#it isn’t even a slight overbite | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wri0thesley · 4 years ago

Note

Semi-angsty scenario (however much hurt you feel willing to put in) of Prosciutto surviving the train fight, albeit quite injured, at home with his s/o when the new passione finds him and wants him (for like information or to recruit him again? idk)

recovering - prosciutto x reader (1.7k)

SFW. reader is gender neutral.

warnings for: hospitals, injury, self-hate, death idealation.

Things do not change overnight; not really.

Oh, for Prosciutto, they changed in the course of an hour, or maybe less. For your boyfriend, it had been a case of waking up that morning with two legs and two arms and two eyes, a heart that beat sound and fast, a charming smile and a teasing voice and the knowledge of his own finesse - and having almost none of those things by the time midnight struck.

Prosciutto’s physicality changes overnight. The doctors do what they can for him (you, on pulled tight tenterhooks by his bedside, listening to the beep of monitors with your heart in your mouth in case of a flatline), but the battle and the train have taken much from him. His brain does not change at all.

He spends two months in the hospital, wrapped in bandages and needles and monitors. You both count the tiles on the ceiling, over and over. You bring him grapes and magazines, but not flowers (and absolutely not cigarettes, though his hand fastens about your wrist and he begs - the doctors say his lungs may never function the same way again). The nurses speak to you;

“Oh, he must have been so handsome,” they say, pity lacing their tone, as they pat your shoulder. As they ask you about children, and the engagement ring on your finger, and you know that they’re thinking that you should get away now, before you’re railroaded into taking care of him (as if you wouldn’t, as if taking care of him is a punishment--).

“He is,” you say, stubborn - but they give you those same smiles. “He is handsome.”

He hates how they fluff his pillows, how they speak to him, how they simper. “Like I’m an invalid,” he says, frustrated. You do not remind him that he is an invalid right now; there’s no point in that. Prosciutto is still grappling with being in bed.

He grapples with the prosthetic leg and arm. He grapples with the glass eye when he’s allowed to remove the adhesive pad (he gives up on that one, eventually; you source an expensive designer eyepatch instead, all embroidered with roses and thorns and glittering semi-precious stones). He grapples with himself, the first time he sees his body full-length in a mirror.

“Look at me,” he says, lip twisting in disgust. “I should have died instead.”

“Don’t say that,” you say, softly, standing behind him. Your eyes travel the same path as his; the prosthetic leg, all plastics and metal (the shiny skin of where his leg finishes just visible beneath the hospital gown he hates wearing). The jointed arm that he’s still struggling to use. The scars all across his face, the place his hair had to be cut because of how blood was matting it together, the pinprick needle points of all the cannulas and wires he’s had sticking out of him for months. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You say that now,” Prosciutto replies. “But in a few months . . . in a few months, after you’ve had to take care of me, you’ll wish I’d died too.”

He tries to refuse help at first. He drops glasses and whiskey bottles and his cutlery and swears and kicks his one good foot into doorways, toppling over because his balance is still not quite right. He shrugs off your attempts to help dress him. He rolls away from you in bed and fiercely shakes off your kisses on scarred shoulderblades.

“You should leave me,” he says, bitter and angry. “Find someone whole. I’m a fucking liability.”

“I won’t,” you tell him, patiently. “I would stay with you if you were a brain in a jar.”

“Better than this,” he grunts, but in the night his body curls around yours and you kiss away tears from his scarred face that neither of you mention in the early morning light.

It does not change overnight. Six months after his discharge from the hospital, things have calmed slightly - Prosciutto still drops his silverware sometimes, but instead of swearing and blaming himself, he forces himself to laugh. The house has adapted, too; Prosciutto had tried to avoid them at first (“The period features!” He’d said to you. “I don’t want a fucking stairlift, these stairs haven’t been altered since 1840--), but he’d acquiesced in the end.

Extra rails, things he can hold onto, antique wingback chairs with new handles he can help himself in and out of more easily. Gadgets to make his grip better, your bedroom relocated into what used to be his study - Prosciutto has always been the kind of man to resist change, but for you he pushes himself.

And he still cries, of course. You hear him call out for Pesci. You hear him call out for Risotto. He wakes up panting and sweating and cursing Bruno Buccellati’s name (though both of you know what happened to him. Prosciutto has made his peace - he respects Buccellati’s devotion. He’s glad of Diavolo’s deposement. You feel rather less sanctimonious about it, and sometimes the voice in your head is glad that Bruno Buccellati came to a sticky end.). He tells you to leave him and that he’s not worth it and his working hand curls around your waist, pulling you into him, whispering he wishes he’d died instead.

You live a slightly quieter life. Prosciutto likes luxury, but likes a bargain and hates spending money even more - you two have a nice little savings pot that keeps you in (if not the manner you were accustomed to before) modest fashion. Grateful Dead potters about the house - some of his tentacles are wizened and broken, but he reaches things for Prosciutto that your boyfriend cannot and lays his head on your knee, more desperate for affection now than he ever was before Prosciutto’s injuries. Prosciutto tenses when you lay your hand on Grateful Dead’s head, but shivers when your fingers trace soft patterns, his own head rolling back to enjoy the ghost of your hand on his stand.

And you are happy.

You are as happy as you can be. You and Prosciutto muddle along, but he is alive and you are by his side. You kiss him and his good arm goes around your waist, goading you into sitting on his knee. He whispers that he loves you, adores you, that you keep him going - and you whisper the same into his, sighing against his skin, happy that he is with you.

Until the knock on the door, eight months after his accident.

Giorno Giovanna, in real life, is tiny. He’s a boy - that much is clear. You’d heard he was fifteen (though perhaps he is sixteen now), but you hadn’t been expecting him to look . . . so young. Prosciutto is on edge in front of him, scowl on his handsome face so his overbite and slight buck teeth are more prominent, his knuckles white on the cane by his chair.

“I don’t understand why you’ve come now,” you say to him, your voice pitching. You can see Prosciutto’s careful veneer falling apart in front of the new Don of Passione. “It’s been months.”

“We were waiting for Signore Prosciutto to recover from his injuries,” Giorno says, all benevolence. Your own heart beats treacherously fast in your chest. You do not trust this golden-haired angel, nor the dark-haired man he’s brought with him with one hand on the table and one hand in the gun in his pants.

“I won’t be regrowing any of my limbs,” Prosciutto snaps, and you start as you see the gunman’s fingers flex on the handle. You put a hand on your boyfriend’s leg, high enough that it’s leg and not prosthetic, hoping to calm him.

“We won’t be asking that of you,” Giorno continues, as if - in Diavolo’s reign - Prosciutto’s outburst wouldn’t be enough for him to find a bullet lodged in his brain.

“I’m not exactly suited for field work in my condition,” Prosciutto says, and you want to shush him and talk for him. You hate this - hate that you can hear the barbed wire in Prosciutto’s voice, that it feels like you’re teetering on a tightrope. If Prosciutto says the wrong thing . . . you two have come so far! You’ve worked so hard! For Prosciutto’s life to come to an end, here, because of a wrong inflection or a rude word when he’s staring the man who killed his team-family-friends in the face and is expected to show deference to him . . .

You can’t bear it.

“No,” Giorno says. Your throat is dry. You stare at the table in front of you (your old mahogany table was sent to an antiques shop; this one is perfectly sized for Prosciutto’s wheelchair on his worst days) and try and pretend that you aren’t on the edge of a breakdown and that your nerves aren’t fraying with every syllable that comes from Giorno’s mouth. “But . . . we have access to Diavolo’s files, signore, and we know you’d be well-suited for other things.”

“Prosciutto,” you say, aware your voice is small and whiny. You put a hundred things into the whisper of his name. The fear and anxiety and regret - the hope that you’d put the mafia behind you. You’re not stupid. A man like Prosciutto doesn’t get to leave his whole life behind. But you’d thought . . . after everything, you’d thought you were safe.

“Your family,” Giorno continues. “Your good name. Your knowledge of how the syndicate works. We could find a good use for you, signore, if you’ll agree to come work with us.”

(Giorno uses the word ‘agree’. You and Prosciutto both know that is not the case. There is no disagreement when it comes to these things. It is an agreement or an assassin in two weeks from now and a knife at his throat and you, with Prosciutto cradled in your arms as he bleeds out. Men like him do not get miracles twice.)

(He carefully says ‘with’, too. You both know it is ‘for’. ‘Under’. Prosciutto will be a pawn. Again.)

“Yes.” Prosciutto says. He shoots you a brief look that has a hundred apologies written all over it. “I understand, Don.”

They do not give Prosciutto much time to decide - both of them know, with you at his side, he isn’t going to say no.

And when Prosciutto kisses Giorno’s ring and swears fealty again, he looks at you and you wonder how you were ever so foolish to believe you’d really escape.

#writing #prosciutto #sfw #hospitals for ts #injury for ts #Anonymous

112 notes · View notes

egg-emperor · 4 years ago

Note

More vampire Eggman headcanons please *eyes* <3

Of course! I adore vampire Eggman and talking about him is always tons of fun! :D 💜

His skin is very slightly paler and colder, due to getting little sunlight and the low temperatures of the abandoned areas he lurks in. That's a huge difference to regular Eggman, as he's usually so warm that he tends to overheat easily. But vampire isn't bothered by the cold in the way regular is with heat, as he's used to it after so many years. Warmer temperatures feel odd but he could adapt if he wanted to.

It is possible for vampire to warm up if he actually went some place warm for a certain amount of time, but he's always stuck to extremely cold castles and mansions with no heating, so he can get pretty icy. Anyone that makes contact with him notices this, and also through the way his breath is cooler when he bites them. He still doesn't feel it himself though because he's so used to it.

He doesn't talk much as there isn't anyone there to talk to anyway. Regular Eggman talks to himself, but it's much rarer for vampire. He keeps quiet because he can never be sure if prey is near. He doesn't want to drive them away before he even notices! When he does speak, he has a slight lisp due to his fangs. He also has an overbite, his huge fangs still exposed when his mouth is closed.

He's very messy and gets blood everywhere while feeding, especially with how much blood he always draws from his prey. He's careless and doesn't clean up so castle floors and walls are stained. He leaves it dripping down his chin, clothes and fangs, which makes him even more frightening to unlucky guests. They also try to run when they notice the mess of the place but he doesn't let them escape!

He's hundreds of years old- or thousands? He's lost track. (As a certified old man lover, I took the opportunity to make him even older lol) This is because he has something that regular Eggman often dreams of having- eternal life. He stopped aging in his 50s and has pretty much looked the same ever since. His life hardly ever changes but it's alright, he doesn't really get bored that much.

He's explored every inch of the places he takes shelter in and knows them like the back of his hand, including Cryptic Castle. Another opposite to regular Eggman being unaware of the secret underground passage with the Giant Walker in the game. It didn't take long for vampire Eggman to discover it because underground areas are his favorite! And he didn't let that Giant Walker live there!

Despite spending hundreds or thousands of years alone, he's comfortable and has never been lonely. In fact, he doesn't take kindly to strange entities inviting themselves to live in the places he claims and he tries to get rid of them. But try as he might, he still has a ghost infestation problem because they refuse to leave the Cryptic Castle graveyard and the other places they lurk that he visits.

He has a grumpy old man attitude towards the ghosts, treating them like kids he's trying to get off his lawn. But really none of them own the place, so the ghosts get him back for his rudeness and entitlement by playing tricks and making him jump by popping up at random times. But they don't scare him in general because they're only a nuisance, just like they are to regular Eggman!

#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #headcanons #vampire egg #my post #asks #vampire au #my aus

22 notes · View notes

frightknights-n-monstergirls · 4 years ago

Text

This Alice has a name - Jervis Tetch oneshot

Being in a relationship with Tetch

Warnings: Lime (We are still using these terms, right?) slight mention of anxiety attacks and depression.

I feel like I could have gone a long way with this… But I didn’t. This shot is a bit heated. If anyone thinks I could go the full way when it comes to the slap and tickles then let me know.

You have never thought of your boyfriend any different, aside that you knew he had a set of needs that have to be met. Throwing unexpected tea parties, playing dress up, and staying up all night during his severe bouts of depression. It is fun most of the time, indulging in your inner child, escaping the stress of being the bread winner for a while (Jervis did bring in money, where is the part you don’t ask about). There is one thing that you silently hated: He would never address you by your name always “Alice”, there would be variations of it but it would contain “Alice”.

You knew fully well that getting into a serious relationship with someone who calls himself The Mad Hatter would be taxing, if not a bit silly at times. You should have foreseen that Jervis would call you “Alice”. For some reason, you had hoped that he would love you for you, not pretending that you were someone you weren’t. You felt like that all this was a lie, one huge game of pretend benefitting Jervis’s escapism. That he wasn’t loving you for you. You try not to think about it too much, but it would break at some point.

After a day of work, you come home smelling dinner as you walk in. Jervis always had dinner ready for when you arrived, the only times he didn’t were when he was out being his criminal self or he has his attacks. You smile to yourself taking off your coat and shoes hearing Jervis hum a tune. You walk over to where your boyfriend is, finding him on his stool. He doesn’t really need it but he likes to see the tops of the back burners in case he may have turned one on by accident. You lean on the threshold watching Jervis stir the pan.

“Alice!” Jervis smiles showing his overbite, your heart slightly falls in your chest but is back to a flutter when the smaller than average man hops from his stool and into your arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, Jervis.” You snuggle him before having to let him go to see that dinner isn’t ruined. You set the table while having an idle conversation with your boyfriend. You finally realize that Jervis pulled all the stops this night, fine champagne that he probably had to go to Oswald for and the chocolates of the highest quality. You really did not deserve this man.

Dinner had got to be the best you ever had, the champagne almost didn’t taste real from how delicious it was, and you don’t even want to get started on the chocolates! It all came down to a fantastic close or so you thought. After a relaxing bath, you step into your shared bedroom to gasp softly. Candles light the room softly almost giving a peaceful warm glow. Jervis sits in the middle of the bed with a pleasant smile only wearing his robe. A warmth grew from your stomach to the joining in between your thighs as you crawl to Jervis. He giggles excitedly leaning back so you are straddling him. Oddly enough, Jervis liked it when you took over, he would get you in the mood then let you have your fun whichever way you want.

You press your lips to his, hands cupping his face before sliding up to card your fingers through his red hair. Jervis shivers as your lips travel away from his mouth and down his neck, “Let us, ah, travel down the rabbit hole.” Jervis barely moans out when you suck on the tender part of his neck. You feel the distinct poke on your thigh, you barely contain your smile. You suckle on his earlobe gaining more sweet little noises from him, you love his little squeaks of delight. You trail kisses lower to a certain area slowly undoing the robe covering Jervis, “I love you, Alice.”

You had to stop after hearing that. It was like Jervis was reacting to someone who wasn’t there, a fantasy that didn’t have you as the lover. “I’m sorry, Jervis, I can’t.” You weakly excuse yourself out of the bedroom. You couldn’t believe you are acting like a jealous girl that found out that her boyfriend talks to another girl. You feel a bit immature, but you were not getting what thought you had been. In this give and take relationship, all you did is give and for what? Curing your loneliness you had felt before Jervis came into your life? You couldn’t find fault in Jervis though, seeing as he is delusional and you knew from the start that this would happen.

You sigh having boiled yourself some water for tea to calm your nerves, if there was anything that Jervis taught you it was that tea solves most problems. You place the cup on the coffee table thinking if you should reconsider your relationship with Jervis. You lay out on your stomach cheek pressed against the throw pillow that Jervis stole from Arkham. It smells lightly of lavender and a mixture of different scents, your eye lids droop shut allowing you to take your mind away from your surroundings to the point of not realizing that Jervis had walked in the room. Weight on your back makes your eyes snap open. You wait until Jervis settles himself, lining his body to yours to a comfortable position, even snuggling himself down to the curves of your back. You feel his cheek on the back of your neck coupled with his steady breathing lightly brushing your ear.

“I have done something to upset you.” Jervis quietly breaks the silence. You notice the slight waver in his voice. A pang of guilt hits your heart hearing Jervis so saddened by your actions. “I was being selfish again, I thought that giving you all this was what you wanted.”

“Jervis…” You sigh about to apologize that you ruined the night that he had planned. A kiss on the shoulder makes you grow quiet again.

“You don’t want anything material, but something that says that I really do love you.” Jervis continues finally hearing that smile in his voice. You gulp hoping that he will get to the point. “More precious than chocolates and a fine dinner. You are my Alice, but I forget that you have a name.” Jervis nuzzles more into your back. “I love you so much, ___.”

You feel hot tears prickle your eyes, he understands! Jervis knows of what you want! He shifts again this time lowering himself down your body, hands sliding down your sides. You let out a shaky breath allowing it to hitch as Jervis grinds himself against your backside. Twisting your body to face him, your mouths meet his in a very lewd display of a kiss. Tongues slithering around each other not in seeking dominance, but in pleasure. Jervis breaks the kiss, slightly panting along with you before a cheeky smile crosses his flustered features, “We’ve never shagged on the couch before.”

#my writing #dcu #jervis tetch #the mad hatter

11 notes · View notes

miruka-cioccolata · 5 years ago

Text

“Prosciutto x reader Ghiaccio, Formaggio, & Melone pissed Prosciutto off really bad time this time. And they try to run for it. Reader walks in confused. They scream at her to help & save them from Prosciutto’s wrath. So reader decides to walk up to him & smooch him to calm him.”

(I love Prosciutto-themed asks~)

When you hear the sound of smashing glass and an angry yell you are immediately alarmed and up on your feet.

In order to find the source of the ruckus, you decide to boldly enter the room from which the strange sounds had emerged.

Just as you press down the handle and take a step inside, Formaggio, Melone and Ghiaccio almost run you over in a mad dash and quickly take cover behind you. It doesn't take long for you to find out why the three are so desperately in need for a good hiding spot: In the middle of the room stands a very, VERY enraged-looking Prosciutto and his ominous Stand with its magnitude of eyes is already crawling around his legs, just waiting to inflict his aging ability onto some unfortunate guy.

“What have you done this time?”, you ask the assassins behind you with a weary sigh. Somehow that trio always managed to get into trouble.

“Just teased him a bit”, Ghiaccio answers with a mischievous grin. “But today might have gone a little beyond the usual...”

You could definitely see that: The deep frown contorting Prosciutto's face was a telltale sign.

“You're gonna protect us, won't you? I mean, teamwork and all, you know the drill”, Formaggio says, but he is way less casual than his usual self.

“And how exactly should I do that?”

Unfortunately, there's no answer to your question.

Like a lion on the hunt Prosciutto takes slow steps towards you and you can feel the three other men behind you getting nervous the closer he gets to them.

Finally he is standing in front of you, blue eyes glaring holes into your face.

“Move. I need to have a talk with those fucking idiots”, he growls.

Most other people would have faltered at this point since Prosciutto is a pretty scary man, even threefold so when he is pissed off. However, you know him well enough that he won't just lash out on you and so you stay where you are without budging a centimeter and shake your head at his request.

“Hey, Prosciutto”, you say in hopes of calming him down, “no need to get violent, yeah? Let's just be civil about it, I'm sure whatever they did isn't worthy of using your Stand on them and-”

However, you can't finish your sentence since he cuts you off with a harsh: “You don't get it, they need to learn their lesson. How do they say? If you don't want to listen, find out the hard way...” Prosciutto cracks his knuckles, effectively making Formaggio and Melone behind you wince.

At this rate he surely isn't going to come to his senses. So what to do now?

You need to come up with a plan quickly...and realize there may just be one sole option left...

Before Prosciutto can even utter a single syllable, you take his face into your hands and lead him to your lips into a kiss. His lips are soft and slightly parted so that you can see his slight overbite. You feel him shift a little at first – blue eyes widened in surprise at your sudden action - before he slowly opens his mouth and allows your tongue to enter.

Prosciutto tastes like mint mixed with nicotine and since you are so close to him, you can smell the fragrance of his high class perfume.

He seems to be quite pleased about your peculiar choice of calming him down, so much that he even puts his hand on your hip to pull you closer to him and he deepens the kiss.

From somewhere behind your back you can hear Ghiaccio muttering “Seriously?” and Formaggio and Melone's cheering (not only because of your special method of calming Prosciutto down, but rather because they get to live for yet another day).

After a while you pull back from Prosciutto with a pant and notice with glee that his face has visibly relaxed, his stern expression with the furrowed brow and clenched teeth switched to an almost serene one.

“Well”, Prosciutto mumbles, even gifting you with an amused smirk – a rather unusual sight for him, “you sure have your ways to get what you want...”

#la squadra di esecuzione #jjba part 5 #vento aureo #golden wind #prosciutto x reader #prosciutto #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #la squadra x reader #ghiaccio #melone #formaggio #request #anon

221 notes · View notes

nijikato · 4 years ago

Photo

VESTAHQS TASK #001_

GENERAL STATS

BASIC INFO

Name: Nijiko Kato

Pronunciation: Nee-Jee-Ko, Kah-To

Nickname(s): Niji (preferred name)

Age: 25

Date and place of birth: August 20th, 1995 & Newark, New Jersey

Astrological sign: Leo

Gender: Cis Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Japanese

Occupation: Middle School Music Teacher

Education: Bachelors in Music Education from the University of Michigan

Religious beliefs: Roman Catholic (2009-2011), Presbyterian (2013-Present)

THE PHYSICAL

Height: 5′5

Weight: 123lb

Body Type: Slight with some curves

Hair: Black (naturally), Brown (dyed)

Eyes: Dark Brown

Clothing Preferences: Skirts that are pleated usually to the knee and ironed, button down shirts with a sweater vest or blazer over it, knee high socks and oxfords. Sometimes heels if she feels in the mood to be out of her usual.

Defining Features: Slight overbite, chubby cheeks.

Voice Tone: Soft voice often peppered with laughs and giggles. Speaks rather quick and loses her breath often.

Blood-Type: O+

Allergies: Peanuts and Tree Nuts (was more serious when she was a kid, but has since mellowed out. her throat still swells, but typically an epipen can do the job without a hospital visit.)

ROMANCE

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Romantic Orientation: Homoromantic

Do they have a type: Niji prefers women who are older than her and have a more serious outlook on life. To her, a partner that is direct and honest (even if that means blunt) is valuable.

Pet peeves: Hiding secrets. She’d rather just be open and honest with her partner instead of dancing around issues.

PERSONALITY

Likes: cats, music, horror movies + novels, mechanics

Dislikes: math, veggies, disorderliness, snow

Ambivert, introvert or extrovert?: Extrovert

FAMILY

Siblings: Hanayo Kato (22), Mimi Kato (17)

Birth order: Eldest

Parents: Torashi Kato (56), Rima Kato (53), Rev. Thomas Claymore (45, father figure), Maryanne Claymore (45, mother figure)

Children: N/A (Does her cat, Dusty, count?)

Do they want kids: Yes, through adoption assuming her partner also wants to adopt.

SKILLS

What language(s) do they speak: English and Japanese, though she has trouble reading and writing the latter

What are they talented at: From an early age, Niji was gifted with music and with percussion in particular. To her, this is her defining talent. People tend to be shocked by her aim and accuracy.

What is a hidden talent no one knows of: Niji is skilled with a wrench and a hammer. She took mechanics classes throughout high school and worked on cars with her dad while she was close with him.

What are they worst at: Niji is very bad at keeping things organized and sticking to a schedule. If her job didn’t force her to do so, her whole balance would be out of wack.

A DEEPER LOOK

What is their relationship with their family like?:

For Niji, it has been strained since she was sixteen. At the time, she was hurt most by being kicked out due to her sexuality. Now, she isn’t sure what hurts more: being kicked out or the breach of privacy when her parents looked through her journals to find out.

She keeps in contact with her little sisters from time to time, willingly taking calls whenever they need her. After all, they are her little sisters. It’s her job to be there for them and they have never done anything to hurt her.

Her parents, on the other hand, haven’t contacted her since she was kicked out, and since has been estranged from her.

The pastor and his wife for the church she went to for food and clean clothing while she was on the streets took up the mantle as her father and mother figure, respectively, since she was about seventeen. To Niji, they are her current parents, despite never calling them that, and are the closest thing she has to a real family.

Describe their personality:

Nijiko tries her best to stay optimistic, especially around her friends. Even if she is not feeling well, she will put on a good face for others. If anyone needs something form her, Nijiko is willing to give whatever is needed to help out.

But, her opinion of herself is rather high. When she is good at something Nijiko is very cocky about it. Quick to talk about her achievements and let everyone know about it

Yet, if she fails, she dwells on it four days sometimes, thinking over how she could have been better. To her and for herself only, she expects perfection and nothing less. Nijiko can sit for hours trying to to get something right, starting and restarting it until she’s frustrated.

Are they happy where they are in life:

Her stance in terms of her happiness is a bit turbulent. On one hand, she enjoys her life being free and able to express herself. She loves her job and working with kids who love music as much as she does. Around her is a a group of friends who sees her for who she is. Unlike when she was in New Jersey, Niji can fully be Niji and like what she likes without constant judgement.

On the other hand, she is disconnected form her family and barely talks to her little sisters. Niji would love to talk to Hanayo and Mimi, but she feels the rift between them is deep not because they have done anything to her, but because of the emotional baggage that comes from her being kicked out of the house. There wasn’t much for them to do since they were only 13 and 8 respectively. Her parents never let her explore herself and when she started to come into her own, she was cast out. While she is upset with them for this, them never reaching out and ignoring her contact with them has hurt the most.

What is their dream:

Her long term goal is a bit more difficult. Someday she wants to reconnect to her family. If that cannot happen, she wants to start one of her own and give the freedom and expression to her children that she never had. As much as she wishes to make amends with her parents, forgive them, but not forget what they did to her, them not wanting contact is proving that they don’t feel much remorse for what happened.

Niji’s short term goal is much more simple. She wishes to keep working hard and get her students on a musical level that allows them to achieve multiple awards. Each year she is learning better techniques and ways to connect with her students and not above being critiqued on what to do better. To her, the classroom is for both the student and the teacher. In order for progress to be made, both need to be listening to one another.

#vestatask #task:001

3 notes · View notes

humanp30ple · 4 years ago

Text

👁️ Lana 👁️

Basic

Name: Leilani Sanchez

Nickname: Lana, L

Age: 16

Gender/Pronouns/presentation: cis woman, she/her, masculine.

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: Puerto Rican and Thai

Race: Asian Hispanic

Orientation: Lesbian? It’s complicated. She’s 99% sure she’s a lesbian

Known Languages: English, Spanish

Occupation: High school student, dreams of being an astrobiologist; wants to prove the existence of extraterrestrial life forms

Physical Description:

She’s a stocky young woman who stands at 5’8” and weighs 225. She has a waist that isn’t very defined, her shoulders and hips are about the same width. She has a relatively flat chest that she flattens further with a binder. Her bottom is flatter than it is round and most of her weight is situated around her torso and her upper thighs and arms. She has deeply tanned, slightly dry skin that’s prone to mild breakouts and covered in a light dusting of peach fuzz, dark brown eyes, and dark, shoulder-length, coily hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

She has a round face that is nearly as wide as it is long with her cheekbones being the widest part of her face. She has upturned, slightly protruding, hooded monolid eyes with rounded, bushy low arch eyebrows. Her nose has a wide bridge with a slight hump that leads into a broad tip and a wide nasal base. She has a wide mouth with a heavy lower lip and a rounded cupid’s bow. She has a slight overbite and requires braces. She has a toothy, crooked, contagious smile. Her ears are slightly larger than average and are round with an attached earlobe.

She has small hands with long, ovoid palms and short, chubby fingers. When she was younger she would bite her nails, causing them to become stubby and uneven. She doesn’t paint her nails often. When she does, it's usually with clear, black, white, navy blue, lime green, or candy apple red polish. She is left-handed.

She has three small beauty marks that form a triangle; one next to the head of her left eyebrow, one directly below the middle of her collar bone, and one on her neck to the left side of her windpipe.

She often wears a dark orange denim shirt over a white X-Files t-shirt with brown, loose-fitting, corduroy pants that are rolled up at the ankle, revealing a pair of plain maroon crew socks followed by a pair of distressed white hi-top classic converse.

Likes/Dislikes

Likes:

Investigating conspiracies and secret government shenanigans

Aliens and the possibility of extraterrestrial life

Space and space-related things

Unprompted discussions about philosophy, religion, and the nature of reality

Theoretical physics, quantum mechanics, and related sciences

Memes and vines and other funnies

Long road trips

Being right

Sweet, sour, spicy, and salty foods

Dislikes:

Being lied to

Being wrong about something and not knowing it

The thought of being alone in the universe

Being the last to know something

People who are quick to disbelieve

Bad journalism

Bitter foods

Favorite colors:

Orange and brown

Favorite Food(s):

Chicharrones de Pollo

Frybread with honey and powdered sugar

Favorite Drink(s):

Dr. Pepper

Favorite Song/Theme Song:

Touch-Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon

Movies/TV Shows/Performances:

X-Files

In Search of…

Invader Zim

Book(s):

War of the Worlds - H.G. Wells

Favorite Subjects in school:

Trigonometry

Physics

Astronomy

Favorite animal(s):

Dogs

Favorite place(s):

The library

Her room

The local observatory

Personality: She's ambitious and driven, with a strong work ethic and the ability to visualize what others can't. She prides herself on having scrupulous attention to detail, a vivid imagination with a strong sense of compassion, and her ability to see through dishonesty and disingenuous motives; she sees how people and events are connected. When she comes to believe that something is important, they pursue that goal with a conviction and energy that can catch others off-guard. She won’t engage in any actions or promote beliefs just to benefit herself. Rather she does what she does and believes what she believes because she trusts that it will make the world a better place.

She’s very talkative and outspoken and prides herself in being straightforward and is neither subtle nor devious in her speech or behavior. She says what's on her mind and pulls no punches. According to some, she’s a little lacking in regard to tact and diplomacy due to her frankness. She’s opinionated and loves to share those opinions, even when literally no one asked her to, and she loves a good argument or debate. Still, she makes an honest effort to be mindful of others and how her words could affect them.

She is quick-tempered but isn’t known to hold grudges and although she can get quite angry, she doesn’t hold it in and stew about what bothers her. She gets upset, gets over it, then moves on.

She has an inquiring mind filled with thoughts that are a little unconventional and perhaps somewhat eccentric but are nevertheless unique to her and her alone. People tend to have a hard time understanding how she thinks or why she expresses herself in the ways she does. She likes to think of herself as being ahead of her time. Ideas and intellectual freedom are her top priority. She doesn’t like to be told how to do things and wants the freedom to do things her own way. There never seems to be enough time to do all the things she has on her mind. Mental restlessness causes her to always be on the search for new information and knowledge. She has unique ways of passing this new information along to others. Boredom is seldom a problem for her.

A lot of her thoughts and behavior is driven by a subconscious ambition for power, recognition, distinction, and status. She is not content to follow and craves a leading role in whatever she does. She’s a dedicated and tenacious worker capable of foregoing immediate comfort in order to achieve her long-range goals. She can easily become a workaholic and is very conscientious about doing a thorough job. She’s prone to being overly-enthusiastic in all of her endeavors, especially when it comes to doing research on topics that interest her such as paranormal activity and the possibility of coexisting with extraterrestrial life forms. She is always eager to share her findings with her friends, followers, and really anyone who will listen. However, sometimes her over-zealousness leaves others questioning her credibility.

At times she can come off as stubborn, impatient, self-centered, impulsive, and perhaps a little dogmatic. When someone challenges or criticizes her principles or values, they are likely to receive an alarmingly strong response. She’s highly vulnerable to criticism and conflict. Questioning her motives and methodology is the quickest and easiest way to get on her bad side.

She has a natural tendency to stand alone and do everything herself, thus she finds it very difficult to ask for help.

She’s extremely private when it comes to her personal life. She finds it difficult to truly open up, even to close friends. Trusting a new friend can be very challenging for her and she often feels there are few people in this world who truly get her.

She often gets so caught up in her pursuits that any of the cumbersome tasks that come between her and her ideal vision is deeply unwelcome. She likes to know that she is taking concrete steps toward her goals. If routine tasks feel like they are getting in the way – or worse yet, there is no goal at all – she will start to feel restless and disappointed.

Her passion, impatience for routine maintenance, idealism, and extreme privacy tend to leave her with few options for letting off steam. She frequently exhausts herself and struggles to find ways to balance her ideals with the realities of day-to-day living.

Misc. Information

She has a Chihuahua named Laika. He’s a coward and isn’t very intelligent and he looks like a sad rat but he’s trying his best and she loves him very much.

Kins Fox Mulder and Dib Membrane

Her first crush was Dana Scully

Runs a blog dedicated to documenting her experiences with, research into, and general passion for aliens and paranormal activity under the pseudonym “A. Leon”.

#oc #long post #aliens #aliencore #ufo #ufo hunting #wlw characters #cryptidcore #cryptids

4 notes · View notes

freddie-mercurial · 5 years ago

Text

Thank you so, so much to everyone who took part in Maycury Week, whether you were a creator or a consumer or just reblogged the post to help get the word around! I’m honestly blown away by the number of new fics that were posted for these two and I can’t thank everyone enough for working so hard to post content! There are 58 fics in the Maycury Week tag on AO3! As well as some posts on tumblr!

So, as promised, here is the round-up post of Maycury Week! Please mind the tags and warnings on each of these fics as I’m only copying the summaries!

Fraternity by LydianNode

After a tough day watching the others record "Back Chat," Brian goes to a bar and nurses a beer or six.

Having a normal job might not be so terrible, Brian thought as he signaled for the waiter to bring him another beer. People in normal jobs led safe, ordinary lives. They didn't get close enough to their co-workers to consider them brothers, didn't long for their approval, weren't willing to fight and die for them.

People in normal jobs didn't get stabbed in the back by harsh words gleefully sung to a catchy disco tune.

she's a killer queen by tartymoriarty

Brian finds himself somewhat distracted during the filming of I Want To Break Free. Freddie can't blame him.

(Don't Send Me To) The Path Of Nevermore by annieapple24

Using the prompt "it’s roger’s wedding and freddie’s had a little too much to drink. he gets very emotional during his speech and brian takes him outside to help him calm down a little" for Maycury week!

Here He Comes Now [Maycury Week] by LunaSoul

My contributions for Maycury Week.

he's my champion by Jenfly

A few pieces for the Maycury/Frian week.

Breakthru by jessahmewren

Wearing lingerie has always helped boost Brian's mood, but it's a secret he's kept hidden from Freddie, until now.

One Day by NightOfTheLand

A sleepy morning in bed and confessions are made.

A Truth by LydianNode

Freddie watches Roger's and Brian's segment of "Good Rockin' Tonight" and learns a truth.

"I know WHY we're doing it!" The irritable tone in Brian's voice gave way on a crack as he continued. "I just...I can't do what you do, sit there and blithely lie about the band, about Freddie being so sick."

"I'm not BLITHE. It's fucking hard work."

"And I'm saying I don't think I can do it. You covered up, but what if I make a mistake, say the wrong thing?" A brittle laugh filled the microphone. "We're in a world where the wrong thing to say is the truth and the right one's a lie."

"So don't tell a lie," Roger advised. "And don't tell the truth. Just tell *A* truth. Not about what's happening, but how you feel."

Brian snorted. "*A* truth."

Harmony in my Head (love in my heart) by sammyspreadyourwings

Every soulmate group has a shared language in their head. Brian's happens to be music, it should be easy enough to find them. He just hopes his first meeting goes smoothly.

something borrowed, something blue by rory_the_dragon

Written for the prompt: it’s roger’s wedding and freddie’s had a little too much to drink. he gets very emotional during his speech and brian takes him outside to help him calm down a little.

(Day one of Maycury Week)

lucky, lucky me by keepurselfalive

Brian held out his hands, opening them so Freddie could see the tiny clover – fours leaves and everything – that he was hoarding.

sometimes things fall apart by TimeTurnedFragile

It wasn't anger in Freddie's voice, wasn't anything that easy. Anger Brian's used to; he knows when to push past it and when to leave it alone, mostly. This isn't anger, this is something scarier, something like not being in love.

in all but name by salazarsslytherin

"I’m going to marry you one day.”

Freddie laughs into his mouth. “That’s not even legal.”

“Just wait,” Brian promises.

fingers by e_is_better_than_a

Freddie's fingers ache and Roger wants him to meet his friend.

flowers on his arm by disco__deaky

brian may has been waiting to meet his flower drawing soulmate his whole life.

(maycury week 2019; soulmate au!!)

from all this gloom life can start anew by epherians

Freddie and Brian find comfort through the song “Dear Friends.” Based on a future scene for No Weaknesses.

Written for Day 1 of Maycury Week 2019.

you have (stolen) my heart by patchworkangel

I'd marry you, he'd think, and make you this happy forever.

A silly daydream, really.

we may whisper once more (it's you I adore) by tartymoriarty

There was an awful time in the middle of it all when Brian thought they might not recover from the tension and the arguments and the ugly words thrown out in anger, but they did. Against the odds, the band scraped out alive, and his and Freddie’s relationship with it.

After everything, Brian wants to do something nice for Freddie.

Falling Into You by jessahmewren

Brian's first day of Uni starts with a few hitches, until he meets an enigmatic young man with a slight overbite.

Slow the Tempo (back to basics) by sammyspreadyourwings

1986 brings a lot of challenges to Queen, both professionally and personally. Freddie and Brian's relationship is one of them.

the wonder that's keeping the stars apart by rory_the_dragon

Brian might be starting to get into some trouble here.

(Part III in the College AU Series)

Posted for Day Two of Maycury Week

oh honey, i'll do anything for you by obscuriaal

Freddie's been trying to get Brian's attention for months; he tries something new.

love like fools by salazarsslytherin

“He was wearing his sex shirt,” he says numbly.

“...His what?”

“You know!” Freddie says. He waves his hand out toward the door Brian’s just disappeared through. “His fucking sex shirt! He always wears that shirt when it’s the night. He’s going to have sex with her, Roger!”

Roger snorts. “Brian does not have a sex shirt,” he says.

Freddie is jealous. Brian, it turns out, is also jealous.

wanna know that body like it's mine by keepurselfalive

"I don't want to rush you or anything, darling,” he said breathlessly, shifting his hips in a slow roll against Brian's dick, "but I have been waiting a really long time for you to fuck me."

soul brother by e_is_better_than_a

freddie has a surprise for a really sad brian.

down on my knees (i want to take you there) by TimeTurnedFragile

The problem--Freddie has determined--with being in love with The Most Beautiful Boy on the Planet, is that it's hard to just buy him a beer or something pedestrian like that, but Freddie can't really afford much else.

floating around in ecstasy by disco__deaky

Brian and Freddie experience a bunch of firsts.

I've Got a Surprise For You by BohemianBeth

A Four Magical Misfits one-shot for Maycury week. 5 times Brian comforted Freddie and one time Freddie comforted Brian.

give me your mind baby give me your body by tartymoriarty

“I tell you what,” Brian says, phrasing it like a spontaneous suggestion even though Freddie knows he has absolutely been planning this for the last three days. “You do something for me, and once you’ve done that, I’ll take the plug out and I’ll fuck you. How does that sound?”

if we loved again (i swear i'd love you right) by salazarsslytherin

“Roger,” Brian snaps. “Tell me what’s wrong. Is Freddie okay?”

“He’s lost a lot of memories,” Roger says bluntly. “About five years or so, we think. Maybe six? He doesn’t know Queen split up. He doesn’t know about Deaky. He thinks…”

Brian doesn’t need him to finish. Five years ago, he’d been more happy than he could fathom. They’d been on top of the world, dominating in the charts, jetting off around the world to play to thousands of adoring fans and falling into bed together each night, so giddy and in love Brian had never dreamed anything might ruin it.

love you a little, love you a latte by rory_the_dragon

Brian is running late when he sees the sign that’s going to ruin the rest of his already shitty day.

(Written for Day Three of Maycury Week: Coffee Shop AU)

stop making me laugh! by disco__deaky

maycury week day 3;

freddie and brian have some fun .

My Soul's Lover by yasmamamercury (TwistOfLily)

The boys are just finishing up the Hot Space album and things have been tense. Brian's convinced that his boys have fallen out of love with him, until Freddie sets the record straight with a well-planned surprise.

The Song They Created by LydianNode

Freddie and Brian have a moment backstage before their Live Aid duet. (Prompt for Day 3 of Maycury Week.)

"It's nice, this. Just a few minutes for the two of us." Freddie turned his warm eyes up to catch Brian's gaze. "We don't do it enough."

Not since Munich, Brian didn't say, but he must have stiffened a little because Freddie reached up to tangle his fingers in Brian's hair.

Ode to Joy (a Queen Cover) by sammyspreadyourwings

Brian and Freddie have a silly moment during sex

a fat bottomed surprise by e_is_better_than_a

Freddie arranges a little surprise for their tour.

i ride off alone (help me hold on to you) by keepurselfalive

He wondered when they had started fighting like adults instead of bickering like kids.

I love You 'cause you're sweet (and I love You 'cause you're naughty) by BambiRex

This is my contribution to the Maycury week. I went with the costumes/roleplay prompt.

you got a face that begs for love by tartymoriarty

Brian glances at Freddie again. Freddie’s mouth is still downturned, his eyes are still sad, and that simply will not do.

Photograph by jessahmewren

Brian is a soon-to-be single parent who meets a charming photographer who helps him discover his true worth.

For the Man that Has Everything by lover_of_blue_roses

What to buy the man that has everything? Why, the wrong thing of course.

where you are wanted by keepurselfalive

Freddie shows up at Brian's new house the day after he moves in.

so take a chance with me by rory_the_dragon

Brian and Freddie share a moment during Freddie's 39th Birthday Party.

(Written for Maycury Week: Day Four)

gift giving by e_is_better_than_a

Brian doesn't know what to get a man that has everything.

Eternity (I give to you) by sammyspreadyourwings

Brian May struggles to figure out what he can give Freddie for his birthday.

You Make It Easier by WritingSiren

Brian's been in the hospital for three weeks now, and he's convinced himself that he just may go crazy if he stays here any longer. But there's one thing he always looks forward to ever since he's been here. -- Written for Maycury Week: day 5

Prompt: "brian's in hospital slowly recovering from hepatitis; freddie visiting him every day is the only thing keeping him sane."

there's no place for us by tartymoriarty

There’s something delicate about this one. He’s short, a lot smaller than Brian, and slender with it too, all slim wrists and sharp cheekbones. When he tips his head back and smiles up at Brian, a dimple winking in his cheek, he keeps his mouth closed.

Brian would quite like to see that mouth open around Brian’s name, but that isn’t what he came to the club for. He came to feed and the club is as good a hunting ground as any.

Round the new moon's shine by Tikini

The neck shrugged again. “I have no interest in women. And I have no interest in seeing anyone drown. The men however…” He eyed Brian intensely and licked his lips. “I just can’t have enough of the men.”

“But your song doesn’t work on men.” Brian pointed out.

“No I know.” The neck sighed sadly. “It’s a real dilemma.”

tell my love to wreck it all by salazarsslytherin

“I want to talk to you, anyway,” Brian says quietly. “When you’re done. I’ve been thinking about what you said before I left.”

Brian finally returns home from his trip to Tenerife and goes to Liverpool to bring Freddie home.

slow hands by rory_the_dragon

Brian has privately made his own plans not to leave his bed for love nor money.

And why would he, when he’s got a deliciously warm Freddie Mercury curled up in front of him, asleep, softly snoring, just begging for a day in bed.

(Written for Day Four of Maycury Week)

Midnight in the Meadow by jessahmewren

A young scientist has an unexpected meeting with an unusual vampire and becomes immediately intrigued.

sleepy stars by e_is_better_than_a

Brian has to drag Freddie away from his cauldron after hours of trying to make his potion right.

the light of the night burned bright by tartymoriarty

“They, ah.” Brian pauses and clears his throat, stepping aside to let Freddie in properly. “They mixed up the room details, I think.”

Freddie looks past him. The lamps aren’t on so all he’s got to see by is the light from the corridor beyond; it takes him a moment to register what Brian means. Their bags have been brought ahead, left at the foot of the bed. The bed, singular.

Ah.

An (Almost) Missed Connection by WritingSiren

Freddie Bulsara has been closely following a band called Smile ever since they started. He's developed a crush on the guitarist, Brian, and he's pretty sure he likes him too. If only he could work up the courage to talk to him... -- Written for Maycury Week: day 7

Prompt: "brian's in a band called smile trying to make things work between music and his degree when his bandmate tim introduces them to his friend, freddie. the rest is history."

don't you hear me calling you? by tartymoriarty

In all the worlds in all the universes that ever existed or will exist, there is a Brian, and there is a Freddie.

rest and relaxation by e_is_better_than_a

After recording their first album, Brian and Freddie are ready to enjoy time alone.

we inhale, exhale, and reset by starrydrowse

He’s in his own bed— finally— after endless months of cramped tour bus bunks and fancy hotel rooms that, while nice (and unquestionably better than the shoddy Holiday Inns they’d stayed in during their early years) always leave a bit of a sour taste in Brian’s mouth.

He’s finally home and he has nowhere at all to be— no plans, no commitments— nothing even remotely important to think about except for Freddie, warm and wrapped in his arms, clinging to him, breathing softly as he sleeps.

Or, Brian and Freddie spend a morning taking things slow.

(in)finite by fortyfive_rpm (2davidbeckham3)

Poem set during Brian and Freddie's Live Aid performance of "Is This the World We Created?"

Feel Your Heartbeat by CommonSenseisPaineful

'-it shouldn’t be frightening, he tried to rationalise. He was just shopping. For lingerie. For lingerie that would fit him- oh god this was a bit too much to handle.' ~ For Frian/Maycury week; Brian is curious, Freddie is flirty, and dressing rooms are much more private to everyone's delight.

A Misunderstandment by Blackbean

"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore." Freddie felt his heart break.

The More I'm Trying by CommonSenseisPaineful

'And if I say I love you in the candle light there's no-one but myself to blame' ~ 'First time' for maycury week. Freddie's realising a lot of firsts.

Soft Kisses by NightOfTheLand

Freddie might have gone a little overboard with setting the scene. He ran his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt as he looked around the room. Would Brian even like the candles? The soft sound of Hendrix from the record player in the corner?

~~ Or Freddie and Brian enjoy an evening together

The Wicked Never Sleep by wordwhisper

'God, your voice.’, Brian breathes and Freddie immediately recoils so sharply that he almost hits the opposite wall.

‘My what?’

or the Early- Queen Era 70s (sort of) AU in which Freddie’s a modern-day Siren, Trident is run by Apollo and nothing is as it seems. (inspired by lots of conversations and this post)

Album 12 Track 6 by CommonSenseisPaineful

"I want to stay like this forever"- maycury/frian week. ~ Brian and Freddie write a tune, at the dawn of night.

Levitate by disco__deaky

Brian and Freddie share some love for eachother and their boys.

Maycury week day 5.

Coffee, Cigarettes, and Morning Sex by Anonymous

"Come on, don't tell me you want coffee more than a blowjob right now?"

aka Brian really wants morning sex, but Freddie's got a few addictions that are getting in the way of that happening.

TUMBLR POSTS (that aren’t already on AO3):

gifset by hammer-to-fall

post from incorrectborhapquotes

fic by stayinqpower - it’s freddie’s birthday and brian doesn’t know what to get for the man who has everything

Tell Him - fic by thosequeenboys

fic by dusty-drabbles - stop making me laugh

I think that’s everything but if I’ve missed anything, please please let me know! I promise I have not left anything out deliberately so if you posted something and it’s not in here, it’s just my mistake and I’ve missed it! Let me know and I’ll add it in :)

Again a massive, massive thank you to everyone who got involved, I cannot thank you enough!

#maycury week #maycury #frian #freddie mercury #brian may #queen #god i hope all these links work #it took me ages to go through and make this post omg #i'm so sad it's over :(((

64 notes · View notes

ink-and-dagger · 3 years ago

Text

Dearest Darlings 🖤

Writing Chapter 14 of Drink With Me is turning out to be comparable to wrestling two crocodiles into a single pair of skinny jeans.

It’s going to be a little while longer yet whilst I iron out some kinks (no, not that kind you filthy sluts). But in the meantime… I guess I could share the beginning with you…

DWM Chapter 14 Sneak Peek

[edits may be made in the final draft]

Silco is the bow of a ship; a devastating figurehead cutting effortlessly through the choppy waters of the crowded club.

Which must make you his True North.

Because the point of his compass is fixed unwaveringly upon you.

He moves with the utter confidence of a man who knows that people will clear the way for him. And they do. Quickly, and with mixed expressions of terror and awe.

It’s been a few days since you last saw him, and your body is still dappled in pretty shades of mauve and merlot that you can’t help but admire any chance you get. Connecting the dots with your fingertips; retracing the journey he’d taken by touch and memory. The secret smile which graces your lips whenever you do is just as much a mark that he’s left upon you as the bruises are. And it’s one that’s unlikely to fade so fast.

The vulnerability he’d worn when you’d left his office is nowhere to be seen. The man who approaches now is every bit the dynamic, self-assured King of Zaun. Though there’s a quiet shine in his eyes which you suspect is only for you.

You lean your elbows on the bar as he arrives; tucking them together just a little and offering him a lovely view straight down the front of your top.

But he’s a gentleman, and allows himself only a brief, surreptitious glance at your cleavage before meeting your eyes again with a small smirk. The one that accentuates his slight overbite and makes you embarrassingly giddy.

“What can I get you, handsome?”

His smirk widens.

“I’m not here to drink. I have need of your talent.”

“Which one?” You ask with a suggestive little head tilt. Your back is to Jasper – but you can feel the roll of his eyes all the same.

A flurry of filthy responses flicker through Silco’s mind - you can tell by the way he sucks his teeth slightly in order to keep from voicing them, and he eyes the marks which peek over the collar of your shirt like an artist proudly surveying their work, “I have a meeting in half an hour with a business associate.”

You pout, “Is she prettier than me?”

“He’s a bastard,” amusement colours the drawl of his words, “Regardless. Social etiquette calls for me to offer him refreshment during his visit."

“Well it’s a good job you keep a drinks cart up in your office then, isn’t it?”

His chuckle is low and dark beneath the music, but it vibrates through you just as surely as the bass, “I find myself with a craving for one of those Old Fashions you make.”

“You do, hm?”

He inclines his head in confirmation.

You straighten and plant your hands on the counter. With a little hop, your boots leave the floor and you lock your elbows into place so that you hover eye level with Silco. You hinge your weight forward slightly by bending your knees up behind you. The edge of the bar presses a little into your still bruised hip bones, and your ankles cross casually over one another in midair.

“You know, Silco, sweetie,” you purr, perhaps a little overly brazen with how close you lever yourself towards him, and how openly flirtatious you’re being. But you find that you no longer care. Besides, he doesn’t make any move to retreat, or to hide the obvious attraction in his gaze, "If you want to see me, you don’t need to come up with some bullshit excuse. You can just come and say hi.”

The scar on his lip quirks in time with the mirth that flashes in his eyes. He doesn’t even try to deny it.

“What does your friend drink?”

“Gin.”

You wrinkle your nose, “So he’s a Piltie, huh?”

The club lights catch on a brief flash of broken teeth - accompanied by a chuckle that's spontaneous enough to actually shift his shoulders a little, “Sometimes I forget about that clever little intuition of yours.”

You click your tongue, “Should I be insulted?”

“Never, darling.”

“Pity. I’m a big fan of your method of repentance.”

His only response is a wicked little smirk that has heat pooling low in your belly. You pull your lip between your teeth, and he tracks the movement.

And then he turns and stalks wordlessly away.

You’re insulted for half a second, until you realise he’s headed out back instead of up to the balcony. And then your indignance is replaced instantly by a giddy fizz of excitement.

#drink with me #sneak peek #chapter 14 #silco x reader #silco x astrid #silco x oc #silco #silco fanfic #arcane #read on ao3

98 notes · View notes

wri0thesley · 5 years ago

Text

we’ve been talking about hatesex recently in my self-ship server and i op, my finger slipped--

Subterfuge - Fem Reader x Prosciutto

warnings: not sfw, unsafe sex, hate sex, slurs. an unhealthy relationship, though that’s a given! afab reader, fem pronouns. 3k.

Your lip twists in frustration as Prosciutto looms over you, his own features contorted in anger, one of his hands slapping hard on the wall above where he’s gotten you pinned. There’s a fleck of blood on his forehead, above his eyebrow, but you’re not going to point that out - not when his mouth is spitting vitriol at you and there’s a vein his throat pulsing in time to the angry cadence of his words. You jut your chin out defiantly.

“--So stupid! Could have gotten us both killed, you’re always running into danger instead of stepping back and assessing the situation like you’re supposed to, if I hadn’t been here you’d be fucking mincemeat, idiota--”

“Well, if you’d act on impulse for once in your life instead of standing back and trying to do your bullshit analysing, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten away from us--” You hiss back, frustration bubbling in your chest, your entire body hot with righteous indignation. Prosciutto is absolutely always on your ass; pulling you up about silly things like improper handling of your gun and your stand not being quite precise enough and the way you speak to Risotto (that one always gets him; mafia culture is ingrained into his very fabric of being, and the fact that some of his team members are so casual with the capo of La Squadra di Esecuzioni seems to cause him physical pain). He will not leave you alone!

It’s not in the same way that he won’t leave Pesci alone - to Pesci, he’s encouraging but stern. To you, he’s just a pain in the rear end. Pesci gets told ‘good job!’ and ‘I knew you’d be fine!’ and ‘I know you can do it’ - you get told ‘idiota’ and ‘you’re a disgrace’ and, often: ‘you’d have been killed where you stood if I wasn’t here to bail you out like always!’

It’s bullshit he gets to be so nice to look at when everything that spills out of his mouth is awful to the highest degree. You’ll sometimes catch a glance of him out of the corner of your eye; adjusting his ascot, running his fingers through his hair, biting his lip so his overbite is even more prominent as he works - and your heart will do a funny little flutter. Then, of course, he’ll say something utterly heinous and your blood will boil and you think that you’d be better off if you never had to see him again in your life.

“We don’t get where we are by acting on impulse!” He slams his other hand against the wall in punctuation of his words, caging you between his arms. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pursed and his eyes are burning hot and bright in the dim light of the alleyway. “If you can’t learn the art of patience and subterfuge, stupida puttana, maybe you’re not cut out for this line of work!”

“Maybe you should try telling that to Risotto!” You snap back. “He clearly thinks I’m cut out for it, despite the fact you’re out here telling him I’m a liability at every turn--”

“You’re infuriating!” He hisses, bending his head so that his face is closer to yours. Your body goes hot, your face flushing - and you hope that Prosciutto thinks it’s from incandescent rage instead of anything more flattering to his already massive ego.

“Says you!” You spit back, which isn’t exactly the most witty of comebacks - but, of course, you’re not quite in the right frame of mind to think of anything that’s actually droll. Not when your breath is coming out in short pants, your chest rising and falling, and you can feel Prosciutto’s own chest pressed aggravatingly close against you.

“I should have let you be killed,” he says, but his eyes are on your mouth instead of on your gaze. “That would have taught you a lesson.”

“A-and missed the chance to gloat to Risotto about how you saved my skin?” You say, breathlessly. “You’re never able to turn down a chance to massage your ego, Prosh--”

The nickname falls mocking from your lips, and something in Prosciutto snaps. His mouth bares teeth, a noise like a growl as he moves one of the hands caging you to roughly jerk your chin up. His eyes glitter bright and dangerous, his body close enough that you can scent his woodsy aftershave on the air and you can see that there are shadows beneath his eyes, a tiredness not hidden by ruthlessly sharp cheekbones and immaculate hair.

“You need to learn to shut up, troia--” He says - and then he’s kissing you.

You two get back to the hideout - a shitty little hotel room with two single beds and a leaking roof - in what seems like minutes, the heat of what Prosciutto had done radiating off of you both, the unspoken promise of what’s to come hanging in the air. He’s no gentler with you on the way back than he ever is - barking out commands, grabbing your wrists and pulling you to get you to move quicker, glaring at you when you stumble (his legs are longer than yours and you’re slow) - but he’s heated, desperate, the weight of what’s going to happen rolling off him in waves.

When he’s locked the door behind you, you’re barely given a moment to breathe before you’re knocked against the wall again, your cheek pressing into yellowed wallpaper. One of Prosciutto’s hands presses against your hip, the rest of him pressing against your back - and a hardness digging into the softness of your ass as he grinds into you with a sibilant hiss of;

“Don’t think me doing this means I like you.”

“I wouldn’t want to think that,” you gasp back, your body prickling with heat, as the hand on your hip travels over you, your thigh and your ass and then his other hand is moving and squeezes your breast roughly through the thin material of the neat blouse you’re wearing. Prosciutto’s touch is heated but practised - and when he pulls on your hair, you’re helpless to do anything but let him bare your throat with breathless anticipation.

“Pathetic,” he sneers, but lips and teeth worry into your bared throat even so, and before you know it you’re being pulled away from the wall so that he can get you out of your clothes. His hands are clearly used to the buttons and hooks and zippers of a woman’s outfit; he wastes no time in ripping your blouse from you, discarding it on the floor like trash. He wastes no time in tugging off your skirt. He wastes no time in caging your body beneath him on one of the shitty single beds, bed springs poking into your back. You can’t think of the bed springs and the creaking mattress, though - not when Prosciutto is rearing up onto his knees and his clever fingers are tugging at his ascot, pulling it off and tossing it aside, careful to make sure it lands on the other bed and not the filthy floor. .

“You might be desperate for me,” he sneers down at you, “But I’ve still got a modicum of class. Who knows. The dirt might improve your outfit.”

“That’s rich coming from the man who couldn’t wait to get them off me,” you bite back at him, and you rear up from underneath him to tear at the buttons of his shirts and finely tailored jacket.

He growls in the back of his throat again, and before you know it you’re both tussling, the clothes slipping off Prosciutto’s lithe but muscled shoulders - he’s littered with scars, but as you run your fingers through the neatly combed hair to dishevel it and you drag your nails down his back hard enough to make him hiss through his teeth, you’re not thinking about that. You’re thinking about how fucking gorgeous he is when he’s been mussed up a bit, and how it really is unfair that he’s such a goddamn asshole.

“Whore,” he hisses, ripping at your bra as he bares your breasts.

“Bastard!” You reply, tugging on his hair so that you can worry your teeth into the pulse point at the side of his neck, sucking and biting a blooming purple bruise into his skin.

“Slut--” he says, as he shoves his knee in between your thighs and rips at your underwear, uncaring of the sound of delicate lace tearing. “You’re wet for me, puttana--”

“You’re hard for me--” You retort, as you feel stiffness press against your full thigh, radiating heat. You can’t resist taunting him, as you swallow around dryness in your throat and the realisation that the persistent ache of heat low in your body is all for him. “What, you’ve been thinking about how much you want to fuck me even as you’ve been telling me I’m a worthless disgrace? It’s shameful how quickly you got me underneath you. Anyone would think that you wanted this all along.”

He grabs a hank of your hair, sliding backwards at the same time as he yanks you up, his face contorting into something both mean and lovely in its ferocious intensity.

“I should shut your smart mouth up,” he growls, pulling on your hair to get you to move your head towards his cock, freed from expensive looking silken underwear. He’s painfully hard, the tip of his cock ruddy in his hand and beading with pre-come.

(His cock is just as pretty as he is; not too thick, but not too thin. A slight upward curve. It makes you sick with both disgust and want.)

“What’s wrong?” He jeers. “Intimidated?”

“By that?” You ask, your eyes flashing, and you open your mouth defiantly and drag your tongue against the slit, lapping up the hot salty taste of him and taking a kind of bitter pleasure in the hiss that you win from Prosciutto’s mouth. Evidently, he wasn’t expecting you to go at it with much gusto - but you are fired up, the heat inside you getting to a boiling point, and you are nothing if not a petty person. So you use your tongue on him, swirling over the head, sucking on the shaft, your cheeks hollowed out and your tongue lathing the length of him. His hips move against your ministrations almost of their own volition, seeking the tight warmth of your mouth.

His hand in your hair tightens, pulling on you, trying to make you choke on the span of his cock as he pistons his hips - but instead of choking, you relax your throat and let him fuck into it willingly. He groans at the feeling of the tight opening of your throat snugly accepting his cock, and then his face contorts in frustration at the fact he let you see him enjoying himself.

He’s gorgeous from this angle too; those prominent front teeth digging into plush lips, that sharp jawline, the way his unbound hair is falling over his forehead in soft waves.

He lets go of your hair, pushing you back onto the bed, desperately grappling for control of the situation. Neither of you are really in control, now - both of you have pupils blown wide with lust and aches of heat and need deep inside of you, growing stronger and more needful as every moment passes.

“Couldn’t even make me come with your useless mouth, huh?” He says, but his tone has lost a bit of its venom, wobbling as he tries to regain his dominance. “You’re not even good for that. Who knows why we keep you around.”

“Maybe I’m nicer to look at than you,” you snap, but your hands go to tangle in his hair and pull him down and he lets you draw him into a hungry, angry kiss with no more than token resistance. His own grip goes to your hips, fingers digging into the space where you curve out, your thighs pressing hot and needy and slick with your own want either side of his waist.

“This is the only position any of us really want to see you in,” he growls. “This is the only one you’re probably any good at, and definitely the only one you’re good for--”

The tip of his cock nudges your clit, silky and searing, the slick glide of your arousal and your saliva from earlier and his own pre-come making the glide effortless against you. You hiss and pant, nails digging into his scalp, mind racing for a witty retort to what Prosciutto has just said--

But then, he’s sinking inside of you, inch by slow, aching inch, and your entire mind goes blank in favour of the way he fills you up clouding every thought you’ve ever had. Prosciutto has gone quiet too, laboured breathing as he enters you, lost in the sensation for a moment of how snugly and tightly and perfectly you and he fit together--

But neither of you are capable of being civil for long, and his hips and aching to drive into you until you’re a babbling mess apologising for everything you’ve ever said to him and telling him you’re good for nothing but taking his cock like this, warm and open and inviting and desperate. And your own body is aching to fight back; to thrust your hips against his in tandem, raking nails down his back and pulling his hair and biting at that porcelain skin until he’s marked all over with the fact that he couldn’t resist fucking the same person he’s been telling for the past few months is utterly useless.

Both of you clash, hips and teeth and tongue and words dropping from heated mouths, lost in the fact that neither of you can finish a syllable without your voices breaking and broken moans and needy whimpers dropping from your lips. You do indeed drag nails down his back and bare your teeth and hiss, your hips returning every one of his thrusts with a sharper one - and, he, too, succeeds in some ways. Your words and sentences are broken, needy things - driven by your desire to have him fuck you so hard you can’t feel your legs, something in which he’s absolutely succeeding.

The silky glide of his cock inside you. The way his body hits yours at the perfect angle to sink deep inside you and grind against your clit with every deep, needful thrust. The way that his chest feels pressed against your bared breasts. The way your hands tug on his hair while his hands squeeze and knead at your breasts, so hard you know that he’ll leave bruises there tomorrow.

“Ahh--”

“Hhn--”

“Fu-fuck--”

“God--”

Every syllable and broken word and whimpered mess of a moan is nothing but an invitation for him to go faster, rougher, harder - and for you to give back as good as you get. You pull back at one point to see that Prosciutto’s eyes are brighter and more alive than you’ve ever seen them, his cheeks pink, his lips bitten to redness. You know you’re all undone too - your eyes glimmering and your face flushed and your chest heaving. You can see that there’ll be bruises covering his skin tomorrow in the same way there’ll be marks of this night all over you - and the thought of marking him in this way leaves you feeling oddly fulfilled. The knowledge that you can leave a lasting impression of yourself on this arrogant, puffed up, self-important--

He grinds his cock, spearing himself entirely inside of you, against you and you’re brought back to earth with a moan.

His thrusts seem to be hitting you deeper now, more needily. He plunges himself in the slick depths of your channel, your walls pulsing widely around him, your body making a conscious effort to keep him there and suck him further in and fill you up so well you can’t move - and Prosciutto clearly has enough experience to know what it’s leading up to. One hand sneaks between you both, delving between your silky folds, to find the swollen nub of your clit--

You whimper, hot sparks of pleasure emanating from your core. Your face goes hot.

“You going to come for me?” He snarls, “After everything you said, you’re going to just come for me like a desperate little bitch?”

You don’t know what he’s doing with his fingers - how the patterns he’s drawing over you and the way his cock is rocking inside of you are mixing together so perfectly that you’re unable to hold on, but all you can do is clench your legs around his waist and your fingers in his hair and wail as your orgasm washes over you in heart-pounding pulses. You might have called out his name, garbled in a mess of ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and ‘God--”, but that’s a secret both of you will take to your graves as the fluttering clenching of your walls claims Prosciutto’s attempt to remain dignified and he rocks his hips a final few times without you in a frenzy. You can’t even bring yourself to care that he came inside without checking - it’s fine, but what an asshole, it’s just like him - as you feel hot ropes of his come spill deep into you with every needy flex of his hips. He groans your name as he comes--

But that’s your secret.

He stays inside you, breathing heavy, as both of your orgasms subside, his breathing slowing and some of his flush subsiding. He looks down at you as he pulls out (you wince at the feel of the gush sticky wetness that accompanies that), his face unreadable. You look up at him, too, your chest surging with every gasp.

“I need a cigarette.” He says, rolling off the bed, and fumbling for the silver cigarette case in his jacket pocket. He hunches over, elbows on knees, as you pull yourself up and look at him.

He, as you’re sure you do, bears the scars of the tussle you’d had. His hair is in disarray, hanging all over his face and shoulders. Red marks from the scratch of your nails mar his back, as do purple-red bruises where you’d bitten and sucked love bites into his skin.

“Let’s never talk about this.” You say, after a beat. Prosciutto pauses, before he turns his head, one perfect eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.

“Ah.” He says. “You’re finally learning subterfuge.”

You really hope he didn’t teach Pesci in the same way.

#not sfw #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #unhealthy relationship #hate sex #afab reader #fem pronouns #slurs #unsafe sex #writing

213 notes · View notes

necropsittacus · 5 years ago

Note

for the ask thing, all the ones you have an interesting answer for

this is extremely long because I Love Oversharing so under a cut. thanks britta!!!

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?tea, black; i've tried putting extra spices in it but i think i'm not doing it right bc it gets grainy and weird? i don't drink coffee anymore for "hey maybe we should stop consuming this thing that makes us feel like we're actually about to die" reasons but when i did it was with a fuckton of cream5. are you self-conscious of your smile?yeah; less so since i actually brush my teeth semi routinely now, so they're less awful, but i still have a slight overbite and a residual habit of covering my mouth with my hand if i open it very much 8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?either weird vent fanfiction that i never end up finishing, drawing in my notebooks, or i try to make the overly dramatic/pretentious thoughts that pop into my head into poetry (which i never end up finishing, go figure).9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?used to, but it's like. even besides insecurity about my voice and the fear that i'll be Too Loud and bother someone. the same internal barrier that makes it hard to speak out loud, especially if i'm not directly prompted to, applies to singing10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?usually side, and in the fetal position. occasionally back though13: what’s something that made you smile today?saw a chickadee!14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?god i don't know that's like. that's the fucking dream, for the future, but i hadn't gotten as far as daydreaming about *decoration* or anything of that sort. at the moment i tend towards covering things in movie posters and little trinkets i accumulate and toys and that sort of thing. i know i couldn't do sharing a room with someone else long term, it'd get stressy, so at least two bedrooms (or a bedroom and a pull out couch in the living room, that'd work), a little kitchen. no minimalism, but i might like having primary responsibility for Housecleaning sorts of things for my loved ones, or keeping things reasonably neat. just. something that feels like a proper home. safe. 16: what’s your favorite pasta dish?i am extremely boring and usually just do fettuccine alfredo. that said, cheese ravioli and pesto products are also very good. i just don't like super complicated foods with ingredients i don't recognize, or red sauce. red sauce is Sensory Bad. 17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?i mean i've been dyeing mine black since i was like 17 to the point that people think that's the natural color and i just let them, and honestly i'm very happy with thatred looked good on me, and i definitely like the way a lot of those super bright unnatural purples, blues, etc look on other people but it doesn't feel like "yes this is Correct this is what i'm Supposed to Look Like, this is the color it was *supposed* to be all along" in the same way, it just feels like i'm dyeing it a weird color for fun18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up."mola mola isn't a slur, right?"20: what’s your favorite eye color?idk about "favorite" but dark brown eyes are really pretty22: are you a morning person?i tend to be more productive and (assuming at least like five or six hours of sleep) more cheerful in the morning, but getting out of bed is a horrible struggle bc executive dysfunction and anxiety23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?tbh i HATE having those days, i don't like being super busy Either but i get really like bored/restless/I Am Going to Rip My Skin Off to Have Something to Do Please Let Me Out of the House if i genuinely don't have anything scheduled for a day? so i usually *make* obligations for myself, writing projects or something like that, if i don't have anything externally enforced. and go to the library or a cafe or something bc i feel more alive if i don't stay in my room all day24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?yeah26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit?i mean i've only had them for like a year bc it turns out that wearing the same pair of shoes almost every day wears through them pretty fast, who would have thought? but black combat boots28: sunrise or sunset?sunset31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.they hurt but i p much only wear boots so i have to wear them all the time. also my feet are weird and fucked up and i don’t especially like looking at them. and then i forget to take them off to sleep so i just. wear them all the time except to shower. i like weird socks with like animal pictures or whatever but then i feel bad abt wearing them bc i wear out socks really fast for unclear reasons34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?ooh i had a lot!! most of them were sea mammals, a couple sharks i think? i had a couple rabbits when i was Really small but i don't remember them as clearlyi can't remember most of their names but they had whole like imagined stories and relationships to each other and shit, i definitely remember there was one stuffed orca that was almost as big as kindergartener me35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?oh absolutely!! i write mostly in pencil for ease of corrections and so it doesn't bleed through the paper, but i accumulate pens/weird ink colors/etc37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?see i *prefer* having my room be clean but it literally never is 39: what color do you wear the most?black. combination of "trying to be low effort goth" and that idk how to coordinate colors so all my outfits are either all black or like. black + one other color + possibly grey, bc i figure there's no way that could end up clashing horribly. also i only HAVE black pants anyway so like. 41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?mm i know accident by christa wolf hit me pretty hard in some emotions, and that was recent44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?i'm not sure that's an emotion i have tbhwhen i'm happy there's this kind of anxious edge to it, not necessarily in a bad way, but "at peace" is. an odd concept for me. the closest i get is this sort of quiet not-exactly-negative melancholy if i'm not behind on anything and it's raining and everything's just sort of soft yknow? 47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?marinara sauce. i hate that shit. i'll eat it on pizza or if i literally have to in order to get a meal and i can't physically handle not having one, but that's about it. also tomatoes more generally! i like ketchup but that's it. why do yall insist on putting tomatoes on everything all the time i Don't Like Them50: what’s an odd thing you collect?i keep all the toys i get out of kinder eggs and stuff like that. also i just have hyperempathy about inanimate objects and animals (and basically no empathy for humans most of the time, weirdly enough) and it's frequently difficult for me to throw things away because "well i'll be hurting it!" so uh. i just accumulate objects. i still have my old toothbrush somewhere55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?i straight up tried to kill myself to win an argument with mom once in high school. and i'm not talking like a mini fakeout attempt that wasn't supposed/expected to work, either, i did regret it but i was straight up prepared to die to get her to believe me 56: what are some things you find endearing in people?rambling/talking about your interests, emotional openness. if you like. send me things that reminded you of me/you thought i'd like, or initiate physical contact so i don't have to feel so weird/guilty about it, that's a very fast path to my affections. just being weird as shit. lots of little things, really. depends on the person a lot, though; either "person is Soft and Good and i feel like it's my responsibility to protect them" or "person is Kind of Scary/Edgy and i will attach myself to them and remain loyal no matter what and they appreciate it" are pretty consistent things, but those are a long way from the Only paths to my affection58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?awfully bold of you to assume i have a friend group and not just a disparate group of friends who mostly don't talk to each other. i AM semi consistently the weird vodka uncle though. 59: what’s your favorite myth?LOTS. that's not quite a fair question i can't pick one favoritethe volsunga saga does come to mind, though60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?i do!!! i thought i didn't because turns out the things they make you read in high school english are often Not Terribly Emotionally Resonant for me, funnily enough, but when i started reading russian poetry in college, and more mental illness focused stuff tbh, it was like Oh Shit This Is Really Cool. i really like vladimir mayakovsky!61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received?when i was really small i gave my dad a care bears coloring book for his birthday because for some reason i didn't process that other people didn't have exactly the same interests as me??62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?i drink either unsweetened green tea or monster energy drinks in the morning. depends how much of a disaster i'm being on that particular day. 63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?all my music is online or haphazardly downloaded to my phone so there's. not really any way to organize that if i wanted to tbh. i make a lot of character or ship playlists that i'd put more effort into organizing if i ever got around to showing them to other people, but Also anything that isn't too embarrassing to risk anyone else seeing just gets put in one folder. i DO organize my books, though. i usually *forget* to put them back where they're supposed to go, but there is a proper order (everything from one author or franchise together, stuff like star wars or tolkien is together and in in-universe chronological order, stuff like that), and i get upset if people fuck with it67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?nice. it's very calming, and also bright sunlight hurts my eyes fjgshtf68: what’s winter like where you live?not very different from fall most of the time. climate change is making it more midwest-y, which i'm not sure if i'm happy about or not (snow nice, but summer is also progressing in that direction, which is unfortunate). somewhere between the 30's and 50's (fahrenheit), mostly pretty grey, it rains sometimes. it's not cold enough that i need to have a real coat, usually sweater+leather jacket is enough. my hands always hurt, though70: have you ever used a ouija board?yeah i used to do it with my brother sometimes. nothing ever happened tho76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?i need to write my paper proposal for nuclear lit and also draw some stuff for people that i've been putting off because my brain hates me and Catching Up On Everything I Should Have Been Doing a While Ago Is Scary77: pink or yellow lemonade?both? both is good78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?i have no real feelings on minions one way or the other but i have no interest in them and don't like seeing them all the time79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?someone i used to know was going to move away from their abusers and get a job and such, partly or mostly For Me, so we could run away and start things over together after i graduated. and then things blew up but. it was very sweet and sometimes i get emotional about the concept of that still 80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?three white, one blue. i didn't choose it, it came with the dorm room. my bedroom in my parents house has really dark blue walls, which i DID choose bc i wanted a dark color and my brother already had red ones and i wanted to distinguish myself from him. 82: are/were you good in school?mmm more or less, yes i'm terrible at certain kinds of projects and at getting stuff done without pretty much devastating my physical ability to function pushing myself at the last minute. that said, i'm very good at tests, good at papers, good at language learning and bullshit analysis. it's just like. PLEASE don't give me "fun creative projects!!!" or start with the "oh well tests aren't a good way of measuring learning, here's some other stuff that will be easier for you!" thing. i *like* tests. tests make sense and it's just sit down for an hour and you're done. it's the other stuff that's hard also i'm so used to my mother's ridiculous standards that it's like. yes i am good at school, in that my professors keep telling me i am Very Smart and things of that nature. but also i am terrible at taking care of myself while i have school because me being good at school is to some extent reliant on my brain's false insistence that Everybody Else Has Perfect Grades and Is Killing Themselves Slowly To Be The Best, so clearly we need to do that too! and any sacrifice is worth it! so eventually i just collapse84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?yeah definitely, at some point. there's other things that are more pressing to spend my limited amount of non-parent-controlled money on right now, but i know i want like. some manner of thing referencing my chronic turin turambar (self dx) status, probably his grave inscription or a sword (or both eventually!). probably also a bird of some sort85: do you read comics? what are your faves?see i'll happily read comics if there's a franchise i'm already interested in that has comics as part of it, but i'm not like a Comics Fan per se. i tend to find them kind of overwhelming because there's just So Much content and i don't know where to start and i usually get distracted before i finish. i did really enjoy mtmte and the tdc creation myths comics89: are you close to your parents?nope! i send my dad animal pictures, and vice versa, and that's about the extent of it when i'm not staying with them for breaks. mom's...Difficult(TM) and dad i get along with fine but i don't really know how to text him 92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?drowns. i want to be able to actually taste it.93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most?my hair is too short to really have Different Styles. i just keep it combed pretty neatly bc that's the only thing i know how to do afngjdsgf94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?my friend emma @autisticsansamaybe people i care less about had them more recently but tbh if we aren't friends i don't know when your birthday is without being told96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?i have literally never updated this laptop because it does not have space for an update. this isn't even my fault. i have deleted *every single thing on it that is not important to make it actually run* in order to have enough space to update, and it STILL doesn't. 100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?a few months ago i would have said 5 years into the past, because i Desperately missed aspects of how my life was at that part of high school--mostly having people i loved and who loved me, who wanted a future with me, and the certainty of that, that i wouldn't just be On My Own Forever post educational system--but now? future. high school fucking *sucked* in a lot of ways, and also i was a terrible person and i don't especially want to go back to that version of me. future is like...scary because yeah there is a decent possibility i'll just be pretty much totally alone and having to work a job i hate to keep up, but like. there is also a possibility that i'll have the things i wanted all along in a more stable context, yknow?

#suicide ment /#alcohol ment /#ask memes #long post #very long post ajhnfgsf im so sorry

4 notes · View notes

queercoded-sidecharacter · 2 years ago

Text

i mean,,,i kind of agree, society shouldn’t push unhealthy beauty standards that make people feel like they have to constantly strive to reach, but also, some people like to look good for their own comfort or happiness

some people wear foundation, concealer, or makeup that “isn’t fun” because sometimes they don’t like when their face is all blotchy, or their under eyes are really dark (like me), or they just like a more natural look that isn’t as eye catching because it’s not their style

retinol isn’t just used as an aging minimizer, it’s also used for vitamin a deficiency, an essential vitamin people need to maintain their immune system, and helps their vision. it can also help reduce acne, which many people have and can be self conscious about. and so what if people take aging minimizers, maybe they just like looking young

weight loss programs can be healthy if followed so that you’re not pushing yourself and are following your bodies needs. some people like having a certain body type or want to get healthier.

some people just want whiter teeth. i understand the natural colour or a tooth is a slight yellowish colour, but some people have really dark, stained teeth that could be caused by many reasons and they may want their teeth to be less dark and noticeable in that way. it can help someone feel like they’ve improved their smile and be less self conscious about when they open their mouth

invisalign and retainers help your teeth by treating many dental issues, such as overbite, underbite, and crossbite, closing gap teeth, which some people can not enjoy, and as someone who had a natural gap, i liked it because it was so different, but it annoyed me and i did in fact get it closed. invisalign can also help with crowding. but these can be less complex issues, which invisalign can only help with so much. regular retainers are much the same way, they help keep your teeth in place and remain straight

some people don’t want cellulite, which yes, cellulite is very normal, but can sometimes be a lot for some people. it’s literally when there’s a collection of fat under skin, that’s why it looks like it’s so built up, it’s because that’s what it is, and some people just don’t like the look of how much cellulite they have

so yes, we go back to the person who responded, why don’t we just let people live. that’s the whole point of going through figuring yourself out. you find what you like, and even what you don’t, and many people do things to change the things they don’t like so they can see themselves in ways that make them happy and feel good

here is what we need to get rid of : foundation/concealers/"natural" makeup any makeup that isn't fun, "age minimizers" & retinol, All weight loss programs, teeth whiteners, invisalign, any of those stupid "anti cellulite" medicines

20K notes · View notes

callmestompy · 6 years ago

Text

A Big Long Meta for Omega

Species: Spirit Ethnicity: Spirit but to humans he seems Italian. Blood Type: He’ll bleed but he doesn’t have a type. Imagine how weird that would be if doctors found out. Preferred Hand: Right handed Facial Type: Heart Eye Color: Pale blue Hair Color Blonde Hairstyle: Slicked back, neat Skin Tone: Deathly pale Complexion: Smooth, few flaws. Makeup: (If any) Body Type: Endomorph Build: Very tall and broad shouldered. Long legs, thick thighs, muscular arms, small but bold hands, and plenty of squishy especially on the tum tum. Height: 6′3″ | 190.5 Weight: 250lbs | 113kg Cup Size: Well, he’s a boy. So let’s talk about below, which is a solid 7.5″ I’d say. Facial Hair: None Shoe Size: 10.5(us) 44 (eu) 28.5 (asia) Birthmarks/scars: He has an overbite and one elongated fang on the left side of his mouth. It’s caused slight scaring on his bottom lip. Distinguishing Features: Probably the horns. Health: Very healthy. Energy: High energy but not overly wired. Memory: Well, due to him being ageless he can sort of store information and memories in the universe itself and call upon it whenever it’s needed. It’s the same process when someone asks for knowledge from him. Senses: His sense of smell is very very keen. Allergies: Papa Emeritus III. Handicaps: None. Medication: None. Phobias: Funny enough, he fears the end even if he... is the end. Addictions: Wine, fine food, fiery spirits. Mental Disorders: None. Style: He is very very classy and elegant. Even out of uniform he opts for fine suits, wingtip shoes,. expensive watches and so forth. Not a single thing on his body isn’t ludicrously expensive. Mode of Dress: He wears his attire very properly but isn’t a prick about it. He wont have a mental breakdown if something falls out of place. He’ll just fix it and away he goes. Grooming: Well kept. Posture: Contrast to how formal and classy he dresses, his posture is very relaxed, very playful, sometimes with subtle suggestive tones. He is confident and doesn’t slouch but he is not stiff or rigid. Gait: He is not quick and instead prefers to take his time and enjoy what is around him. Coordination: Extremely coordinated but never really moves with a sense of urgency. He is calm, fluid, and even when in situations that require quickness he somehow manages to handle it with grace. Habits and Mannerisms: He taps his toes, clicks his heels, kicks his feet, knocks his rings on things (doors, tables), and gesticulates with grander. Scent: It’s difficult to describe. A little floral, a little earthy, and a little spicy. Mood: Playful and mischievous is his typical mood. Attitude: While he can be very blunt and serious, Omega is typically respectful, cheeky, and welcoming. Stability: He is very stable. Expressiveness: He tends to hide his negative emotions but is very expressive with his positive ones. When Happy: There’s a dance in his step. He sings, and hums. When Depressed: Extremely quiet, isolated and hides. When Angry: Also very quiet. He is still waters, calm until he is in stabbing range and then you’re fucked.

Note: These are generalizations. Different situations will create different reactions.

#(( feel free to copy it and do it for yours!! ))

10 notes · View notes

foxtailapp · 3 years ago

Text

Things You’d Like To Known Before Trying Teeth Fetish

This post is originally from Pleasure Uncensored by Foxtail. It can be found here.

Teeth are tiny hard parts found in the cavities of our mouths. Everything they need is a little brushing, and presto, you have 32 fantastic shiny pearls! But did you know some people are sexually attracted to teeth? Those people are called Teeth Fetishists. Are you one of them? If you are and want to find out more about Teeth Fetish, then keep on reading this post.

What is Teeth Fetish?

Odontophilia is a sexual fetish with erotic excitement, urges, and fantasies about the teeth. It can range from licking or biting a person’s teeth, biting and leaving a teeth imprint on the skin, or teeth removal. Odontophiliac is someone who has this fetish. Greek prefix word “odonto” means tooth, and Greek suffix “philia” means love.

Many of us feel slight anxiety that kicks in when going to a dentist. The extracting and drilling isn’t something we’re looking forward to. So the idea of getting into the dentist’s chair is a turnoff for most people but not for all. For some, this is a massive turn-on.

Where Does This Love for Teeth Comes From?

That Hollywood star smile doesn’t come cheap. Whitenings can cost over a hundred dollars and veneers thousands.

Teeth Fetishists may enjoy dentistry-derived BDSM mouth gags. Some of these are Whitehead or Jennings gags. Fetishists may look for partners with braces, retainers, fillings, crowns, vampire fangs, etc. They are also like to share dental x-rays and other dental collections.

A person with a tooth fetish may want to experiment with the apparatus used in dental surgery or various other dental items that hold your mouth open. So, people with tooth fetishes can like different kinds of kink activities, and they are very creative.

On the bright side, a tooth fetish makes dinner dates extra special. Imagine every bite as an erotic experience.

Playing with a Teeth Fetish

Tooth Licking Fetish

If you are not much into biting, you can always try to lick the teeth of your partner. The sensation of molars against the tongue is seemingly all it takes to help some who have this kind of teeth kink.

There’s a teeth fetish that prefers the minty freshness of brushing teeth. Some fetishists prefer a perfectly aligned mouth, and for an adventure, others like the overbite or dental crowning.

Kinky Biting

Some people find it hot to make an excellent, deep bite mark on your partner’s body. Taking the flesh of your partner between the teeth makes the kink biting similar to vampirism. Therefore, kink biting is closely related to the vampire fetish. Both of them have the similar idea of you “branding” someone.

A Kink for Braces

Some teeth fetishists show arousal from the sight of a tongue touching braces. To others, the bright silver of traditional stainless steel braces brings special arousal. In line with this, the color rubber band also gives arousal or urging feeling to a person with this fetish. All these are fetishes primarily related to males or men seeing females with braces.

Tooth Extraction Fetish

You think fetishes are all okay until you meet a man who is so obsessed with gummy smiles, or by pulling off your teeth. Tooth Extraction is the most extreme that could even happen and we do not condone this kind of fetish. It is up to you but we suggest you stay clear from this kind of kink.

Safety Precaution

If you are into biting, you need to make sure that you don’t break the skin and immediately stop and treat the wound by cleansing and covering the affected skin. A more severe bite will need medical health’s attention.

If you actually like to try tooth extraction, the most dangerous part is doing it without dental knowledge and outside a dentist’s office. Therefore, my suggestion is to watch medical videos or role-play without actually pulling the teeth.

Do you want to find out more about different kinds of fetishes or talk to kinky people? Come and check out the blog or visit our app. Have fun :)

1 note · View note