recent bathroom bill bullshit) I’m just… sitting here with an exasperated sigh.

It’s funny that the first time I hear of this is from a DM from someone on the other side of the world. I’ve been deliberately avoiding lgbt Florida news for some time because the more I think about it, the harder it is to be civil in transphobic conversations.

Last night I was deadnamed in front of a few people, and today at my graduation I’ll likely be deadnamed in front of a whole convention center. That’s what I get for not changing my name legally, huh. Oh well. Didn’t wanna go through all the paperwork just yet (in case I go for a different name) so I’m stuck with the one I’m sure I don’t want.

So again, I try not to think about it.

But yeah. It sucks.

Honestly? The bathroom bill doesn’t change much for me. It’s still the same shit as always.

The one time I went into the men’s restroom, I freaked out a cis guy so badly (poor dude was genuinely scared of ME accusing HIM of something bad) that I never did that again.

As for women’s restrooms (the one I most frequently use) that’s a whole other deal. Most days, I don’t pass. I’ll just go out and say that. I have a high voice, boobs, and a bit of hips. Some days I dress really feminine too, so it only makes sense. No one here is going to buy “see I LOOK like a woman but no see I’m secretly a ‘man but not quite’ inside but I wear makeup as a kind of exaggerated cosplay of a gender I am NOT, y’see?”

I don’t want to have a nuanced discussion of gender in the bathroom. Most people 30+ in age don’t even know what non-binary is and barely get the concept of trans. As much as I love being and educator and advocate, after a long road trip I want to piss and get on with my life. Also cis men have told me the horror stories of male bathrooms (how do you get shit ON the ceiling????) and then I’m thankful to have been “born a woman” or whatever.

Most days I don’t think about it too hard. But on my more dysphoric days or when on the blessed days I do genuinely pass more masc - when I go into the bathroom looking like this:

I genuinely don’t know which bathroom to use.

It’s embarrassing. Especially when there’s no family restroom available. And when I go to the women’s restroom, I sometimes get these looks. Brief, surreptitious glances they think I don’t notice. To ease tensions, I lift my pitch and give a compliment. I even puff out my (binded) breasts slightly as if to say, “Yes, I have tits and a pussy, does that soothe your cisnormative and petty fears that I would assault you?”

Jesus, some days I wish I could say that quote outright. But I can’t, and I know it’s not fair to them. They’re scared, I get it. I remind them of a traumatic experience. Sometimes, certain people who have nothing to do a trauma invoke fears of it unintentionally by raising their voices or saying something off or even existing. But that’s MY responsibility to fucking deal with that. Other people can’t help existing.

By and large, people with transphobic tendencies here are usually nice. Beyond, nice even. They’ll help you host a spontaneous ice cream party. They’ll buy you allergy meds when you’re choking. They’ll take you in after your mother kicked you out. Like I said, genuinely sweet and kind people.

Which makes it harder when they accuse trans people of transitioning to skirt military drafts, to cheat at sports, to deal with mommy issues. When they equate gays to sex crimes (yes, the ones you’re thinking of). When they refuse to call you your full name. When they call you a baby who refuses to clean her pooped diapers.

I try to be nice. But by god, is my patience waning…

By. Fucking. god.

I’m tired of the way it’s affected me. Making me feel worth less than cis folks, like my feelings matter less. Even worse, I hate how it makes me jealous and spiteful towards younger trans folks in better situations. Younger trans folk I don’t understand. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an excuse to mistreat them the way I was mistreated. And I’m genuinely glad that they’re living a better life. I have to work on these thoughts, it’s my responsibility. It would be nice, though, to live in a world where I could devote more energy to celebrating our collective existence instead of surviving it.

That being said, I’m grateful for the people here and in person who have stuck by my guns. The people who check in on my when shit gets worse in terms of politics.

What helps most?

What really helps is when people get mad WITH me. For so long I was told my anger was something to be stowed away, to be quietly extinguished with calm words or relieved by some masturbatory exercise of civil discourse. You know. Where you get off to talking civilly but don’t actually get anywhere and you still have to live in a world that was just as transphobic as before. I just want people to be pissed WITH me. To share in my anger and frustration. To join me as I slam the desk, flip the table, and cry to the heavens,

This fucking sucks

Right now this matters to me even more than action. These check ins, sharing in my anger - it helps, it really does. Makes me feel less alone in the world.

#Trevor screams #Trevor talks #Godspeed if you got through this absolute motherfucker of a vent #tw: vent #tw: transphobia #TW: internalized transphobia #TW: some suggestive language towards the end #Florida #Florida bathroom bill #trans bathrooms #ron desantis

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 4 months ago

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I know $60 for dog medicine isn’t insane, but dang, this is bad timing.

I am exactly one week from the little comic convention that’s my only chance of fun for the year, and the roller coaster of will I or won’t I get to go is driving me nuts!

One day I get a gift from an online friend (Thanks again!) that makes me sure I can go, the next day I have a problem with one of the dogs and then I am back to not knowing if I can afford to go!

It’s funny (pathetic) really. The con is only 50 miles away and admission is cheap. Most people would find it a no brainer to go, especially when it’s your only social activity/recreation of the entire year.

But then most people have “disposable income”.

I ain’t got any income at all, and not one penny I have is disposable! LOL

You know though, I have been so busy surviving, doing things because I have to do them rather than because I want to do them, that I deserve a day “off”. I feel guilty saying it, but I kinda think it’s true. One day a year doing something for myself shouldn’t feel shameful, for crying out loud!

I know you are saying, well just spend a day at home lounging about reading or something. That’s free! But the simple fact is, if I am at home I will HAVE to be useful. After half an hour flopped I will feel guilty and end up trying to repair the sink or out cutting brush or something for a few hours. To actually take a break I need to go somewhere else.

Next Saturday will I be afford to take a day (or 9 hrs of it) for me? Who knows!!!

I hope I can decide after Thursday. That day I’ll check the bank account, do the shopping for the month, and buy gas**. If I have enough money left then, I’ll just have to cross my fingers crossed nothing else goes wrong before Saturday.

Of course, if I do get to go, and with the money already used on shopping, I’ll have to spend the rest of the month with my fingers crossed I don’t need more until September. My fingers are going to get soooo sore! LOL

**Weird it isn’t pinging at me yet, even though it’s fallen below the last mark on it’s way to the dreaded E. It always pinged before!

#my day #money #comic con #poverty #It’s so funny to think I used to travel places #I’ve been to something like 45 states and 5 countries #now I can’t go 10 miles more than once a month #to see the exciting sights if Walmart Dollar Tree and Food Lion #I want to go to the movies or bookstore or out to eat or the beach or #but no #next life I do things different and figure out how to make money #gah I hate everything costs money

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thislovintime · 2 years ago

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Peter Tork, 1965, 1967, and 2004 (photos 3 & 4 by Jim Steinfeldt/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images).

“[T]hen I said [to Bob Rafelson], ‘Listen, I know another guy that’s a lot like me and he’s probably a little brighter, and he might be a little bit quicker and funnier.’ […] I called him [Peter] up. He said, ‘I’ll come down.’ And two days later, I found out that he had gotten the job and he called me to thank me. It was funny. I was amused that he took it because he was kind of a hipster.” - Stephen Stills on recommending Peter Tork for The Monkees, 1988 interview quoted in Canyon of Dreams: The Magic and Music of Laurel Canyon (2009)

“Steve knows this guy, and it turns out to be Bob Rafelson, one of the producers, who says to him, in his own inimitable way, ‘Well, we like ya a lot, but your hair and teeth are wrong for our production, they ain’t photogenic. You know anybody who looks like you who’s got good hair and teeth?’ Stephen said, ‘My friend Peter.’ And so Stephen called me and said, ‘Go try out for this thing.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, yeah, sure, Steve, yeah, right, instant success, gimme a break.’ And he said, ‘No, no, really, try out.’ ‘All right, all right, all right.’ So, you know, I took my hard-earned savings, which I’d been making washing dishes at this club in southern, way southern California, fifty miles south of Hollywood, and took a bus up to Hollywood and back down again, and up and down for auditions. And eventually won the part.” - Peter Tork, NPR, June 1983 (x)

“There was one guy, Steve, whom I liked enormously. Unfortunately he wasn’t quite right, but he had musical intelligence and I went so far as to ring him up and ask him along again. When he realized he wasn’t going to make it he suggested I get in touch with someone he knew, a certain Peter Thorkelson. I might have said ‘Yeah’ and forgotten about it — particularly as this Peter Thorkelson hadn’t even answered the ad and we had a lot of guys who had. Yet I remember I went to great lengths to contact him. I found him working as a dishwasher — not even as a musician, so you can imagine it took a while tracing him. But when I heard him, I knew at once he was right. I was knocked out.” - Bob Rafelson, NME, August 12, 1967 (x)

Q: “Do you have any regrets about the Monkees?” Peter Tork: “Oh, dozens of little ones, sure. But in a way, nothing that I had any handle on. There were stands I wish I had been able to take sometimes, but you can’t do what you can’t do. If I had been the person who could’ve taken the stands, maybe they wouldn’t have chosen me. You never know how this goes.” Q: “But you’re happy they chose you?” PT: “Oh sure. You know, I’m not going to tell you the story but I promise you that there were a number of events leading up to it that lead me to think that there was a certain kind of ordained quality to it all. I’m not a mystic, by any chance, but I’ve seen a lot of connections occur that standard, conventional Western logic isn’t large enough to take in. And I believe that this was pretty much set up somehow. It’s almost as if I had no choice. Things sort of occurred. For instance, Stephen Stills called me and said, ‘Go try out.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ and hung up and left and didn’t think about it. Well, he called again. Nobody’s ever called me with a suggestion like that twice. Not before, not since.” - The News and Observer, September 13, 2004

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zaunrising · 10 months ago

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Time is a funny thing.

It was late at night, or perhaps early in the morning. That odd in between time when no one was quite sure if they should be saying good eve, or good morn. It didn’t particularly matter regardless. This, was The Last Drop. Time wasn’t measured in terms of night or day. It wasn’t measured by breakfast and dinner, sun and moon, or even by the normal working hours of the various businesses around it. No, time here was measured by drinks poured, the loudness of conversation, and the music being played. A period with lots of drinks, conversation bustling throughout the club, and hard pounding music might be the high time. Daytime, one might say, or if one preferred the “good” time of the evening. No customers, and boxes getting moved in and out for supplies might have been dusk or dawn. Anything in between? Late at night, or early in the morning, to one degree or another. Time never truly obeyed any conventional rules at The Last Drop. Some conversations stretched throughout an entire day, but only lasted for an hour or two. Some games lasted for a few hours, but stretched nearly out a day entirely.

Time? Inviolable? Tell that to a man who cared. Tell that to a Piltie. Not to the owner of The Last Drop. Not to Silco. Not to one of the most powerful men in the area who ruled his territory as he saw fit.

People created time, and measured it as they saw fit.

Control people, and you create their time.

You, tell them how to measure it.

Outside The Last Drop, time moved as it always did. Obedient to clocks, the sun, the moon, day, night, and human schedules. Silco was not outside The Last Drop however, he was inside, and time shifted.

Late at night, so very late it was near dawn and so in truth it was so very early in the morning. Almost no one else in the club except for a few employees attending to things, and perhaps some minuscule number of patrons. Quiet, peaceful, and for a moment it seemed as still as things could ever be. Leaving his coat in his office, Silco had ended up in the middle of the dance floor with his sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, as he had used to wear them years ago. Head tilted ever so slightly, he could very nearly hear the bustle of a tavern he’d spent time at, so long ago it felt now like another life. One eye closing for a second so brief it seemed more like a blink, Silco’s other eye stared blazing forward, reminding anyone that glanced over of the truth of who Silco was. Silco’s blurred vision rendered near useless with an explosion of orange, and fiery red reminded him that whatever bustle he might be hearing from the past… was, in fact, from another life. A life that had died in a river with a friend standing over him, and a moment of desperation. Two men as close as men could be, both left with scars, and both changing irrevocably as a result.

Sometimes, though, the past could return in some small way. Even if only for a short while.

Struck by sudden impulse, Silco moved forward to the jukebox and punching a quick series of numbers into it flipped to a record few could access. He wasn’t ashamed of it, and couldn’t be bothered to hide it, but it wouldn’t do to have the atmosphere in The Last Drop suddenly shift because of someone hitting the wrong kind of song. A song years old, and one that brought him back to his childhood for a few short minutes. Eyes open, and staring into the past, his lips parted to sing softly along with one particular song as his hands rested on the jukebox.

“Jesse got trapped in a coal mine, digging in the dark black pearl. Jesse got trapped in a coal mine, never did marry his girl. There ain’t no air, and there ain’t no light, and there ain’t no way to make it out alive. His wedding was planned for the 5th of July, but Jesse got trapped in a coal mine and never did marry his girl. Your hands get black and your eyes get burned, your lungs get tired and poor. It draws you in like an opium den, and beckons you back for more.”

The vaunted Eye of Zaun for three minutes and fifty-three seconds stood at a jukebox softly singing along to a song. His voice soft enough few could hear, but the club was quiet enough it could be picked up if someone wanted. A song about, of all things, a miner who never made it back and a woman left to grieve alone. No revolution, no strife, no call for violence. No deep pounding beat to get people dancing, no soft sounds of love for people to smile to, but also no easily ignored background noise this. Just a song about a miner, and loss, and a reminder that sometimes people don’t make it even when they fight as hard as possible. Of course, just because people don’t make it doesn’t mean they aren’t remembered.

Sometimes, Silco wondered how long it took for Jesse to meet his second death.

How long before Jesse was forgotten by all, and died a second final time.

Sometimes he wondered which was more important.

That Jesse had tried as hard as he could to make it back, or that the man had died.

Did the attempt alone grant its own kind of honor, and respect?

Could failure remove all the honor, and respect?

“Down, down on her knees, she cried. My love is somewhere in that mountain.”

As the song faded, Silco’s one good eye blinked, and he pulled himself back into the present. Hitting a button had the jukebox flip to some random record. Silco couldn't care less what played next. One slow steady calm breath as he turned, and pulled his sleeves back down to their normal position, buttoning them properly while heading to the bar.

Time was malleable. Time shifted, and could at times be hard to define. Time, however, always passed, and always moved forward. Not even Silco could change that. Not even in The Last Drop could that be changed. Time moved forward, and so it was time for Silco to return to the present and move with it.

Some, however, might say Silco had never moved with time. Not really. You might say he had been frozen in time during one particular night.

A night on which trusted, perhaps loved, hands had shoved him underwater. Trusted hands tried to kill him, and although he’d never admit it… had.

One man had been lost in pitch black, polluted water.

Another man, seemingly immovable, and unstoppable, had climbed out of that water. Someone that refused to bend, or change with time. Someone that deep within still felt that water drip from him, and that pain in an eye suddenly lost. A man who, even as he climbed out of the water, had kept so much of it with him, he might as well have never left. Time passed, but some moments never quite ended. Some moments kept a person frozen within them, and made it near impossible to step away.

On some nights though, be it for a minute, three minutes, or five minutes, for however long a particular song might last. A frozen moment thawed, and someone else pushed forward.

On some nights… a person might catch a glimpse not of Silco the Industrialist, the revolutionary, the Eye of Zaun. Some nights a person might catch a glimpse of Silco the miner, a man who years ago had fought, and drank, and loved, and worked right alongside everyone else. A man who had died in a river.

A man who still on occasion awoke, and wondered what Zaun was becoming.

A man could stand in another’s boots, on some nights, for as long as a song. After that, however, the owner returned, and a cold gaze turned to anyone who thought to question him or his choice of song a moment earlier. After all, time never stopped, and it never went backwards. At least, not for long.

Not even at The Last Drop.

#⌱ BUT I STILL BELIEVE IN LOYALTY | SILCO #⌱ MEMORIES SHARED | SILCO (drabbles)#⌱ THAT'S WHY WE FIGHT | SILCO (ic)

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thewarriorspecial · 1 year ago

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And I Slowly Fall To Pieces

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Rating: Explicit | 2.7k | Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner/Original Female Character

Additional Tags: Threesome - F/M/M, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs

Guy and Kyle are roommates and best friends. They share a lot of things. Lately, their hobby is picking up women together.

My take, in my weird little universe, on how Guy and Kyle get together.

"I usually love sleepin’ all alone This time around, bring your friend with you But we aint really gonna sleep at all"

It’s not often Guy leaves the comfort of his own bar to chase skirt, Kyle’s or otherwise. He doesn’t know when the last DJ convention was, but this snare drum laden robot fart music ain’t doin’ it for him. The only thing he can hear clearly is his own teeth vibrating. But they’re here because Kyle loves this shit. He loves the chase and Guy indulges him as often as he can.

“Often, often, girl, I do this often,” Kyle sings the lyrics into the ear of the beautiful girl grinding on his thigh. She lets Kyle dip her back as he drags his lips along her throat. Guy could watch him do this all night. Kyle’s in his element and even though he’s a shit tier dancer his game with women is deific. Guy thinks it’s the eyes. Personal opinion.

Guy watches the girl run her hands all over Kyle’s half-tucked button-up and feels his pulse thunderclap in the storm of lust and jealousy building in his chest. She was hot in a lot of the same ways Kyle was hot. She was toned and petite. Her little crop top showed off the dimples in her back and a cute flower tattoo that disappeared beneath her mini-skirt. She had dark wavy hair that just touched her shoulders and some of the sweat-damp curls stuck to her neck. Her heavy eye makeup made her light eyes seem to glow in the dim light.

Kyle looks up from the girl’s ample cleavage with a smirk. Soon he’s gonna bring her over and charm them all into coming back to his apartment. It’s insane. He comes to the same place, with the same song requests and the same lines and scores like Ovechkin coming from the left circle. Like, come on, you see him there. You know what’s coming. And Guy’s gonna let it happen. He’s gonna pour himself into goin’-out clothes he hasn’t worn since college, grab the keys to the Firebird, and stand right in front of that wrist shot on the off chance Kyle gets drunk enough to kiss him again.

That night would live in Guy’s head for the rest of his life. Kyle had been railing that tall, curvy blonde on the kitchen table when Guy, transfixed, reached a hand out to caress her body. His fingers travelled over her breasts, her belly, down her thigh, and then over Kyle’s bicep, down his ribs and over his hip until Guy had an unintentional handful of Kyle’s perfect ass. Kyle had turned, eyes alight and teeth bared and Guy was sure he was getting clocked. But Kyle had clamped his hand on the back of Guy’s head and dragged him down for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss.

Normal people had their awakenings when they saw an actor or a classmate that made them feel things. Guy realized he was definitely into men mid-threesome as he contemplated how much he’d like to shove his fingers up his best friends’s ass. Life’s funny that way.

Now Kyle’s headed towards the bar with his prey in tow. He’s grinning like a cat that’s about to drop a half-dead kill in Guy’s lap. Guy smiles to himself as he sips his drink and looks away, like he hasn’t been watching them this entire time. He’s slouching against the bar, one leg draped over a barstool like he’s saving a seat for someone else. His outfit is understated, black jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket. He doesn’t like to think about clothes too much; he can’t really tell colors apart and they all clash with his hair anyways. And he’s been told on no uncertain terms that the amount of neon green and leopard print in his possession is a violation of the highest order.

Kyle introduces Lacey and she offers Guy her hand, palm facing down. Guy unfolds himself into his full height, enjoying the way her glossy lips part and her pretty eyes travel down his body and back up. He takes her hand gently, kissing her knuckles. He lets his voice go low and raspy as he leans in to rumble in her ear, “Nice to meet you.”

Lacey’s free hand hovers over Guy’s chest in an unspoken question so Guy takes both of her hands and lays them right on his pecs. He steps closer, pressing her between himself and Kyle, “We doing drinks or are you ready to get out of here?” He rumbles in Kyle’s ear now and he can feel Lacey shiver.

“I know, she’s so hot right?” Kyle’s grinning ear to ear, one arm still wrapped around Lacey and one hand resting on Guy’s arm.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Guy asks Lacey, “Two for the price of one?” When Lacey only nods he asks, “How drunk are you?”

“Oh, I’m good. I only had two drinks. And I can handle my drinks. I’m a total lush!” Lacey laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear.

“That so?” Guy asks with a challenging grin, “You ever done anything like this before?”

Lacey giggles again, briefly coving her face with her hand. She leans in like she’s telling Guy a secret, “Only once in college. With another girl!”

“Oh you’re fun. You hear that, Kyle?” Guy asks and Kyle nods vigorously. The fingers of his free hand are trailing under the hem of her skirt, “She’s had practice.”

“So have we,” Kyle whispers huskily, eyes locked on Guy’s as he mouths Lacey’s neck again. The two men share a smile as they gently tease the woman pressed between them and she clutches Guy’s shirt like a lifeline.

“Let’s hit it, then,” Guy makes a show of picking up the clearly badged key from where it rested on the bar-top. He throws an arm over Kyle’s shoulders, nudging Lacey in front of them as they exit the club.

——

In this moment, kneeling on Kyle’s bed, watching Kyle curl his tongue over Lacy’s clit in slow, doting strokes—Guy decides he might be in love. Or at least in awe.

Guy’s only ever gone down on Tora a handful of times. She was the quiet type too so he really had no idea if he was any good at it. Between Lacey’s thrashing and the puddle growing under Kyle’s chin he was obviously an expert.

Kyle was over there doing all kinds of things Guy had never thought of. With no internet on Oa, Guy didn’t really have porn to fill in the blanks either. Guy’s best friend, who he was in love with had a small, manageable crush on, was teaching him how to eat pussy by proxy. Kyle would turn his head, flip his hand over, change speed, alternate sucking and humming. It was hypnotic.

After a loud slurp, Kyle sat back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, fingers slick and shiny, “You doin’ okay, big guy?”

“Yeah, big guy,” Lacey echoed, dazed as she stretches to touch Guy’s knee.

“Yeah,” Guy says, clearing his throat, “Yeah. M’good.”

“Well, don’t be shy,” Kyle gestures to the beautiful woman stretched out in front of him.

“Right, right,” Guy crawls stiffly across the bed, crouching where Kyle had been, all of his extra height spilling over Lacey’s body. He was too nervous to go straight for the prize so he started by pushing Lacey’s crop top up, gently pinching and rubbing her nipples.

“Oh, God,” Lacey’ back arched and her thighs wrapped around Guy’s waist.

“Take your jacket off and stay a while, chief,” Kyle said as he started pulling Guy’s jacket off from behind. Lacey sat up suddenly, reaching to help Kyle slowly slide the jacket down Guy’s massive arms. As Kyle pulled the jacket away, Lacey was already pushing Guy’s shirt up. Her hands flew to his abs and Guy felt the tips of Kyle’s fingers dragging along his skin as his shirt was pulled off too. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped. He kept his eyes on Lacey, hoping Kyle didn’t notice. Kyle was so close Guy could feel the heat of his skin on the back of his neck.

His skin, Guy thought as he realized Kyle had taken his own clothes off too. “Jesus,” Guy whispers as Lacey opens his fly and starts working his jeans off. Guy sits up on his knees to give Lacey room and he freezes when he feels the tip of Kyle’s warm, hard cock bump against his back.

“Sorry,” Kyle says with a shy laugh as he climbs back onto the bed and stretches out. He props himself up on one elbow, to watch Guy presumes, and Guy’s mouth goes dry. Kyle looks so fucking good laid out on the dark sheets like that. Guy had certainly had some thoughts before. He was curious. He knew he loved women, but he really liked women that felt like his equal. He had a special place in his heart for tiny tomboys and tall, buff girls that could kick his ass. And now here was Kyle. He had a very pretty face, but he was very male. And that was not a turn-off.

“Oh, wow,” Lacey sighs when she finally has Guy’s too-tight jeans out of the way. She wraps both of her hands around Guy’s length and still has some to spare. Guy jumps at the touch but he cannot tear his eyes away from Kyle because Kyle’s stroking himself languidly and staring right back. Another groan is ripped out of Guy and whether its from Lacey’s tongue lapping at his dick or watching Kyle touch his own, Guy’s not too sure.

Guy leans back, Lacey comes up on all fours and tosses her hair out of the way, and Kyle scoots to get behind her. Guy feels Lacey moaning around his cock and it makes the insides of his thighs tremble. He feels as much as he hears her slurping and softly gagging as she enthusiastically tries to fit as much of Guy into her throat as she can.

“Easy honey, I’m a big boy. We got all night,” Guy tries to keep his voice steady and he realizes the slurping is coming from behind Lacey and Kyle’s neck deep in her pussy again. Guy closes his eyes and rests his hand behind Lacey’s head, just gently encouraging her rhythm without pushing too hard. He listens to the soft little sounds coming from the pair and thinks about how badly he wants to fuck them both. Just pull Kyle down right next to her and pound right into both of them, one after the other, back and forth. She’s obviously down, but wondering how much Kyle would let him get away with is intriguing. He can almost imagine the head of dark, wavy hair between his legs is Kyle. And then Lacey. And then Kyle. Yeah that’s going in the Spank Bank vault.

Kyle emerges from behind Lacey and starts crawling towards Guy. His chin and fingers are dripping wet again. That image is going in the vault too. Guy keeps his hands firmly planted on Lacey so they don’t do anything stupid.

“She tastes so good, Guy.”

“Oh yeah?” Guy cups his hand around Lacey’s chin and gently brings her up for a slow, sensual kiss. Lacey moans and climbs into his lap. As she grinds against him, he can feel her warm, wet lips sliding up and down his shaft like a sweet little hug. “Mm, you’re right. She does.”

Before Guy can carry on kissing Lacey, Kyle grabs Guy’s face with his cool, damp fingers and seals his mouth over Guy’s. Kyle’s tongue pushes into Guy’s mouth and Guy realizes that salty sweetness he’s swallowing isn’t spit. He cock jumps so hard he misses twice as he grabs Lacey’s hips and slides her halfway down his length. He knows he should slow down and take his time with his heavy equipment but he’s lost between Lacey’s heat and Kyle’s mouth. He feels Lacey’s tongue lapping at his cheek where Kyle’s wet fingers have his jaw in a death grip.

Guy has to twist away so he can breathe, “Save some for our guest, bud.” Kyle grabs Lacey roughly by the hair and kisses her breathless too.

“God, please,” Lacey begs between kisses as she struggles in Guy’s lap, “Please fuck me. Please.” Guy shoulders his way passed Kyle, breaking off their kiss as he lays Lacey on her back. She’s so tight and he tries to start a slow, steady pace but Kyle’s hands are at the small of his back, pushing him forward. Lacey pulls her knees to her chest and becomes a shivering, moaning mess. “Don’t stop,” she begs as her head falls back, “don’t stop.”

Kyle’s hands work slow circles on Guy’s back, like he’s working up the confidence to touch more. Guy shifts his weight onto one arm so he can get a hold of Kyle’s arm and pull him down next to Lacey. Kyle’s back barely hits the sheets and he’s already sitting up, “I—I’m sorry, I don’t know what—“

“Easy baby,” Guy says, stroking Kyle’s belly, ‘We’re good. C’mere,” he pulls Kyle right up against Lacey’s side. She turns to kiss Kyle and Kyle takes her hand, threading their fingers together. The whole bed rocks with Guy’s movements and Kyle starts stroking himself to Guys’ rhythm with his eyes fixed on where Guy and Lacey’s bodies are joined. Guy takes in the hazy look in Kyle’s eyes, the way his bangs are clinging to his sweaty face, how good the salt of his sweat smells combined with the sweetness of Lacey’s wetness.

Fuck it, Guy thinks as he wraps his free hand around Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s hand reaches up to twist in the sheets above his head. His legs fall open and his head tips back. His resonating growls follow Lacey’s sweet moans like an echo. Their knuckles are turning white where their hands are joined, clinging to each other as Guy works them both towards orgasm.

“Holy fuck,” Kyle growls as his toes curl. Holy fuck, Guy thinks as he realizes he was too stupid to put a fucking condom on and the familiar coil of heat at the base of his spine is about to snap. He feels Lacey’s nails gently scratch at his pecs.

“Fuck yeah, cum for me, fill me up,” Lacey croons. Kyle makes a sound like he got punched in the gut and wet heat flows over Guy’s wrist and forearm.

Guy does as he’s told and cums so hard his hamstrings try to cramp. He hopes no one mentions the embarrassingly high noise that ripped out of his throat. With the last of his strength he shoves himself into the middle of the pile and accidentally wipes the sweat off his face with his cum drenched hand.

“Ugh. When I can feel my feet, we’re getting showers,” Guy complains. Curious, he licks tentatively at the back of his hand. He turns to face Kyle who’s wide eyed and flushed. “You uh, You taste really good too.”

“Thanks, I think,” Kyle says with the hint of a shy smile working its way through the stress lines on his face.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here,” Guy says to Lacey but she’s already passed out and quietly snoring. “Well,” Guy says, suddenly sitting bolt upright and scooting to the edge of the bed, “Uh,” he gathers his clothes from the floor without looking at Kyle, “See you in the morning?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can talk then?”

“Of course,” Guy shuffles to the door, stops, and turns back. Kyle’s sitting up with his arms wrapped around his knees and he’s chewing his lip. Guy crosses the distance between them. He looks into those lovely eyes for a long moment, hoping to be thunderstruck with the right thing to say. When nothing comes to mind he does what feels right instead. He leans down and gently pecks Kyle on the lips. Kyle’s eyes slide closed and he returns the gesture. “Look kid, we’re friends no matter what. Everything else is gonna fall into place no matter what, okay?”

Kyle smiles, that radiant grin of his, and Guy tucks him in.

#*myfic #guykyle

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Note

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately.

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.”

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment.

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way.

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.”

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie.

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone.

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed.

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island. It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words.

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest.

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face.

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly.

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it.

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

2K notes · View notes

septiembrre · 3 years ago

Note

favorite fic you wrote this year

I'm going to cheat and say Chapter 5 of Get to Be Mine which isn't an actual whole fic but writing and posting it did feel like a victory.

I'm obsessed with every part of it. It all does so much for me. Love it when I show up for myself like that. 🤣

Ultimately, they craft a message—Beth is only allowed one, What’s a good time for us to talk? Together, they watch as the message turns blue and is marked as delivered. They stay watching it until it’s clear there will be no immediate reply and then they wrap up, putting everything back in its place.

Before they leave, Annie finally relinquishes the phone back to Beth and the three of them check the thread one last time and find that a little notification has appeared.

Read 12:47 am.

I have to say that writing off-screen Rio being in his feelings, and Beth's reactions to getting ghosted were very thrilling to me. It's my kind of drama.

That being said though... I write for myself first and all the things I wrote last year give me joy. They're ~~~all my favorites~~~. I reread some of them over the course of this week. Satisfied Through The Weekend and the first chapter of If It Feels Good thrill me. Here is another indulgent excerpt from Off The Cuff (the promptfill about handcuffs).

This Thursday Rio messes with the ritual. He messes with it and he messes it up.

Instead of their usual date (a convention of speech—not a real date because sure they’re having—y’know—but she’s not naive! She still has sense!), Rio asks her to meet a little earlier for coffee. He wants to try this new place and it’s nice and fun (and sweet) that he wants to try it with her, so she puts on the green silk blouse with the necktie she knows he likes to tug open, and she pulls on her soft, slouchy beanie, to match him and the coffee shop theme. And, yes, they’re not dating, but they are partners in crime, and matching is nice! Matching is fun.

But—

Life is weird.

It’s weird the way memory and new experiences collide—because this place, the coffee shop, is right across the street from the store where Dean maxed out the last of their credit card limit buying lingerie for a woman who wasn’t her.

And it’s funny, but after everything, after the divorce and her whole life turning upside down, she didn’t expect the sight of it to make her feel much of anything at all. But, it does. She can’t stop looking at it, keeps finding herself staring at it through the window. Her thoughts circle the old wound, prodding at it as her coffee goes cold on the table before her.

“‘Ey, Elizabeth.” Rio’s knee nudges hers under the table.

Beth’s gaze swivels back to him.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“What do you mean?”

He purses his lips. “You ain’t been listenin’ to a word I’ve said.” Rio ducks forward to catch her view of the store across the street. He turns to her, grin sharp. “If you wanted to go shopping all you had to do was ask, darlin’.”

And again, they’re not dating, but he is kind of almost her friend, if you squint and look at them in a certain way, so today, a little bruised, she tells him this story about her shitty ex-husband.

:) I can chat about these all day! Thank you to everyone who read my fic this year.

#my fic #preguntitas

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writingkeepsmewhole · 4 years ago

Text

Show Me Your Eyes.

This is part 2 of Snow In The Dark

Fic Summary: Snow has never known who she was. Being raised in the streets made her strong but lonely. That changed when she met Jack them becoming as close as sisters. She thought she found her family. That all changes when she crashes on a planet with only one rule. Stay in the light.

Part Summary:Snow get’s locked up with Riddick.

Riddick x OC Snow

Warnings: Language I think that’s it.

Let me know if you want to be tagged :P

Part 1

When Johns wanted to go farther away from the ship I decided that was when me and Jack should head back.

Jack whined a bit but she still listened following back towards the crashed ship. Just both freezing when the distant pops filled our ears.

“What was that?” She asks looking up at me.

“Gun shots.” I say picking up my pace.

When we reached the ship we found out there was another survivor. The only problem was Zeek thought he was Riddick, him putting a few bullets in the man's back.

“So you just shot him? Just like that?” I ask, looking down at the deadmans body.

Most people would have been grossed out or bothered by it but when you're raised like I was, seeing a corpse is just another tuesday.

“Johns told me to.” Zeek says as if that explained everything away.

“Who made him the boss?”

“Look there is no point in worrying about it now. The man is dead, bury him with the rest and worry about getting us off this planet.” Paris says, him cleaning his glasses.

“I am gonna worry about it. What if Johns tells him to shoot me or Jack? I wanna know if he is just going to listen.”

“He told Zeek to shoot Riddick because he’s a killer.” Sharon says stepping into my bubble.

“Yeah and now so is Zeek funny how that works. Come on Jack lets go.” I say moving away from them.

I step down onto the sand and walk away from them.

“Why are you so mad about Zeek killing that guy?” Jack asks, walking next to me.

Us not really headed in any direction just away from them.

“It’s not that he killed the guy. We both know I got blood on my hands. It's just I don’t like the fact when Johns said jump Zeek said how high.”

“Johns was the one that busted your lip right?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the only thing.” I say thinking about my encounter with Riddick.

Sure he was intense but I didn’t feel scared of him.

“What’s the other thing?”

“Doesn't matter. We should find something to help with no point in just wasting our energy.” I say smiling down at her.

“Okay, do you care if I go help Sharon?”

“Sure kid. Just stay within yelling distance.”

“You got it.” She says smiling and jogging back towards the ship.

Not sure what I could do to help the others I decided I should help myself instead. Scooping my long dark hair up I braid it away from my face and secure it in place with the band wrapped around my wrist.

I was dressed in only black tank top jeans and boots so there wasn’t much I could do for my clothes.

Heading towards the ship I walked through it seeing if I could find anything as a weapon. I wasn’t the best fighter, but I wasn’t going to let Johns smack me around.

I didn’t get a chance to find anything, the sound of screaming filling my ears. I don’t think as I push myself in the direction of the sound.

I slide to a stop seeing Sharon, Johns and Carolyn surrounding Riddick. Johns jerked his goggles off making Riddick yell in pain like he got hit in the face.

The sound made my fists clench. Anger running through me.

“Hey what are you doing?” I ask quickly moving next to them.

“He killed Zeek, I know it! Just kill him, kill him right now!” Sharon screams trying to jump at him.

Johns uses the butt of his gun slamming it into Riddick’s face, making him go limp.

“Stop it!” I say moving in between Johns and Riddick.

“You're protecting him? He killed Zeek!” Sharon screams at me trying to kick me.

I move out of the way, Johns grabbing my arm.

“Why are you protecting him?”

“I’m not!” I say jerking my arm from his touch.

“I’m getting tired of you lying to me.” He says grabbing me and throwing me to the ground.

“I can’t trust you anymore.” He says yanking my arms back, cuffing me.

“Let go of me!” I yell trying to fight him.

I look up at the others wondering if they really are going to let him do this to me. I get my answer when Sharon’s foot makes contact with my face, everything going dark.

I wake up to my head throbbing, a biting pain in my wrists. Groaning I sit up realizing I’m in the bottom of the ship.

My wrists chained to the floor.

“Must have down something pretty bad to have them lock you up with me.” Riddick says his deep voice makes me shiver.

Looking up I realize he is sitting on a metal box with both of his arms stretched out to each side, he was chained up as well.

“Yeah apparently protesting your abuse was a crime.” I say leaning my head on the wall next to me.

I was only a few feet from him just far enough away we couldn’t touch. I lift an eyebrow as that thought goes through my head. Like I wanted to touch him.

“You call that abuse, you ain't seen anything.”

“Well watching you get hit in the face with a gun wasn’t very pleasant to me.” I say looking up at him.

I watch the corner of his mouth lifts.

“Careful they might think you like me or something.”

I shrug knowing he can’t see it. He’s eyes were closed. Remembering the sound he made before tells me he didn’t like the light.

“You don’t like the light do you?” I ask, wanting to make conversation.

I found I liked the low rubble of his voice.

“Most people learn to adjust to the dark I was born in it.”

I snort making his head turn towards me.

“Well by that logic I guess I’m built for the cold.”

“Snow.” He says, or more like growls.

“You were born in the snow.”

“That’s what they tell me. Found me between my dead mother's thighs covered in her blood, my cord still attached.”

“Lifes a bitch huh?”

“Tell me about it.” I say closing my eyes.

My head was pounding from either the hit to the face or the lack of food and water. I open them and look up at Riddick.

My chest level with his knee making a weird sensation stur in my gut at practically sitting at his feet.

I blush hearing and watching Riddick take a deep breath through his nose as if he was smelling the air, smelling me.

Wanting him to stop doing that I use my foot to bump his boot with my own making his eyes open. I gasp when his gaze finds me.

His eyes silver, them shining like an animal. They meet mine, reflecting from the light coming from overhead. Them making my stomach flip from, deep part of my brain telling me that I was looking at something wild and unknown. Despite that I couldn’t look away.

“So that’s what Johns meant.” I say realizing he wasn’t human.

No human had eyes like that.

He cocks his head as if asking a question.

“He made you out to be something other than human. Guess he was telling the truth, about that at least.”

Chuckling he closes his eyes and leans back laying on the wall behind him.

“Well he’s bound to slip up and get at least one thing right.”

“So what are you?” I ask, not getting an answer.

“You tell me.”

“How would I know?”

“Because you smell just like me, only sweeter.” He says the last word coming out deeper then all the rest.

It makes a heat pool in my stomach. Him smirking as if he can smell that as well. I bite my lip and cross my legs not knowing what to say to that information.

“I’ll ask you again, are you scared of me?”

“No, more like intrigued.” I say honestly.

“Good.” He says silence falling around us.

We both sat there neither one of us talking but something told me Riddick wasn’t one for idle chit chat.

I look over him from head to toe thinking about what he said. What did he mean I smelt like him? Did that mean I was like him? Whatever he was. I couldn't lie. I didn’t know what I was. No one did, I was raised in the streets learning to survive on my own.

I wasn’t taken in and treated. No doctor visits to tell me what I was. I might not have been human, but then again what was human?

I look him over once again, the image of straddling his lap filling my mind. I shake my head and turn to look at the floor.

‘What the heck is wrong with you?’ I ask myself surprised by how my own body had a pull towards this man.

This convent, murderer. He wasn’t like a normal man. Anyone could tell that just by looking at him. It wasn’t his features it was more the way he moved. How he carried himself. He knew just how bad he was. He wasn’t cocky about it. He just knew. That made you know as well.

I chew my lip wondering what I would do. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to apparently straddle his lap and have him use me how he pleased but I couldn’t do that.

I had too many things to worry about. How to get off this planet being number one.

Hearing footsteps made me look towards the sound. Fry walked closer to us.

“So where's the body?” She asks, grabbing a beam next to her.

“Well hello to you too.” I mumble looking at her.

She glares at me then looks back at Riddick but he doesn't give an answer.

“Well do you want to tell me about the sounds?” She asks, sounding annoyed.

I look over at Riddick having no idea what she was talking about but it was clear that she wasn’t getting an answer to that either.

“Look, you told Johns you heard something.”

I drop my head on the wall behind me not stopping the smirk that comes to my face at him giving her the silent treatment.

“That's fine...You don't want to talk to me, that's your choice. But, just so you...there's a debate right now as to whether we should just leave you here to die.” She says looking from him to me.

“As for you, Johns said you are free to go.” She says, throwing me a key to my cuffs as if she was scared to get any closer.

I guess she was because of Riddick.

Turning away from us she turns to walk away as I start to uncuff myself.

“You mean the whispers?” Riddick asks, his deep voice chilling the humid air.

“What whispers?” She asks, coming back to join us.

“The ones telling me to go for the sweet spot just to the left of the spine…. Fourth lumbar down. The abdominal aorta.” He says making my stomach flip for some reason.

I kinda scared myself realizing that someone talking about killing another human was turning me on.

‘What is wrong with you?’ I think, biting my lip.

“It's a metallic taste, human blood. Copperish. If you cut it with peppermint schnapps, that goes away-.”

“Do you want to shock me with the truth now?” Fry asks, cutting him off.

I look at Riddick, my mind racing at what he just said but I don’t get time to process it.

“All you people are so scared of me.” He says once again making me wonder why I’m not.

“Most days, I take that as a compliment. But it ain't me you got to worry about now.”

“Show me your eyes Riddick.” Fry says changing the subject.

I turn and look at her cocking an eyebrow.

“You’d have to come a lot closer for that.” Riddick says a smirk on his face.

I watch as she takes a step forward, gulping.

“Closer.” He says.

I’m shocked to watch her do as he says as if she can’t realize he’s playing with her. Like a cat toys with a mouse before they eat it.

I barely react when Riddick stands up quickly making Fry jump and quickly move away from him.

Even from my spot on the floor I can see the shine of his eyes. The silver glow I saw before. It makes me want to stare at them for hours.

“How in the hell do I get eyes like that?” Jack’s voice asks, making my head snap in her direction.

“You gotta kill a few people.” Riddick says looking at her.

“Kay I can do it.” She says so matter of factly I roll my eyes.

She didn’t know what it was like to kill anyone. It's a lot harder then what people thought.

“Then you gotta get sent to a slam where they tell you you’ll never see daylight again.” He says looking back at Fry.

“Then you dig up a doctor, who you pay twenty menthol cools to do a surgical shine job on your eyeballs.”

“So you can see who’s sneaking up on you in the dark.” Jack says grinning.

“Exactly.” Riddick practically growls out at him grinning at her.

“Leave!” Fry says, making me clench my jaw and stand up.

I wasn’t about to let anyone talk to her like that. Like she was just someone to boss around.

Her eyes jump from me to Riddick then back to Jack.

“Leave, please.” She says this time more softly.

“Go ahead Jack.” I say softly when my sister’s eyes land on me.

Sighing she starts climbing back up the ladder, leaving us alone.

“Cute kid.” Riddick says smiling at me, it makes my stomach flip once again.

“Thanks.” I say not knowing what to say back, too confused by my body's reaction to this man to think straight.

“Did I kill a few people?” Riddick says sitting back down.

“Sure. But did I kill Zeek? No.”

“Then where's the body? We already looked in the hole?”

“Look deeper.” He says hiding a smirk but not before I caught it. Or maybe I just imagined it.

“Whatever.” Fry says starting to walk away, her stopping and looking back at me.

“Come on Johns wants to talk to you.”

Clenching my jaw I sigh and start to follow her. I’m stopped by Riddick placing his boot covered foot on my calf.

I look back at him over my shoulder, then glowing eyes once again meeting mine. The knot in my stomach, tightening.

“Do me a favor.”

“What? Break you out?” I ask since I still had the key Fry gave me.

“No, Johns will do that. It’s something else.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Stay above ground.” He says his voice sending chills through me as he lets me go.

#Snow in the Dark #riddick fanfiction #chronicles of riddick #riddick x reader #riddick x oc #riddick x you #Riddick x y/n #Riddick imagine #Richard B Riddick #pitch black fanfic #Pitch Black fanfiction #pitch black fic #Pitch Black #Show me your eyes

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jawritter · 5 years ago

Text

Masterlist

Dean Winchester One Shots HERE!!!!

Jensen Ackles One Shots HERE!!!

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Special Request:

Steve Carlson x Reader

Two out of three ain't bad

When you dragged out for your birthday against your will you run into someone you didn’t expect, but the best things than to be unexpected.

Best Bad Decision Ever Made

Requested: Steve Carlson x Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warning: Threesome

America’s Ass

Summary: Chris Evans shows you who you belong to, and all Jensen can do is watch...

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Bingo Masterlist:

SPN Dark Bingo Masterlist

SPN Christmas Bingo 2020 Masterlist

SPN Kink Bingo Masterlist

SPN Christmas Bingo Masterlist 2021

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All Series Masterlist Under the Cut!!

Promised Series Masterlist:

Story Description:

Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Omega!Reader

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

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A Thousand Years Masterlist…..

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master. – Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love A new town, a new job, and a new life, one that you didn’t even expect…

Based on the song: A thousand Years, by Christina Perri

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You and Me...

Jensen Ackles x Reader

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, noncon, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female noncon, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

Jensen Ackles x Reader Series.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

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Broken Me...

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warnings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I, unfortunately, have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turned up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suicide Attempt, a brief description of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self-loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Broken Me Masterlist!!

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Feral Masterlist

Alpha Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Series Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, ABO dynamics, knotting, claiming, and all the other fun stuff that comes with ABO! Feral Alpha, Angst, Some fluff in there somewhere, language I'm sure because it's me! Warnings will be placed over individual chapters!

Summary: True mates don't exist, at least that's what everyone tells you. It's nothing but a childish, fairytale notion to believe that such a person exists. Someone that is made just for you, your person. Who knew they were so wrong…

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Total Series Word Count: 7277

Feral Series Masterlist!

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The Arrangement

1k binge-read celebration

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: You are a young girl from Dallas that was arranged to marry a man that instead of becoming your husband when you became of age ran off to California to become famous. Now he's back, and its time to settle old debts.

The Arrangement Series Masterlist

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

When The Lights Go Out

Mobster!Dean Winchester x Escort!Reader

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested in a last-ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

SERIES MASTERLIST!

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The Good Wife

Summary: Y/N, a pure blood Omega is sent to an Omega Compound at only 16 years old to learn how to become a good wife for the Alpha that will chose her one day to be his mate. You were never prepared for the life you are not so gently thrust into when an greened eyed Alpha choses you from the rack.

The Good Wife Masterlist

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Twelve Days Of Christmas

Summary: Dean never realized that Y/N missed Christmas until he turned off an annoying Christmas song on the radio on the way home from a hunt, now he will make it his personal mission to give her the Christmas he misses so much, and if he plays his cards right, maybe he will give her what he has wanted to give her for so many years, himself.

Twelve Days Of Christmas Masterlist

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Where The Green Grass Grows

Summary: Life changes, nothing ever stays the same. With most change comes with some degree of pain, that’s how we grow.

Jensen thought he had his whole life planned out, written for him in the bright lights of Hollywood. One failed marriage later, and a lifetime of lessons learned, lead him home to a place he thought he’d left behind him when he was only a teenager.

He thought his life was over. He felt like he’d lost everything, but who knew one little trip to the local diner that had just opened up outside of town would turn his whole world upside down. All because he met you. Maybe a little slower pace of life isn’t such a bad idea after all…

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I’m Going Down

Summary: Six years was a long time to be alone, but as fate would have it a wounded stranger that you find in the woods would not only turn your world upside down; but he might just save your life in return.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

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Checkmate (One Going)

Summary: They're just dreams, very vivid dreams, at least that's what Jensen first thought when they started happening. Now, after a trip to a therapist office, he learns they might not be dreams after all, but rather memories of a past life that send him searching for an unpredicted turn of events that could effect the future...if he's lucky, if she exist at all.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader/ King!Jensen x Handmaiden!Reader

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Too Close To Gone

Summary: Dean’s been gone for a year. You have been gone from the Bunker for just about as long. When you finally get the guts to go back “home” after leaving, someone you never thought you’d see again stumbles into your life, and now you have to figure out how to move on with a constant reminder of what you’ve lost following you around in the flesh.

Pairing: HunterCorp!Dean Winchester x Reader

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

Blind Love

Summary: Dean is struck blind by a witches’ curse, and it’s up to the reader to look after him while Sam is gone to try and find a cure. The reader has to overcome her shy nature and feels she’s hiding from Dean in order to make him feel better.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

You Deserve To Be Happy

Summary: Even heroes get lonely. Dean had resided to his fate that one day he would die alone, but one trip on a supply run changes all of that.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Fight For Me

Summary: He found you in his darkest hour. There was something about this man that just wouldn’t let you leave him alone. He needed you, almost as much as you needed him. Sometimes, even the strongest people out there needs someone to fight for them too.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Nurse!Reader

Can We Fix Us

Summary: While Dean still had The Mark Of Cain, he rejected the only thing that mattered to him, even if he wasn’t man enough to tell you at the time. Now, he’s found you again, but is it to late to put the pieces back together of what you once where.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

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

Storm

Summary: Raised in a cult, married at a young age, and divorced after catching your husband cheating on you with your neighbor, you decide to leave behind everything you know after you lose everything you love, and start over again. Who knew one little stop at a gas station would change everything?

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Opposites Attract

Summary: Jensen's held up his 'family/good guy' image for a long time. When that image is gone or threated, then he's forced to do something he really doesn't want to do. Can he learn to love her before it's too late, and can she forgive him for the way he's treated her since the bigging?

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

The Devil’s In The Next Room

Summary: They told her he was The Devil in the flesh. She was just a hired escort, so it should have been just another job, so how did she get in so damn deep?

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Dean Winchester x Escort!Reader

My Brother’s Keeper

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Carry On

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Warnings: Heavy, HEAVY TW: Dean’s final episode of SPN. (Season 15x20 spoilers). Graphic injury. Me botching medical jargon, A lot of pain, blood, and hospital type atmosphere. Injured Dean Winchester. Depression. PTSD. Angst. Some fluff. Eventual Smut. (Each chapter will be warned and have their own warnings to the best of my abilities.)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Beau Arlen Fanfiction

You’re enough

Summary: Dealing with anxiety can be tough, and sometimes thoughts can be louder than someone screaming at her, but Beau is there to pull her out again.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reader

If It’s Meant to Be

Summary: Bad things happen to good people, that’s just the rule of thumb. But sometimes, things happen for a reason, and that reason is so you can find the person you’re meant to be with…

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!Reader

500 Follower Challenge Masterlist!

Jen’s Make Me Cry Challenge Masterlist!

#jawritter #masterlist #fanfication #fanfic masterlist #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #Dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #spnfanfiction #SPN Fanfic #SPN #Supernatural #jawritter masterlist

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years ago

Text

time for another goofass take it easy nonsense fic chapter! you like ghouls and demons and weird family dynamics? come on in and have some fun! this is set in my BJ Deetz au, so Beetlejuice is a teen, adopted by the Deetz family. There, you're all set, go read.

There’s a moment where they’re all staring at each other, siblings and their sudden guest all in the know, or at least partially, about secrets the others are holding, and none of them seem sure what their first move should be. Then Emily comes up, and puts her hands on her children’s backs, and leads them to the front door. “Kids, this is your dad’s cousin, Ash. Ash is going to be staying with us for a few days,” she tells them. “Ash, this is BJ, and Lydia.” “Hi,” Lydia squirms. “What’s good?” BJ tries to look casual. Ash, for his part, doesn’t seem inclined to mention the very clear demonstration of magic BJ had pulled in front of him, hardly a few hours ago. “Good to finally, officially, meet you kids,” he says, and then sticks out a hand to shake. BJ takes it, is given a shake, and Ash tilts his head. “You run hot. Feeling sick, BJ?” “Nah, just.. Always a little warm,” the demon pulls his hand back, and Emily smiles. “We’ll have dinner in a bit. Charles always cooks, he’s a great chef. Kids, can you show your uncle to the guest room?” She nudges them, and trapped by social convention and an inability to say no to Emily, BJ huffs, but nods. “Yeah, sure. Follow me, then.”

He’s so used to floating around the house that he has to really remind himself not to lift his legs and just levitate, like he normally does, and the feeling of his body physically trudging up the stairs is almost alien to him. Lydia, weird kid she is, scrambles up the stairs on all fours in front of them, and Ash follows dutifully behind them, as BJ leads him up to the second floor and then down the hall, to the guest room- the room across the hall from his own. He opens the door, gestures to it, and Ash steps in, looks around. “Well, it beats a motel six, that’s for god damn sure,” he says, setting his bag on the bed, and then he turns to look at the kids.

“So. Should we talk?” he quirks a brow. “Up here, where your parents can’t hear?” “Oh no, don’t tell me you’re a creepy kinda uncle,” BJ grimaces. “We’re family. Getchur head outta the gutter, kiddo. Now. That was some disappearing act you two pulled. Never seen anything like it, before.” “What can I say, I love illusions,” BJ tries. “M’gonna be the next Houdini.” “I bet. You wanna share how you did it?” “Magicians don’t reveal their secrets!” Lydia pipes up. The siblings are standing in the doorway, tense, as their newfound relative leans against one of the posters of the antique canopy bed frame. “That was a little more than stage magic. You learn to do that from the book?” Ash asks. BJ blinks. The monster hunter in front of them is still buying that he’s human. Okay.. okay. He can work with that. “Yeah, the book,” he agrees. “Pretty crazy, right?” “I’ve seen that book do wild things, but none of them ever good,” Ash tells them, arms crossed. “It might seem like a fun toy, giving you the ability to do stuff like that, but it’s like a snake, kid. It’s gonna turn on ya. Last thing I want is to have to ruin your daddy’s life by killing his two little treasures, when they get possessed and become deadites.”

BJ’s a little insulted on behalf of snakes, his aspect animal, but he understands the metaphor. Also, “You wouldn’t even hesitate?” he asks, and Ash shrugs. “I’ve taken out a lot of deadites. Once someone’s possessed, they don’t come back from it. No reason to go getting sentimental over who gets latched onto.” There’s a pain behind those hard dark eyes. “Don’t make me shoot the kid,” he nods to Lydia, who tries to match the cool guy vibe. “I’m not a kid, I’m eleven,” she argues, which doesn’t really help her case in the way she thinks it does. BJ puts a hand on her head. “No one’s doin’ anythin’ to Lydster,” he says, a growl in his gravelly voice, and Ash hardly reacts. “I’m tellin’ you, when this goes tits up, and it will, that I will be the one cleaning up the mess. And it’ll get a lot messier before it gets cleaner.” That doesn’t make much sense, but he gets the vibe uncle Ash is going for, at least.

“So if this book is so dangerous, why don’t you destroy it?” “You think I haven’t tried?” He sort of had assumed that, yes. “You can’t burn this thing, or drown it, or bury it. Whatever ancient evil powers it, doesn’t let it be destroyed. It’s humanity’s curse.” “You just sit around, practicin’ these kinda lines, or what?” “Funny. The book, BJ.”

BJ grimaces, but digs into his hoodie pocket, and impossibly, pulls an entire book out. Ash pauses, at that. “Wh-” BJ lifts the book, gives it another huff. The scent is a little addicting, honestly, but he passes it off to Ash, who takes it. “Got pretty cozy with this thing pretty fast,” the older man says. “You know it’s bound in human flesh, right?” Ooooh, that’s why it smells so good. Lydia, at least, has the sense to be disgusted. “Ewww, and I touched it,” she grimaces, and wipes her hands on BJ’s striped hoodie. “Guess th’ ink inside ain’t ink?” he asks, and Ash nods. “Human blood. Sort of cliche, but the ancient Sumerians weren’t askin’ me when they penned the damn thing, I guess.” Ooooh, again. No wonder he couldn’t read it. Ash finally takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and cracks the book open, thumbing through it. “Can you read what it says?” Lydia asks, curious, coming over to peer down at the book in Ash’s lap. “Sure!” and then a pause. “Well, not exactly, one hundred percent, all the way, no,” he admits. “I know a little, though.” “An’ you picked up ancient Sumerian where?” BJ asks, coming to stand behind Lydia. “I wouldn’t say I picked it up,” Ash avoids the question. “Just sort of learned enough through various means. My pronunciation is pretty good. I even remember most of the words.” That doesn’t instil a lot of confidence, but alright.

“Which passage did you read, to learn that teleportation trick?” Ash looks up at him, and BJ grimaces. “Uh, I dunno, it was.. In th’ middle, I think,” he lies, a bit poorly. Ash thumbs through the pages, and then pauses. “Wait, can you read ancient Sumerian?” He asks. BJ rubs at his neck. “I can speak enough Spanish to ask where a library is,” he says, and Ash squints. “Well then how the hell did it give you a weird demon power? You sure it was this book?” “Sure, I’m sure! This is only like, th’ third weird possessed demon book I’ve ever handled, it’s gonna be somethin’ in there that did it,” BJ says. “BJ is totally normal otherwise!” Lydia blurts. Smooth.

Ash closes the book, and stands. “Except that’s not true, is it?” Their uncle asks, studying the demon’s face. “Because in the alleyway, you pushed the power back. I’ve been chased through the woods by that thing, and I didn’t stand a chance. It was going to pounce, grab one of you, and you stopped it, somehow. And the deadite handed the Necronomicon over to you, when it’s goal was getting it away from me.” He takes a menacing step forward. The Deetz siblings take a collective step back. BJ’s got his hands on Lydia’s shoulders, and he maneuvers his kid sister behind him, quickly. “So what’s the deal, kid?” Uncle Ash’s glare is hard, and a little crazy. “Don’t go blowin’ smoke up my ass. I know when I’m being lied to.”

“Not immediately, which is pretty funny,” BJ says, and before they can argue, there’s a scream from downstairs. BJ scoops up Lydia, and Ash scoops up his green canvas duffle bag, and the two of them rush to the stairs, quickly, panic rising in BJ’s chest, because that scream? That’s Emily. you can read the rest right over HERE

#the evil dead #ashley williams #ash williams #evil dead fanfiction #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice #lydia deetz #charles deetz #emily deetz #my writing #i like writing ash n bj together they are both so goddamn stupid

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odinsblog · 5 years ago

Note

It’ll definitely come down to Bernie vs Biden, what are Sanders’ chances with that?

I don’t do odds, but I honestly believe that in a fair fight, Sanders can take Biden. Politically speaking, ofc.

But that is not what’s happening. At this point it’s almost undeniable that mainstream media and the DNC have their thumbs on the scale, just like they did in 2016.

This time around, the DNC’s game plan to rig the primaries is to starve Sanders of just enough delegates (via Bloomberg and Warren) so that he cannot win outright, and then force a contested convention (also referred to as a brokered convention) where the superdelegates get to pick their preferred Democratic nominee. A “moderate” who will probably lose to Trump.

If we get to the convention this summer and Bernie has a commanding plurality of delegates, but the superdelegates decide to anoint Joe Biden, all hell will break loose and many Democratic voters will stay home in protest, handing Trump a second term.

And please note: I am not necessarily telling people to stay home if this scenario happens, I’m just saying that as a rational thinking adult, voters WILL stay home if Sanders is robbed. It doesn’t take a fortune teller to predict that. The DNC isn’t stupid. Surely they must know this as well. But the question is, are they really willing to risk it? (unfortunately, I fear the answer is “yes”).

It’s funny that the same people who screamed bloody murder about the Electoral College in 2016 are more than happy to have superdelegates do the same thing to Sanders in 2020. It’s grossly hypocritical. Both the Electoral College and superdelegates nullify the principle of, one person one vote.

Elizabeth Warren, as of this moment in time, has no viable path forward to the nomination. And I doubt that Mike Bloomberg will have a viable path. But they are both bleeding crucial delegates away from Sanders, and at the convention I’m afraid that they will both throw their support (and more importantly, their delegates) to Biden. So we aren’t safe until it’s a done deal. It ain’t over until it’s over.

Bernie needs to do well today, and earn enough delegates so that he cannot be robbed at the convention. So that means it’s not good enough for you to go vote all by yourself. You gotta get several other Bernie supporters to go out and actually vote. Like, irl. Not tweets. Not tumblr posts. Vote.

Small cash donations to Bernie’s campaign are good, but today? Today we actually go out to a polling place and vote for Bernie.

So yes, it’s definitely doable. Bernie CAN beat Joe Biden _and_ Donald Trump. But only if we show up in force and vote for Bernie today. So go do the damn thang.

#anon #ask #answered #bernie sanders #super tuesday #rigged primaries #politics #joe biden #mike bloomberg #elizabeth warren #contested convention #brokered convention

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

Text

Coastal Waters (1/8/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates and Madame @usedhearts meet underwater, talk about Madame’s history, eat an eel, and head to the library when Valera discovers to his horror that Madame, an octopus, doesn’t know shit about octopuses. octopodes. octopi.

Madame

The sea. She hadn't even seen the ocean since she was just a girl, let alone swam deep in her waters. The water was warm against her skin, and she flowed through it with an effortless grace that she honestly didn't know she had. It felt good. It felt right, to be among the waves of this alien planet. This was were a giant octopus of a lady should be.

Madame just sat there, under the water, watching curious fish and other creatures flit towards her. She was far larger than any of them, so they were either brave or foolish. A few of the more foolish ones found their way inside her mouth for their crimes. She intentionally kept her skin a pinkish red, wanting to stand out among the reef. A color that said 'Here I am, and I'm bigger than you, so watch out!' It was perfect really. She kept a look out for anyone else going for a swim-- she'd be sure they got a little kraken scare, just for fun.

Valera

Funny, how even on an alien planet, the ocean is still comforting to anyone who loved it. Colorful fish were abundant, the reddish light of the suns lending a faintly pink tinge to the rays coming down through the water.

And here comes Valera to torment innocent wildlife, a flash of silver followed by pink as he chases a mirror bright eel adjacent creature past Madame's resting place.

Madame

Madame's head snapped to the side as Valera passed, and quick as anything, she's off after him. That eel is the target, hm? Well, she wasn't about to let their host have an easy go of it. Tentacles opening and then thrusting back to get her speed, she closed in, trying to get it first-- or at least, make a little game of it for Valera.

Valera

It takes a few seconds for Valera to notice the appearance of a competitor, movement in the corner of his eyes nearly distracting him enough to lose track of the eel. But then the slippery menace turns on a dime, diving into a crevice in the rocks for all its worth. Valera's forced to brake, fins flaring out dramatically as he backpedals just to not smash into the rocks.

He perches on the coral, snorting out a few bubbles as he looks up at Madame. "Damn! Ah well, it'll have to come out eventually. Hello! What's an octopus like you doing in a place like this?"

Madame

Unfortunately, Madame doesn't catch herself quite as quickly as Valera, but she does slow herself enough to not smash hard against the rocks. She winced as she pulled away from them, rubbing her arm.

"Ouch. Them eels are slippery fuckers, ain't they?" She smirked at Val, swimming over to them and perching in a similar manner. "That it does. And thought I'd go for a swim, enjoy it while I can 'n all that. The closest I get to all this is my aquariums at home. This is...heaven, honestly."

Valera

Valera frowns, leaning in to sniff at Madame. Any blood? He can patch up a scrape no problem! The praise for his planet makes him purr, a soft buzz in the water that makes nearby fish start swimming closer to nibble at the pink fish's scales.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself! I was hoping my home would be a place of relaxation, but it seems like it's getting even more of a positive response than expected. If you really like it though, I'll see about inviting you back sometime!"

Madame

No blood, luckily, but she'd probably have a bruise or three later. Octopus skin is durable but not the best when it comes to impacts.

"Oh, I'd simply love that-- even give ya free drinks for life at the Cabaret if that'd sweeten the pot." She winked and laughed, before turning to look up at the surface, watching the sunlight glitter through. She was glad they were surrounded by salt water-- a few tears wouldn't be noticed down here.

"It truly is beautiful. Reminds me so much a home-- I ever tell ya, me 'n Alastor hail from the same place? Good ol' Nawlins, right there on the gulf. Gorgeous city, full of wonderful people 'n the best food 'n the south. When I went west with my husband, I knew I'd miss the ocean, but I didn't think I'd die without ever seein' it again." She smiled as she turned towards him.

"Ya really put some joy back in an ol' lady's heart, Valera, invitin' me here. Didn't think it'd mean as much as it does...but here we are." She laughed, and wiped at her eyes-- before remembering there was nothing to wipe. "Forgive me, gettin' all emotional. We supposed t' be lookin' for an eel, right?"

Valera

"Oh, that eel can go tie itself in knots for all I care, we're talking about this old lady here right now." Valera leans in, a clawed hand delicately patting at Madame's shoulder. "I didn't know you were from New Orleans! I've been there a few times. Lovely place. Very...." He pauses to think, plucking a wandering shrimp off the reef to gesture with. "Lively? Vibrant! You can really lose yourself in that city"

His tail winds around an outcrop, the fish settling down like he was lounging on the finest swooning couch. "So, you were married? Happily, I hope!"

Madame

She took a few breaths, the water filling her chest with warmth, and nodded.

"I was, born 'n raised. Got married a fresh faced youth 'n me 'n the husband decided to try 'n make our fortunes out west. We made it out there too, 'n then he caught ill 'n passed. Left me with a house built and some livestock bought 'n not much else. Started up doin' work on my back, 'n then collected some other girls, some a them like me, others on they own from the start. Home my husband built became my saloon 'n brothel, 'n a whole town sprung up around it. Lovely lil' place.

"But with people come folk what think they the law in a lawless patch a ground. Dumb fucks didn't like me much, and I ain't care for them neither. Startin' smugglin' for local outlaws, hidin' some. The quote-unquote 'law' got it in they heads to burn my place down, cause I was hidin' some poor boy they wanted-- surprised them when the whole thing blew to smithereens cause we was sittin' on a couple boxes a dynamite. Oh, if I coulda seen their faces...." She trailed off and then cleared her throat, laughing a little.

"But then I landed in Hell. And they did too. Strung 'em up by they own insides for I staked a claim on the land I landed on. That's where the Cabaret sits now. The asshole's skeletons're in the aquarium now, housin' crabs and whatnot. Serves 'em right."

Valera

Valera makes a sound more like a dolphin noise than a whistle, crossing one leg over the other as he listens to Madame tell her not especially tragic backstory. "It certainly does. Though I'm sure the short time they spent in Hell came as a rather nasty surprise, if they were going around calling themselves the *law*."

A snort. "It sounds like you've been a woman with a talent for business since day one, Madame. Can't say I'm surprised with the way you run things, but what a story. Sorry to hear about the husband though, losing someone is never easy."

Madame

She nodded, crossing her legs as daintily as someone who was fifteen feet tall could.

"Oh yeah, real nasty surprise for them-- shame I didn't keep 'em around longer, woulda been fun to have 'em strung up on the dart boards or somethin'."

Madame shrugged. "I did miss 'im but, after he died, I realized that I never _really_ loved him. Not like a woman 'n a man 'should' love each other. Dunno why, always been like that I suppose. But we was best friends since childhood 'n it made sense back then to marry someone y' at least liked, instead a some stranger."

Valera

"Hah! I can see it now! Are you a sadist? Five bucks a pop and you can throw your darts at the living dart boards! Ten points if you get them in the eyes, fifteen if you throw hard enough to knock a tooth out! Oh, Hell would have loved that." He cackles, popping the shrimp into his mouth for a quick snack. Mmm, crunchy!

"...Is there a 'should'?" His face twists in confusion. "Maybe it's an alien thing. I was set to bond with my own best friend before I cut that short in favor of running the Autocracy. Romance seems secondary in favor of... You know. Benefits."

Madame

"Dunno. With humans there's always a 'should', it seems. 'Ya _should_ love a man. Ya _should_ marry 'n have kids. Ya _should_ pick yerself up by yer bootstraps 'n get shit done. Ya _should_ know all the right things ta say'." She sighed and shrugged.

"Never much cared for the shoulds. Married because it seemed better'n bein' alone-- and I ended up alone anyways. So, what was the point 'n the first place? I sure as shit don't know. Just lost my best friend, that's all." Madame leaned her chin on her hand, elbow on her knee. "Think I woulda fared better with aliens then humans."

Valera

An eyebrow is raised as Valera turns what Madame said over in his mind. "I don't think marrying your best friend directly resulted in him dying, Madame. But I will admit, you wouldn't be the first human, former or otherwise, to say they would have likely been happier with an alien partner." He's absolutely talking about Pentious. And maybe a few others. He's a popular fish!

"Humans are silly creatures, and I do say that fondly! I've seen very few races as determined to bind themselves to strict social rules and roles that none of them seem to actually enjoy. It's baffling."

Madame

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I know whatcha mean. Most people seem happier when they break social conventions. Makes ya wonder why we even got 'em."

Madame took a breath and smiled. "And I didn't mean it so much as an alien partner as, well, maybe I was just meant to not be a human-- alien in a human body or some such. Maybe it's why I adapted ta bein' a weird giant octopus demon so well!"

Valera

"Your guess is better than mine, I'm only a human when it suits me."

He grins, all teeth. "It wouldn't surprise me. You never struck me as especially *human*, tentacles nonwithstanding. A lovely person? Yes, absolutely. You take good care of all your girls. But human? Not really." Well that's cryptic. But good luck getting him to elaborate, he's already distracted by trying to shove his arm into the crevice where the eel is hiding.

Madame

Madame let out another laugh, smirking as she shrugged and waved a hand.

"I'll take the compliment, and y'know, that reminds me a one of my go-to numbers." She slid off the rock she sat on and floated down a bit, twirling as she went.

"_I admit that in the past I've been a nasty, they weren't kidding when they called me well, a witch_...." She trailed off, giggling. "One of my favorites. That and 'When You're Good To Mama', acourse."

Valera

"Mm, I had you pinned as a contralto day one, my dear Madame." Valera glances over, against the rock up to the shoulder as he scrabbled for the eel. "You run that routine at the cabaret, right? I'll have to swing by to see it sometime! Maybe with my beau, though I don't know his opinion on burlesque just yet."

Madame

"Oh yes! Just tell me when y'all are droppin' by and I'll be sure to add myself to the night's roster." She winked and swam closer, looking at Val's arm, stuck deep in the rock.

"Any luck findin' the squirmy bastard? Or do ya need something a little more dexterous?" She wiggled a tentacle at him.

Valera

He frowns, then pulls his arm back and gestures for Madame to take his place. "I think you may have better luck, my dear. And for more than just that dexterity of yours! Mind the teeth though, those eels aren't the sharpest around, but they bite and do NOT let go."

Madame

Her arms crossed as she slid the tentacle inside, and Madame's face screwed up in concentration. A few moments later she let out a shout.

"Ow! Fucker got me, but I got him too!" With a mighty yank, her tentacle pulled back out, the eel wrapped tight in it, even as it chomped down on her. "What now, Val?"

Valera

"Now you eat him!" He crows, clapping his hands together as the eel gives the most hateful look it can muster. Though, underwater, there wasn't actually any sound to the gesture. "It's your catch, just bite him behind the eyes, nice and clean kill!"

Madame

She arched a brow, but brought the eel closer, moving to get a good angle. Madame opened her mouth and snapped down on the eel's head-- and it released it's own bite on her. She took it in her hands and bit it in half, swallowing down the front half.

Madame offered the other half to Val, grinning. "Here. Only right a guest share with her host."

Valera

He affects a dainty gasp, accepting the eel with a coquettish fluttering of his lashes. "Why THANK you, my dear Madame. Such a gracious guest, my hearts are warmed by your consideration."

And that chunk of eel is gone in a flash, yam yam. "Gods, always a tasty little morsel. Those have a lot of interesting names in various languages here, but my personal favorite is the one that translates best to..." He taps his chin, trying to think of the closest words. "Something like Bastard Snake. Bastard as in abandoned son, not the insult."

Madame

"Nah, I think the insult worst better, cause he sure was a bastard ta get outta there." She gestured toward her bitten tentacle.

"Think he mighta torn a chunk outta me. Ouch..." She brought it closer to inspect and while the chunk wasn't _gone_, it was barely hanging out. "Oh, that's a doozy..."

Valera

He leans in, taking a closer look at the damage to Madame's tentacle with a sympathetic hiss. "Oooh, that looks painful. Want me to fix it?"

A waggle of his fingers, and he extends a glowing hand. That's probably not ominous, right?

Madame

"Can ya?" She asked, her head tilting. "I'd love ta not have to whip out the scar cream for somethin' so small."

Valera

"I can! Healing and barriers are actually my specialty." He trills, looking VERY pleased with himself about that fact. "No strings attached for you, of course."

Madame

"Well, then, thank ya kindly. Yer a lovely 'n gracious host." She beamed.

Valera

He takes her tentacle in hand, smoothing over the wound with a slow sweep of his palm. A brief flash of numbness, heat, and there, good as new. No dramatics necessary! But he's still going to deliver with some SPECTACULAR jazz hands and the cheeriest grin he can muster.

"There, how's that?"

Madame

Madame let out a little 'oh!' at the numbness and heat, and as soon as her tentacle was released, it flexed and wiggled of its own accord.

"Well, that was sure somethin'! Never had a healin' like that."

Valera

"Never? Is healing magic not common in Hell?" Well, either that or Madame just didn't get hurt often. Either seemed possible.

Madame

"Oh no, it's not that. Usually gettin' somethin' healed costs-- usually a soul, or a favor, but always somethin'." She shrugged. "Try not to get into too many fights, cause the healin' is usually worse than the damage."

Valera

He squints, planting his chin on his open palm as he stares at the fixed tentacle. "I mean, I guess it cost something? All I did was encourage your natural healing. A few cell divisions to smooth over the damage, replace the torn up cells. Something that small didn't require actually replacing any massive swaths of material. You'll be hungrier than usual later, but that's about it!"

A shrug. "It would have been worse if you'd actually lost a chunk, but even then, I could have just converted a pebble to matching flesh or something. No biggie!"

Madame

"A pebble? Huh!" She tapped her chin. "That is somethin'. Yer magic's a lot more powerful than anythin' I can channel. Usual I go to good ol' Al for any real punchy magics."

Valera

"You know, people keep saying that. I never thought of myself as especially powerful." He holds up a finger. "Well, no. I have plenty of RAW power. But as far as efficiency goes, I'm absolute garbage. My magic isn't nearly as finely tuned as it could be. I burn tons of it on even small spells. Like, embarrassing amounts. Horrendously sloppy."

A sigh. "What kind of magic do you usually need from good old Alastor?"

Madame

"If I need a costume on the fly, he can magic up some pretty good threads. He's fairly good at some basic healin'-- like if ona my acts sprains somethin'. And of course, the best magic of all-- his reputation. Ain't nobody gonna mess with the Cabaret none if I got the Radio Demon in my back pocket." She paused.

"Don't tell him I said that, he wouldn't take kindly to it."

Valera

He waves a hand, grin turning downright impish. "What, me? Tell an Alastor that his reputation is helping protect his friends? My dear, I would *never*."

Madame

Madame giggled, and winked at him. "Yer a peach, shug." She put her hands on her hips.

"Anythin' else ya wanna tag team, huntin' wise? I'm down for a lil explorin' 'n huntin', if you are."

Valera

Valera sticks his tongue out, slowly unwinding his tail from his anchor point. "No, I'm a fish! But I understand the confusion. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your mistake." A wink.

"We'll have to browse the local selection, Madame! If you're amenable to a bit of window shopping, that is."

Madame

"I dunno about that, ya ass is pretty peachy!" She cackled, swimming closer to take his arm.

"I'm a fan a any kinda shoppin', includin' the window kind!"

Valera

Oho! Quick on the sass with that one, was she? Good! Keeps things interesting. He politely flutters his fins, turning his head this way and that to scout out a meal.

"You're more of an ambush predator, no?"

Madame

"Think so! Don't know too much bout octopuses honestly? Only what I've been able to figure out, mostly. But it worked earlier!" She laughed.

Valera

... He turns his head back to look at Madame, eyebrows inching up slowly but surely.

"Pardon? You don't know about octopuses? The very animal your soul was moulded after for your eternal punishment?"

Madame

She laughed, oh that look on his face!

"Yup! Thinka how surprised I was when I dropped inta Hell lookin' like this!" She gestured to herself. "Knew things like fish 'n gators 'n the like, 'n even the tiny little octopuses, but never one as big as me!"

Valera

He squints, slowly turning them back towards the shore. Sounds like they're about to make a trip to the *library*.

"I'm sure. So you're not familiar with how octopus brains work? Or the semi-independent "minds" of their tentacles?"

Madame

"Oh, is that why they sometimes do shit on they own?" She giggled again, going along with Val's movements.

"And no, I ain't. Never thought to look it up, too busy buildin' my business 'n keepin' it."

Valera

He snorts. Yes, this library visit is sounding more and more necessary. But he's not above setting a sedate pace. A couple of friends on a relaxing swim, no need to flip.

"Yes, Madame. You'll also be pleased to know that were you an octopus of the male persuasion, one of your tentacles would also be your penis." A pause, and he amends. "Well, theoretically. It gets wibbly when you mix humans and other species. I doubt you'd lay four hundred thousand eggs and then die from a single mating."

Madame

Her eyes widened and she can't help but laugh again. "Oh fuck! Yeah, sure glad I don't do that! Woulda double died a long time ago!"

Valera

"If it makes you feel any better, the Earth fish I most resemble, the lionfish, can lay..." A tap at his lips, give him a moment to recall... Oh, yes, there we go. "Fifteen thousand eggs every four days?"

That's so many. He shudders at the very thought. "I'm not *quite* so prolific. But fret not, my dear. All those facts and more can be safely tucked into your noggin once we find you a book that doesn't read like watching paint dry. I know there's SOMETHING about octopuses being able to tamper with their own biology on the fly."

Madame

"Oh? That sounds interestin'. And yeah, glad we ain't out here layin' thousands of eggs, that's just too much." She laughed, giving his arm a squeeze in hers.

Valera

And off they go, back to shore and beyond, to educate an octopus woman on her own partial biology. How lovely.

#((Internet is still ASS but i managed to get this up yay))#extermination party palace #autokrates #usedhearts

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beebleboosuwu · 4 years ago

Text

Alright.

There are a lot of conflicting emotions about having The Music Man kicking out Beetlejuice from the Winter Garden. Although I am bitter that one of my favourite musicals is being replaced in favour of money and two big names is just.. not sitting right, but I am open to everything and trying to look at everything with open eyes and an unbiased opinion.

Did Will Blum’s influence this a little? Yes.

Was the post a little unsound and unprofessional? I think so but it brought up some great points.

Yes, I agree. The fact that you are selling a name instead of a GREAT show is disrespect to the source material. Hugh Jackman is an awesome guy and his tenure as the Boy From Oz is forever embedded into Broadway his(her)story as being a stepping stone for Hugh’s career. Also you have Broadway star, Sutton Foster, another big name who, if you are a theatre lover, can’t help but fawn and scream in excitement.

We all know and love Hugh Jackman as the Wolverine/James Howlett/ Logan, that’s what people associate him as such. Fun fact he played that role from 2000-2018. Wolverine is known to be big, all muscle and raw strength, but in the theatre world we know him as a musical theatre actor. Jackman first claim to international's fame was in 1999 when he played the leading man, Curly McLain, in the film adaptation of Oklahoma! He played the titular character Peter Allen in Boy from Oz in 2004 which he won a Tony for and Jean Valjean in the film adaptation of Les Miserables in 2012 while that wasn't the best adaptation of that musical, they did include Broadway and West End actors which was awesome! And lastly the most recent entry musical/film role was P.T Barnum in The Greatest Showman, Jackman went on tour last year singing songs from The Greatest Showman and some other songs from other musicals he previously worked in. He is an amazing vocalist, actor and dancer. His performance in Boy From Oz says as such in a review by Charles Isherwood: praising Jackman but panned the show: "Jackman is giving a vital and engaging performance in this pitifully flimsy musical almost in spite of the material he’s been handed. It’s a sad waste of an exciting talent." I’m pumped.

Sutton Foster is a Broadway actress that is well known for her two-time Tony award winning performance as Millie in Thoroughly Modern Millie. She has also roles from other shows such as: Chess, Funny Girl, Les Miserables, Anything Goes, Grease and MANY more. I knew her best as Reno Sweeney from Anything Goes, her vocals are nothing but extraordinary and her acting is nothing to sleep on, she is an excellent dancer and I cannot help to try and recreate in my bedroom when I’m alone. You can say all you want about her, but she is one of the Broadway actresses I know from the top of my head, alongside Patti LuPone, Sierra Boggess and Liza Minelli. She is also the younger sister of Hunter Foster of Little Shop of Horrors and Urinetown fame. Foster is going to be amazing as Jackman's partner in the upcoming production and honestly as a fan, I am so excited!

They are both triple threats but.. no one knows a lot about the Music Man. It is a classic and has been around since the late 50′s.

Broadway, coming into the new decade of 2020, is becoming more MODERN. All these new musicals that have come out during this past decade might not have made it to Broadway but they are more aligned with the changing times and modern settings. Though there are musicals based on films from the 80′s that reach out to that generation and reintroduce them into that mind space they were in back in the day.

American Idiot, great musical, angsty music but has that throwback niche to that rebellious stage some, or not most, of us went through in the 2000′s.

Elf, that also starred Will Blum at one point, is fan service to those who love the holiday season and those who loved the film that came out in 2003. I haven't listened to it yet BUT I WILL EVENTUALLY.

Heathers, we all love the Heathers. Also Winona Ryder, who played Lydia Deetz in the 1988 Beetlejuice film, starred as Veronica Sawyer. Like Elf, IT BRINGS INTEREST TO THAT GENERATION SO THEY COULD BUY TICKETS TO THIS SHOW THAT WAS BASED ON A FILM THEY WATCHED AS TEENS. Also can we just forget about the horrible rendition of Candy Store done by the cast of Riverdale? That never happened. NEVER. HAPPENED.

Beetlejuice, Come From Away, Ghost, Once, Book of Mormon, Finding Neverland, Newsies, Kinky Boots, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812, Big Fish, 21 Chump Street, Amélie, Be More Chill, Hamilton, Head Over Heels, Lazarus, School of Rock, Something Rotten!, Tuck Everlasting, Waitress, Anastasia, Hadestown, SpongeBob SquarePants, The Prom, Ain’t Too Proud, Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, Frozen, Mean Girls, Six, Summer: The Donna Summer Musical, The Lightning Thief, Jagged Little Pill, Moulin Rouge!, The Cher Show, Tina: The Tina Turner Musical, & Juliet, Mrs. Doubtfire.

These are SOME of the MANY shows that came out this decade!

Some musicals are entirely satirical so that was a niche for audiences who love the weird and messed up humour, some musicals are named after the films or shows they were based off of. So old audiences can take interest into coming to Broadway, okay I get that because again, nostalgia, some are entirely original or had little to no source material! Some are based around history, some about civil rights issues and some of them are jukebox musicals that appeal to people who like those artists.

Broadway has always been conservative and prefers to play it safe when it comes to opening a new productions and the dominant audiences have been older and more traditional. So that stereotypical Broadway show people think of is just that, the lead character getting their “want song” in, a lot of dancing, internal or external conflict that ultimately gets resolved with cheerful songs and set pieces. Although newer audiences want those boundary pushing shows so CAN get introduced to musicals like the Music Man, it means nothing if they were never introduced to the strange and unusual first. Everyone wants to advance to find that next big thing but they can’t do that when it is all safe but we did get some of them with Cats, Beetlejuice, Carrie, Matilda The Addams Family and more.

I totally get the interest of bringing back a musical that hasn’t been on Broadway for 20 years (last performance was in 2000) and it is a great way to reintroduce an old piece back into the world again, but it was at the expense of new artists making their Broadway dream a reality. The decision to evict, not close, evict Beetlejuice from the Winter Garden was a big mistake by the Schubert Organization. The Schubert Organization is one of the biggest landlord of theatres in New York, they at least own 17 Broadway theatres. Here’s the reason why they’re so successful:

They don’t keep shows that don't bring the cold hard cash. It’s show business, it has always been about the business and never about the show. As much as we could scream and shout to keep Beetlejuice in the Winter Garden all we want, it is unfortunately their decision to keep them or boot them out. We all know that productions have to be approved by a theatre organization so that production can be leant one of their many theatres, they show also had to keep up a total of sales from tickets above that number per week. As all of you know, that’s what happened with Beetlejuice. Ticket sales dried up and fell way below the amount. There was talk around the theatre community that a production of the Music Man was in the works with Hugh Jackman as the lead. So... they saw Beetlejuice as dead weight and sought out to cash in on Hugh Jackman’s name and fame.

There was a lot of problems from the show but most of their problems came from the critics. Mixed reviews was all the show got but the biggest blows came from the New York Times and Ben Brantley saying that the show never came to that same conclusion of home and belonging like other Broadway shows. This killed their ticket sales cause everyone goes through those reviews before they see a show. However that’s the thing, Beetlejuice never wanted that. The entire creative team and the cast knew that what they had was entirely unconventional, like it was their way sticking of the middle finger at the word conventional.

There's no doubt that the Music Man, Hugh Jackman, Sutton Foster and the cast and creative team will be amazing at the Winter Garden and it is highly unfortunate that the eviction of Beetlejuice was done for the sake of financial greed. I’m glad they were only evicted and not closed, the show IS still on and the public demand for the show is high. I know a lot of us hate the decision but what could you do? It’s all about the business aspect of Broadway and never the show.

Even though Beetlejuice had its problems with its opening following the Harvey Weinstein controversy, having the Music Man revival during this time of political conflict is a little awkward. Let’s trade a sexual, murderous demon for a eulogized conman.. that seems right.

I’m sure the show will be fantastic but the circumstances leading up to the opening is shady and not shining a good light for the Schubert Organization but lets not hate the actors and the creative team of the Music Man, they didn't do anything wrong. Instead, point that dislike to corporate greed, but is okay. The show is not closed and is only evicted from the theatre. Eventually they will find a new theatre on or off Broadway for everyone’s enjoyment again! Also that National Tour is coming up in Fall 2021 I believe, I personally can’t just fly to New York but I will be watching the National Tour if it does roll by where I live.

Keep safe my friends 💚🤍🖤

#savebeetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice broadway #Beetlejuice musical #Beetlejuice bway #opinions #music man 2020 #im sad #really sad #like #the marquee #is so ugly #why #uhhhh #I am being bitter

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returnn-of-the-mac · 5 years ago

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Thanks for the requests @furry-trash-69. These both had some major Good Omens vibes, so I decided to put them together. Please enjoy!😊

FO4 Companions (+Others) React: Sole Being an Angel on Earth/A Demon Banished From Hell

Cait: Bullshite! Quit yankin me chain! [Sole lights up and Cait’s eyes double in size] Yer been serious then? Damn.

Curie: [holding head in hands] But according to zience...zere ees no ‘eaven. Are...are you telling me zenturies of rezearch ‘as been disproven?

Hancock: [skeptical] An angel, huh? Prove it. [Sole lights up like a Christmas tree and Hancock lets out a chuckle] Heh....shiiiiiit.

Piper: [tearing up] It’s reassuring to know that there is a heaven.

Maccready: [rolls eyes] Yeah, and I’m Grognak [Sole starts glowing] S-stop that. [Sole shows stubby wings] Eww! Okay, okay. I’m sorry! Just put them away!

Codsworth: Oooh bother...and to think I had called a dermatologist behind your back about the little stubs...I thought they were cysts!

Ada: I must admit, [sir/ma’am], as a robot, I have no concept of the supernatural or divine.

Nick: The glow, the re-spawning, the miraculous healing...the stubby wings. It all makes sense. I feel like a fool for failing to put it all together...

Longfellow: So heaven’s just as disappointin as real life, huh? [sips alcohol] There at least spirits in heaven? [Sole shakes head and Longfellow slams his whiskey bottle] WHAT! There’s at least wine, then? Right? That Jesus blood? [Sole shakes head and Longfellow shrugs] Ah, who am I kiddin? I’ve gotta one-way ticket to hell anyway. Better company

Strong: Strong no believe human. [Sole starts glowing] Human funny. [Sole shows wings] Ha Ha. Funny stubs.

Preston: That explains why you’re so selfless, General. You were a literal ANGEL!

Sturges: [amused] Well I’ll be! Can’t quite say that surprises me, though!

Deacon: YOU MEAN THOSE LITTLE STUBBY KNOBS ARE WINGS?? [takes out little notepad][frantically scribbles out ‘surgically remove gross stubby back things from [name]’]

Desdemona: Yeah, I’m going to need evidence. I have a funny feeling Deacon put you up to this [Sole lights up] [Des looks at Tom] Are you in on this too, Tom?

Tom: [mesmerized] Nah...Really!? That’s whack!

Glory: Woah! Do you have wings? Can you fly? [Sole shows off stubs. Glory frowns] Oh uh...those are...something...

Danse: Soldier I...I’m not sure how Maxson would react to this. I don’t normally condone withholding important information from superiors but...I don’t want to see you be shamed and executed.

Haylen: Uh-huh. I knew there was something off about your X-Rays...just...just don’t tell Maxson about this if you value your like, okay?

Rhys: Freak! I knew there was something off about you! I’m reporting you to the Elder!

Maxson: “You were the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty... through your widespread trade you were filled with violence, and you sinned.” That’s from the book of Ezekial. How can I be sure, Knight, that you’re not going to turn on the Brotherhood and betray us. That’s a risk I’m not willing to take. You will be stripped of your title, and I will discuss with my associates what will become of this.

X6: I can’t say I’m surprised. Father does have a divine aura, as anyone can plainly see by his position in the Institute.

Father: [shocked] Is [mother/father] an angel too? Can angels conceive!?

Gage: Ya know what boss? That’s fine. As long as ya don’t start hollerin Bible verses at me, we still cool.

Mags: Doesn’t your association to the divine and absolute purity completely contradict the goals of the Raiders? How can we be sure you’re not a spy? I’ve got my eye on you.

Mason: You’re an angel? That means ya ain’t never done anything wrong? That’s very Beta of you.

Nisha: [smirking] I don’t have an angel head in my collection...yet.

Demon

Cait: [unimpressed] Ye mean ye were in Hell— a fuckin demon even— and ye lost it all ta preach some Bible mumbo-jumbo? C’mon!

Curie: Wow! I was not aware zat ze conzepts of ‘eaven and ‘ell were real! Zis is fascinating!

Hancock: Nuh uh....No kiddin? Ya can’t make this shit up!

Piper: You risked it all to convert others to Christianity? Blue, that’s incredible. You’re such an inspiration.

Maccready: But why? Hell seems like I’d have better company.

Codsworth: So that’s why everyone got all up in arms when I served Devil’s Food cupcakes at the “office party” you were hosting!

Ada: I am sorry to hear about your banishment from the underworld, but opening a church is commendable.

Strong: Strong think devil man no like the bible book. Bad idea, human.

Nick: You may be reckless and stubborn, but you got guts. I’ll give you that much.

Longfellow: So the man Satan banished you, huh? [slams whiskey bottle] Ah, tell him to pull the ol stick out of his ass!

Preston: You questioned the devil himself even though he was your overlord? General, that’s unbelievable!

Sturges: That’s got to be onna the darndest things I’ve ever heard! And you hear a lot when ya live in the Commonwealth.

Deacon: [overwhelmed with excitement] WOAH-HO-HO. DUDE! THAT’S AWESOME! Is the Old North Church one of the ones you founded? You’ve gotta tell me about Hell!

Desdemona: I’ve had enough of your insane stories. Between you and Deacon...I need a smoke. And a drink.

Tom: What!? You’re crazy, man! You gotta tell me all about Hell!

Glory: [amused; not fully believing Sole, but playing along] You’ve lived quite the exciting life, haven’t you?

Danse: [rubbing temples] Alright. Let me get this straight: you are a demon...and you got banished from the underworld for betraying Satan and promoting Christianity? There’s a lot to unpack here, soldier. Maxson’s not going to take this lightly.

Haylen: [Beyond confused] Oh...uh, wow. That’s...crazy? [stealithy checks Sole’s medical records for drug use]

Rhys: Demon from hell? Psh. Yeah right. More like clown from the doofus convention.

Maxson: If you were able to betray Satan, overlord of Hell, so easily, how can I be sure you won’t betray the Brotherhood. Knight, I’m going to have to strip you of your title. Additionally, I’ll have to talk about the status of your life with my associates.

X6: If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t believe a word out of your mouth. Sadly, you are not someone else, so I believe this story is one-hundred percent valid.

Father: [annoyed] Of course you’re the one who had to rebel and get banished. I’m not surprised.

Gage: Do ya still have access to Hell!? Can ya bring me with ya? [Sole reminds Gage they were banished] So? Rules are meant to be broken, ain’t that right, boss?

Mags: This, just like all of your stories, is so outlandish, but I somehow unable to doubt your word.

Mason: Hell, huh? What’s the temperature like? Tropical? [pulls out sunglasses and straw hat] Daddy needs a vacation.

Nisha: [raising stake with head on top like a staff] Hail Satan! Hail Satan! [other disciples chanting] Hail Satan! Hail Satan! Ave Satana! Ave Satana! Ave Satana!

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