#look at bat Walter's little face.............

[the-crow-binary]

OH MY LORD I AM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

HOW ARE THEY SO CUTE THEY HAVE NO RIGHT

I think Mathias will like him very much(fake)

:3

@the-crow-binary

[party-fic]

Could I maybe ask for some Folly headcanons I require food

So instead of x reader this ones gonna be more general Head Cannons about Folly! x reader can be found on my profile though

☆⤍Folly Headcannons⤌☆

☆⤍ You'll never hear or see her before she senses you. She's a people-watcher in the worst way.

☆⤍ Nothing about her is soft—not her voice, her clawed hands, or her face. Maybe her sweater is comfortable, but it feels like a thick blanket over a solid body.

☆⤍ Folly can alter her form, maybe sprout a few extra eyes to freak out someone who hates being watched—or grow just a little taller than a certain addict. (Looking at you Walter.)

☆⤍ Some how keeps the worst posture known to man in every single form. If they were mortal their spine would look a C by now.

☆⤍ She enjoys classic horror and drama. Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickinson, The Iliad, and The Odyssey are her favorites. Her all-time favorite poem is "Much Madness in Divinest Sense" by Emily Dickinson.

☆⤍ Her favorite tea is Blood Orange with a bit of mint.

☆⤍ She has a ridiculously strong sweet tooth. She'd eat something so sweet it could make even Poob feel sick.

☆⤍ Once, she found peace and a sense of belonging with a close friend, but those feelings have long since faded.

☆⤍ Folly would love to keep something exotic as a pet—like spiders or bats—but nothing can survive long in the Nightmare Realm. Except her, of course.

☆⤍ Loud music or too much noise pisses them off so bad. She prefers a terrified silence to screams of horror. The sight of someone too scared to speak or move? Oh, the smile it brings to her face.

☆⤍ She feeds off fear and negative emotions and could theoretically live on them alone.

☆⤍ She's chubby, with a heavy-lifter build (think WWE's Kharma—look her up she's so cool). Even without her nightmare powers, Folly could bench Walter's weight.

☆⤍ Folly doesn’t hate children, but she doesn’t like having them around. However, she'd happily teach them swear words and how to spot people's insecurities.

☆⤍ incase ya haven't noticed I'm a firm believer in She/they Folly. maybe some Neos too (chat I do not use Neo pronouns but i just feel like they fit her vibe.)

[lesmismignon]

Can't sleep. Gonna throw this out there.

So. Integra.

Let me talk - again, yes, I know I've made similar posts - about how much she cares.

She didn't throw away the girl she used to be, who sat next to a corpse and basically said, "well it would have been nicer if you were a knight in shining armor, but at least I'm not alone, you won't mind me here, will you?" Like this girl cares about whether the very dead(looking) corpse in her basement that she's just met while on the run for her life, minds her being there.

She doesn't bat an eye at Seras joining them. She questions Alucard's reasons, but beyond that, once Seras is there she's there, she's under her wing and Integra will be damned if some priest kills her. She essentially defends Seras with her own body. "That girl is ours." Sir, this is the Judas Priest you're up against? But nah, step in so he doesn't kill the little fledgling vampire you took in like 1 night ago.

She doesn't care what people say to her face, call her whore or sow or bitch or go through her fucking drawer, whatever. But when her house is being invaded Integra really only starts to be visibly upset when it's clear all her men are dead. And again, she doesn't hesitate to throw herself at a rampaging baby vampire and embrace her to get her off her dead, ghoul-turned men. She doesn't want Seras mauling these already dead men, but she doesn't want to stop Seras by force. So she embraces her. It should have registered as a very unnecessary, risky move. But Integra did it anyway.

And during the war, Integra hardly displays any sorrow or woe towards her own predicament - it's only when Alucard cries for Anderson (and himself) that she looks so sad, for him - and it's only when Alucard disappears that she screams (his name) and when Walter dies that she looks so tired and worn.

And still, she says to Seras, Let's go home. Together.

Editing to add: And she's not even in the same ROOM as Walter when he dies. She loved her butler/father figure so much that she felt him die somewhere on the zeppelin and grieved even when he'd betrayed her so horribly. She is layers and layers of love under a heavy coat and goddamn I need to stop crying and go to sleep

[unhingedthirst]

Yay! Ok, so i would love 76 from the smut prompts with walter. Maybe reader is like his new younger wife/gf or something. Thank you 💕

You got it babe ! This is so hot 🤤

“You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.”

Walt and his younger bimbo bratty GF

Walter white didn’t think he’d find love again this late in his life and especially not with someone so young. He wasn’t complaining in the slightest; you were almost everything that Skyler wasn’t. Soft, understanding and he didn’t feel the need to lie to you. Well not as much as he was/is lying to Skyler. You took every curveball he threw at you and it didn’t hurt that you were half his age and smoking hot.

He had charmed you easily and now had you wrapped around his finger. Doesn’t mean you didn’t try to push the limits to see what you could get away with. Walt was on the phone in his new apartment; you had stayed over and awoken to an empty bed. You walk into the living room and see your man talking to probably Pinkman. You slink over to him and place a hand on his shoulder, he acknowledges you with a smile and mouths ‘sorry’ to you. You shrug and wave him off with a smile.

You were patient for about half an hour and than you started getting antsy. You psychically start moving Walt’s thick arms so you could sit in his lap as he worked. You were pretty sure he was talking to Saul now. You could tell he was already irritated so sitting in his lap wasn’t exactly the smartest move. You start peppering kisses on his neck and places hands on his chest. He shot you a warning look and you just bat your lashes at him and just shift your hips experimentally and he covers a groan with a cough as he continues to talk on the phone.

He grabs your hip and holds you still. “Saul. Give me a second. I have to deal with something” he grumbles and Sets his cell down. “Sweetheart.” He warns and you tilt your head to the side in a coy fashion. You love pushing his buttons; you guys were pretty new so it was always an experiment of how much you could get away with. He laces his fingers in your hair and yank lightly with a small surprised moan escaping your lips. He watches you for a moment; you are clad in just panties and an old T-shirt for a band he thinks he saw Jesse wear one time. You looked so pretty like this; you were so pliant for him, so obedient. Well most of the time. When he thinks you will behave he picks up the phone again; you get up and he thinks it’s over. He straightens up in his chair thinking he’d won and then you sink down in front of him.

Before you could even go to touch him you were being yanked up by your wrist and dragged roughly into the other room. Walt was still on the phone at this point but covered the ear piece so Saul couldn’t hear. He yanks you by the hair against his surprisingly hard body; he growls in your ear his breathe warm on your neck “You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.” You lean your head back against his shoulder as he stares at you distracted, you grabbed the phone out of his hand and close it. Without missing a beat he pushes you against the counter, your panties on display now as your shirt rides up.

“You little fucking brat.” He says and you have a smirk painted on your face. This was all part of the game both of you played. You liked being the bratty younger girlfriend of a very smart but dark man. He took care of you though and could be very sweet. This was not one of those times though but you weren’t mad about it. He starts rubbing the soft sensitive skin of your inner thighs but ignoring your pussy which was basically throbbing at his point. You whine softly and you hear him chuckle obviously enjoying making you squirm. He roughly pulls your panties down and you can hear him pull out his cock; you try and shift to get a better look but he holds you down against the cold kitchen counter with one hand. He leans down to whisper something in your ear; bracing for it to be demeaning but instead you were met with “my pretty girl.” He says in a hushed tone and enters your tight pussy.

Walt was very well endowed so it was always a tight fit, he placed a comforting hand on the small of your back as he fills you completely. You whimper but he doesn’t care, he’s relentless with his hips slamming into you. It felt unlike anything you’ve ever felt. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him as he continues to fill you up again and again. He watches as his cock disappears into your tight heat; he moans out freely. His thick hand wraps around your throat “you know what you do to me. Such a needy girl.” He growls and you nod “can’t even wait for me to finish working. You gotta be slutty huh?” He asks as he fucks you so hard your hip bones meeting the cold of the counter roughly. You knew he was gonna leave bruises and you relished in the feeling. All that came out of your mouth was wanton moans and whimpers, especially with his hand still wrapped around your throat. You loved letting him use your body like this; he pulls out removing his body from you completely. Before you could complain he helps you onto the counter and pulls you onto his cock again. You kissed each other for the first time since he started fucking you and you hold onto him as he starts rubbing your clit furiously and you whimper into his mouth and he starts talking again “I’m so close.. want to feel you cum around my cock you dirty fucking whore” you did as your much older boyfriend asked and squeezed around his cock. He kept pounding relentlessly as you milk his cock dry and he moans into your shoulder as he holds you close.

As he cleans you up and runs his hands over your now naked body he looks sheepish. You raise an eyebrow at him and he sighs “was calling you a dirty whore too much?” He asks and you snort out a laugh “it was a new one for sure.” You say and rub his shoulder lovingly “it was good. You were good” you whisper and place a gentle kiss on his cheek

[sflow-er]

Two-year fic anniversary

I can't believe it's been two whole years since OPS was completed. Happy anniversary to all my ace Henry AU boys, their happy endings, and me finishing a story for the first time in well over a decade!

To celebrate the occasion, I'm going to put two of my personal favourite bits from ch33 under the cut (neither of them are Wilmon, sorry).

-Big spoiler warning-

Firstly, the whole confrontation between Henry and his parents but especially this part:

He fell silent and dug his hands deeper into his pockets to physically force his shoulders to stop rising and falling so rapidly. It felt surprisingly good to say all that, but since he had no idea what was supposed to come next, it was best to try to appear calmer than he felt. His parents were not saying anything. His father was simply pinching his lips together with a strange look, and his mother kept batting her lashes in quick bursts while they both stared at his flushed face. The next thing he knew, Mickan rushed to hug him. Her arms felt less stiff than usual clamping around him, and the way she squeezed him to her chest was almost a bit clingy. He allowed it but was too wary to reciprocate right away, even if the familiar scent of her perfume stirred an old impulse to do that. “I’m so sorry, Henry,” she said in a small voice. “I understand why you feel that way, and it’s all our fault.” She sniffled at the end, and at that point, Henry’s arms moved around her without much input from his brain. She hesitantly petted his hair, and the next time he exhaled, some of the tension in his back and shoulders flowed out. He repeated it one breath after another, gradually relaxing into the embrace. His eyes burned a little, but he breathed through it. After a while, a hand landed on his free shoulder, and Calle said in a tone that could only be described as apologetic, “It’ll be okay.”

And secondly, the very last lines (after Henry wants to tell some of his family friends that Walter is in fact his boyfriend). All the Walty bits in this chapter are shamelessly sappy since it's the last one, but I am really happy with the ending:

In response, Walter darted up to press their lips together for less than a couple of seconds, almost too fast for Henry to register the kiss before it already disconnected with a smack. Then he sat up, picked Henry’s phone from the coffee table, and handed it over. “Do it then. I’ll try to think of a good lady of the manor joke to tell them.” “Please don’t,” Henry said, opening the contact on his phone. “It needs to be a really bad one. The worse the better.”

[catierambles]

Feral Instincts Ch.16

Pairing: The Rogue's Gallery (Geralt, Syverson, Mike, August Walker, Walter Marshall) x Stephanie Daniels (OFC)

WC 1413

Warnings: It's rough, but if you've read anything else by me, you know I don't shy away from dark stuff. Minors DNI 18+ ONLY

Sy was sitting on the porch when August and Walter got back from their run, both men breathing heavily and not just from the cardio.

"Where's Steph?" He asked and they looked at him curiously.

"She's not here?" Walter asked, but he shook his head.

"Something happened between her and Gerry and she went out for a run." Sy said, using the nickname he had for Geralt when he was pissed at him, knowing the white wolf hated it. "Figured you woulda crossed paths."

"We didn't see her." August said, "What happened between her and Geralt?"

"Won't tell me." Sy said with a sniff, "She looked scared as shit though when she left his room. They mated, but he won't admit to anythin' beyond that." He watched August's hackles raise, "Already reamed him out, Walker, he don't need you goin' after him, too."

"But you don't know what happened?" Walter asked.

"Only what he's told me." Sy said, "Doesn't matter anyway, seein' how whatever it was affected her."

"I told her I loved her." Geralt was standing in the doorway.

"And that scared her?" August asked and Walter sighed, running a hand through his curls.

"I bet you all a tenner the last guy who told her he loved her was Lewis." He said and Geralt sighed.

"No wonder it fuckin' scared her." Sy said, "If Walt's right, she's gonna have some baggage with the word."

"Should we go look for her?" Walter asked.

"She probably just wants to be alone right now." Sy said, "Process some shit. She'll be back, she just needs a few to herself."

"I told you." Jordan said as he paced around her still on the ground. "Didn't I tell you? I told you that you weren't safe with them."

"And I'm safe with you?" She ground out through her teeth, trying to breathe through the pain. "What you did to me--"

"I only did it because I love you, Stephanie. You know that." He said and she twisted on the ground as her wolf was yanked to just below the surface. It didn't feel like when she did it with the others. She coaxed their wolf out with care, Jordan had grabbed hers by the scruff and was ripping it out of her, dragging it fighting into the open. The bones in her hands popped and contorted, blood seeping out from under her fingernails. "But they, those Alphas. They don't love you, not like I do."

"Jordan…"

"I saw your first shift, you know." He said and she looked up at him, "That's right. I was here, I saw it. They were too distracted chasing you down to even notice. Some protectors they are. I saw your first shift, and…" His face twisted in a frightening rage. "And I watched as they violated you. When they defiled you, and you let them!"

"They're my Mates." Her ribs popped as they spread outwards, pressing against her chest before snapping back into place, making her cry out.

"They're not your Mates, Stephanie." His face was suddenly very close to hers, his eyes aflame. "You're their whore. Their little fucktoy they can play with then discard." He backed away from her, starting to pace again. "But it doesn't matter. It doesn't. It really doesn't. We're together again and that's all that matters."

"You're insane." She panted.

"Oh, that's what they would love for you to believe. That I'm insane, that all ferals are bat shit crazy." He said, "We're what wolves are supposed to be. Predators. Not these weak little pups that play nice with the sheep." She just shook her head. "But it's okay now, it's you and me again. I'll get you away from them and where you belong. We'll make our own pack, it'll be great. You'll see."

"I'm not…" She swallowed hard, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Oh come on, Steph." He whined, "Don't be difficult! I can't Call you anymore after your first shift, fuck if I know why."

"I'm an Alpha." His laugh was high and almost hysterical, reminding her of a hyena.

"You? An Alpha? Now that's funny." He said, "But now that you mention it. Nah, I'm just feeling those assholes."

“Then what am I, Jordan?” She asked, anger starting to push through the pain. “What the fuck am I? I’m not an Alpha, do I feel like a Beta or Omega to you?”

“You…” He stopped, his brow furrowing slightly before he shook his head. “You’re messing with me, you’re trying to make me confused. That’s not very nice, you know.” Her back cracked, spine pushing outwards against her skin making her twist on the ground, ripping a cry from her lips. "I didn't want to do this, Steph, you know that. Hurting you is the last thing I'd ever want to do, but you shouldn't have run away, you should have come back with me, not stayed with them." She watched as he pulled a pair of work gloves out of his back pocket along with a length of chain, tugging the gloves on before going back to her on the ground. She tried moving away from him but he grabbed her, dragging her back and forcing her onto her stomach, twisting her arms behind her back. The chain was cold when it first touched her skin as he wrapped it around her wrists but then started to burn. "I didn't want to have to use silver on you, but you really gave me no choice."

"Jordan, please!" It felt like her entire arms were on fire, pain radiating and growing from her wrists the longer the metal was in contact with her skin. He forced a hard bit past her lips, securing it behind her head and flipped her onto her back, staring down at her for a moment, a smile coming to his lips.

"Baby, you don't know how good you look right now." He said, his hand going to her stomach, pushing under her shirt and she almost gagged against the bit. "Let's get somewhere private and I'll show you just how much I missed you." She tried kicking as he grabbed at her, but he tied her ankles together with more chain, her pants keeping this one from touching her skin. Picking her up, he threw her over his shoulder. She tried bucking against him, tried making him drop her, but the silver around her wrists was quickly sapping her strength, the pain making her vision dim. He started walking, but then paused. "Ah hell." Jordan took off at a run, weaving through the trees before coming to a halt.

"Drop. Her. Now." Hearing Geralt's voice, though twisted with rage, made tears well in her eyes.

"She belongs to me." Jordan snapped out, "Not you. Not them. Me. I made her. She's mine."

"You should really listen to the man, son." A small sob worked past the bit at Sy's voice. "That's his Mate and Alpha you're cartin' off."

"Our Mate." August. "Our Alpha."

"She's not your Mate!" Jordan growled out.

"Put her down. Nice and easy." Walter. She wanted to call out to them, but couldn't say anything around the bit so she reached out with her wolf, pushing past the pain, a shudder running through the area. "You're going to be alright, love."

"He bound her with silver." Geralt growled out and she heard him start moving closer, Jordan backing up a few steps. Something hit them like a truck and she was thrown to the ground, tumbling across the leaves.

"Walt!" August ordered, but he was already crouched by her, undoing the bit and throwing it aside.

"Ah, fuck!" He hissed when he touched the chains, ripping his hands away sharply. "I got you, love. Don't worry." There was the sound of sliding fabric and the chains were unwrapped from around her ankles and wrists, taking skin with them as they pulled away from her arms. They, too, were thrown to the side and he gathered her in his arms, holding her against his bare chest. There was a shout of pain, but she couldn't seem to be able to open her eyes.

"Fucker had a silver blade!" Sy yelled out, his voice strained. "Geralt, rip his fuckin' head off." She heard him run off through the trees after him and she exhaled a breath she had been holding, starting to sob quietly into Walter's neck.

"You're safe now, love, you're safe."

[vanfleeter]

Plant Dad

A/N: My first little Danny blurb/Gvf fic on here. Needed to write something quick after the latest Danny tik tok. So now I share with you.

Summary: Plant shopping with Danny.

Warnings: None. Extreme fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t been sure of what Danny had planned up his sleeve when he dragged out of the house and to the car. After a short drive, he parks the car on the side of the street.

“Come on.” He says eagerly as he hops out of the car.

Getting out of the car you were faced with a brick building with a sign reading Yarrow Acres. Immediately you knew what he was here for. Grabbing your hand he pulls you inside the shop and sighs in content. You smile beside him and watching as the joy overtakes his body. He leads you throughout the shop before stopping in front of the shelves of venus fly traps.

He delicately picks one up and slowly turns to face you, his smile growing bigger and brighter. You playfully roll your eyes and he chuckles. “George needs a friend.” You giggle. “George? You named it?” Danny nods his head. “Right.. Of course you did.” “Please?” He says as he bats his eyelashes at you.

You inhale and cross your arms over your chest. “Yes, you can get George a friend.” You say as your take the tiny plant from his hands. He gives you a childlike smile before moving onto a different part of the shop.

He could spend hours inside of this store and admiring all the plants. To which he did. For two hours. Not that you minded.

Despite spending a couple hours inside the shop, Danny settles on little venus fly trap cupped inside the palm of your hand. Paying for the plant he takes it back from your hands and admires it as the two of you make your way back out to the car.

He sits in the driver’s seat and brings the little plant up to his face again and eyes it closely. “What are you thinking?” You ask. He sighs. “I think I’ll name this one Walter.” “Walter?” Danny nods his head. “Looks like a Walter.” He happily places the tiny thing inside the cup holder in the center console.

Getting back home he immediately rushes inside and to his music room which has slowly started turning into his own little plant oasis too. He walks over to the window and places the newest addition beside its twin on the window sill.

“George, meet Walter. I think you two will get along well.”

“You’re such a plant dad.” You smile. He stands up and walks over to you. “Thank you for coming with me today.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close before planting a sweet kiss on your forehead.

O fim

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

I miss my guys from 179 Crescent Street and I know it's gonna be some time until I get the next chapters, so I hope you have some time for little headcanon snippets...

I was wondering how the guys are dealing with being jealous...

Are they jealous at all? And if they are, how are they going to react?

OH BOY! Thank you so much for this ask! You know I love talking about my boys! I used your edits for most of the dividers <3 (Except the Mikey one, because I needed that purple-redish bckg that I love so much...)

Let's get into it! I'm going to tag @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae and @fvckinghenrycavill for the hell of it, because I just need you to hear my incessant rambling about these boys ❤️❤️❤️

Warnings: We're gonna be offhandedly mentioning sex a couple of times. Big whoop.

It's been said a million times at this point, but I'll just repeat it; Mike is super laid back about almost everything.

This guy wouldn't know jealousy if it hit him square in the nuts with a baseball bat. That means he doesn't do well with a partner who is prone to jealousy.

He 100% will not understand why you're a little miffed about what just happened because "but, babe, I was just licking her cheek? How is that weird?" They're just friends, you had better believe it, because he really isn't lying.

But doesn't he see that irgendwie, irgendwo, irgendwann there's always a ton of girls who are flirting with him? Huh? What? No? No one is flirting with him? He legit doesn't see it, because he's with you.

There's one little exception to this: Charles. Seriously, Charles Brandon can kindly fuck all the way off, and if he so much as looks at you wrong...

Contrary to popular belief, August Walker isn't a jealous guy. He isn't subtle in any way, so if you're going to be his girl, you know what he wants out of that relationship: Commitment, loyalty, trust. And a very intense sex life. He's not going to settle for vanilla...

Are there any guys checking his girl out? Of course! She's beautiful. But she wears the ring he gave her, her arms are wrapped around his waist, and she's going to end up in his bed tonight, screaming his name. He's not worried about anyone else.

There is one little exception to this and his name is Charles Brandon... Then again, he's not too worried. Brandon wouldn't risk taking a couple of punches to his prettyboy face for his friends' girls.

Anjelica, however... She's small but vicious, and you had better not spend too much time looking at her man. She might just gouge your eyes out.

'But I can look, right?' Yeah, you can look. The other way. Buh-bye.

Walter Marshall needs a hug, some good head, a whole lot of coffee, and probably therapy. And he's not even a cop yet!

He likes to keep you close, that's for sure. You always know when there's guys around who he doesn't trust, because the fingers of the hand that seems to be permanently on your hip dig into you so hard it definitely hurts a little.

It's okay though, he won't do anything rash or stupid as long as they keep their hands to themselves.

He'll save all of that anger for the rink, when he knows you're watching him play. Yeah, there's some unnecessary checks and punches, but if it gets you all hot and bothered...

Geralt isn't jealous at all! As long as his girl is near him all the time so he can keep an eye on her...

No, Geralt definitely likes to say he's not jealous, just suspicious, which is largely true. The first few months away from Sol were an adjustment, though, because he couldn't scowl at all those losers who went after his Swedish goddess.

Sol ironically likes to rev him up a little on those rare occasions they go out. She likes the way he claims her when they're finally alone again. The good thing is that Geralt hears and sees everything. He always knows when it's her playing around, or the guy getting a little too into it.

Now, Charles, that's an entirely different story. Geralt will and has throw hands if Mr. Brandon ever decides to try and get a little too friendly with his girl.

Napoleon Solo, jealous? Yes.

He has no trouble at all taking the things he wants for himself, and our Leon doesn't like it when other people touch his stuff.

However; he's a collector. Unfortunately, you aren't a collection if you're just by yourself, so watch out: You're the one who's going to end up jealous and hurt if you expect commitment and monogamy from this guy.

Now, if he were in that sort of relationship with you, he'd mostly be curious to see how you react. He's not going to blame the guys for trying; God knows he would have. But you... If you play along, you're definitely in for a long talk that might just end badly...

Much like Leon, Charles is very prone to want more, and more, and more. He'll happily go after whatever (and whoever) he wants, even if she's already taken - or he himself is. Honestly, everyone's continuously surprised he doesn't live with a permanently broken nose...

He likes to rile his friends up by flirting with their girlfriends, but he has no intention of seeing that through. Well, he's not planning on it, at least. This man has about as much control over his dick as I do over my brain. None. At all.

Now, if he did try to commit to one girl, trying to make a move on her would be a surefire way to get whacked in the teeth with a hockey stick. But if he so much as gets the idea that you're the one interested in anyone else? Let's just say he's very eye-for-an-eye when it comes to that...

Sy doesn't need to be jealous. I could just stop here, but allow me to explain:

Prince of pussy eating perfection. Don of dinner down there.

Do I need to keep going? Sy is the literal Headmaster! (@deandoesthingstome please appreciate this terrible pun)

He knows you'll come back for him - they all do, which is precisely why you had better not be the jealous type. Sy has no problems with commitment when he finds a girl he thinks is worth it, but the others ladies didn't get the memo: They just keep flocking to him.

He doesn't respond to any of it, of course, because you're his woman. His one and only. And you trust him completely.

That being said; it does get fucking annoying that these girls don't seem to understand the concept 'off the market'. Not that you don't understand why they do it... In fact, it's something you're very actively reminded of every time you see his face in between your legs...

Our lovely Sherlock is far too rational to be jealous, of course! Right?

We know he doesn't have a ton of experience (alright, he has no experience at all), and he absolutely would get a little anxious if he were to think Elena was into someone else.

Now, is he going to be smart and talk about these feelings? Probably not! She'll have to pull it out of him, and he won't take kindly to her laughing about it, but she can't help it because it's just so silly of him to think she'd want to be with anyone else!

Now, Elena likes that little bit of protectiveness, but she knows better than to go looking for trouble. Luckily, she's pretty, and guys do flirt with her, but Sherlock hardly ever notices; he's too busy looking at her, to be honest.

If he does notice, he just gets a bit sad, and a little clingy. Until the flirting crosses a line. It takes a lot to get Sherlock to lose his temper, but lewd and inappropriate behavior or comments towards his girlfriend will definitely set him off... Just ask Charles.

[iceflwers]

𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷 “𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂” 𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓪 !

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ THE BASICS !

— ❥ FULL NAME: Allison Marilyn Tanaka.

— ❥ NICKNAMES: Ally (most commonly used), Al, A, Princess of Darkness, Tattoo Girl (by Matthew Knies for a while), Naka, sweetheart, honey.

— ❥ DATE OF BIRTH: October 30th, 1998 (Scorpio).

— ❥ BIRTHPLACE: Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

— ❥ CURRENT RESIDENCE: Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

— ❥ SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, French (not fluently), Japanese (not fluently).

— ❥ ORIENTATION: Panromantic, pansexual.

— ❥ GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender female (she/her pronouns).

— ❥ OCCUPATION: Tattoo artist.

— ❥ FACECLAIM: Lyrica Okano.

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ PERSONALITY !

— ❥ HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin (ambitious, cunning, determined).

— ❥ MYERS-BRIGGS TYPE: ISFJ - The Defender (observant, reliable, humble).

— ❥ ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Type Four - The Individualist (reserved, honest, self-aware).

— ❥ MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good.

— ❥ LOVE LANGUAGES: Acts of service for both giving and receiving.

— ❥ SKILLS: Tattoo artistry, sketching, makeup, hair styling, calligraphy, jewelry-making, dancing, painting, deadpan snarking.

— ❥ LIKES: Romance novels (secretly), drawing to relax, getting her eye makeup right on the first try, when a tattoo turns out exactly like she wanted, punk music, when people give her a wide berth on the street because of her appearance, spending time with her family, laying in someone’s lap and letting them play with her hair.

— ❥ DISLIKES: Fake people, people being rude for no reason, people saying she’ll only be pretty “if she stops wearing so much black,” being scolded for things she feels justified in, her makeup or hair getting messed up, people who use religion as an excuse to be assholes, coffee, pigeons.

— ❥ FEARS/PHOBIAS: Complete darkness, getting trapped in an elevator, getting hit in the face, being left by the people she cares about.

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ RELATIONSHIPS !

— ❥ FAMILY: Hina Tanaka (mother), David Tanaka (father), Audrey Tanaka (younger sister).

— ❥ FRIENDS: Cameron Findlay, Jason Brightford, Lily Walters, Matthew Knies, Pontus Holmberg, Fraser Minten, Connor Dewar.

— ❥ ACQUAINTANCES: Remainder of the Toronto Maple Leafs roster, Trevor Zegras, Quinn Hughes, Jason Robertson.

— ❥ ROMANTIC INTERESTS: Kira Holloway (first crush), Ariana Cole (former crush), Grace Darcy (first girlfriend), Hayden Donnell (first boyfriend), Jason Brightford (ex-partner), Ayman Hadid (ex-girlfriend), Joseph Woll (current romantic interest).

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ FUN FACTS !

— ❥ Both Ally’s middle name, Marilyn, and her older sister’s name, Audrey, come from classic movie actresses - Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn, because their mother is a big lover of black-and-white movies.

— ❥ Ally has been in love with romance novels ever since she was eleven and read an old copy of The Princess Bride that she borrowed from her sister. She’s never been exactly good at sharing her love of them with people, but actually falling in love herself has been enough to open her up about it a little bit more.

— ❥ Despite the stereotype of tattoo artists being covered in ink, Ally only has two tattoos of her own: a pair of deer antlers with flowers curling around them on her ribs, and some small bats flying through a starry sky on her left shoulder. She wants some more in the future, but she also wants any future tattoos to be based on designs she’s drawn herself, and she has yet to pick any that she really wants on her body.

— ❥ In addition to her reading of romance novels, Ally is a huge Neil Gaiman fan, and has read almost all of his books and watched all the movie and TV adaptations of his works. Some of her favorites include the Sandman graphic novels and show, Good Omens, Coraline, and The Graveyard Book.

— ❥ Even though everyone who looks at her generally expects her to love black coffee, Ally actually doesn’t like coffee at all - she’s a big tea drinker, especially a nice cup of Oolong first thing in the morning.

tagging @lovings4turn, @hiya-itsamber, & @theopenlocker !

─┈ ♡ copyright © 2024: you do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my works, nor to use my oc ideas or plots.

[megan0013]

#25 dialogue prompt with dealer’s choice for the couple?

Dialogue, #25: “Well, it is a seance.” / “Good thing the person I want to see is already here.”

Without a doubt, this year’s Halloween festival is the biggest and best yet. There's more food, more games, more rides than ever before, and it feels like every single inch of the town’s square is packed with something spooky, or sweet, or covered in papier-mâché bats.

The dozens of gnomes and trolls strolling around out in the open really add a little extra oomph to the vibe, too.

Barbara is living for it.

“We should check out Claire’s thing next,” her son suggests, bounding back over to her with with a wide grin on his face and a ridiculously huge bag of kettle corn tucked under his arm. He looks so young in this moment, so carefree and full of wonder. Like a regular seventeen-year-old should, and it warms Barbara’s heart to know he can still find joy in the world after everything he’s been through. “We can stop by Stuart’s food truck on the way.”

Beside her, Walter snorts. “How can you still be hungry after eating all those fried oreos?”

“I’m a growing boy, Strickler.” Jim flashes a cheeky smirk and tears into his bag of kettle corn. “Better get used to it.”

Walter rolls his eyes, yet somehow manages to not slap the popcorn out of the growing boy’s hands even though he really, really wants to. Instead, he grumbles something about grocery bills and the rising cost of pizza rolls and lets a thoroughly entertained Barbara drag him across the festival grounds to, first, buy Jim a few tacos before moving on to the little clearing by Town Hall where Claire has her tent set up.

“Madame Clarita?” Barbara asks, squinting at the poster board displayed above the entrance flap. “Uh, Jim? What kind of booth is Claire running?”

“Tarot cards? And palm reading,” he shrugs, “I think?”

Barbara shoots Walter a look and receives a tired, resigned sigh in response from the changeling as he gestures for her to follow Jim into the tent where, apparently, a few familiar faces have been waiting for them.

“See?” Claire says, smiling smugly at the table’s other three occupants. “I told you they’d be here.”

“Oi,” comes NotEnrique’s obnoxious little voice. He waves a dirty sock in the air. “It don’t count if lover boy texted ya first, sis.”

“He’s not wrong, Claire,” Toby agrees with a click of his tongue as Aaarrrgghh nods vigorously from where he’s sat on the ground.

The witch ignores them and gestures to the empty folding chairs across from her. “Have a seat. We’re just about ready to begin.”

“Begin?” Barbara asks as Walter pulls a chair out for her before helping her scoot in. “What are we beginning?”

“Oh, well,” Claire grins, “it’s a séance.”

Walter fails to hold in a derisive snort as he leans sideways to whisper in Barbara’s ear, “It’s a good thing the person I want to see is already here.”

“What?” She whispers back, eyes sparkling as she watches him sit down next to her. “You think it’s all just bunch of hocus pocus?”

“Yes.”

Jim elbows him in the side at the same time Madame Clarita bellows, “Quiet! It is time to confer with the spirits! Now, please, hold hands.”

For the next five minutes or so, Claire puts on quite a show while Toby snickers and Aaarrrgghh smiles encouragingly and NotEnrique adds what he claims to be is ambience by moaning and groaning like a ‘ghost’ every ten seconds. Barbara enjoys every bit of it. Even with Jim and Walter trying their best to break each other’s fingers the whole time.

And then everything goes wrong…

[hardeynyhun]

His Curvy Obsession.

Prologue

'No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.’ —

William Shakespeare.

"Do you take Angelina Adenike Walters as your lawful wife?" the minister asked.

"I do," he replied curtly, looking at nothing in particular as his eyes void any emotions he was feeling.

The minister turned to the bride and asked, "do you take Nathaniel Xander Hugh as your lawful husband?" her heart skipped a little, staring at her unresponsive husband-to-be face before responding in a crooked voice, "I do."

"With the power of God, I declare both of you as husband and wife. You may kiss your bride," the minister pronounced.

Her stranger husband moved to her slowly, opened her white veil a little as he tilted his head to the right side, and she closed her eyes expectantly, waiting for his cold lips to hers, but a gush of air passed through her face.

She fluttered, and her eyes opened to know what was delaying him, but she was left alone at the altar, humiliated.

He left her.

She was just a replacement.

*****

Chapter 1

People always say first love is a lesson, but last love is true love, and Nathaniel did not believe it because his first and last love was Clara Adrian.

His only woman.

Clara was the granddaughter of his nanny —Mrs. Adrian. He and Clara practically grew up together from diapers, and they went to the same schools. And they'd promised to get married when they grow up till old together with their child(ren).

She was mine, and I was hers only. He thought, smiling cheekily while twirling the diamond ring.

All his reasons and actions revolved around her. Anything she wanted or said, he agreed to it without batting an eyelash because she was the only one who understood him better, and he loved her so much with every fibre of his being. She was like the oxygen he breathed in.

His twenty-six birthday was a fortnight ago, and she told him she was ready to become his lawful wife, and he proposed to her, feeling over the moon. She was a strong believer in sex before marriage, and he vowed to keep himself a v**** for her, but that didn't stop him from masturbating when the s***** urge was too much to bear.

Who doesn't have dirty secrets? He grinned.

She was a beautiful innocent soul whose smiles radiated through his whole body, giving him purpose, yet he knew the love of his life was dr**-addicted, and he loved her with her flaws.

What's the essence of loving someone if you can't stand the person's flaws? He always replied to anyone asking why he was with a dr** addict. Maybe his love for her was blind and clouded his rational thought.

He talked to his parents about his marriage to her, and his parents opposed it because she was not who he thought she was, but when he threatened to leave the household and everything, he made his parents support him. He was the only child, the coolest of their eyes. And he used that line a lot to let his parents agree to his will. The perk of being the only child, he smirked inwardly.

He didn't understand why his parents did not like Clara, maybe because she was from the lower class or she loved to spend all his money on shopping and to buy the latest dress, but he didn't care because he would have spent the whole world on her.

They'd been preparing for their wedding, and she wanted theirs to be the number one wedding that no other could meet in the nearest century.

He let Clara do everything she thought was right, and she picked his suit, venue, and everything. He wanted everything to be to her taste and likes. She invited almost all the celebrities and paparazzi. She wanted to be the talk of the town. Who was he to say no to her?

Sweat was dripping from his body because of the nervousness and giddiness that he was feeling. He couldn't believe it when she agreed to marry him after so much wait and persuasion.

The maids were running to and fro to carry orders given to them as he dressed in his Armani suit. He couldn't wait for tonight, and he would split her cunt. He was going to rampage her and feed her with his seed, he thought, feeling himself getting hard while he tried to adjust his shaft between his tight pants as he awkwardly touched his tie, checking whether his shaft was not visible.

He scolded himself to stop those naughty thoughts, be patient and wait for the real thing tonight.

As he was going out, a little boy bumped into him and handed him a brown envelope before he smiled cheekily at him and ran out hurriedly.

He smiled and looked at the envelope warily, feeling a sense of foreboding before opening it.

Dear natty boy,

No time for greetings, boy.

Don't wait for me at the altar today because I'm already on my way to meet the love of my life. It was fun fooling you around with Ken because he's not my distant cousin but the father of the child I'm carrying. You are too innocent for me, and I need a wild and rough guy to handle me well, especially his huge ****, but—

I just wanted to inform you that I've transferred $10 million from your account. I know you won't feel it is missing. I hope you don't search for me because I'm already long gone. I don't love you.

Don't cry too much natty boy. She was crying, baby mama boy.

I don't love you.

I can't marry you because you are not the man for me, and I don't think you can handle me very well in bed. And I don't do *******, also.

And thanks for being my money machine. I and my love enjoyed lavishing it.

Xxx

Yours Clarabear.

"No," he mumbled in denial, feeling his chest constricted as he crumpled the paper on his fist in anger. His phone vibrated in a notification. He took it out and saw the debit alert from the bank. He smashed his phone on the ground, and he tugged his tie away.

"No," he shook his head, scattering all the flower vases on the floor to which the sound resonated; angry curses left his lips as he hit his fist on the wall. He crumbled on the ground, reminiscing what he ever did wrong to justify this rejection, lies and betrayal. His eyes clouded with unfathomable rage; what did she want that he'd never given her? She left him for a skinny guy. His heart shattered in pieces with betrayals as his eyes were filled red-blooded with fury for retaliation, feeling the immense throbbing from his head around his body.

She left him.

She lied.

His mom ran in and took in his dishevelled form, kneeling beside him disheartened, "mom," he called out in a shaky voice, his body trembling in anger, "she left me," he mumbled, gritting his teeth. He wanted to strangle someone, and he wanted to unleash the fury of the betrayal running in his bloodstream. "Mom, it hurts," he said, blood trickling down his fist.

"Baby, it's okay," His mother whispered, taking his bloodied hand as she continued to humming her soothing melody to calm him while she removed the white ribbon she used to bound her hair. She wrapped it on it to stop the blood.

"People are waiting in the..." his father trailed off as he looked at him with a void expression. He knew what his father was thinking.

"Call off the wedding," his mother said softly, wiping the tears from her eyes and sniffing.

"No, mom," he stopped her, holding her as he picked up the ring with determination. "We are doing the wedding," he enunciated, standing up on his legs. She wanted him to be embarrassed on a joyous day, but he would show her her feeble attempts were useless to him.

"We need a replacement," he said while everyone stared at him worriedly.

Chapter 2

She was running, and she had been running, l her life; everything was falling apart. Her apartment fee had been due for the last six months, and the landlord wasn't heeding her pleas. She could not live on the street, and this State wasn't like her father's country, where she could get accessible apartments anytime or anywhere.

She was given a scholarship at the State University for the last four years, and she was very excited, but if she'd known this was what she would be facing, she would have stayed with her father in her father's country. Well, this State was her mother's, which made her biracial.

Her life had been jumbled-mess since she arrived in this country; she was easily judged by her brown skin colour.

She didn't have a real job apart from freelancing for lazy youths. And that wasn't paying her much. They judged her skin colour and her father's nationality, not her brain then, they were men who always had their lustful gaze on her curve, which she hated, but she couldn't do anything.

She was tired, and she was running out of money. She could not call her father because her father was the same as her. A working-class being striving to feed. And her mother was a no-go-area because she did not know who her mother was or where she lived. Whenever she asked her father, he always ended up in tears, which always broke her heart.

She hated her mother because she wasn't been part of her life since she was young.

She wasn't there when she needed her the most.

She wasn't there to talk to her about her periods.

She wasn't there to talk to her about boys.

It was only her father she knew, her father covered both roles, but there was still a part of her that yearned for motherly love.

She hummed a tune her father used to sing to her whenever she was depressed or down as she walked around with a towel wrapped tightly around her body. She walked towards her Ghana must go* - (a woven luggage bag) to pick an old faded jean skirt and blue polo as her only friend - Belle, barged in, searching for Angelina until her brown eyes met Angelina's grey ones before she squealed happily at her and crushed her in a bear hug.

Isabella or Belle was a half-Japanese friend with short blond hair, and they met at the school functions on the first day of resumption in university. She was trying to find the hall when she collided with her friend's petite body, which made them fall to the ground. They both groaned before staring at one another and laughing out loud. They both exchanged numbers, and since then, they have become tight buddies.

"Babe, I've got you a job," Belle chirped, stealing one of her fries that she left on the nightstand beside her messy bed before slumping on the floor. She swatted Belle's hand away when she stretched her hand to steal another fries.

When Angelina's brain comprehended what her friend had said before stealing her fries, she screeched, "you got me a job?" she asked.

"Yeah, babe," Belle winked at her, "I told you," she smirked with a sly grin.

"What does the work pertain to?" she asked enthusiastically before feeling down and sighing.

"What happened, sugar? Aren't you happy? But—" Belle frantically asked, and she interrupted her.

"Nothing," she replied dismissively, "The uniform code?"

"Just put on pants and a shirt," Belle answered, crawling towards Angelina's bag, unzipping it as she started to rampage through it. She was taking out a dress, looking at it before throwing it away to take another one.

"I'm not putting on pants!" Angelina tutted, "my curves are going to be visible, and I don't want unwanted attention to myself," she added downcasted.

Belle pinched the bridge of her nose, she didn't know how many times she would lecture her friend to love herself with her curvy body, but no, her insecurities were too high.

"Babe—"She dragged slowly, "if I was the one who has this shape of you," Belle's eyes roamed on Angelina's hourglass body, shaking her head, "I swear I'll be f***ing walking in lingerie," she said sultrily. "Or if I was a guy," she stared at her sed*ctively as she wetted her lips sensually while her brown eyes twinkled with mischief, "Imma f*** you to oblivion state," she added impishly.

"Now, let's change, babe," she squealed, picking the outfit Angelina wore on last year's Thanksgiving, checking it only to dump it down.

Most of Angelina's dresses were second-hand graded, and she didn't have the money to buy new dresses. Every last Monday of the month, she went to the mall to purchase a dress. Well, Belle always made her shop with her and bought her some lasting dresses which she rarely wore except for important occasions.

"I hope it's not a stripping job you got me because I'm not interested," Angelina voiced her opinion. After all, she knew her best friend. It could be a strip club that got her a job, and she had been bugging her to apply for one, but Angelina being Angelina, was not comfortable and confident about showing her body.

"Oh," Bell's mouth was agape, pouting her lips, "you are supposed to trust me on this," she scrunched her nose, "if it were a club I'm talking about, I would have just kidnap you to Victoria secret palace for that d" "ty, naughty and s**tty lingerie," she wiggled her brows bashfully before facing what she was doing

"I think you should wear this," she heard Bella's voice, holding a cocktail gown before she threw it away.

"No," Belle murmured to herself before picking another dress, "I think this will do," she scrutinised her eyes on the A-shape skirt only to throw it away again. She stuck her tongue between her lips in a concentration way as she brought out all her dresses in the bag, scattering them on the floor before taking them back, turning them upside down, and then throwing them away.

"I can't seem to find it—" She trailed off before screaming excitedly, "I see it!" bouncing up and down.

She handed Angelina the black fitted knee-length gown, ushering her to change because they were getting late.

Angelina entered the kitchen and changed into the gown her friend selected, brewing a coffee to calm her nervousness. She applied oil to her wavy brown thick hair brushed it together, and put it in a ponytail. She used her lips gloss and called Uber to take her to where the wedding was located.

A day waitress.

Just to serve food for the guests. And a serving costs $5.

If I am to serve a hundred guests, that means I'm taking $500 home. She thought happily. She was already analysing how she was going to spend the money.

The Uber arrived at the destination, killing off the engine. As she got down from the car, a woman in her early forties who looked distressed came to her and dragged her to another direction where there were fewer people.

The woman stopped when they entered a room and locked the door at the back while she took a moment to catch her breath.

"Ma'am, I'm Angelina. I'm here—" The petite woman waved her hand, interrupting her as the woman scrutinised her gaze on her before her lips stretched widely.

"You are someone I need—No—We need," the woman smiled uneasily.

"Oh?"

The woman's hands trembled while looking disheartening. Angelina took her time to recheck the woman, and she noticed that the woman's brows wrinkled as if she was in deep thought and distress.

"Ma'am—" She tried to call the woman, but the woman grabbed both her hands urgently.

"I want your help, and I shall pay you handsomely," the distress could be heard in her soft voice.

"Ma?"

"The bride left my son today, and we need a replacement. So name your price?"

"What?" Angelina asked, feeling annoyed. What did the woman take her for? She thought.

"$5 million?" she asked while Angelina's jaw nearly dropped on the floor. Her body was immobilised because her brain couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"$10 million?"

"....."

"$20 million?"

"Ma'am!" Angelina practically screamed at her, "I don't know what you want me to do, but I don't want your money," she stated firmly while the woman sighed in relief.

The woman touched her chubby cheeks lovingly, "like I've known you aren't like her," the woman mumbled.

"Just marry my son for a year, and after that, you could divorce," the woman explained.

"Okay," Angelina responded.

Chapter 3

"Okay," she responded in a weak voice, thinking of the pros and cons of the situation. It was a win-win situation. I get a house to stay in, and he gets a wife to marry. And it's only for a year. Free food and shelter, She thought.

"Good," the woman clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh my," the woman's eyes widened dramatically, using her hand to cover her mouth while Angelina stared at her, "sorry for my lack of manners," the woman smiled shyly.

"Uhn?"

"I'm Jasmine Hugh," she introduced herself, holding her hand out for Angelina to shake.

Angelina rubbed her hands together nervously before accepting the woman's open hand, "I'm Angelina Walters," she responded. Jasmine smiled to the fullest and dragged her again to another room, pushed her in, and then locked the door at the back.

"This is the bride," she announced enthusiastically while Angelina looked at her. Did she mean it?

"Oh," three guys came out behind the curtains, twirling her around, staring at her in fascination.

"How I wish I had these assets," a ginger-headed guy said in a high-pitched voice while she mentally cringed. He wore a black baggy knicker, a white polo that hugged his fitted abs, and black sneakers.

"Oh! Nicky, look at those boobs,'' she felt self-conscious, kicked in and brought her hands to cover her already-covered chest only to be swatted by a blond-haired guy. He wore a blue short sleeves shirt with a neck collar flared up. He wore yellow baggy shorts, which Versace had printed on them while putting on Oscars.

"Ricky, the third guy with black hair, whined, "you are embarrassing the lady," he said, smiling charmingly, showing his prominent dimples while Nicky cooed, and Ricky couldn't help himself not to pinch her cheek.

"Sorry, M'lady," the blond-headed guy — Ricky, said without meaning it with the mischievous twinkling in his eyes. "I'm Dicky,'' the black-haired guy said, holding his hand out gentlemanly. Angelina put her hand on his as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her on it, "while the other fools are my brothers," He wore Harry Potter's glass which made him stand out from his brothers.

"Well, we are the little triple-triple triplet," the ginger-haired guy — Nicky grinned.

"It's okay with the introduction," Jasmine clapped her hands dismissively.

"Aye, mistress," they said in unison dramatically, offering their invisible hats.

"Now, let's take you over and make him head over hills," Ricky screeched and dragged her to the chair.

Dicky went behind the curtains to retrieve the wedding dress, "I think this white colour would be the best. It's as innocent as she's," he chirped, dancing around with the long dress.

"I can't believe it, and we are the ones who will dress the future Lady of the Hugh family."

"Now," Ricky paused a little, staring at the flustered lady before grinning slyly, "Undr***," his eyes shone naughtiness.

"What?" Angelina stuttered, using her hands to cover her body.

"How are we going to dress you if you don't strip out from this dress," he narrowed his eyes at her while she shook her head adamantly.

Dicky sighed, "Ricky, can you please leave the poor girl alone?"

"I can't," Ricky pouted, "I just love her; she's now my favourite girl."

Nicky opened the box full of lingeries, took out one, and gave it to her to change into, pushing her into the changing room.

She entered the room, locking the door firmly, looking everywhere for holes where others could peep to watch her. When she found none, she sighed and slumped her stiff shoulders.

She stared at the white lingerie with her and blushed furiously, her cheeks and ears coated red.

The ling*rie was made of rich, lightweight silk, stretching with decorative fabric flowers at the bosom. The chemise fit snugly and skimmed around her body, hitting the mid-thigh. And cupped her breasts firmly, giving them extra chest support. The lingerie was different from the one she had seen because it drew more attention to her waist and hips. She looked at the mirror in the room and lowered her gaze immediately because it made her feel like a seductress.

She took her dress and used it to cover herself before gracing the awaiting triplet's presence.

"Why are you covering those assets?" Ricky exclaimed, pouting his lips. He could not understand why she wasn't proud of her body. Millions of models and wealthy ladies visited their shop for the body she had. Well, the person who has a head doesn't have a cap, and the person who has a cap doesn't have a head, he thought. Even that bitch- was one per cent of her beauty. Natural beauty with no artificial touch. Rare gem.

When Angelina was inside the room putting in the lingerie, Jasmine had told the triplet to change the wedding dress, not wanting her to wear what the ex-fiance had tried on, though it wasn't her size. So she brought their family dress for her. When she showed the triplets, they nodded in agreement, taking the gown from her as they waited for the lady in the changing room.

Ricky yanked her dress that she used as a shield from her before dragging her to where his brothers were waiting for them. Nicky helped her wear the gown as she felt the length gown kissing the floor. The dress was beautiful, which would be an understatement. It was like a fairy tale as she lowered her head meekly.

"If not, you are getting married today; I would have stolen you away," Nicky got a dreamy look before he was smacked by one of his brothers.

Angelina felt overwhelmed; if someone told her that she would get married in her early twenties, she would have argued or married a stranger without knowing his name. It would be a blatant lie, yet she felt like a princess.

They made her sit on the chair and ordered her softly to close her eyes as they worked on retouching her naturally wavy hair. When they were through, they told her to open her eyes, and she was dumbstruck by the lady she was in the mirror. Her grey eyes were glued with well-curved brows, and her parted lips complimented her small pointed nose, beautified with a designer nose ring.

"Enough of the look," Dicky scolded lightly, "When the lover boy sees you, he won't know what hit him tonight," he smiled while she involuntarily shivered.

"Now remains the glimmer," Nicky said.

The door opened and the groom's mother entered hurriedly, looking at her in shock, "Woah," Jasmine exclaimed, "I know when I see a diamond. Just some little retouch, you become a real aphrodite," she complimented, covering her face with a veil.

Enjoy reading his curvy obsession free on wattpad.

#novel #webnovel #bookpromotion #wattpader #bookrecommendations #books #hardeynyhun #wattpadrecommendations #wattpadforyou #wattpad

[openshanklygates]

Like You Know Him

Whumpril 2024 April 7th, 2024 HESITATION Ludwig Kaiser/Sadie Cullen (OC) Apocalypse Verse

They called her Little Mother and it was part of Marcel's job to keep a close eye on her, both in the world before and in the world now.

Sadie Cullen had always been the epitome of grace and sophistication. Even if the new world was not kind to those who had once called the arts their profession, it did not mean she was any less of an artist. Sadie's form of expression had always been the dance, ballet primarily. It was how she had fallen in love with Walter, the leader that Marcel followed no matter what. It was also how Marcel had come to fall in love with Sadie, their Little Mother.

Now, here in the world after, it was up to the men of Imperium to protect Sadie and her best friend Alyssa when threats like this came calling.

The horns that signaled the arrival of one of the worst men in The Wasteland, a man they called The Redeemer, rang out throughout the Imperium encampment. Marcel had been sitting with Sadie, enjoying the quiet morning, as the horns sounded. He was first to his feet, glancing at the third man in the room, Fabian. "Is he here?"

"Yes," Sadie answered for Fabian as she got to her feet, eyes darting from the door to Marcel. He had expected the fear in her eyes, but there was something deeper at the core. Worry? No, no she would never worry about this. She turned to Fabian, "Go find her. Please."

The her in question was Alyssa Santos, the encampment medic. Even in a terrifying moment like this, Sadie's thoughts were of her best friend. It was part of that selflessness that made her their Little Mother. Fabian ran to find the other girl just as fast as he could. From another part of the makeshift camp he could hear footsteps, meaning that he had no time to get Sadie to safety. Marcel pulled her behind a set of crates, signaling for her to remain low and silent.

Just as a hard thwack from behind connected with Marcel's back.

Marcel turned on his heel to see the well-dressed man behind him, holding a black baseball bat. This couldn't be the Redeemer, no. This scrawny, barely threatening thing had to be one of the Redeemer's well known lackies. If he had to guess, Marcel assumed that this was the man who called himself The Artiste. The bald man swung his bat again, only for Marcel to catch it with one hand. He pulled in, using his grip to pull the other man in with him. Marcel caught the stranger with a headbutt, sending him sprawling to the ground. The stranger glanced towards where Sadie was hidden, closing his eyes after a moment.

Marcel raised the bat high, about to send it crashing down on the stranger's face, when suddenly Sadie was between the two. "Little Mother, move out of the way!"

"Marcel...I..."

There was a hesitation to her voice and it caused Marcel to lower the bat. "D...do you know this man, Sadie?"

She looked at the ground, as if ashamed, "Marcel...what you should understand is..."

"Speak, little mother," Marcel took a gentle hold of her chin, tilting the woman's face up to meet his piercing blue gaze, "do you know him?"

"His name is Matthew Rehwoldt...and he...he's my friend."

[purplefury78]

From pages 76-78 of the new book: "PURPLE FURY: Rumbling with the Warriors"

The cameras are set now – Michael Beck and me facing off in the harsh white light. Walter’s in his director’s chair, chewing on a toothpick. Baxley’s talking us through the beats in a quiet voice, “All right, you got this. You want to rehearse it once at full speed, or you ready to shoot one?”

“Let’s go for it,” says Michael.

I nod in agreement.

So, we find our marks in the patchy grass, and face off, bats ready, and Sosna calls the roll, Walter grunts, “Action.”

And Michael Beck rushes me, swinging hard, and I counter and it’s fast and violent and right in the thick of it I’m thinking, Jesus this is fucking fast, keep up, Jesus H! Ducking, swinging, blocking, blocking again, the bats cracking against each other and now I’ve got Swan backed up against the tree and I swing for his head and he ducks under it – my bat cracking – ash on elm, and bouncing off and me spinning away, turning to see Swan coming at me, swinging his bat into my ribs - one, two three shots – and suddenly I’m on my back in the grass and I hear Walter grunt, “Cut,” and Sosna shout, “Cut, cut!” And now Michael Beck is there, leaning in on me.

“Rob, you okay?”

I’m gasping to get some air into my lungs. “Yeah,” I say, but to me it sounds like a quack. “Yeah,” I say again, then add, “God, that was fast! Did that seem fast to you?!”

Michael grins down at me, “Yeah, it was fast, man. That was fast.”

I get to my feet, vaguely aware that my ribs are on fire. But I’m exhilarated, and so is Michael Beck. We pulled it off. We nailed it. First take. We turn to Walter Hill – Herr Director – expecting applause. Or at least a nod of approval. A grunt maybe…

“Do it again,” says Walter.

Suddenly my ribs hurt. But I keep my game face on as we head back to one. Michael’s looking a little worn. We both look back to Walter like, okay, we’ll go again, but what do you want different? Walter offers nothing. Michael doesn’t ask. And neither do I.

As we get to our starting points, Baxley strolls up to me and says, “You know, each take you do here, it’s a 50-dollar stunt adjustment.”

“No shit.” Suddenly my ribs are feeling better.

“No shit. And that gets added onto your daily base, so when we get into overtime…You get what I’m saying here?”

“Yeah. Let’s go again.”

Baxley steps out of frame. Michael and I face off, not sure what’s supposed to change for this second take, so we wordlessly agree – okay, same sequence, only harder and faster.

Sosna calls the roll, Walter grunts, “Action.” And here we go again.

[kevin-coleman]

Mara In The Wind

I'm playing a little hooky this morning. It is a work day and I should be attending to some professional development, but the morning started out lazy. I've been scrolling through some unpublished Tumblr posts looking for gold nuggets and...well, here I am.

Mara In The Wind is a fragment I started well over a year ago about my main protagonist Walter Burback being called upon by an old flame. Its' about a thousand words right now and re-reading it, I feel a certain tug, a very specific desire to complete this particular story. Parts of it are still unformed in my mind, such as what Mara wants from Walter and what Walter wants from Mara. The only thing I know for sure is that he is enchanted by her and would do almost anything for her. Maybe that's what the story ought to be about. Where is the line for Walter? What won't he do?

In some ways Walter is still in embryo. Some writers go to great lengths and write extensive biographies and psychological profiles for their main characters. There is utility in this, especially in maintaining continuity across stories, but I never got around to this--at least, I never completed any biography I may have started for him. There was always the nagging feeling "This is taking too long. You should be writing!" Maybe Mara In The Wind can be an exercise in developing his core values.

What won't he do?

We often ponder that ourselves. We encounter stories in the news all the time that put that question to us.

"Robbery at the bank downtown." I would figure out a way to take down the robber.

"Gymnastics coach molests his students." I would get a baseball bat and put that piece of human garbage in the ground if it were my daughter.

Would you? It's a vicarious thrill to imagine being a hero for a day, but when push comes to shove, if faced with that very real possibility, would you take matters into your own hands? If you did, would you survive? Let's say you did use that baseball bat and crippled the gymnastics coach or worse--killed him--would you still feel righteous? Or would guilt eat at you?

Most of us know where our line is, even though we like to imagine we'd cross it. Maybe that's why we enjoy crossing it--in our minds, in fiction--every chance we get, because we know that we'd never cross it, that we'd never put ourselves or our loved ones through the disappointment or the heartbreak of crossing that line.

So that brings me back around to the question that started this whole thing off: What won't Walter do?

[oceanicxeyes]

Tobias was most definitely FLIRTING with him and Walter – in his usual demeanor – had no idea how to react. He wanted to flirt back, of course. Not because he wanted to beat his friend in pool but also in that side-game flirting they were playing… but because he wanted to. Flirt with someone he actually deemed attractive because he wanted to rather than wink and put his best smile forward to make a drunken patron consume even more alcohol. The only problem was that Tobias was probably able to out-flirt him any day of the week. He wasn’t experienced in the whole banter with someone. He knew how to but that didn’t exactly transpired in him being a complete professional at the art of making someone flustered and hot under their collar. That was most definitely Tobias’ objective and as much as Walter would probably deny – his face was already betraying him. He was flustered and his mind was already thinking of scenarios involving the man by his side that he haven’t thought about until now.

“You make it sound like I am made of porcelain, Tobias.” One eyebrow arched upward and Walter snatched the cue from his mate, making sure to brush his fingers over Tobias’ as he did so. “I’m not exactly human so my resistance is higher than most.” Not that he had a chance to fully put that theory to the ringer. Again, one night-stands was not something he did. The last time he had actually been intimate with another man had been too far long. Almost forty-years ago if one wanted to be more precise – but who was counting? And not like he would ever admit that to Tobias because Walter knew he would never, EVER hear the end of it for as long as he would live. “I’m merely more selective with that aspect. The whole gaining experience points by doing it once every night with someone different is not… is not something that I view myself doing.” Because he still believed in romance and being attracted to someone who meant something to him rather than how damn good they were looking that night.

Walking around the table, Walter leaned in to take his shot – sinking one of his balls without even batting an eyelash – but turning his gaze to Tobias as a little smirk began to form on his lips. Not that he wanted to be COCKY but he could also tell how much that smirk would probably get under Tobias’ skin. “A delicate flower? YOU?” The chuckle that rolled from his lips was so natural that Walter actually wondered when was the last time he had actually laughed in such a carefree way. “Maybe if you’re a rose. Gorgeous and delicate and yet with so many thorns that makes it quite hard for someone to appreciate your real beauty.” He was moving again. Closer to Tobias, deliberately brushing against his back as he moved past him to sink another ball without an ounce of hesitation. “I do find roses beautiful.” He stood back up, his eyes meeting with Tobias’ for one second before a shiver ran down his spine at the mention of the other man wanting to make him SQUIRM. .. now that… that was interesting.

“Maybe I’ll be the one to make YOU squirm.” They were close now. Lips barely a breath away from one another before Walter returned to the table and missed his shot – albeit scattering the remaining balls even further throughout the table. “Your turn. And do indulge my curiosity. In a hypothetic scenario… how would you make me squirm, then?”

He leaned over the table, lining up his next shot. The cue cracked against the ball, sending it careening across the felt. It slammed into the solid, knocking it cleanly into the side pocket. Take that, you cheeky git.

Toby's head snapped up, his eyes locking with Walter's. Well now. Wasn't expecting that. He'd been taking the piss, mostly. But if Walter wanted to play...

The solid ball spun off-kilter, bouncing off the rail and missing the corner pocket by a country mile. Bollocks. Toby straightened up, his lips twisting in a scowl. He'd gotten cocky, too busy showing off to actually focus on the bloody shot. Rookie mistake, that.

He could feel Walter's eyes on him as he circled the table, no doubt smirking at Toby's piss-poor aim. Cheeky bastard. Toby was half-tempted to 'accidentally' jab him with the cue, maybe leave a nice bruise on that pretty arse of his. See how smug he was then.

But Walter didn't gloat, didn't even crack a joke. He just sidled up next to Toby, close enough that their shoulders brushed, and studied the table like it held the keys of the universe.

Toby straightened, flashing Walter a smirk. "Rough enough to make you beg for mercy, love." He winked, just to drive the point home. "But don't worry. I'll be gentle. Wouldn't want to break you on the first go."

Damn right, you are pretty. He'd have to be blind not to see it. The strong jaw, the broad shoulders, the way those jeans hugged his bits just right... Yeah, Walter was a looker, all right. Not that Toby was about to tell him that. Bloke's ego was big enough already.

He leaned against the pool table, cocking his head to the side. "Maybe I'm not playing," he drawled, his lips curving into a smirk. "Maybe I really am just that coy. A delicate flower, I am."

Toby batted his lashes, putting on his best 'innocent' face. It was a load of bollocks, of course. Toby was about as delicate as a brick to the face. But it was worth it, just to see the look on Walter's face. The way his eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise.

Gotcha, Toby thought, his smirk widening. Not so cocky now, are you?

He pushed off the table, sauntering over to Walter. "Or maybe," he murmured, his voice dropping to a rumble, "I just like watching you squirm."

He was close enough now to feel the heat of Walter's body, to catch the faint scent of his cologne. It had a salty tang, with a touch of sea spray. Like standing on the shore as the tide crashed in. Toby drew in a long breath, letting the aroma saturate his senses.

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

July 11, 2023

RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION — ONE SCOOP OR TWO

Alright, that does it. Utah Sen-For-Life Mike Lee will never, ever eat Ben & Jerry's ice cream again. It's unpatriotic and totally sucks. That's what Lee said after Ben & Jerry tweeted on the Fourth of July: “The U.S. was founded on stolen Indigenous land. This year, let’s commit to returning it.” The pair called on readers to support the “Land Back movement” to restore once Native American land to its original owners. Well then, that does it. Goodbye Chunky Monkey, Karamel Sutra and Cherry Garcia. They will never cross the lips of Mike “I've-Got-An-Ice-Cream-Jones” Lee.  He even called Ben and Jerry “smug and lippy.” What do they want? Lee demanded. “Expungement of property rights? OMG! Repatriation of most Americans to Europe?” WTF! Ben & Jerry want the movement to start with Mount Rushmore, the Lakota Sioux’s holy mountain Tunkasila Sakpe before the faces of  U.S. presidents were carved on it. The Black Hills were among 3.5 million acres set aside as a permanent home for the Lakota, but those treaties were broken when gold prospectors and settlers flooded in. That matters little to Lee, the great patriot and ice cream connoisseur who The Washington Post said, “worked furiously to overturn the 2020 election...” Righteous indignation and hypocrisy — would that be one scoop or two?

END DAYS AND “BAT FRIENDLY” TEQUILA

No Wilson, this is not some Hunter Thompson-esque ditty about a strange trip to a Donald Trump rally — although it could be. This is important news: The lesser long nose bat, aka Leptonycteris yerbabuenae, is the only pollinator of agave cactus, which bears the fruit that is used to make tequila. So it's important that when folks go to the liquor store they buy only tequila that carries the “Bat Friendly” label. No lesser long nose bats, no tequila. And no Wilson, the worm, which is actually the agave snout weevile, is not part of the distillation process but is added as a natural preservative that may boost the effects of alcohol. That brings us back to End Days and Trump's 14 promises when elected president. Here are the highlights: bomb drug cartels; put parents in charge of schools; stop the chemical castration and sexual mutilation of our youth; develop vertical-takeoff-and-landing vehicles for families; ban the use of taxpayer dollars to label speech as mis- or disinformation; end Biden's tax hikes and inflation; fire the unelected bureaucrats who have weaponized the justice system. And that brings us 'round to tequila again, because if Trump returns to power we're going to need a lot of it. The way things are looking, we're going to need a lot of it either way.

RACISM ISN'T ALL THAT BAD, EXCEPT FOR WHITE PEOPLE

As everyone knows, white people are the real victims of racism — it makes white kids feel bad. Just imagine, you're a white kid in public school and the teacher starts in on slavery and Jim Crow and the Ku Klux Klan. Total bummer. How are they supposed to enjoy hacky sack after that. Teaching school kids about racism is perfectly fine, said Republican Ryan Walters, the Oklahoma school superintendent, as long as no one is “made to feel bad.” Problem solved. According to researchers at UCLA and UC San Diego, some 17.7 million public school students from 2020-'21 had their learning restricted on race, racism and gender. Totally chill. We can't have teachers turning our kids into Marxists who think everyone is equal. Thirty six state legislatures, including Utah, sought to ban teaching of critical race theory (how inequality and systemic racism impact American society). That stuff, whatever it is, could make white people feel bad, according to conservative lawmakers. And if you're worried about that white privilege B.S., just look at affirmative action. Meanwhile, Democrats harp on healthcare, wealth inequality and global warming in a naked attempt to change the subject. But don't forget the GOP is the Party of Lincoln and the party of Clarence Thomas. 'Nuff said.  

Post script — That's a wrap for another sizzling week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of the heat so you don't have to. Mother Earth is hotter than she's been for 125,000 years. But don't tell that to conservative Republicans or MAGAtts, you'll get death threats. But it's not just the crazies. Red States, including Utah, are refusing to invest taxpayer dollars in green energy or entities that conclude global warming is brought on by burning fossil fuels. Great — cutting off our environmental nose to spite our global face. Many on the right don't believe in climate change, said Penn State's Michael Mann, because wealthy fossil fuel interests, the Koch brothers in particular, “have spent tens if not hundreds of millions of dollars poisoning our public discourse over climate change...”  But there is this: More home runs are hit when it's hot. For every 1 degree Celsius (1.8 degree Fahrenheit) increase in temperature, the number of home runs in a game increases by 1.96 percent, according to a study published in the Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society.The study found that more than 500 home runs since 2010 can be linked to climate warming. Proof positive that whether Mike Lee boycotts Ben & Jerry's or not, we're all going to have to eat ice cream a lot faster.

Hey Wilson, have you ever tried to eat an ice cream cone at 95 degrees. You gotta be real quick with the lick, so quick, in fact, that you could get one of those ice-cream headaches. That's when you freeze the superficial ophthalmic branch of the Trigeminal Nerve. Look it up, well, never mind. Tell the band to put down the Cherry Garcia and take us out of the hot city:

Hot town, summer in the city Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty Been down, isn't it a pity? Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city All around, people looking half dead Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head But at night it's a different world Go out and find a girl Come on, come on and dance all night Despite the heat it'll be all right And babe, don't you know it's a pity That the days can't be like the nights In the summer, in the city In the summer, in the city

Cool town, evening in the city Dressing so fine and looking so pretty Cool cat, looking for a kitty Gonna look in every corner of the city Till I'm wheezing like a bus stop Running up the stairs, gonna meet you on the rooftop At night it's a different world Go out and find a girl Come on, come on and dance all night Despite the heat it'll be all right And babe, don't you know it's a pity That the days can't be like the nights In the summer, in the city In the summer, in the city

(Summer In The City — Lovin' Spoonful)