#many will call this cringe to which i say fair
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pikespendragon67 · 1 year ago
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And Now, an Ode to Priam Fire Emblem: The Decade or So Long Blorbo
As I type this, the Nintendo 3DS and WiiU eShop have legally shut down their Internet servers. Pokemon can still be transferred via the Poke Transporter & Pokemon Bank, and content that was downloaded before can still be redownloaded, but now it is legally impossible to not only buy games, but to also download their free content that was distributed online. For some games, this might not have been utilized or was just a small bonus that didn’t mean much. For Fire Emblem Awakening, it meant access to new maps & somewhat new characters. 
4 of the free online characters were within Awakening’s main story & acted as “what if” scenarios. What if Emmeryn survived her character defining fall that ended a decade-or-so-long war? What if Yen’fay was the Chon’sin royal sibling that survived instead of Say’ri? What would Gangrel do if he lived after Chrom defeated him? What would Walhart do? What would Aversa do if it turned out that she was brainwashed by a cult, realized this, and decided to fight against this? Some were better executed than others, in my opinion, but some of these characters also had exclusive skills, such as Aversa wielding dark magic outside of a Dark Mage/Sorcerer class or Walhart being immune to armor & beast killing weapons, or were just more manpower for your army.
There was one final Spotpass map, though, that acted as a nice free challenge mode (if you didn’t plan on buying the DLC for Apotheosis, of course) : 50 whole units against 26 of your own. At the epicenter of it is Priam, the character I’d like to honor with this memoir. 
Priam is a character not found in the main story of Awakening, and is a dweller of the Isle of Giants in the Outrealms (aka bonus content land oooooh). He’s the leader of a very large army (again, 50 units) consisting of people from every nation within the continents of Ylisse & Valm. He’s supposedly related to a radiant hero of legend, though it’s never officially confirmed. He likes to train, eat meat, and fight strong opponents to better himself regardless of their origins. Overall a relatively simple character to understand. 
For many players, they tend to forget he exists or do their best to pretend he doesn’t exist in the first place. Either they didn’t play his map, his character traits didn’t stick with others as strongly as others, or the big meat and potatoes hot button issue: his relation to Ike. Ike is the protagonist of the Tellius saga, or the games consisting of both Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn. He does not have a canonical ending where he marries, and within the games, he doesn’t show romantic interest in any female characters. He does, however, have paired endings with characters such as Ranulf (who goes on a journey) and Soren (who accompanied Ike on his own journey, never to be seen or heard from again). And with sources stating Priam is a direct descendant of Ike, rather than an off-shoot through Mist (Ike’s younger sister) and Boyd, many got upset. “How could Ike have a kid? He’s not interested in women. He likes Soren.” is something I see regularly while scouring through Priam’s tag on Tumblr or through comments on Youtube. And I’m not here to argue against that. I do, however, think I have an idea why Priam was chosen to be Ike’s descendant of all the previous lords: Super Smash Bros. Brawl.
Brawl, at the time, was the latest Smash Bros. game when Awakening was in development. Smash Bros. is usually how Nintendo fans branch out from just playing Mario, Zelda, Pokemon, or Kirby and get introduced to series they might not have even heard of, such as Fire Emblem. In fact, it was due to Marth & Roy’s appearance in the previous Smash Bros. game, Melee, that the West got their first taste of Fire Emblem games. However, in Brawl, Roy was removed from the roster and was replaced with Ike. This makes sense, as Path of Radiance was the latest console Fire Emblem game when Brawl was released. (I also wonder if it has to do with the west never receiving Roy’s game, but that’s just speculating on my end). Gotta promote your games somehow. Though from what I understand, the Tellius games did not sell as well as Intelligent Systems had hoped. Additionally, with the following games being remakes of Marth’s original adventures now on the DS, those also did not sell well. Heck, the west never officially got the remake for Mystery of the Emblem. 
This could just be fan speculation ruminating throughout the decades, but it seems to be common belief that due to poor sales, Fire Emblem was almost a goner franchise that probably would’ve remained dormant for decades or even had no games developed for it. As such, Intelligent Systems wanted to broaden the market by appealing to newcomers. Some that may have heard about Fire Emblem through Smash Bros., but never gave it a shot due to the permadeath system that the games were infamous for, or just no real interest beforehand. Awakening exploded in popularity, garnering new fans like crazy. And with Chrom, Lissa, Emmeryn, Lucina, and Owain being descendants of the recognizable Marth (especially as Lucian disguising herself as Marth and even being briefly confused for Marth by Tiki), it would make sense to have a supposed descendant of the recognizable Ike as well. …Although one could speculate that Walhart is a descendant of Alm & Celica, which makes sense given how Rudolf looks… And for more reference’s sake, they threw in a bunch of past Fire Emblem throwbacks in weapons & lore that made writing a worldbuilding-centric fic a fucking nightmare.
So, with all of that, what are my thoughts on Priam being related to Ike? 
…Eh? 
My whole explanation beforehand was me retelling how I got into Awakening in the first place sprinkled in with hearsay I’ve read online, but as I grow older & more bitter at the world, Priam could be related to a shoe for all I care. (Although if Roy DID stick in Brawl, it would be cool to see how his descendant would be, especially if we’re going the route of Eliwood/Ninian having Roy, who then marries Lillina). What I like about Priam is traits somewhat shown in Ike, sure, but it’s also just the missing potential that keeps me coming back to him.
SO, time to get into how I started to like him. I remember when I first played Awakening, I asked a friend if I should pick between Stahl or Lon’qu to marry (as I was aware of the auto-marriage to Chrom mechanic and wanted to avoid that). The friend said Stahl was a better pick, as he was a kind lad that loved to eat & had messy hair like yours truly. Then, when the Spotpass maps were released, I immediately made a new save file so that I could marry Priam. Why? …Because he had a bandana and I liked his English voice acting (for the few grunts & battle quotes that were present). The Awakening Hero armor design is eh, but I liked how his was customized to be, well, radiant. The 3D model was shinier than those of Flavia’s or other playable reclassed Heroes, and I really just liked how he paired a tattered cape with his armor. 
I also remember level grinding for an entire summer just so I could finally take on his map efficiently. Granted, I played Normal/Casual, but when I replayed the map a 3rd time for another save file, my units were barely able to beat him. It was worth it, in my opinion. 
What really made me start up that second save file were his supports with Female Robin. Priam is an unfortunate case of “Avatar-sexual”, meaning he only has supports with Robin & Morgan if he’s his dad (although in the Hot Springs DLC, he does have a nice chat with Yen’fay & tries his damnest to fight Walhart). We only learn small things about him, such as his love for training & how he utilizes breathing techniques that would fit right into Jojo or Demon Slayer. He also gets flustered when someone does something nice for him unexpectedly, such as Female Robin doing his laundry as thanks for training with her. He doesn’t really care about expenses, as he bought a really fucking expensive ring when he proposed to Female Robin and says “I don’t give a damn what you do” when you sell items in his inventory. He’s devoted to the point of letting the world burn before seeing Female Robin get hurt (thankfully not to a yandere-like level). …And you learn he fought a bear when he was 12 if you support with Male Robin. He’s what got me to liking characters that had muscle (yes even though Basilio and Vaike were right there).
Combat wise, he was a good non-armor defensive unit (especially with wielding Ragnell to give him +5 defense), but what I find neat is that he learns weapon breaker skills even in classes he can’t become, like Gryphon Rider having Lancebreaker. He has both Sol and Luna, but not Aether like. This might be so Aether stays exclusive to Chrom, Lucina, and a potential daughter/granddaughter, but I speculated this could be Priam either holding himself back from using Aether’s potential or him still trying to figure it out.
Along with this, if you were a budding mythology/history nerd like I was, you realize he was named after not one, but two! TWO! Important figures in the Trojan War: King Priam and his son, Paris (In Japanese, Priam is named Paris, so yes, go ahead and make the French jokes. His English voice actor already plays the Frenchiest Fry Virion himself). In fact, this was one of the many things that sparked my interest in mythology/history. 
And finally, this was around the time I was starting to get interested in voice acting trivia. This meant I wanted to act as a human IMDB page and go “whoa, did you know such and such shared a voice with so and so?! Isn’t that neat?!” At the time, I didn’t know Jamieson Price also voiced Virion, but I DID know he voiced Iskandar from Fate/Zero and Chad from Bleach. Those were 2 of my favorite characters so I was sold. And then for Japanese, Daisuke Ono voices him. Jotaro Kujo from Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and Shizuo Heiwajima from Durarara!! Of all things! WOW! 
All of this is really fucking cool shit, and it’s such a damn waste that Intelligent Systems doesn’t do anything else with him! 
To fill in my disappointment, I’ve definitely created a version of Priam in my head that’s drastically different from canon. I’ve incorporated elements from what I’ve continued to read in his supports, inspiration coming from moments & traits from other series that I’ve watched/played that I thought would be cool, and overall just positive things to keep me going when I was going through a rough spot. Canonically, he’s probably like what people expect Goku from Dragon Ball Z to be. In my mind, he’s like a battle-hardened tactician brawler that gets very excited about swords (to the point where he takes up blacksmithing to craft his own), loves to speak about life in a philosophical lens, and experiences a quiet yet extremely unsettling quiet anger when someone he cares about gets hurt. I also headcanon he uses his headband to cover scars from his bout with fighting a bear when he was 12. OH! And he gets to have twin girls: Cassandra and Helena. 
…So yeah, completely different from canon. But with only 3 Cipher cards and 1 appearance in Heroes as I type this to go by, I feel like it’s okay to speculate about what could have been. He could have been in Awakening’s main story as an opponent to Walhart during the second arc, or he could have been a recurring superboss in future Fire Emblem games that somehow always ends up in different dimensions. He could have been a hint for an upcoming Fire Emblem game that explored Tellius 1,000 years in the future much like how Awakening explored Archanaea & Valentia 1,000 years after Marth, Alm, and Celica ruled. (And apparently 2,000 years after Seliph ruled Jugdral? Again, consistent worldbuilding in this series is a nightmare if you try to connect all the games). Heck, I thought that was going to be what Fates was when I saw the cutscene of King Sumeragi shielding baby Corrin from arrows. 
Part of the reason why I’m so attached to Priam is spite from this lack of potential, and the fans mostly ignoring him for their own reasons. Like! We could have had so much more with this guy! And that kept me motivated during dark times in my life. I won’t go into specifics, as it’s quite personal & possibly triggering, but I’ll just say I felt very upset, very angry, and very alone at a certain point in my life. But I kept myself going for the unrealistic but still plausible goal of getting to see Priam get his own game. It might sound dumb, but it kept me wanting to move forward in life. And it’s because of that that I’m here today, and I’ve met other Priam fans online that have their own ways of showing that they like him. They have different reasons than me, and that’s awesome! Priam fans, in spite of their small numbers, exist! When I first joined Tumblr, I unofficially joined a “Radiant Waifu Society” where 3 other people were also Priam fans. I don’t talk to them as much as I did back then, but I do see one of the members post art from time to time & another one makes Fire Emblem Heroes content on Youtube now! I’ve also met one of my best online friends through a shared interest in Priam. She introduced me to many new friends I’ve made over the years, and I still talk with a few of them on a daily basis in friend group servers on Discord. I love sharing cursed voice acting trivia with her and the many other friends whenever I get the chance to, especially seeing their initial reactions when I tell them Priam is also voiced by Jelly Jiggler of Bobobo fame. 
All in all, I’d say Priam, in spite of his controversies in fandom spaces, was a great positive in my life that I can’t help but be thankful for. Intelligent Systems probably didn’t expect someone to care for this one-off character so much, but anything’s possible these days. 
Thank you for being such a positive force in my life, Priam Fire Emblem. With your map no longer being legal to download, here’s hoping you get your own game someday.
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lavilavs · 21 days ago
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୨୧ ── Stream with me!
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› Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Streamer!Wife!Reader
› Scenario: What more could a wife who streams want other than streaming with her husband? Nothing! Maybe. It depends. But in this universe—best believe that it is all you've ever wanted! What does your husband think about it, though?
› Notes: English is not my first language + Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + almost 6k words that's why it took me days to write TT + Cringe and unhinged alert + big poo and goobert stole the show
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Bruce Wayne
Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he watches you set up before starting the stream. A warm smile adorns his face, but he's still reluctant to show up as a guest. Just why did someone suggest a wife and husband bonding time in your streams? You were overjoyed that you ended up calling him in the middle of your stream to ask him about it.
Bruce excused himself and let an executive continue the briefing. His gruff voice sounded soft when he called your name, asking why you suddenly called—not even the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice at the fact you called during a meeting.
"Honey, look at the picture I sent!" He questions what could possibly have his wife over the moon. With the monitor in his lens, the picture popped in front of him. It was a 5 dollar donation from UnkissedBrick that said—in all caps—
"MAKE A STREAM WITH YOUR HUSBAND AND MY LIFE IS YOURS !!!$%5@5@"
It started a spark within the community that they were BEGGING you to make it come true. 
A stream to make money, have fun, and be with your husband at the same time? Of course you'd agree. Best believe that Bruce had no way out of this, you barely asked anything from him—would he have the heart to decline a simple request such as this?
No! And that's why he's here sitting beside you, wearing your adorable, pink headphones. It was something entirely new in his life. Never, and I mean never, has Bruce imagined he'll be wearing this godforsaken headphone for millions to see. The only thing stopping him from taking it off was obviously you—his wife.
"Wow! Thank you all so much for coming to see this stream. There's a lot more of you today."
Bruce snaps his head in your direction, giving him a clear view of how you marveled at the screens in front of you. A thought slips into his mind, whispering thoughts that made him worry about you. 
A lot more today? 
How many more were there than usual?
He'll let anything happen, just not this. Stealing the light from you is a scenario he didn't want to occur in this very video. It's your stream, it's your channel—not his. His blood pressure spikes at the thoughts flooding his head. And yet, you didn't seem to mind, you're just thanking them.
Bruce looked at the rapid comments piling up on the screen, amazed by the speed of people commenting. Nothing's too quick for his eyes, though. Who do you take him for? He reads every single one. Despite his worries, it was drastically different from what he thought. Your fanbase was literally fighting the viewers who only came for him.
BigPoo: Coming here ONLY for the husband is soooo embarrassing
isayholAcomosta: Scram your asses outta here man
IAMBatman: LMAOO IMAGINE WATCHING FOR BRUCE WAYNE
InstantoPreggo: either support her (and him ig) or face the consequences of my 16-inch-thick, fat, JUICY HUMONGOUS D!LD0 UP YOUR ASS.
Bruce had to flinch himself away from the monitor after reading that last comment. 
He looks at you with disbelief. So this is what you were laughing at... To be fair, it is rather amusing, to say the least. The look on his face makes you laugh even more now that you've spared some time to actually look at your husband's worry corner beside you.
The chat stops when you scold them to support both of you, also instructing the mods to delete any negative comments about Bruce. Which is odd since you remember telling them to do so beforehand.
"Don't worry about them, honey. Let's just have fun."
The kiss you give on his cheek eases Bruce, his bigger hands take yours to caress it in a comforting way. But really, we know it was for him. A deep sigh escapes his lips, knowing he has nothing to worry about anymore aside from getting through this stream with you.
You've noticed him being quiet again. He should try focusing on the game you're playing so he could see how fun it is. You told him to have fun, and Bruce is trying, believe me. 
Bruce folds his arms and directs his attention to the monitor where you're playing some kind of simulator game about supermarkets. The store layout is nice, though it looks cramped, the prices are lower than the market price, the other products are understocked, and the bills were due in-game. 
"Honey, are you playing this right?" 
"Am I not?"
He's spent years managing businesses, come on. Bruce is shrewd. And seeing his dear wife fail at this supermarket simulator, no can do. He's just lucky this game is right up his alley. You let go of the keyboard and mouse unattended to listen to his suggestions. 
What was hotter than the fact that there's a hot man explaining business tactics to you? Correct, he's your husband! And a smart husband is a hot husband.
Bruce was so concerned with his strategies that he suddenly went on autopilot and grabbed the controls to show you instead of using words. You stifle a laugh behind your hand. When did he learn all those controls? He wasn't just moping around beside you, and he actually was paying attention? You might just want to request another wedding again.
His only intention was to show you how you were supposed to manage the shop. Bruce demonstrated that perfectly. So why is he still in control? His mind wants to let go. And letting go would mean he'll have to leave playing this game. The escaped chuckles from you reached his ears. With a tentative glance and muted rosy cheeks, it was like he was asking permission to keep playing.
"Go on, dear. I'll just watch you play." You mean it. Watching Bruce play a game was more enjoyable than playing, he understands it more anyways. You don't think your heart will ever feel cold when you look at him. Not ever while you're still breathing and alive to keep on loving him.
Your eyes narrow with every part of Bruce that your eyes land on. A subconscious gulp was made when you took notice of the few strands of hair that hung on top of his forehead, the way veins would pop in his forearms with a few movements when he used the keyboard and mouse, and the musky scent of his cologne that perked your senses up—you'd wonder to yourself why you didn't have at least one child with him already.
The overflowing amount of comments in the corner of your eye catches your attention. You scoot closer to read it.
Tin-a-pie: Miss ma'am is so DOWNBAD
Big Poo: "Eaaasy white chocolate"  AHH TYPE SHIIT
MMONEYY: Bruce Wayne's gonna melt 
Goobert: ON EVERYBODY'S SOUL WE ALL WANT TO BE IN BETWEEN THEM
You snort, hitting Bruce's shoulder repeatedly. The man loses focus on his game, amusement in his eyes as you stood up to sit on his lap. He catches you in his arms, holding your shaking body in amusement. Guess he didn't have to excessively worry, after all—spending time and making you happy is his priority today.
"Are you happy, my love?" Bruce pressed his forehead against yours. His forearms had a grip on your waist that felt so secure and warm that even if you melted, you'd still be in his arms.
"Very. Thank you, Bruce." Oh, how your laughter gets his heart kicking and running.
The chat floods once again with teaseful comments. Too many for you to read without getting blown by another. Not that it matters, your husband is too busy being pampered in your kisses.
Bruce's phone vibrates nonstop in his pocket. You fished it out for him and opened it to see Dick's face with an image attached to it.
I hope Mom doesn't mind the new sticker I added to the chat. Tell her I told the other mods about it. ;]
Bruce was in the middle of questioning what his first son said only to be caught off guard with you abruptly shifting your body weight against him, laughing uncontrollably. The chat was spamming a photo of Bruce from earlier when he was so focused on the supermarket simulator game.
"I didn't look like that, did I?" He stares at you deadpan, making you laugh harder.
Dick Grayson
Is this even your stream at all? How was he acting like close friends to your viewers after a few minutes? You stare at your husband dumbfounded. Although you know that Dick has a charming aura and personality, you didn't expect it to leak through the screen and into their hearts within minutes of knowing him!
When you asked Dick if he wanted to do a stream with you, he basically almost leaped with joy. Just almost—because he suddenly hugged you before he could jump up into space from the ecstasy of his dear, loving wife if he wanted to do a gaming video with you.
Actually, Dick has always wanted to. The thought of having millions see how loved you are in his arms—OH THE SEROTONIN—Dick can't wait to do so. He just waited and waited and waited—until you finally invited him.
You can't actually hide your jealousy well about the fact that he's paying more attention to the chat than you.
Goobert: I suddenly feel like a mistress caught in the act with how the missus is looking from behind you
Big Poo: NAH HE'S OUR HUSBAND NOW
TheAMAZINGpie: She's so jealous LMAOOO tease her more
Good thing Dick was staring intently at the chat, he couldn't see your secretive middle finger you're flashing at the viewers. He laughs and takes a quick glance at you over his shoulder, then back to the chat. A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth. Those snitches!
"Yes, chat, these are the true colors of my wife. She's more barbaric when it's just us two here." The playful tone has you pinching his sides. Dick laughs and flinches away from your hand.
"See? She keeps on hurting me."
"Quit the baby voice, Dick, oh my God! Eww." 
You gag at your husband, earning yet another heartfelt laugh. It was hard to pretend you were annoyed when everything felt so warm and natural. Dick is lucky he's your husband, or else you would've strangled him out of annoyance by now.
"Horror games are overrated, let's play simple ones." He pouts at you.
"What do you suggest then?"
And that's how you found yourself playing dress-up games at the old girl games website, where you can find all of the low-quality yet nostalgic games for girls in the world. You both competed in a game where the game picks who made the better outfit.
Imagine the look of disbelief in your face when he keeps winning 5 times in a row—5 times! Dick has got to be cheating, because in no way Dick Grayson has more fashion sense than you, right? Fight him, girl!
"You are so cheating, babe! How are you the winner every round?"
Dick raised his arms in a smug way, shrugging you off to annoy you. "Ah, the loser is barking. Face it, babe. I'm better." He blows you a kiss that you playfully shooed away, pinching your nose after. Dick gasps at your action, fighting the urge to laugh and just play along.
"Still can't beat me, honey."
"Pick another game. You'll taste defeat, Grayson."
"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grayson."
That's a blow to your pride. Imagine getting flustered in the middle of your bickering. Now you let a smug grin slip on your husband's face. Girl, you better stand on business cause you are losing FACE to your viewers right now.
5 girl go games later and you're still somehow losing to Dick. It feels like your sex has been reversed because what the hell? Maybe you are a man... at heart. How are you losing to a full grown man who—mind you—suggested that you play these games! Dick might be playing these at night when you're asleep.
It was a cooking game this time. You both need to beat each other with higher scores and more satisfied customers, obviously. It was just a mystery how he still wins when you both clearly see the big, colorful letters in bold saying that the dish you prepared was perfect—and he still wins!?
"That's it! I'm convinced you are cheating." You point a finger at him.
"It's just a matter of skill, hun." He smirks at you.
The last resort—your faithful, loyal, loving chat will support you on your accusations, right? Oh no, that smile on your face was wiped when you saw an ongoing poll on the stream. Scratch what you used to describe your chat, they are being the total opposite right now.
Overthrow the queen and appoint Dickie as the new ruler!
It's worst enough that it was 99% over 1%. You look at the camera with a death stare, in disbelief that your dear fans would overthrow you like this. Is it because Dick was more charming and had a larger ass than you? Okay, maybe keep that last thought to yourself because they cannot see the down half of your bodies.
And an annoying donation comes in the heat of the moment...
Daywalk donated 5$  
I'm looking at the most breathtaking, marvelous, amazing, pretty, kind, majestic, beautiful, attractive, sexy, hot, and gorjus (idk how to spell) right now and oh—I didn't realize you were here, sweetheart
Dick was giggling uncontrollably beside you with his phone in his hands. You saw the stream on his screen split seconds before he hid it beside him where you can't reach it. Did he really think you wouldn't notice it was him with this shitty ass username?
"Really, Dick? Daywalk? That's the best you could come up with?" You bury your face in your hand, imitating a facepalm to hide your laughter. You hate how he can easily make you laugh with the stupidest things.
"I am a fan of Nightwing, Babe. He has such good hair, good facial features, and that goddamn juicy ass of his. Have you seen his—"
"Dick."
"Okay, okay, sheesh, God forbid a man uplift his fellow man." He raised his hands in mock defeat. Backing away from that look of yours.
Dick Grayson is audacious. Partly one of the reasons why you married this man. 
You gave up, rolled your eyes, and just gave him a kiss to shut him up.
Jason Todd
"Oh come on, baby, you know you're happy to be here." 
You snicker at the scowl on his face. Jason looked like he wanted to drop a smoke bomb to escape the stream, but of course he wouldn't! What you said is true—he is ecstatic to be here. He refused your offer several times before caving in... and just a little secret, he just wanted to see how bad you want him to be in one.
In fact, he had the stream planned out already. In the span of the 3 days where you begged him to stream with you, Jason used it as a time to search for games to play, imagine scenarios, and other cute stuff that he wants to make happen today.
First things first, seem tough enough to place boundaries through his stare and seem friendly enough to joke around with him. Check. The chat was respectful to Jason and some joked around that this looked like Doomguy and Isabelle looking relationship.
"Oh please, it's more switched. This guy's a baby." Jason's eyes widen when you pull his chair to ruffle on his hair like a little kid. He glares up at you. Okay—maybe, this is tolerable, it has a loving effect to the viewers. Yes, this is fine. 
"Jason, don't bob your head like that onto my boob." You snort and push his head away. Ah, he thought he was nodding inside his head.
Big Poo: He's kinda weird... I like him
Goobert: We accept weird big guy and queen dynamics
Ignoring that small weird display of his, it's time for phase 2—urge you to play horror games of his choice. He didn't binge watch couples playing horror games last night just for you to play other games. A mischievous grin is fighting it's way to make itself appear on his lips. Jason expects you to get scared, cling to him, and show off the muscles he spent the few days toning. 
And as if he wasn't toned enough, Jason plans to show that this muscles of his won't be just for show if they decided to mug you in the streets while he's around. Anyone who's watching this stream would be a warning for parasocial freaks who'll try something with you.
"How about we play this one, babe?" He points at the game he searched up.
With a look of disbelief, you could only sigh at your husband's antics. He couldn't have been more obvious than this. The longer reps of his biceps workouts? Yeah, he's definitely planning something to show it off.
You sigh, and start the game up. The chat snitches on him smiling widely behind you as the game starts. It quickly disappears when you turn around, then reappears when you don't look. He gives the chat a playful motion of slicing his neck then points at the camera with a finger placed on his lips.
With a discreet glance behind you, there, you saw your husband doing a face that could kill that's accompanied by creepy giggles. In all of the years you've been together, not once could a sight like this ever cross your mind. Why is he having internet beef with your viewers?
Does he also think you can't see him through your stream view at your other monitor? You also stare at the gummy smile on your face, still having no resistance in finding everything he does as cute.
Heck, even if he snapped someone's neck in front of you with a sassy remark after, you'll still find it cute. Fucked up, yes, but hey, it's not like you haven't had body counts of your own in your other line of work.
Jason lets out an amused scoff at your unwavering focus to navigate through the dark cellar. There hasn't been a single jumpscare since you started. But because of his horror game video marathon, he's got every single one memorized. 
It'll take some time before the first one. In the meanwhile, he knows what to do to get you to warm up for the big scare.
His hands snakes itself downward, right past his own chair. You were focused on getting out of the sealed room that the chat's warnings fell to deaf ears... or eyes. Jason inches his chair closer to yours, carefully, so that his chair won't bump into yours.
An annoying habit of his that once made his teeth bleed from your punch. He waits until you're about to turn around a corner to strike—Jason bolts your body with an abrupt push on your shoulder. "Boo!"
The most he got from you was a loud curse and your middle finger in the middle of his face.
"Jason—We agreed on never doing that again. Fuck you, honestly." You glare at him through the monitor, not wasting another second to look back at the game. Your ears perk at the loud laugh that seeps through your headphones. 
"Oh please, you're not too much of a pussy to get scared from that, aren't you?" 
"Is that a challenge?" 
Jason waits for suspense, waiting until he knows you're almost near the first jumpscare of the game to throw you off. His hands once again find the liberty to make you jolt, making you lose focus and lightly smack your husband beside you.
Once you get back to the game, a horrifying figure appears on the screen, taking almost all of the pixels it offers. You flinch back and shield your eyes away the moment Jason tries to cover you from the screen.
It all happened suddenly. But it was if time moved slower for Jason.
One minute he was about to hug you.
The next, your fist connects with his face.
Jason didn't budge but hell—your punch still hurts as when you first met!
"You promised to never punch me again!" Jason whines.
Another promise was broken. As if Jason didn't break his earlier? He's sure his jaw also is. With a grimace and a guilty heart, you caressed his face softly. It was your way of apologizing. Oh well, it's both of your faults so let's just get back to gaming.
Big Poo: Leave Doomguy and Isabelle, bro. They're Mr. and Mrs. Smith at this point
Goobert: They're both tryna survive from each other
So what if Jason's plans failed? His jaw is aching—that's fine! He still has other ways... A plan B if you will. As long as his biceps will have a spotlight. He asks you, sweetly, if he could play instead. Jason smirks triumphantly as he knows you can't resist his weirdly adorable, beaten-up face.
He was actually doing so well for someone who's allegedly never saw or played this game before. Jason passed through each trial with flying colors.
When another jumpscare had shown itself, you were suprised to see your husband inch his shoulder closer to the monitor.
"Not flexin! But look at these chills man." He's definitely flexing.
The chat goes crazy! Comments pile up regarding your 'done-with-the-bullshit-face' at the back and mostly about Jason's muscles. He yaps about the non existent chills on his biceps that the chat eats up.
Big Poo: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD—PLEASE HEADLOCK ME
Goobert: I was unfamiliar with your game, Jason. Forgive me (pls flex more)
TheCrowbar: The crowbar approves of this marriage.
"We already are married, bud. If you wanted to say no, you could've done so 4 years ago." Jason rolls his eyes at the comment.
Yeah, he's definitely not warning everyone with that sass.
Tim Drake
"How is everyone mistaking me as your brother?"
Tim glares the chat through the screen. Evidently pissed at the teasing comments towards him. They knew who he was. How could they not? You always mention him and even introduced him at the start of the stream.
He gently grabs your left hand, raising it to show your matching rings.
Big Poo: AWWW! Such a cute sibling promise rings
Goobert: He loves his sister so much. ackk its so cute!!1!!
You try your best not to laugh. It might set Tim off and make him leave without creating any content. Despite wanting to see him get teased and pissed, you had to stop the chat with a few words.
"That's enough teasing my husband, guys. He doesn't like it." But you do. Your viewers seem to caught on your interest from the way you smile and stare at him earlier. Thankfully, they play along at the moment.
"What game do you guys want to see us play?"
Ah, you shouldn't have asked them. Your husband is a geek for video games! He's better than you at every game you guys play. He was more a tower defense, strategic, and board games type of guy. Doesn't make him any less of a weak player when it comes to games like Nekket, Super Smash Sis, though.
You drag Tim along with you to read some comments. He's impressed at the rapid comment speed your viewers have. Can you read a lot from this on a daily basis? There's a lot of unhinged comments slipping through his eyes too.
"Horror games? That sounds good."
What!
Tim snaps his eyes beside you, wide with surprise.
Before you could even ask for his opinion, your husband was already shaking his head sideways. He even had his arms crossed to match with his disagreement towards the suggestion. Tim does not want horror games this late at night. Absolutely not. Not inside this household when he's around.
He knows you're questioning him. But Tim can't tell you he watched the new horror movie you've been getting him to watch with you—alone. In his defense, he didn't want you to waste money on another shitty movie like last time, so, he scavenged alone to determine if it is as good as they say.
This is the result of his little secret mission from you. It's not his fault he hasn't recovered! You didn't see how terrifying it was for yourself... and not that he plans on letting you know.
Your viewers feed on his terror, already laughing to themselves behind their screens. Tim is just unlucky that you have wealthy viewers ready to make an offer you both can't resist. Like what do you mean two people named Big Poo and Goobert paid $10,000 each just for Tim to play?
And that's how the unlucky Timothy Drake found himself hiding behind your frame, occasionally peeking behind your hair to see how his wife is doing.
Everytime you turn into a corner, flashes of that horrible face appear in front of him. God, why are the lights turned off in your room? He doesn't even want to stand up to turn it on. He's aware he's a grown man, but God forbid a man like him can't get scared.
He takes a peek at the comments at the side.
HoelessRomantic: You shouldn't go there if I were you...
Tin-a-pie: GIRL DON'T
Goobert: You're purposely going there to scare baby bro
Baby bro?! This Goobert did not just say that. It felt like all his fear went away. He pushed himself away from your back. You weren't kidding that saying anymore brother jokes will tick him off.
"You may have beaten me at suggestions, but you won't defeat me in terms of winning over my wife!" He scowls at the monitor, taking you and your viewers aback. "I'm looking at you, Goobert... This is a threat." He smiles maniacally.
Tim sweetly smiles at you. One of the things you can't resist.
"Okay... okay.. calm down, Baby. What game do you want?"
"Oh trust me, you'll love it, honey." Tim presses a kiss on your forehead as he takes control.
You love Tim.
You know him well enough considering he's your husband for 4 years now.
But you guess you didn't know him well enough to expect him to suddenly exit the game and pull out a whole ass board game between you guys. Was it sitting there unnoticed the whole time? No matter, you recognized it to be one of his favorite board games.
He excitedly sets it up on the desk for the chat to see. A smug grin on his face to show off his pre-ordered game with freebies. Tim's so excited to share a game he's mastered.
"I bet you kids don't know this. Back in my days, this was the bomb." He proudly boasts.
Big Poo: Bro pulled out his last resort
Goobert: He had to gain back some aura obv
MMONEYY: Are you sure he gained some?
Ignoring their comments, Tim starts on the basics on how to play the game. Here comes the hardest part in being his wife—listening to his long, heartfelt explanation of Dungeons and Reptiles for the second time.
Nonetheless, you were blessed to hear his voice chip at every detail of the game. To see how the love of your life's eyes gleam to share facts to the viewers you tell about Tim everyday. They knew he was a nerd from your stories—but to see and hear it real time is something else.
Tim looked like a grandparent telling stories of his youth. The stories that seemed boring, but you can't help but listen in to. Although the comments complained that it was boring, and he's like an old man, the viewer count didn't decrease. 
They all listened intently with you. Do they see the vision on why you fell in love with Tim? Definitely.
Big Poo: All in vote of Tim being promoted to Husband, say aye.
Goobert: AYEEE
HoelessRomantic: Aye.
Tin-a-pie: Aye!!!
and a million others more.
"Oh so now I'm officially seen as the husband?" Tim laughs, stopping his yap about the game. He gives you a warm look and pulls you towards him. "I guess it's better than being the little brother, babe." He kisses you passionately while covering your eyes to raise his ring finger alone to the chat.
Tim must have the last laugh after all that teasing.
Damian Wayne
Damian has never been this clingy before. Is it because he's finally out in the open with you for millions to watch behind the safety of their screens? He doesn't know—only that he needs to make sure you're his only.
You can see how red his ears are on the monitor, his body boiling at the simple, cute gesture of having you in his lap while you introduced yourself and him to your viewers. This isn't PDA, he knows you're both technically alone in your shared room. 
Still, he isn't used to it. He's been in the spotlight several times, sure—he's Damian Wayne, hello! Son of Bruce Wayne? You get my point, but, he hasn't really been out with you to the media except the time you got married. Damian's more of a private, but not secret type of guy, you know? 
It wasn't difficult to make him agree. With a simple kiss, doe eyes, and a sweet smile, Damian would say yes without a thought!
Oh, but your chat was the mischievous type. One look at Damian and they all knew he was a guy who'd go boom for his lady. And what type of Boom you may ask? Well...
Big Poo: She is NOT going anywhere blud, calm dowwwnnnnn
Goobert: Acting like a damn dog who doesn't want to share the tree he peed on in 2025 is crazy
HoelessRomantic: Let OUR wife go you madman
"Our wife?" He growls, glaring at the camera. Damian would've stood up from his seat if you weren't on his lap. 
He had ignored the first two comments above that, choosing to focus on a comment about his wife. Like—that's his wife! Not hard to understand. He had everything to prove it. Pictures of your wedding day, legal certificates, your wedding rings, and a lot more!
Instead, he snaps his head to the side, acting like he was looking at a physical body to scan up and down with a warning glare. Possessive and explosive... The chat likes that. They'll have the night of their lives dedicated to set Damian off.
"They're normally like that. Don't mind them, Honey." 
He would've let it pass, and listened to your coo. And yet you let him hear you use the word, normally. Normally—as in, you listen to these goofs call you their wife? He doesn't want that. He'll create online beef for you.
And so it began, the chat and Damian's cold war.
The purpose of gaming is gone. Only Damian's sassy remarks and the viewers saying flirty stuff to get on his nerves becomes the content and entertainment. So much for the games you thought you were gonna play today.
But this? You'd pay to watch the whole day. Judging by that smug smirk on your husband's lips, he's aware that they were just teasing him. What can you say... after being with a wife who ragebaits for fun can train you into tolerating bullshit.
And what's a good way to tolerate bullshit? Fight it with your own bullshit, of course. And laughs—to show that he and you are joking. We're trying not to get banned here. So much for the millions of followers if it all ended because of his unhinged comments.
Big Poo: Pull up on roblox right now old geezer or lose husband rights to the whole chat
Goobert: OOOOOH SHITS GOING DOWN
HoelessRomantic: Millions of games and you choose roblox
Tin-a-pie: Imagine losing husband rights to a roblox game...
As soon as you read the chat's algorithm, you shake your head no at Damian. He shouldn't pick a fight over a game he doesn't know. 
It was too late though.
"Challenge accepted." Damian points at the camera. 
Hold on—his smugness falters. You raise a brow over the abrupt change of mood.
"Babe, do you have a roblox account?" He was so adamant in that petty challenge, it was hard to say no at this point. "You better win, loser."
"Do I look like one?" If he has the energy to roll his eyes at you, he might have the energy to kick butt on a game.
You're still appalled that it's roblox of all games. How old was this Big Poo viewer of yours to pick this one specifically? You sure hope it's not a 15 year old... or worse, they could be in the single digits! Oh God, where are this kid's parents?
"In what game will we settle this, Big Poo?" 
Big Poo: Tower of hell :>
Goobert: I honestly thought you'd pick murder mystery 
Big Poo: Let the old man get a taste of the... OBBY MASTERRR
Hey, hey—is this even your stream anymore or Big Poo and Goobert's private chats?
Tower of hell isn't hard. You've played it before. It was just a matter of skill to climb the tower. Damian listens intently to your instructions while waiting for the game to load where Big Poo's avatar was waiting.
"Listen, Dami, just jump over the glowing blocks and shiftlock when needed, okay? You got this, dear!" 
Damian pats on his lips repeatedly until you figure out his motions. With a sigh and a chuckle, you move closer to give him a peck—just a peck! But your beloved had other plans. He pulls you by your hand and smashes his lips against yours. Your quick reflexes immediately covered the camera.
"I can't fathom how I'm in need of a kiss over a lego game."
"Me too. I feel so stupid."
You both laugh, parting away from each other when Big Poo starts to countdown in game.
It was going so well! Damian was in the lead. He's actually pretty good with obbies even if he's a noob. Mind you, he had no practice before the match. Did his training in life transfer to your roblox avatar right now? How is he moving and advancing so fast.
The chat goes crazy with a notable presence—Goobert. The poor guy was screaming their bestfriend's name so bad. They almost looked like a desperate wife wishing their soldier husband to come back home safely.
The whole chat was amazed to see Damian—a noob—winning. And he knows he is.
Goobert: USE THE SECRET WEAPON HERMANO
Damian arrives at the last platform. You marvel at the close gap between him and Big Poo. He's actually gonna win this stupid roblox bet? But what—why did Damian suddenly stop? Don't tell me he's about to—
He types fast in-game, a smug smirk on his face as he watches Big Poo's avatar inch closer to his. In just a few thumbs away, Damian sends his message.
Husband rights defended! ;p
And it was silent—the time went slow. The crowd was astounded when Big Poo suddenly had a stick with a hand at the end. It happened in slow motion. Especially for Damian who worked his way up to the top. 
No matter how fast his reflexes are... it wasn't the same with the wifi.
As your roblox character fell, Damian looked dead in the camera.
"Big Poo..." 
Uh oh
"I BETTER NOT SEE YOU HERE IN GOTHAM OR ELSE I WILL—"
The stream has ended.
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extra scene!
In another universe...
In the timeline of Young Justice...
Jaime and Bart were laughing their asses off. Each had their own unique device that hasn't been seen by humankind other than them. It's a mystery how they even got it. Well, it was just on the table... so, it won't hurt to touch, right?
They've both been at it all day long. Lucky for them to have the day off, honestly. Or else they would've missed this multidimensional device that shows different universes. Never in their life would they see 5 of the batfamily like that.
Although 1 of them is unfamilliar, and the second Robin has changed so much.
In a span of 18 hours, all they did was watch the streams.
"How'd you even come up with Big Poo, Ese?"
"You don't wanna know what happened yesterday." Bart snickers. "Well, how about you, Goobert?"
"Don't ask me, it was Scarab's idea."
They both went silent—reminiscing the streams they just watched.
"Do you think M'gann will notice the missing $20,000 from the funds?"
"Don't worry about M'gann, worry about—"
"What $20,000?" Tim's voice springs behind them.
Great.
It just had to be the Robin who the $20,000 went to in another universe.
They better explain well or else they'll be in an interrogation room with the whole Bat Family listening in.
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iamthatonefangirl · 17 days ago
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okay imma need a nsfw alphabet for bucky!! maybe tfatws? let me be, we all know im all for that man
you know I gotchu bae. fatws bucky nsfw alphabet incoming...
aftercare: this man is obviously a god at aftercare, no questions asked. he’s kissing every inch of your face, making sure you’re okay and happy and satisfied. even if he’s exhausted he’s always offering to give you one more, two more, as many more as you want, really… he'll make you drink way too much water and then he’s practically pushing you out of the bed to make you pee even when you want nothing more than to sleep. 
body part: he loves every inch of you. doesn’t matter what you think. he loves you. he loves any part of you he can hold onto, dig his fingers into and keep you close to him, whether it’s your chest, your thighs, your hips. the most vulnerable parts of you are the most real, and those are his favorite. he just wants to feel you. 
when he first took his shirt off in front of you, he was concerned. he knows you’re a good person with a caring heart and would never judge him for his scars on his shoulder, but he was still scared. if you flinched away, or cringed, or anything, when you saw him… his heart would shatter. he’d never love again. he wouldn’t see the point in living. 
but you smiled, and looked at him with nothing but adoration and lust. you gently brought your hands to his chest, and his heart fucking melted. he watched your face, taking in your facial expressions as you stepped closer and took in the sight of him. he watched and waited to see what you might do or say. waited for you to scowl and tell him he was ugly. 
but you just… pressed your lips to the scars on his shoulder, and he felt like he could cry. you've only ever made him feel whole.
cum: he’s making a huge mess all over your sheets, skin, everywhere. he loves filling you up and then fucking it back into you. “don’t waste it, baby,” he’s teasing you, overstimulating you with his fingers and plugging you up. 
dirty secret: he kind of wants to learn for himself how it feels when he ties you up. 
experience: you’re his first since after hydra. it scared him, at first, how much he liked you when he met you. he wanted to open up to you, give you everything right off the bat, fuck you senseless right off the bat, but he couldn’t. it took him time, of course, and you were happy to take it slow. but god, the first time you had sex was like heaven. he was a young man once upon a time. an extremely attractive young man, and so it’s fair to say that he knows wtf he’s doing now that he’s comfortable with you. 
favorite position: call him boring, but he loves missionary. he wants to be able to see your eyes, your reactions, and kiss your face while he’s making you feel good. he loves having you lay on the bed, relaxing, while he takes you apart, giving you the princess treatment you deserve.
but when you ride him, fuck, it takes his breath away with how pretty you look. he always finishes way too fast and ends up apologizing over and over again, but you don’t care. he’ll get hard again soon enough. until then he can sit there and deal with the overstimulation <3
goofy: this man loves to have fun with you, especially in bed. most of the time when you’re in the heat of the moment, you’re both pretty serious, but that doesn’t mean there’s no room for fun. one time you were in the middle of getting your shit rocked from behind, making the whole bed shake like crazy, and the lamp on the table ended up getting knocked over, startling both of you. you both couldn’t help but laugh until you cried, at which point he turned you onto your back and kissed you, both of you making jokes about it while you fucked you until you finished, still giggling. 
hair: nothing special. he keeps it clean and tidy. he doesn't let his hair get long anymore, too many bad memories. but he gets the sense you find it attractive so maybe... 
intimacy: this man craves connection with you. he’s always reminding you how much he loves you and needs you in his life, kissing your eyes and nose and cheeks every time he says it. he holds you close and can’t help but remind you of how pretty you are, how well you take care of him, praising and worshipping you as he makes the sweetest love to you. 
jack-off: trying to get back to normal after hydra was… a struggle. it’s fair to say he didn’t get himself off very much before he met you. you have sex fairly regularly, but being with you helped him feel more comfortable and capable of doing it himself. fairly early in your relationship you asked him if you could just watch, and he was hesitant. so you gave him your own little show, which totally spurred him on to do the same for you. ever since then, and the way you looked at him with such lust in your eyes as he touched himself, he’s been so much more confident and willing. you’re just happy he’s getting back to finding himself and being comfortable again in his body. 
kink: he loves to gag you. he just can’t help himself. he totally gets off on putting you in a spider gag and tying your hands above your head while he can sit there and mess with your head, praising and degrading you at the same time for being his good little fuck doll? yeah, that’ll do it for him. 
he’s a sucker for fucking you in front of a mirror. he’ll push you up against the bathroom counter, wrap a hand around your throat, and kick your feet apart, watching your reactions in the mirror. he loves how you devolve into a mess in front of his eyes while he holds himself together, watching the way he’s railing you into oblivion. he holds your head in place so you’re forced to watch him smirk while you’re drooling everywhere.
he loves having control over you and waving it around in your face to taunt you. it’s fun to put you in your place, spank you into submission. total size kink, too.
location: he loves doing it in the bedroom, call him old-fashioned. taking you apart in his bed, making you comfortable, giving it to you the way you deserve. only the best for you. 
but he’s only a man. anywhere you want it, he’ll give it to you. you’ve definitely fucked in his car. on his motorcycle. in an alley outside the dancing club you went to that one time. he’s no exhibitionist, but…
motivation: when you tease him. you love making dirty jokes to him to get him riled up, and it always works. if you’re trying to walk past him in a tight space, you’ll grab his ass or his bulge or grind up against him and then pretend like nothing happened. you’ll buy boxes of popsicles at the store for the sole purpose of licking it like you do his cock. one of these days he’s gonna take the damn popsicle out of your mouth and fuck you with it.
no: no knives, no guns. even if it doesn’t scare you, it scares him too much to think about exposing you to that kind of violence given his history. 
oral: he’s a real man. loves to go down on you when you’re aching and sensitive for him after he’s wrecked you. you’re hissing, telling him to be careful, and he’s rubbing your thighs to soothe you. he loves when you’re vulnerable like this, super tired, walking the line between pain and pleasure, and yet you still let him lick you to his heart’s content. 
he loves your mouth on his cock. it’s a sight to see. getting you on your knees for him, seeing you so willing, parting your lips and drooling on him. he loves it. he moans like crazy and loves talking to you while you’re pleasuring him, saying, “that’s my girl. letting me use her mouth like this. gonna let me fuck it like the rest of your holes, hmm?”
pace: he loves going slow and fucking you deep, but when he wants to? oh he’ll fuck the everliving daylights out of you. he’ll make you beg him to go faster, give it to you rough, and once you’ve said “please” enough times, sounding all pretty and desperate for him, he’ll give you what you want, making you come over and over while he just keeps fucking you. it’s heavenly. 
quickie: he doesn’t really seek you out much for it, he’s happy to take care of himself or wait until the timing is right. but he loves when you ask for it. one minute he’s busy with something, the next you’re on him, telling him, “I need you to fuck me right fucking now” and he’s gonna do it. he’s gonna make sure you’re happy and well fucked any time you need it. this is when he’ll get a little rougher with you, a little more possessive and controlling, giving you that all-encompassing feeling of pleasure, body and mind. 
risk: he’s hesitant, as are you. he’s not big on taking risks, but the few times you have fucked in public have been exhilarating. he’d be open to doing it again, maybe just once. he’s got an image he’s trying to rebuild. 
stamina: he’s got stamina for days. he’s literally super human. of course, he’s still 100 years old, and the years are starting to catch up to him. but he can still fuck, don’t doubt that. 
toys: anything to get you off, he’ll try. it’s pretty often that he’ll use a vibrator on your clit while he fucks you, all the pleasure going to your head and making your thoughts blur together. he wants to make you forget about everything but how he makes you feel.
every once in a while he’ll fuck your mouth and make you fuck yourself with a dildo just to see how needy and whiney you can get for him. but honestly he’s the one that gets needy because it’s not long before he’s like “fuck this” and he picks you up, chucks the dildo across the room, and then drags you to bed to fuck you himself. also he wants to get you a butt plug to make you wear it in public, bonus points if it vibrates and he can control it from his phone. 
unfair: he does not have it in him. he will tease and edge you maybe once, but he has to watch you come for him, he has to, it's his crack. knowing that he’s making you feel good is more important than anything else. he lowkey wants to ask you to tease him for hours just to see what happens.
volume: bro is a moaning mess for you okay. he tried to hold back the first few times you had sex, but then you got concerned that you weren’t doing enough. when you managed to pull a real moan from him, you fucking celebrated and hollered and he blushed like crazy. so then he finally quit holding back, knowing you wanted to hear him, and he’s like a whiney baby when he fucks you now. 
wild card: he bought a ring. 
x-ray: he’s clearly doing pretty well for himself. he’s got the prettiest dick on the planet, pink and leaky and too big for you to wrap your whole hand around. you try anyways, looking up at him with big puppy eyes as you stroke him up and down, teasing him with little kitten licks to the tip. he stretches you out just right, every time. “such a good girl, opening up so well for me, you know that? just wanna take all of me, but you’re just so little… guess I’ll just have to make you take it, huh?” he says as he stretches you on his fingers.
yearning: he’s a loverboy at heart 🤍 he loves you and always wants to have you close and always wants to touch you. if he’s asleep and you need him to fuck you, he wants you to wake him up, he doesn’t care. 
zzz: he conks the fuck out so quickly. once he knows you’re okay, and you’re hydrated, and you’ve peed, he’s dragging you by the waist to pull you against his chest and he’s out. 
~~~
masterlist
join my tag list
bucky tag list:
@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy
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sh4nksslvt · 1 month ago
Text
You Punched a Yonko?
In which the reader, quietly trying to study Poneglyphs in peace, accidentally punches a Yonko and ends up entangled with the flirtatious chaos.
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PART 2 OF READER WHO CAN READ PONEGLYPH
red hair pirates x fem!reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT
main characters: shanks, benn, limejuice, hongo
tags: fluff, sfw, harem, soft
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs cringe and oc
words count: 1.4k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
You really weren’t trying to punch a Yonko.
In fact, your goal for the day was to peacefully study a centuries-old Poneglyph hidden beneath a sleepy island temple. Instead, you were now standing in front of a red-haired man grinning at you with blood trickling from his nose, surrounded by his crew, who all looked one second away from drawing their weapons.
“…Okay,” you breathed. “In my defense, you startled me.”
“You punched him in the face,” a blond man in sunglasses said, his voice straddling awe and amusement.
“Yeah, but like—accidentally.”
Shanks wiped his nose with the back of his hand, still smiling like you’d just offered him a drink. “DAHAHAHA strong punch though! You train often?”
“I didn’t know you were behind me! I thought you were a thief trying to steal the stone!” you pointed at the half-buried Poneglyph glowing faintly behind you. “You snuck up on me!”
Benn Beckman gave an exaggerated sigh from where he was puffing on his cigar. “He always does that.”
“You should wear a bell,” Hongo added dryly, as he examined your clenched fists. “You nearly broke his nose.”
“I think I’m in love,” Shanks muttered, still grinning at you like an idiot.
You blinked.
“…What?” You deadpan at him.
Lime Juice snorted. “I told you not to lean in so close when people are muttering to themselves. She was clearly in the zone.”
“I was reading an ancient, world-changing text,” you snapped, still frazzled. “I didn’t expect someone to breathe down my neck!”
“To be fair,” Benn chimed in smoothly, “not many people can actually read those things.”
That made you hesitate. Your breath caught in your chest. Most people only guessed at what the stones meant. And those who could decipher them—like the Ohara scholars—were erased for it.
The crew noticed your shift.
Shanks tilted his head. “Hey… you alright?”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re being very casual about all this.”
“Well, you punched me.” He rubbed his jaw. “That kinda earns you a place at the table.”
“What table?”
“Our lunch table,” Lime Juice said, gesturing broadly to a blanket on the grass behind the trees. “We were picnicking. Captain wandered off to chase ‘Poneglyph energy.’”
“You tracked me?”
Shanks shrugged. “You glow like a beacon when you read those stones.”
Your jaw dropped. “That’s not—?! That’s not normal!”
“Nope,” Hongo agreed. “Very intriguing.”
“And very pretty,” Shanks added.
You turned on your heel. “I’m leaving.”
“No wait!” Shanks called after you. “Join us for lunch! I promise not to get punched again!”
You paused, hesitating. The idea of eating with the Red-Hair Pirates seemed… suicidal. You’d spent years hiding your ability, keeping a low profile, ducking Marines and bounty hunters alike.
But they didn’t look like they were planning to turn you in.
And the smell of roasted fish was really good.
“…I’m watching all of you,” you muttered, stomping over.
“Great!” Shanks beamed. “You can sit next to me! DAHAHAHA”
“Absolutely not.”
Lunch with the Red-Hair Pirates was insane.
You had to admit: they were nothing like you’d expected.
Shanks, despite being a Yonko, acted more like a chaotic older brother than a fearsome warlord. He kept nudging plates toward you like a golden retriever trying to feed its owner, all while regaling you with stories that involved an alarming number of explosions and nudity.
Benn Beckman, calm and poised, sat at your other side. He didn’t say much, but you noticed how his eyes never left you—watchful, calculating, but not in a threatening way. More like… protective.
“You always travel alone?” he asked quietly.
You nodded. “Easier to hide.”
He hummed. “Doesn’t sound easier to live.”
His words stuck with you longer than you cared to admit.
Lime Juice kept trying to impress you with “tricks,” most of which involved lighting things on fire or juggling knives. When he tried to balance a plate on his head and walk backward up a tree, you genuinely feared for his life.
“I’m very flexible,” he claimed proudly as he slipped and crashed into Shanks’ lap.
“Yeah, flexible like a bag of rocks,” Hongo muttered under his breath, flipping through a medical book beside you. Occasionally, he asked you questions about ancient glyphs and your translation methods, clearly more interested in your brain than your punching skills.
Which, okay, was kind of flattering.
You didn’t know when it happened, but by the end of the meal, you were… laughing.
You were laughing with people you’d met barely an hour ago. People who, by all logic, should’ve either kidnapped you or sold your secret to the highest bidder.
Instead, they argued about who could get you to smile the fastest.
“You like wine?” Benn asked, offering you a rare vintage.
“You like beer?” Shanks grinned, popping open a keg.
“You like really strong mystery juice I made last night?” Lime Juice offered, holding a bubbling bottle that Hongo promptly knocked out of his hands.
“Do you guys always compete like this?” you asked, bewildered.
“Only when it’s worth it,” Shanks winked.
You choked on your drink.
The day slipped by quickly after that.
You showed Hongo how Poneglyphs resonated when you hummed certain tones. He looked at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world and scribbled notes furiously.
You sparred—lightly—with Lime Juice, who was surprisingly nimble when not setting himself on fire.
You chatted with Benn about navigation, philosophy, and—when Shanks wasn’t listening—what kind of wine pairs best with sea-king meat.
And Shanks? Shanks hovered. Endearingly. Annoyingly. Constantly.
“You know, I could protect you,” he offered at one point, lying back on the grass beside you with a grin. “If you joined us. Nobody would ever dare come after you again.”
“Why would I ever trust a Yonko?” you teased, resting your chin on your hand.
Shanks tapped his temple. “Because I’m handsome and charming.”
“Debatable.”
“Because I didn’t press you about your ability.”
You paused.
“…Less debatable.”
He turned his head toward you, more serious this time. “I know what it means. What you can do. I know the world will hunt you for it. And I also know—without a doubt—anyone who tries will have to go through me first.”
You stared at him, heart hammering. “That’s very dramatic.”
“Have you met me?” he grinned.
Before you could reply, Benn’s voice called over, “Captain, stop seducing our guest and help clean up.”
“I am helping,” Shanks called back. “With my charm.”
Benn just groaned and threw a towel at his head.
Night fell.
You sat with Lime Juice and Hongo near the fire while Shanks played a drunken game of darts with a tree (he kept missing) and Benn nursed a glass of something expensive, eyeing his captain like a babysitter on overtime.
Lime Juice offered you his coat when the wind picked up. “You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “you’re kind of amazing.”
You turned. “Me?”
“Yeah. Punching a Yonko. Reading the un-readable. And laughing at my jokes. Triple threat.”
You laughed. “Thanks, I think?”
“Don’t let Shanks hog you too much,” he added. “Some of us want a shot too.”
Hongo hummed behind his book. “I’ll second that.”
You looked between them, blinking. “Wait, what?”
Benn walked over, his cigarette glowing faintly. “They’re not joking.”
Shanks stumbled into the circle, arms wide. “Did I hear flirting?! I object! You’re all banned.”
You stared at the four of them.
“You’re telling me,” you said slowly, “that all of you are flirting with me… at the same time?”
There was a beat.
Then Shanks, Benn, Lime Juice, and Hongo all nodded in sync.
You buried your face in your hands. “This is absurd.”
Shanks grinned. “Absurdly charming.”
“I need a drink,” you muttered.
Benn passed you his glass without a word.
You didn’t leave the next morning.
Or the next.
Or the next after that.
Somewhere between watching Shanks get his foot stuck in a barrel, Lime Juice trying to build you a “romance swing,” Hongo diagnosing him with “chronic dumbassery,” and Benn pulling you aside just to ask how you were holding up, you realized something:
You were happier than you’d been in years.
For the first time, you weren’t hiding.
You weren’t running.
You were laughing. Living. Loved.
And sure, maybe the world still wanted your head.
But you had a Yonko, his second-in-command, a chaotic firecracker, and a broody medic wrapped around your finger.
If the world wanted to come for you?
Let it.
You had your crew now.
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artytaeh · 1 year ago
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can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...
┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷
౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡
love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .
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... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.
tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.
how to deal with you.
how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.
applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.
some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...
... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.
tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.
you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.
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he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:
darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.
dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.
doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.
( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )
if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.
between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.
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quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.
then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...
tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."
should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."
sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.
and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.
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however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.
so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!
the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.
tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!
because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.
he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.
however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.
touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.
brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'
and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.
but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.
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because tom is such a gentleman with you...
opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'
tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'
offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'
whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.
leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'
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... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.
→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.
SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.
tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.
oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.
( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )
ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.
( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )
oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!
in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.
in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!
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🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.
— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.
the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷
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skeletonh0e · 3 months ago
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Hear me out, OK? What if on a random day you just feel excited, like like Ahmed.This is mine.I love it so much.I'm going gna kiss it all over, but with all the sans ( NSFW or no that is up to you)
I'm keeping it SFW for now, I got plenty of NSFW requests in my drafts (which I love ya'll for)
Get smooched on idiot (ft. The Boys)
Classic Sans:
"oh hey ba-"
Can't even get the words out before you set yourself upon him, smooching all over
And you sure as hell aren't going to hear him complaining
Even if you do it in public
Might get some people telling you to get a room but you sure as hell ain't listening
"Mine, mine, mine," You repeat placing smooches all over his stupid little face, "Loooove you."
The skeleton chuckles, probably covered in god knows how many smooch marks if you're wearing makeup "yeah yeah love ya too"
His entire face just screams content happy fat cat energy
Underswap Sans:
Congrats you have flustered him
Granted he's probably pulled something similar on you before in the past but still! That's different! (Not really)
He'll pout and whine especially if he's in public "honeyyyy im workingggg" but he doesn't make any active effort to stop you
Well he's very squirmy but he's kind of always like that
The magnificent Sans cannot keep losing his composure!
Y/N: "Are you miiiiine?"
Blue, completely flushed: ".....yes-"
He's going you back for this
Underfell Sans:
If you try in public he's grumpliy shoving you off
"none of that soft shit!"
If you try in private he's still gonna complain but just kind of let's you do what you want
He loves it make no mistake he's just a grouch and struggles to express emotions still
He'll say you're being cringe but the moment you actually stop and pullbaway he'll basically just go "i didn't say you could do that"
And pull you back forward
If you do it while he's drunk he's basically just melts in your arms though
Horrortale Sans:
Horror: "What is this?"
Y/N: "Affection!"
Horror: "Disgusting......."
Horror: "Do it again."
For as scary and intimidating as he looks man is a sucker for physical affection, honestly somewhat touch starved and just idly wraps his arms around you while you nearly smooch him to death
Just be meanwhile of the crack in his head though it doesn't hurt but it's definitely sensitive
He nearly purrs or let's out something akin to that, it's more of a soft growl but it's definitely not a sigh of disenouragement
"Mine~" You playfully whisper as you smooch around his neck bone and you get a very gruff "always" in response
Underlust Sans:
"is this my reward for being such a good boy?"
You know the dirty jokes are coming, this is him we're talking about but you enjoy bombarding him with all types of intimacy, sexual or otherwise
And he certainly doesn't mind the attention, though honestly just being completely mushy gushy is a fairly decent way to fluster him
Especially as you dote on him telling him out much you love him
And the fact you get a rare moment of him blushing just makes you wanna do it even more
He's definitely returning a few of them make no mistake and giving you a playful squeeze as he teases you
Fresh Sans:
Takes it as a challenge
Get ready for a smooch war!!
And he's gonna win!!
You two quickly fall to the floor, rapidly kissing and holding each other, occasionally giggling like idiots
The bastard cheats, tickling you in certain areas so he can get the upper hand and you call him out on it
"all is fair in love and war broski!"
"You're lucky I love you"
He definitely documents this all down later, he has a notebook of all he people he kisses and he has a special section dedicated to you in particular
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snazzynacho · 4 months ago
Text
In Common
Quinn Mossbacher x female oc
Read on ao3 Masterlist.
Chapter 1/?
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Summary: Aleena notices a boy around her age stuck on a level in a game she's played. She offers her help, and a lovely friendship turned romance blossoms between them.
Fandom: The White Lotus (Season 1)
Tags: rated Y/A fanfic basically, romance, friendship, slowburn (I’ll try), clean romance, awkward flirting, Quinn is autistic.
Aleena and her grandad are staying at the White Lotus hotel.
For the past half an hour she’s been swimming in the pool while he’s probably off talking his head off with someone.
She’s thankful to get some piece and quiet. She loves her grandad but he’s always talking even when she has headphones on.
Twisting her body around to pick up her cup of apple juice she left on the poolside, she finishes her drink. As she does, her ears twitch at the sound of a familiar melody. She turns and her gaze falls on the boy her age, swwading in the water, holding up his phone in his right hand and a Nintwndo Switch in the other. The Switch plays an iconic Stardew Valley song which Aleena instantly recognises as the sound played in the mines.
He seems to be stuck on a level in the mines and she decides to offer help.
He veers around in the water at the sound of her voice giving him advice. His blue eyes look startled and Aleena feels a guilty churn in her stomach for scaring him.
He quickly turns back to his game and she drifts to the side of the pool to leave, deciding she’s embarrassed herself enough for today. Before she leaves, she hears a voice call out.
“Thanks, I’ve been struggling with this for a while…I kept dying and then losing all my shit in the mines! How did you beat it?” He looks at you as he puts his Switch down on the poolside which Alewna cringes at. Isn't he scared of getting it wet?!
“Uhh, by spending months screaming and trying not to throw the Switch across the room,” she chuckles, holding onto the onto the pool edge “but I eventually got there,”
He chuckles a little at her answer and glimpses at his Switch, remembering himself trying desperately all those times to finish the level for weeks. He smiles at her determination and then back at her.
“Well, you must be really good, because this level has been a nightmare. Those Crave Flies are horrible!”
“Right?! The noise they make makes my stomach churn…” she grimaces, swaying in the water closer to him.
He glances back at his Switch before turning to look at her with an intrigued look on his face.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,”
He looks at her for a moment but is slightly hesitant to ask for the question. Eventually he decides to ask anyway, not being sure how she is going to take it.
“How old are you?”
“That is what you’re asking?” Aleena can't help but snort a laugh. “You know you shouldn't ask a lady that-” she feigns offence but the look on his face tells her he doesn't know she is joking. “I'm kidding. I’m Seventeen. Why?”
He then looks down at the shimmering pool water, watching the ripples of sunlight dance on it, thinking for a few moments before he continues. “No reason…just wondering why someone like you would approach someone like me.“
“What do you mean?”
He thinks about it for a moment, before speaking. “It was just a little surprising. I wasn’t really expecting a complete stranger to help me at first. No one my age really wants anything to do with me,” he looks over at his Switch, cursing to himself for being so open and honest with a stranger.
She shrugs. “To be fair, it was bugging me how many times you were messing up,”
He laughs and it warms her heart for some reason. His eyes drift to her brown ones and back to the Nintendo Switch again. He then notices that he completely forgot to ask her name. “Wait-“ he says, looking back at her. “What’s your name?”
“What’s yours?”
He lets out a small laugh, at her counteract. “It’s Quinn. Yours?”
“Aleena,” she beams.
Quinn smiles, determining that her name is pretty and fitting. He looks back at his Switch again, still a little hesitant about asking a question that has been lingering on his mind for a while. “Can I ask you something else?”
“You know, you don’t have to ask that every time?”
Quinn laughs a little sheepishly at her statement, learning that he does have a habit of asking permission to ask a question. “I guess I do say that a lot, huh?”
“It’s fine,” Aleena giggles. “What were you gonna ask?”
Quinn lets out another small laugh, more of a nervous one this time, as he rubs the back of his neck, wondering how exactly to ask this question.
“Uh- well, I was wondering if…if you maybe wanted to go hang out together while we’re staying here…like, as friends?”
“Sure! It’s nice to finally find a gamer out in the wild,” she smiles. “What’s your Switch username by the way?” She asks as she leaves the pool to retrieve her switch from her bag, drying off first.
He seems to follow her lead, as he gets out the pool too, sitting on the empty lounge chair next to hers.
Quinn looks at Aleena with excitement at her willingness to hang out. He grabs his Switch to share his username with you. “It’s uh- Moss19. What’s yours?”
“Turtleena. T-U-R-T-L-E-E-N-A,”
He laughs at your username for a moment, amused by it, before looking back up at you with a smile. “Nice username. I’m gonna add you as a friend. I’m guessing you like Turtles?”Quinn clicks on the button to add her as a friend. His Switch makes an affirming sound when it obliges. He grins and looks back at Aleena. “There. We’re friends now.”
“Yay, thanks, I’m adding you too. And yeah, you could say that,” she chuckles, fiddling with the stitched corner of her purple towel. “Do you like Moss, then?” Aleena jokes but before either of them can say another word, her grandad calls for her from across the pool.
Quinn looks around when hearing her grandad hollering for her at the other end of the pool. He looks back at her and gives a sympathetic look as well as a shrug. “Guess you have to go?”
“Yeah, sorry.” she shoves her switch back into her bag, grabbing her pink towel to wrap herself with. “Well, I’ll see you around. Can you even message people on a switch? Or can you only text on a phone? Oh, here’s my number anyway,” she rambles on and uses a piece of her towel to wipe the chlorine water off his arm, and scribbles her number on his arm using a glittery pen she found in the bottom of her bag.
Quinn watches as she scribbles her number onto his arm, like etching a tattoo, completely endeared by her rambling. He admires her work of tattoo artistry on his arm, the sparkly red ink contrasts against his pale skin with every stroke.
“No worries, I’ll message you. And…yeah, you can message through the Switch. Can’t call or anything though,” he’s surprised he can keep his cool, at her touch.
“Oh right. Of course.” she stands in front of him kind of awkwardly, not wanting to leave. “Well, bye Quinn” she smiles once more, waves, and walks away.
Quinn smiles at Aleena, giving a small wave back, a bit surprised at her slight hesitation to leave, before watching her walk off to her grandad.
Sitting back in the chair where he was previously sitting, Quinn stares up at the blue sky with a small smile plastered on his face.
The smile quickly fades as he realises he never told her his age, and he might seem weird in not doing so after asking her how old she is. He sits back up and yells, “I’m sixteen by the way!”
Aleena whips her head around at the sound of Quinn’s voice from a few metres away, not quite registering why he has said that, at first.
“Oh, okay!” she shouts back, and laugh to yourself. These two are one awkward pair, and Aleena loves it.
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YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.
A/N: I headcanon that Quinn plays Minecraft, Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, and Mario Kart on his switch. (these are the only games I play either lol.) And I headcanon that he obviously has an Xbox at home.
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ohsohoney · 10 months ago
Text
When it comes to love you're just as blinded.
Part One
Eminem x Musician
Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.
Note: Hey! First time writing for Em so I figured I'd use a side account and see how it went? Honestly this is a whole series in my mind so might add onto this first part soon! An oc character but can be read as a reader insert if you prefer:)
Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2
Warnings: Lots of swearing, dark humour
Masterlist
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I was mortified.
More so than I’d probably ever been, in truth. All because of a stupid video that had been taken a couple of years back when I’d had one drink too many on a holiday I’d always dreamt of.
To be fair though, the majority of the blame lied heavily on my younger sister’s shoulders, who’d found the stupid thing whilst reminiscing through old memories and thought it would be hilarious to post online. Forgetting about the millions of fans who would soon see it– and not just mine, it would seem.
No, because that just wasn’t how the internet worked, was it? And when a newly nominated artist, who had only been in the game for a couple years, was filmed rapping an old noughties classic instead of singing like expected, it was basically bound to go viral. Didn’t help that I was a Londoner through and through and had the accent to prove it, making the whole video that much harder to watch. In truth, I continued to cringe each time I was reminded of it, which was practically anytime I opened up social media or witnessed the guilty expression that continued to mar my sister’s face.
“Stop doing that.” I huffed at her later on when the worst of it still continued to storm on, almost whining actually as I looked away from my phone screen and down at the food I wasn’t really eating, just picking at. I was supposed to be mad, infuriated even, but it was proving to be a fucking chore when she kept on looking at me like that.
“Doing what?” Lottie retorted, not even attempting to wipe the culpable look from off of her face. She was currently residing back at mum’s now, seeing as how she had school and I’d only just landed back home, but I’d give it a day before she was back here again. My flight over had been strenuous, it always was when flying to and from Cali, but still I made time for her– even after the most recent stunt she had gone and pulled.
“Don’t do that either.” 
I’d meant to sound scolding but the soft laugh that escaped me truly was accidental. I couldn’t quite help it, I knew that being mad at her wouldn’t solve anything now and that she hadn’t really meant any harm by posting the video. That was just the type of person she was, she acted before she thought things through and didn’t ever think much for the consequences. Then again, she was still only fourteen and her putting the drunken moment on her Instagram story had just been one of those sibling type moments, the kind where you’d rip the piss out of one another simply because you could.
“I mean it, Lotts.” I sighed around the words, eyes flitting back to the screen and the way she was chewing on her lower lip. “It’s being sorted and, I don't know, I guess it’ll die down sooner or later. Mila reckons so anyway. We’ll give it a day or two, hey?”
A day or two did pass. And no such thing happened.
I’d been cooped up at home ever since I’d touched down at Heathrow, having jumped in the first cab available and fallen asleep the second I’d gotten in through the door. I’d been working out in LA for a couple weeks with a few other writers, just messing about with new sounds and ideas for the next album I eventually wanted to release. So I hadn’t been witness to the media catastrophe Lottie had created until later the next afternoon when Mila, my manager, had all but mowed down my front door, having called my phone three dozen times and gotten a guy she was currently seeing in the city to come buzz my intercom. It had been a wake up call and a half to say the least.
Still, she had assumed it would all die down fairly quickly, went as far to say that it could do wonders for my career– even with me being visibly tipsy– after having had the absolute gall to say that I hadn’t sounded half as bad as I thought I did. I’d cackled hysterically into the phone at that, then had somewhat of a meltdown, in utter disbelief over the apparent reaction she claimed the video had gone and garnered. Because I was absolutely not looking. Knew that if I did there would be too large a chance that I’d check myself into the nearest psychiatric unit. 
But as I said, a couple of days had passed and typically something like this would have eventually blown over when the next big story hit the headlines. White girl can spit a verse, who cared? Only then the VMA’s had happened and shit hit the fucking fan.
I hadn’t attended, shit like that had always irked me. I could perform in front of a crowd of thousands and step off feeling as high as a kite, but stick me on a carpet and force me to interact with cameras, questions, and people? That was where I drew the line.
At the start, I had tried. I’d been new on the scene and people had reasoned that I would just end up being another one hit wonder, so the label had figured it best if I got myself out there, if only to interact with other artists and producers in similar circles.
It had gone down a treat– like a cake being knocked over at the wedding of the year. Maybe even worse. I didn’t like to linger too long on it.
But I’d tried again and again afterwards, although it had only proven to worsen my mood each time and forced me to retreat, avoiding my team and the responsibilities I had lined up for a short while after. It was only following a particularly uncomfortable night that Mila had called it quits and had a contract drawn up stating that I only had to attend a certain amount of events a year. It had been at that moment that I’d realised just how fucked I would have been in this industry without her.
Even so, life still continued on without me and the VMA’s were just another show I would be mostly avoiding, only making a statement at the end of the night online for the nominations I’d been gifted.
It was around midnight when I heard the scream.
Lottie was staying with me, typical for whenever I was back in London for a few weeks at a time, and so I’d felt my heart literally drop to my feet at the very sound of her screech and legged it across the entirety of the house. At first, I’d thought she’d slipped and fallen, maybe cracked her head open on a counter. And then the thought of an intruder had crossed my mind whilst I’d gone skidding over the landing. So anyone could understand why I was so worked up when I finally threw open her bedroom door only to find her simply sat there on her phone, hand covering her mouth.
“What the hell is your problem? It’s just gone twelve, Lottie! I thought something had happened!” I rebuked her, chest heaving as I dropped the heavy bookend I’d managed to pick up somewhere on my way over down onto her desk. “Shit.”
Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them though when I finally did get around to catching my breath and chanced another glance back at her.
“I was literally just about to fall asleep.” Which really meant that I’d been getting into bed to scroll through my phone or read a book when I’d heard her shout. “Then you screamed as though Freddy Krueger was stood at your window.”
“Elia.” 
I blinked, Lottie rarely did that, used my entire name and not the usual shortened version or whatever other epithet that came to mind– and truly, there was a large variety, the shit I’d heard this kid come out with was insane. But I shook my head at the thought and quirked a brow at her. “What? Did someone die?”
“No,” She answered me, dropping her hand away from her face even though her jaw was still gaping, “But I just might.”
Rolling my eyes at the theatrics, I exhaled and walked over to slump on the end of her bed, figuring that something had happened between her and one of her friends, or maybe some lad she might’ve been speaking to. “And it deserved a scream like that? Honestly Lotts, just be thankful this place doesn’t have any neighbours listening in through the walls.” I told her, thinking back to my own adolescent years and the woman in the flat beside ours, “We’d have someone knocking at the door in under a half hour.”
It was her turn to roll her eyes then as she scoffed at me– like I was the one being dramatic here– before she then shook her head and shuffled hurriedly over the mattress to sit closer. “No Lia, just listen, look.”
Confused, I sighed and tilted my head when Lottie moved to shove her mobile in my face. I squinted at the sudden contrast, showing off my age and the horrific tragedy that was my eyesight, and tried to make sense of whatever it was that she was so hellbent on showing me. 
From what I could first make out, it was just a Twitter thread, but then Lotts then clicked on the main video at the top. I waited as the clip buffered for a second, then a familiar face panned into focus and I felt my brow furrow. I peered over at Lottie for a split second before her eyes were widening in retort and she gestured her chin back towards the screen.
I narrowed my own eyes in turn, but watched on.
It had to be a coincidence, I reasoned. That of all people it was him that Lottie was currently showing me.
“Well, aren’t we in for a show tonight! Eminem is in the house, people!” An interviewer started, she was a tall, leggy blonde who held a too big microphone too close to her chin. “How are you feeling?”
I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see him on the VMA’s carpet, not after the comeback he’d made late last year with LP 2, but I was, eyes caught on the bleached buzz cut he’d since reverted back to for the album’s release. Fuck, I’d be so pissed if it came out that he was performing tonight and I’d gone ahead and missed it.
Lottie thumped my shoulder, hard, realising fairly quickly that I hadn’t really been listening, and so I scowled in retort but gritted my teeth to keep from thumping her right back. She might’ve been my sister, but I had well over a decade on the kid and was marginally her guardian, just not in writing.
The rapper had seemingly just finished commenting on a question the tall blonde had asked him and so I forced myself to pay closer attention, brain whirling as I wondered what could have possibly been so important that it had Lottie screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night.
“I feel that!” The woman practically beamed at the rapper, head nodding along to whatever he’d just said, “But it’s good to hear that you’re enjoying being back. In truth, I wasn’t sure I’d catch you here tonight, there’s been a lot of buzz surrounding you at the moment and not just because of the album!”
My heart stuttered in my chest. Actually, I was pretty sure it had gone and fallen out of my arse, especially when the interviewer continued to press on the topic and it appeared as though the man in question understood exactly what she was getting at. His stoic facade cracked just a tad and– there! A smirk. An ever so slight crook of his mouth. I shot a startled glance over at Lottie but her gaze was fixated on the screen.
“I mean, have you seen it?” The interviewer prompted whilst he simply stood there, fisted hands clasped before him. No sign of the split second curve he’d just had on his lips. “The whole world’s been wondering about your thoughts on the singer!”
And there it was.
“I can’t,” I started to say, turning away from the phone just as a rush of nausea flooded through me, but Lottie held strong, hand coming up to catch my shoulder so that she could position her phone back in my eyeline. “Lottie–” I tried. Please.
“Just listen.” She persisted, face so serious.
Immediately I wanted to rescind my earlier statement. This was now my most mortifying moment. In fact, I wanted to hide in the nearest cupboard and never come out again. How the fuck was I going to show my face in public, not to mention at the next event, after this?
I swallowed thickly, entirely unprepared to hear a word he had to say about me. I mean, who would be? This man was leagues above a majority of the industry, me included. Never had I ever even thought that he could hear my name in passing, let alone listen to one of my songs playing in some shop he was coincidentally in or a random radio station. But here he now was, rolling his lips as he pondered over a question which concerned that stupid fucking video. 
“I hate you.” I whispered at Lottie, mostly in hopes to cover up whatever he was about to say, but also because I was embarrassed beyond belief. And this was all her fault.
In the time spent since the drunken video had first gone up and now, I had yet to even think about him ever seeing it. Because the idea was that far fetched. But this was me, so of course he had.
“I’ve heard it.” Marshall confirmed, his head dipped in a barely there nod. My throat cinched. I wondered briefly how quickly I’d be able to tie myself a noose.
“And?” The woman prodded and internally I cursed her future bloodline, hoping that she'd somehow spawn the next antichrist or that her grandchild would become a shit-headed politician.
The man in question merely hummed, hollowing out his cheeks. “I was surprised, I have to admit. But she’s good, even when wasted.”
“I wasn’t fucking wasted!” 
I hadn't even realised I’d spoken out loud until Lottie snorted on a chuckle. I turned towards her, brows raised high, “What? I wasn’t. You were there!”
I rolled my eyes when she didn’t deign me with some sort of assent but my head snapped back over to where she still gripped the phone when I heard him speak again, his voice echoing throughout the quiet bedroom.
“Then again, her shit goes hard. So it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.”
That heart of mine that I kept on talking about? Yeah, I had zero clue as to what the fuck was going on with it now, only that my chest was wound as tight as it possibly could be and my eyes stung as I withheld the urge to even blink.
“You’re a fan?” The woman asked him, appearing genuinely surprised by the notion, even though it sounded more like a declaration rather than the question it was.
Marshall hummed, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder when a group shuffled on past them, disrupting the interview. It didn’t deter the woman though and I couldn’t blame her, no matter how much it pained me.
“So, could this mean we’ll be seeing a new featured artist on whatever you put out next?”
I made some sort of inhuman sound at that, but barely moved a muscle. And then I all but shutdown when the rapper's wide eyes flickered over to peer straight into the camera’s lens, “I mean, if she’s down.”
The next scream that was emitted once again came from Lottie, but I couldn’t think to scold her for it, not when I was hardly even functioning and wanted to implode myself. 
The girl toppled over onto me, shaking my shoulders whilst she squealed unabashedly. “If. She’s. Down!” She repeated, squealing with excitement, “El, this is insane! How are you not screaming too?”
The air I forced from my lungs came out in a breathless chuckle as I clung to the forearm that was still wrapped around my collar. In truth, I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to react. 
“Figure you’ve screamed enough for the both of us.” I replied faintly, not really thinking but somehow managing to carry on, mostly out of sheer shock. I glanced her way, “I feel a bit sick.”
Lottie just shook me harder and when we eventually went falling down onto the duvet in a mess of limbs I wondered what I was going to do with the knowledge that I’d just been given. God. He knew who I was. The shock of it was almost like reliving my first time on stage all over again.
That night I ended up listening to Lottie rant on and on for a good while after whilst she scrolled through her Twitter feed and the rest of the internet. Mila eventually intervened, calling after having seen it too, and was as smug as ever. “Told you.” She’d said the second I’d hit the answer button and I hadn’t had the heart to play it off or act as though I hadn’t seen it either. 
After the interview eventually finished trending and stopped being posted here, there, and everywhere, I was left with a flow of new followers but also a nightmare of opinions spouting from every corner of the planet on any comment section I had to offer. I forced myself to come off most apps I had downloaded after that and resorted to gaining my daily entertainment, and any real news, from Lottie. Which seemed sad, in retrospect, but honestly? It was more than a little self-serving and I’d even managed to get a shit load of stuff done.
I worked on a couple new songs, sticking to what I did best, but my mind did end up drifting away every so often, back to a conversation I’d had with Mila and Travis at the label a couple days after the media storm had passed. It seemed they all wanted me to try implementing a few new concepts into the music I was currently working on before we started to draw up ideas for the next album. Travis reasoned that even attempting to add a couple freestyles into the motions whilst I went about writing would do me wonders later on. 
I just felt uncomfortable with it all, really. I’d never been a rapper. I mean, I loved it. It was mainly what I’d been brought up on, having grown up in an area where every kid on the estate was either attempting to become the next big thing or just blaring the biggest hits out of their car stereos. But that was just it. I listened and sang along, had even built up an extensive collection which I was immensely proud of, but the label were now aiming for this next album to make it onto a Grammy nominations list. It was all they had been fretting over since I’d somehow managed to chart the last one– although a single number one and an almost throw away making it to number seven didn’t make me all that hopeful. 
Even so, it forced me to wonder how it would all work if I started to switch things up now. I could appreciate all genres but I didn’t wanna become the next hopper just to appease the people yessing me and then fall off.
The entire concept had me confused and so I had taken to keeping my head down for a while longer.
Lottie had headed back to mum’s earlier that morning, seeing as I was due to make an appearance in Paris for Fashion Week, attending the Vogue show alongside Vivienne Westwood. An utter dream, yes, but also still an incredibly daunting reality. Even so, it was something I couldn’t quite worm my way out of even if I had wanted to– see, with that contract there still came clauses.
I’d been prepping for my upcoming early morning flight most of the day, showering later on than anticipated just so that I could pack my case and eat before I eventually climbed into bed. Hoping to somehow get a couple hours kip.
I’d thrown on a robe and kept the speakers blaring once I’d eventually jumped out from under the spray, wet hair curling at the ends as I worked on throwing something quick together in my kitchen.
It wasn't long before I went and took the bowl I’d just made out into the living room with me, simply so that I could curl up on the settee and wrap up the few emails I’d been working on earlier. I was just nodding along and humming to the next song that played through the overhead speakers when my phone started to buzz against my ankle, shooting a funny feeling up through the bone. I was quick to pick it up, wrinkling my nose at the feel and not paying much mind to the caller, figuring it had to be either Mila or Lottie.
“Hello?”
There was a short pause as I shifted the phone against my ear before a voice eventually sounded, “This Elia?”
Frowning, I casted a quick glance at the phone’s screen to find a number with an unfamiliar area code staring back at me. I let my gaze stray on over towards a clock I had hanging on the far wall only to find that it had just gone eight. 
I fumbled for a moment, “Um. It is, can I ask who’s calling?”
A low cough rumbled through the line before the same voice spoke again, I shuffled to set my laptop off to the side on the sofa, brow furrowed. “It’s Em– Marshall.”
Suddenly my head felt so very empty and my mouth was working around words that couldn't seem to find their way out. Em. The Em?? Fucking, Em?
I’d obviously been quiet a beat too long, drowning in the sudden panic that had shrouded me, because he spoke up again, “That Nas playin’?”
I shot a startled glance over my shoulder to where the fancy sound system was installed, the biggest reason I’d gone and purchased the home, in truth, and was immediately reminded of the music I had piercing through the air. Clumsily, I rolled off of the corner of the settee so that I could stumble over to turn the thing off, doing exactly that before I was forced to blink at the sudden silence that greeted me.
I winced and was quick to turn the music back on, keeping it low. All the while I still held my phone close to my chest.
“Uh, yeah. Hi!” I blundered helplessly after a moment, carding a hand through my damp hair as I stared at the empty wall before me stupidly. I wasn’t sure what to say, let alone do. I could sort of wrap my head around the interview, his brief mention of me. But a fucking phone call? It was on another level.
He chuckled though, enough so that I felt myself flush bashfully at my obvious awkwardness and forced my body to move back towards the sofa, if only so that I didn’t have to stand on shaky legs anymore. 
“Hi.” He mimicked, voice low albeit a tad amused.
I smiled. Unable to do anything but, in all honesty, as I lowered myself down onto the cushions, vaguely aware that I should probably be saying something else now that he’d gone and replied, but was simply more than a little caught off guard by everything. 
“Sorry, I– Well, I didn’t expect your call. Or anyones really.” I murmured, trying my best to shake off the nerves that were apparently wreaking havoc on my brain to mouth filter. “I just jumped out of the shower, had yet to turn off the stereo. Sorry.” How many times had I just apologised? I wanted to scream.
“You’re good.” He assured me, voice unlike what I probably would have expected and so I blinked once more at the sound of it, reminded that it was actually him I was talking to. But all that was fluttering through my head was ‘what the fuck are you doing calling me?’ “Nice choice, I gotta say. This an alright time for you to talk? I don’t wanna disturb you much.”
My eyes widened at both the compliment in song choice and well, him. Then withheld another sudden urge to scream, the hand not holding my phone clenching into a tight fist against my chest. “No, no, of course not. I mean, you’re fine! Not disturbing me at all.”
His next reply sounded more than just a little mirthful, “Sure ‘bout that?”
I willed myself to relax and took an inconspicuous breath as I pulled my legs back up under me. “I’m sure.” I told him, laughing lightly at myself for being so socially inept– or maybe it was just this entire scenario I’d been shoved into. “How’d you even get my number anyway?” 
I hadn’t meant for it to sound so forceful or abrupt, but it had been yet another question my sluggish brain hadn’t been able to find an answer to. 
“Mila?” He answered me, and I blinked stupidly at the name. “We had a mutual contact, figured I’d chance askin’ her instead of gettin’ lost in your DM’s. That cool? She said she’d let you know.”
The conniving cow, I thought to myself, though I wouldn’t have put it past her to have reasoned with herself that I would’ve probably freaked out if she had told me beforehand, before then having proceeded to just let my phone ring out whilst I stared pitifully at it. She knew me all too well. 
“She did not.” I replied through a baited breath, “But no, yeah. You’re alright, just caught me off guard is all. You’re probably the last person I expected to call, if I’m being honest here..”
When I heard him laugh once more I grinned, all too pleased with myself. It was a low gruff sound, not deep enough to be sarcastic or ingenuine, but rather warm. It surprised me.
“Oh yeah? Even after everything that’s gone down lately?”
My eyes slipped closed at the instantaneous reminder and I winced. The video. Honestly, in the whirlwind that wasn’t just my life at the moment, but this phone call too, I could have almost forgotten about it.
“I still can’t believe you saw that.”
Marshall let go of another amused huff that I figured to be a chuckle, breathing in deep enough that he forced me to wait on his next words. “I don’t lie. I meant what I said. But tell me, how many drinks d’you have in you?”
I curled my tongue against the back of my teeth in hopes to keep from grinning too hard, feeling a slight sting at the tip. “I was tipsy.” I argued pointlessly, knowing it would be a tireless venture, “I’d only had a couple.”
He hummed, seemingly not convinced.
“It was years ago, too!” I felt the need to tack on, the rosy hue the alcohol had given my cheeks sprung to mind and made me wonder. My face wrinkled as I dragged a helpless hand across it. “Who even sent it to you?”
“A couple people, actually.” Marshall ended up revealing and his words sounded playful enough that I could almost picture the curl of his mouth. “My daughter was one.”
Without thinking my hand flew up towards my mouth and I shook my head as I let it rest against my palm. “You’re not being serious.”
“Dre too.”
I let go of a hissed curse and crumpled a little bit in my seat before laughing stupidly at myself. If I couldn’t talk myself out of this then I supposed I would just have to get over it. I hoped thinking sensibly would allow me to actually follow through on that sentiment, but I very much doubted it.
Marshall laughed again, slow and easy almost as though he’d shared it with me a hundred times before. “I wasn’t kiddin’ neither. ’s why I called.”
Pulling my head from out of my hands, I wet my lower lip, mind promptly flashing back to the clip Lottie had shown me. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked him, treading cautiously. 
“Listen.” He began, pausing only briefly to inhale before he then added, “I’m workin’ on another album–”
“No.” I interrupted, eyes suddenly wide and alert, “Already?”
A tittered snort followed the disruption but my mind was already reeling. 
“You’re not fucking with me?”
In all honesty I had prepared myself to wait a couple more years for another drop, hoping for him to feature or for someone to send for him if only so that he’d make a track in reply. I’d been obsessed with his recent work, even going as far as to add it onto the tour bus playlist late last year. It had actually been played so much the roadies and the band had threatened to rip the system out. But a new album? Fuck. I hadn’t expected it.
“Who else knows?”
There was a slight click on the other side of the line. Or scuffle. “As of right now? Like six people.”
I swallowed down the understanding that then hit me, but my stomach lurched at the very thought of it. “And I’m one?” I chuckled, holding back the hysterical laughter I felt bubble as my hand fell over my heart, “Wow, I feel honoured, Mathers.” It was teasing, the rib I meant, though my eyes still widened when I realised what I’d gone and said, not wanting him to take it the wrong way. 
I needn’t have worried. 
“As you fuckin’ should be.”
I gave a real laugh at that, almost a full-belly type shit. But could you really blame me? 
I was still smiling as I went to retort, humming with it, “God, you really just went and sprung that shit on me.”
“Hold you to keepin’ it on the low for now.” Marshall said, reminding me how paranoid the press and Hollywood had made him out to be in the past. I wondered how much truth there was in the sentiment. I mean, the man was almost a recluse– not that I could blame him, I was pulled from the same sort of cloth there– but to put a secret like that in my hands? It had to take some amount of faith.
I nodded seriously, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. Seemed he could hear the sincerity in my answer though, “‘Course.” I told him and then chewed on my lower lip for a second before a soft snicker escaped me. “That the only reason you called though? I mean, as honoured as I am to be one of the infamous six, I’m surprised you just phoned to let me in on the know. Have I just been roped into some sort of celeb elitist group? Weird initiation.”
His huffed laugh was breathy and made my mouth twitch that little bit more. 
“Nah. You always this weird though?” Marshall wondered and I bared my teeth in a light grimace, figuring I’d gone too far with that one. Or maybe.. I'd just hit the mark? I snorted lightly at the thought.
“It was an honest question! I’ve heard horror stories.” And wasn’t that the truth, events and parties weren’t all about the awards and just getting trollied. Some of those fuckers were as strange as people could come.
The man clucked his tongue, although I could hear the slight smile in his sarky response. “Uhuh. Sorry to disappoint but nah, initiation starts in the belly of LA. Gotta dissect a virgin and drink Ciroc out of their intestines. Funnel that shit down.”
The snort I gave in turn was ugly and loud enough that it forced a hand to fly up and cover my mouth, but it didn’t appear to bother the rapper none, who chuckled before clearing his throat.
“Change this shit to Facetime.” He said not a second after, swiftly cutting short my absurd amusement. “Then we can talk about the album.”
I fumbled for a moment. “I look a mess.”
“Good thing this ain’t a fuckin’ fashion show then.” He only pressed, “You think I give a shit what you look like right now?”
That struck an odd chord in me for some reason, but I didn’t want to linger much on the feeling. “No. But I do, dickhead. It’s half eight at night, I have sudocrem on my face and I look like a dog off of Lady and the Tramp.”
I was so flustered by the very thought of acquiescing to the man’s demand that I didn’t even think much of the name I’d gone and called him. 
“Again, do I give a shit? And what did you just call me?”
I paused, reeling back to whatever it was I’d just spouted at him. Upon rehashing my words I felt my tongue press between my lips to keep from laughing loudly, if Mila or Lottie had been there I’d already be strung up by a pair of metaphorical balls. 
“You heard me fine.” I brushed it off, if he wanted to call me out of the blue and act all chummy then chummy was what he’d get.
Besides it wasn’t like I’d meant the term maliciously, I used that type of endearment with everybody. Something my manager had tried and failed to force out of me time and time again.
“But back to this whole ‘seeing my mug thing’. Not happening, mate. Why couldn’t you have called like, six hours ago? I looked like an actual person then.”
“Dickhead.” He muttered beneath his breath, barely even loud enough for me to have heard him and I could only guess that he was shaking his head with it, hopefully somewhat amused. “You ain’t an actual person then?” He said in reply, forgoing the name calling for now, “Figures, you give off lizard vibes.”
“Fuck you!” My laugh was sudden, jaw having dropped a tad at the quip. “Lizard vibes, the fuck are you then? And yes, an actual person! You can’t just call people, drop a bomb, and then demand things!”
“Shit typically works.” He quipped all too quickly that it had me shaking my head around another quiet smile of my own. “Just entertain me though, for a moment.”
My head fell back against the arm of the sofa, eyes casted towards the high ceiling which loomed above. I couldn’t quite believe I was actually considering it.
He didn’t even have to goad me before I relented. I huffed, blowing a strand of hair from out of my face as I sat back up, “Fine. Just gimme a sec.” 
He hummed.
Elbowing my way off the settee I skidded over to the closest mirror, dragged a hand through my mostly dried hair and made sure that I didn’t have racoon eyes from any lingering mascara I’d had on before my shower. The patches of sudocrem would have to stay though, I deemed, seeing as he already knew about those. 
I gave up on the preening and sighed as I fell back onto the sofa, thankful for the dim lights the living room offered in that moment. It was just as I was switching the call though that a thought hit me, making me question if the reason he’d asked me to start the Facetime was due to him wanting to give me the option to turn it down or simply because he had no idea how to do it himself. “Still there, old man?”
A scoff echoed into the room before my phone screen stuttered and I was left staring at the sharp lines of his face. It wasn’t like I hadn’t actually believed it was him I was talking to, but seeing the man was another thing altogether. He was a real person and that idea alone had me reeling. 
I wrinkled my nose almost shyly around a smile when that sharp gaze of his slid away from something behind the camera to meet mine. He tilted his head to look me over, the hood of his jumper moving with the motion. 
“I was right about the lizard thing.” Was the only greeting he offered me, jutting his chin out as he feigned all seriousness. 
My mouth dropped open upon hearing him and my tongue quickly flicked out towards a canine to keep from biting back at him. There was humour written in the gesture though, even as I moved to narrow my eyes. “He’s got jokes! Reused ones, I might add, but jokes nonetheless.” I snarked, lifting my eyebrows at him in exaggeration, “Hilarious.”
His mouth curled very, very briefly, but I was quick to work out that it was all in the eyes with him. They held a certain amount of mirth as they flickered over my face. I wondered what he saw. 
“Suits you though. Even with all the…” He waved a hand over his own face, probably referencing the white dots I had littered in a few places.
With a shake of my head I raised a hand to my chest, feigning a fond appreciation for the sardonic comment. “Is that the famous charm the world’s heard so much about then? Really know how to make a girl feel special, Mathers.”
His eyes slitted but still shone with a slight glaze, he hummed deeply in retort. “Best believe it. Why d’you think I’ve gotten divorced twice?”
A low whistle escaped me before I then laughed, eyes squinting with the strength of it. “Figured you might just have a kink for courtrooms.” 
His tongue swept into his cheek at my boldness, fighting back a real smile as he glanced away and then back again. “I’m down bad for a good Judge. Spank me vibes, you know?”
I chuckled outwardly at that, amused by his quick witted replies. But that in itself didn’t surprise me, it was well known just how hilarious the man could be, his stoic demeanour only prodding that revelation further. 
That sternness his face seemed to consistently hold softened though in that next moment and I watched on as he shuffled a little closer to the camera, sat somewhere indoors with enough natural light that he could have only been in his kitchen. It hit me then how wild this whole thing suddenly was. “What’s with the last name anyway?”
I blinked, caught off guard by his ask. “Um,” I fumbled, a slight wrinkle forming between my brow, “What do you mean, me calling you Mathers?”
He hummed and I had to think about it for a second. Ultimately I ended up gifting him a shrug, “Don’t know. Just feels strange to call you Eminem or whatever.” I laughed lightly at myself, hand falling to my knee to toy with a loose thread on the hem of my robe. “What do people usually call you?”
It was his turn to shrug then, his being a singular and fluid motion whereas mine had been more thoughtless. He was watching again though, the wide eyes I was so used to seeing in old interviews where he was always playing a part were now gentler, narrowed sure, but softer and slightly wrinkled at the very edges.
I tugged on the frayed thread, wrapping it around my finger enough to whiten the skin before I had to let it go again. “Is Em okay? Or just Marshall maybe?” I queried, watching him too.
“Whatever you want.” He murmured and it was then that I noticed he’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of him because a pair of hands came to rest at the bottom of the screen just as he pressed further into the counter he was sat at.
I wrung my lips to one side, teeth biting into the inside of my cheek enough to keep from smiling much more than I already was. “Most people call me El or Lia. Elia just started to feel unnatural away from, you know, everyone else.”
It was the worlds now, as well as one of few reasons I had for the stigma I felt around my own name. 
The man jerked his head in a short nod in response whilst his fingers intertwined against a marble countertop. “So we should just slide that into the writin’ credits then? Or you finally gone take me up on that offer of a feature?”
You know that odd feeling you get when you’re on the tube or a plane and so suddenly your ears just pop and there's this ringing sound that floods the single sense? It just happens, out of nowhere, and you blink. So all you can immediately focus on is the sound. The odd feeling of it driving waves deeper and deeper into your skull. And the only way you can recover is by holding your own breath?
That was what that question felt like to me. 
“What?”
His eyes were alight, akin to a low flame of flickering amusement and perhaps hope. “You deaf now too? Know you heard me.”
Of course I fucking heard him but that didn’t mean I understood. “This is for real?”
Finally, he let go of a dulcet chuckle, almost a ringing sound in and of itself. “You gone make me repeat it? You in, or not?”
“How is that even a question?” I breathed back to him, my hand shaking against the hem of my robe. “Yes! God, if I ever say to no to an ask like that you better fucking shoot me. What the fuck, Marshall?”
That chuckle again.
It was unlike anything else, the only sound I could hear around the blood rushing between my ears. Stupidly, I pinched my thigh and released a stuttered breath when the twist of skin radiated a short snap of pain up my leg.
“That the go ahead then?”
I must’ve looked so incredibly starstruck but I couldn’t even bring myself to care, this was unreal. I nodded, almost frantically at him. “Of course that’s the fucking go ahead! Are you sure about this? I mean, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I mostly write radio shit.”
“Your earlier stuff ain’t.” Em shot back, the quip startling me enough to snap my jaw shut because not a lot of people ever dug that deep. But he continued on before I could think to hone in on the slip, “‘sides, your lyrics are what I fuck with. That shit makes you think, has you lingerin’. Playing with words is the aim, I want people thinkin’, leachin’ onto each syllable and every phrase. You do that.”
The air in my lungs lurched.
I could only offer him one reply, “When do we start?”
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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago
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the wedding // LTPF
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summary: the wedding of the year, i can see it now.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.7k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. she's a bridezilla for REAL and i wish i included more of that energy, protective!coryo, idk people are drinking alcohol? (its a wedding, so duh), also TW for Livia and r's dad just existing p much.
based on this ask and this ask!
series masterlist // playlist
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Everything was perfect. Absolutely everything you had dreamt of your whole life when it came to your wedding. Coryo had told you money was no object, and therefore, you spared no expense. You had a strong theory that your father was being sent every last bill, since you knew neither of you had anything more than what the Plinth's were providing for school, but that was the farthest thing from your problem. It was the least your father could do.
The hardest part of the whole thing, even before deciding who would give you away without your father, was deciding on your maid of honour. You didn't have many good friends, or friends at all, outside of your new husband. At one point, you wondered if had things gone differently, would you have chosen Lucy Gray?
Clemensia Dovecote was a fine enough choice. "Let me just say," Her speech began, hitting the side of her overfilled wine glass with a fork. "I have called this wedding for years, and no one believed me." She shot a smile over to you at the head table. "For anyone who doesn't know me, I'm Clemensia. Y/N's Maid of Honour." She had just thrived on the title since you offered it to her which, while annoying, was good because she took her position very seriously. She was the perfect choice- she looked nice, presentable in a dress you had picked out, but the colour clashed with the yellow in the whites of her eyes and the few scales that were yet to fall off after the snake bite. She looked fine, but she also made you look better. "But like I said, I knew this would happen."
She was drunk, repeating things in a way that made you cringe internally but nevertheless, you had to watch. The lights spread across the large backyard of the Plinth's mansion lit up the night beautifully, bouncing off every white and red rose you had spread about. You were very grateful to them for allowing you to host the reception there. They had done a lot for you in the last year since you returned from Twelve.
Mrs. Plinth was very involved with planning the wedding- she loved the winter wedding and leaning into it as a theme. It worked out nicely because it gave her something to think about other than the death of her only child, and she was a tremendous help and support to you. You were truly grateful, but this day was hard on them without Sejanus there. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that Sejanus would have been the best man, and you only slightly doubted that. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else- but Coryo would have had different thoughts, you're sure.
"How much longer will this go on for?" Your now husband whispers in your ear, fake smile on his face as he also has to listen to Clem's rambling.
"I really don't know." You reply with the same fake smile, knowing that eyes were on you just as much as her.
"Some choice for a maid of honour." He chuckles.
You roll your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, well, I would have gone with Arachne Crane but, you know..."
"Fair enough." He mumbles, sitting back in his seat. "Are you really the only woman in the Capitol who isn't insufferably annoying? You should have been your own maid of honour."
"Well it was her or Tigris, and Tigris is prettier than me so she wasn't really an option." You hum, grabbing his hand under the table as you keep your eyes focussed on Clemensia, not paying attention to a word she says.
Coryo laughs. "Tigris is not prettier than you."
"She's your cousin, your opinion is invalid." You shrug it off.
"Doesn't change the fact that I'm right." He argues, squeezing your hand.
You don't reply, and you let his hand go to clap once Clem is finally finished. You had already eaten, so now it was supposed to be the "fun part", as Clemensia so aptly put it in her speech. You found it rude, yes, but it wasn't a big deal and after tonight you wouldn't have to see her again for a while.
It was brisk out, being a winter wedding you should have expected that, but you still had another dress to change into so you excuse yourself from the table, kissing your husband goodbye as he gets up as well.
You hadn't allowed him to see any of your dresses, and this would be your third one today alone. He loved every one, and did not expect to be disappointed by the next. Or the one after that.
"Hey, congrats, Coriolanus." He tears his gaze away from your retreating figure to whoever was talking to him.
"Thank you, Hilarius." He nods, smiling politely at him and reaching out to shake his hand.
"I saw this one coming miles away." His classmate laughs. "You remember that though, right?"
"When you said that if I wasn't going to go after her you would?" Coryo asks, eyebrow raised. "I do remember that. It makes me wonder who let you in..." It's meant as a joke as he makes a point of looking past him toward the security they have at the entrance.
He furrows his brow when his eyes catch on your father standing there, arguing with one of the security guards, his wife by his side.
"If you would excuse me..." He says, walking toward them before Hilarius could even respond.
"Ugh, I know. Why did you even invite her, Y/N/N?" Clemensia complains as Tigris helps you step out of your gown.
"Who?" You ask, unsure what she was even talking about.
"Livia." She states, yet another glass of red wine in her hand.
"Oh, I kind of had to. Connections and all that." You shrug. You weren't Livia's biggest fan, she had a "greater than thou" attitude that drove you up the wall, but who in this city didn't?
"Ah, yes. Of course." She hums. "She had a lot of audacity to show up in that dress though..."
Your head whips around to look at her. "What dress?"
"You haven't seen her?" She gasps. "I thought you saw her! It's this white-based floral, really questionable for someone else's wedding. Looks like a tablecloth." She accentuates the statement with a sip from her glass.
Your jaw ticks and you look toward the door, already seeing red.
"Hey, Y/N, it's okay." Tigris rests her hands on your shoulders, prompting you to look at her. "We'll tell security, they can escort her out if that's what you want."
You take a breath, forcing a smile on your face. "Let's not bother them. I'll just go chat with her." You smile, stepping out of the dress in bare feet, quickly grabbing Clemensia's overfilled wine glass from her hand on your way out the door.
"Y/N, Wait! Don't!" Tigris calls after you, well aware of your notorious temper by now, but you don't listen.
You're in your white slip when you storm back out to the reception area through the back patio, immediately and quickly scanning the crowd for the guest in question. You know you have seconds before Tigris likely tries to stop you, but you know Clemensia won't. Then, you see her.
You're seething already. That's practically a wedding dress on its own. You would kill her.
You stomp across the ground, tunnel vision locked on her as she raises her glass to her lips, laughing, and talking with other guests, completely careless to what she had done wrong. Well, she would learn today.
"Livia Cardew!" You grin, walking up to her. "I don't recall sending you an invitation, but here you are!"
Immediately, she's taking in your appearance, giggling at your lack of appropriate attire and shoes. "Y/N! Congratulations." She says, eyes finally locking with yours again.
"May I have a word?" You ask, already grabbing her arm and pulling her away.
"Is there a problem here?" Coriolanus asks, addressing only his security as your father stands there, red-faced with anger.
"Yeah, they've got no invite." He nods, showing Coryo the list in his hands which he quickly pretends to look over.
"Oh! Sorry, yes. There you are..." He says, pointing down at the bottom and your father visibly relaxes. "Under the title there that says 'not welcome under any circumstances'... Well then." He looks at your father now for the first time, tilting his head at him.
"No, this is my daughter's wedding and we will be let in!" He demands, raising his voice.
Coryo clicks his tongue, slightly shaking his head. "No, sir, I thought we were clear on this."
"No, you said the wedding. This, if I'm not mistaken, is the reception. I made my sacrifice. Now, I'm here."
"And only about two hours late." Coryo hums uninterestedly, looking down at his watch. "Father of the year."
Your father's fuming, and it's hard for Coryo to not laugh in his face. "I paid for everything here! You can't deny us entry!"
"I can." Coryo says. "Well, actually, my apologies. Mrs. Y/L/N, you are welcome to come in, if you'd like." He smiles at her, polite demeanour flicked back on like a light switch.
Your father quickly pulls her back behind him. "It's both of us or neither of us. Go ask our daughter." He states, gripping tightly on her arm.
"Oh, no. I won't be ruining our wedding." Coryo shakes his head, firm in his decision. "I'll tell Y/N you send your love, Ma'am. Have a good night."
"No! You will let us in right now or-" Your father's tantrum is interrupted by a commotion across the yard, drawing Coryo's attention. People gasp in shock, and then he sees you, about to absolutely lay into Livia Cardew, who now has red wine all over her face and the front of her dress.
"I must be going, now." Coryo tells them, turning back to the security guard and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt to be able to roll up his sleeves. "If you don't mind, call for peacekeepers to escort him from the property. Thank you."
He doesn't have time to hear your father's angry disagreement as he walks away.
"So," You drop her arm, turning to face her. "I'm not sure if you are aware, but this isn't your wedding." You spit, gesturing to her dress. "And listen, I get it! You're jealous. That's fine, but it's extremely tacky and honestly embarrassing for you to wear a white dress to a wedding that's not yours."
Livia's lips fall open in shock, looking down at her dress before she laughs. "Y/N, come on. It really isn't that serious, you realize that, right?"
You stare at her for a moment, weighing your options. You could smash the glass over her head like you wanted to, demand that she leave immediately, or, you could 'accidentally' spill the glass on her. Before you complete the thought, you're throwing the contents of Clemensia's glass at the front of her dress, smiling as it splatters up over her face and in her hair, dripping down the front of her expensive-looking gown.
"Oops."
Livia gasps, wiping the red substance from around her eyes and flicking it off. "I thought that for one day you could be normal! God, you are vile!" She's practically screaming now.
"This is entirely your fault, you do realize that, right?" You tilt your head at her, a slight laugh under your tone. "If you wanted my husband just say that."
"I- ugh!" She groans in frustration and anger, swiping her hands over the liquid on her chest and flicking it all at you, staining the perfectly white satin of your slip. You look down at it, and then back at her. You were about to go through the roof.
The amount of people watching in the immediate vicinity is the only thing keeping you from grabbing her hair and shoving her head into the dirt. You decide to scream instead.
It turns into more of a wail, pumping angry tears into fake sad ones. Coryo is there in a second. "Darling, what's happened?" He asks, horrified as he looks between the two of you, grabbing your shoulders.
"I-" You sniff, pointing to the girl in front of you. "I just came to offer her something to change into because that is out of dress code and I tripped and-" You hiccup as he's rubbing up and down your bare arms. "It was an accident, and then she... It was just an accident! Now my dress is ruined and, and-"
He turns his gaze to Livia who just looks pissed while you ramble on about having had a little too much to drink, that was all. He's sure that's not what happened, he knows his wife better than that, but this show was not for him. He looks her up and down, visibly disgusted by her choice of dress. It honestly looks better now.
"Coriolanus that's not-" She chuckles with the shock of the accusation, shaking her head as she pleads with him.
"It's time for you to go." He tells her, looking toward a member of security who's not busy with your father, quickly waving him over.
Livia looks at the approaching security man in shock. "I didn't do anything!"
"That dress and causing a scene over it is more than enough." He states, wrapping an arm around your waist and wiping your tears from your cheeks. "Let's get you some water, Darling. It's okay..."
"It's not!" You cry, gesturing to the few small drops of wine on the front of your dress. "It's ruined! She ruined everything!"
Just as she's about to be escorted out, you make eye contact with her, offering a smug smile. She scoffs, which earns her a grab on the arm and a more forceful expulsion from the reception.
"Y/N!" Tigris is rushing across the lawn toward you, careful not to stumble in her shoes and bridesmaids' dress. "What happened?" She asks, addressing her cousin now.
"She's okay, there was just an accident with a glass of wine. We're just going to take a few minutes. I'll help her change." He explains to her.
She nods, looking worriedly down at the small stains in your dress. "I should be able to get this out, alright?" She assures you, rubbing a clean spot of the fabric between her fingers to make sure.
"Okay, thank you." You sniff, leaning into your husband's side as he guides you back up to the house.
You get inside and upstairs to what has become your dressing room and secondary bedroom over the last year. As soon as he shuts the door behind you, you can't hold your laughter back anymore. You're practically doubled over with it, and immediately Coryo understands. He chuckles, shaking his head at you.
"What a show..." He grins fondly, pulling you into a hug which you happily return.
"Oh, you liked it?" You giggle, coming down from your laughing fit.
"It was wonderful." He agrees, kissing the top of your head. "For a moment I was worried about you."
"Aw, really?" You look up at him, jutting your lip out in a pout.
"Definitely." He hums, kissing you softly. "Now come on, let's get you changed, huh?"
"Please." You nod, kissing him again before pulling back to pull your next dress from the closet. "I was supposed to wear this underneath, but now I can't." You sigh, hanging the full dress on the door before pulling the wine-stained one over your head.
"Just that will do, I suppose." Coryo mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you toss the slip onto the ground.
"Oh, you suppose, do you?" You chuckle, reaching up to pull the new dress from its hanger.
"Mhm." He nods, planting a kiss in the crook of your neck. "Makes my job easier later."
You laugh, blush spreading over your cheeks and flushing your chest while you unzip the back. You carefully balance as you step into the opening in the fabric, pulling it up around your waist.
"Don't rush, Darling. It will probably take you a while to recover before we can return to the party." He says, watching you adjust the skirt before you plan on zipping it up.
"Good point." You agree, but make no effort to stop until Coryo places his hand over yours.
"What should we do with all this time we have to kill, hm?" He's already leaning down to kiss over the back of your neck.
"I feel like you have an idea..." You mumble, tilting your head to adjust to his presence.
"Have I told you how much I love you?" He asks as he gently pushes the fabric back down to drop in a pool around your ankles.
"You may have mentioned it..." You turn under his palms as they land on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "And I love you too. More than you could ever imagine, Coryo."
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galadrieljones · 23 days ago
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Tav/Astarion "emotional hurt/comfort" trope.
Because Astarion is majorly freaked out by the circus in Rivington. To be fair, Astarion would be freaked out by the cringe, uncanny valley "fun" of the circus, because to him it calls to mind the bovine nature of human boredom, and its pantomime equivalent to "real life," which horrifies him. It's essentially a cage full of masks, too many people who can't leave, walls on all sides as they all clap and nod in eerie unison. This reminds him of his own mask, his own cage, his own compulsions for performance, and it makes him feel unhinged. He is on the razor's edge. He would like to fight or flight immediately.
So his girlfriend Sansara the Rose, the elusive bard from Baldur's Gate, another high elf who loves him unconditionally, holds his hand and takes him behind the stage to show him the face paint. He is unnerved by the face paint. He tells her it reminds him of home in terrible ways. Part of what he always liked about her is that she doesn't "put on her face" in the morning. She just gets up and goes. She is like a sticky bun. She is a sun-kissed squeeze of citrus. She kisses his chainmailed shoulder, because it's all going to be okay, but she doesn't tell him that, not today, because he is occasionally stressed by her positive nature, which he can't help but view as naive. It's just fine, she thinks. He's doing just fine. He still wants to kill the clown.
On their way back to the crowd, San plays a little song on her lyre, just for fun, usurping the audience of another bard nearby. The bard starts an argument with her, insulting her needlessly and accusing her of trying to "steal his thunder." San outwits him, of course. The crowd claps. Her sharp tongue always amuses Astarion who is grateful for her patience with him at this haunted circus.
When they walk away, San tells him that she is glad he likes music, even if he doesn't like clowns.
"Music is not pantomime," he says to her. "Music comes from the heart. It cannot wear a mask." It's one of his rare earnest moments, out in the open, where others can see. They kiss next to the little guy who loves his wife and sells huge sculptures. The little guy says, "I like it!"
Back with Wyll and Karlach, San gets called up to the stage by Dribbles, who likes her singsong charm. Wyll is jealous because he LOVES Dribbles, a callback to his more innocent childhood. But then it turns out: that's not Dribbles at all! That's a fake. There's a fight. The impersonator bonks Sansara with a comically large hammer. She takes a stumble on the stage, and that really pisses Astarion off.
Finally! He gets to kill the clown. Which he does. With his sword. When it's over, Astarion feels a little better about the circus as he cleans the clown blood off his sword with a crisp linen handkerchief. It turns out they can just steal and stab their way through this place. It's no different from anywhere else they've almost died!
"Darling, let's go to the cemetery," he says. "There's a nice view of the canyon."
"That sounds pretty fucking good to me," says Karlach.
"I think I'd also prefer the company of the dead about now," says Wyll, picking the Displacer Beast out of Karlach's hair. "Can't say I like clowns anymore after all that."
So they go to the cemetery. Astarion picks the lock on the gate. As they stand near the fence and admire the canyon in the gentle light of the overcast afternoon, San says, "I didn't know you'd spent any time in Rivington. It's such a cow town."
"I've been everywhere in this hells forsaken place, love," he says. "It's like an anthill. I can't escape. I keep marching back. Like some fucking idiot."
"At least you're not alone this time," she says.
She's right, of course.
Karlach and Wyll, meanwhile, pretend not to watch them from under a nearby apple tree. Karlach eats her apple out of hand while Wyll cuts his into pieces with a knife. "You know I didn't like them together at first," says Wyll. "Thought he would break her heart. But now I see, his was already the broken one. She's like the sutures that hold the pieces together."
"That's a nice metaphor, Ravengard."
"Thanks, Karlach."
In a little while, it starts to rain. They decide to head back to camp. A priest is dead, they've learned, but they're all pretty much dead already. In their way. It can wait one night.
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wisteriaiswriting · 1 year ago
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Hello! May I request for Sova, Iso, Gekko, Jett, cypher, and Reyna reacting to a reader who absolutely loves sour things? For example she eats lemons like oranges in a daily basis and eats super sour candy like it's nothing
𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕪 ℙ𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕪 𝕃𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕫𝕪
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He’ll search around for any type of sour recipes, to either make them himself or find someone else if he has a lack of time.
Most of the time he’ll try the food, whether or not he actually likes them (I imagine him as a spicer type.) you’ll be able to have the majority.
He’ll search around for any type of sour recipes, to either make them himself or find someone else if he has a lack of time.
Most of the time he’ll try the food, whether or not he actually likes them (I imagine him as a spicer type.) you’ll be able to have the majority.
***
Hours ago he left, and the only answer you got when asked was ‘Market.’ It seemed he was planning something as he would normally tell you, and even ask if you would accompany him.
This time though you were left in the dark until he returned. Which luckily wasn’t too long ago, now you had to endure him removing you from the kitchen for who knows how long. First he leaves you then bans you from your own house? What was he up to?
Well luck seemed to be on your side today as he was quick to call for you. Returning to see a bunch of packets on the counter, a closer inspection only showed Russian writing on them. Even with the images you had no clue.
“Y/N, I believe you’ve been asking about my homelands candy?”
Oh…
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Majority of the time he just… doesn’t notice the amount of sour stuff you eat.
The only items he notices are the wrappers, fruits and other foods, although he won’t question you about it.
***
Recently Iso had started noticing a few things. Such as candy wrappers, especially sour candy. The fruit bowls had more lemons and other citrus fruits then the normal ones, the pantry was similar.
It wasn’t weird though, he had his preferences and you had yours. It just seemed to be sour food. While he wouldn’t eat it much if you enjoyed it he wouldn’t complain.
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He’s learnt to handle anything but sour growing up.
If you eat anything sour in his sight he will openly cringe, might say something as well.
***
Gekko was bored. Everyone else was either on a mission or just too busy to deal with him, except you. He found you in the kitchen, eating what he assumed were grapes, from a bowl.
“Mateo, what some?” You held your hand out, which held the fruits. Ones he took gracefully. The sweet flavour never showed, instead covered by immediate sourness. Causing him to spit them out.
“What was that?”
“Hmm?”
“Those!” He pointed at the mess.
“Oh, they’re Gooseberries.”
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She's cooked and tasted more than her fair share of sour food, so she’s learnt how to handle it.
Is aware not many people can handle sour well, but that won’t stop her from teasing anyone.
***
It was Jett’s turn to make dinner, and this time she made Tungsuyuk. She’s grown so used to cooking for the both of you she honestly forgot how others couldn’t handle the sourness of it.
But she also made yours special, able to give you a larger portion. Even then the others couldn’t handle it.
“Jett! What did you put in this?”
“C’mon Neon, I thought you could handle this?” Turns out she couldn’t, watching the group either give up or drink more water.
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Due to his connections and access, if there's something you want he’ll be able to get it, the only problem is if he will.
He is kinda a picky eater, also much prefers spice over sour. So he won’t try many, only a select few me might enjoy.
***
The mission brief had just finished, and unluckily for you Cypher managed to scurry off from you. So until he came back around you’d have to either entertain yourself or find someone, but it seems he thought of that already.
As a decently sized box sat on your bed, seemingly just delivered as all the agents were in the meeting. And on top sat a note.
‘My Dear,
Hopefully these are to your liking, I’ll be waiting for your answer.
Love, Amir.’
And you guessed it, the box was full of sour Moroccan snacks and foods. Knowing he’ll be ready to order them and more.
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This woman is not fazed, as she’s seen worse things. But will look at you like you asked the dumbest question ever if she sees you eating a lemon, at all.
From her experience souls taste… different to say. And a good few are weirdly sour, so she isn’t too put off by their flavour and sensation.
***
The day was just another, this one neither you or Reyna were to be sent on missions. So you spent it hanging around with others, while she was training. When she finally finished she started walking back to her room, passing you and Gekko in the living area.
A quick glance had her brain assuming you held an orange, nothing out of the ordinary. Until Gekko spoke up.
“Ew dude, why would you- stay away!”
At first she was alarmed until she remembered who you two were. Slowly stepping back to see you holding out the orange- wait no, that's not an orange. You were holding a lemon, one that currently had a bite mark.
At the realization she could only stare at you, turning into a glare when you made eye contact.
“Want some?”
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faestronomy · 1 month ago
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Off the Table
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Crux dragged you out to another one of his parties, but this time, it might be fun as someone suggests a game of strip poker.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
All you could feel was the music thrumming through your body, and the haze infecting your mind as you downed yet another shot. The group surrounding you cheered as they finished their shots as well. Someone you couldn't see wrapped their arm around your shoulder, shaking you with excitement. The sudden jolt made you feel that foreign, feigned joy that the alcohol provided.
Usually, these types of scenes just aren't your thing. The appeal of a bunch of personalities jammed into a small home, which is always sure to start a fight, never seemed worth the hype. However, tonight you came to a small house, filled to the brim with people and music. Not because you wanted to come, but because you had to.
For him.
The oversized, overconfident, and overly annoying guy, chainsmoking blunt and cigarettes on that dingy couch that you're sure has seen its fair share of vomit. What was it about him that had you feeling like you had to do things you hate just to stay in his eyesight? You fuzzily recall the church sessions you've attended just to sit near him for as long as possible, and the effort you started showing recently by wearing your nicer, newly bought clothes just to impress him. Sure, you've had crushes before, but this felt different and a bit scary.
Those feelings of fear and confusion are soon flushed out by yet another drink being pushed into your proximity. A fuzzy-faced woman grins as she gives you a new cup, a whisper in your ear that you already can't recall before she moves off. The new drink in your hand feels heavy as you turn your gaze back to him, Crux, the reason for these conflicting feelings. You quickly take note of how many others surround him, and how he casually carries the conversations he's in, easily making them laugh.
You quickly take a gulp of your drink for confidence, your face cringing from the taste of pure alcohol, before stumbling over to the couch. You feel small as you make your way to him, muttering small apologies to the people you bump by, some giving you those unkind glances that make your stomach drop. As you near the couch, you already feel how heavy your body is as you crash on the furniture and directly onto Crux's lap, barely saving your drink from spilling onto him. A warm breathy chuckle hits your ears as you look into those blurred green eyes that keep you wanting, a small drunken smile on your face shortly emerging.
"Are you seriously already this drunk? I swear I've seen you only have like two drinks." He laughs, his tone teasing. You could feel the drunken effects on your emotions as your face drops into a pout. "I had two drinks and three shots, give me some credit." You respond, a whiny tone mixed in with a slight plead. Crux laughs again, but this time feeling a bit more full as he catches his breath before taking another drag of his blunt. Crux exhales the smoke slowly like he’s savoring it, but his eyes stay locked on you. There’s a twitch of something behind them, a flicker of warmth, or maybe warning but it’s gone before you can catch it.
“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, drinking like that,” he says, lips quirking.
You want to answer, to keep the moment going, but before you can open your mouth, someone calls your name from the kitchen.
“Yo! We’re starting strip poker, and you’re so playing!”
You twist your head and see an acquaintance waving you over, already barefoot and grinning like a devil. A handful of people are gathering around the scratched-up kitchen table, shuffling cards and hollering dares. It looks reckless and dumb and fun, which is normally the very thing you avoid, but your drunken state has you feeling excited.
You glance back at Crux. He shrugs, looking unfazed.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Get your ass kicked. Just don’t cry when you end up in your underwear.”
You laugh, pushing yourself off his lap, suddenly light and bold. “Please. I’ll have everyone naked before I even lose my socks.”
A few minutes in and the game is already chaotic. Many girls were already left in their bras, and most men were down to their underwear as well. Lucky for you, you are somewhat decent at this game. Maybe it's the drunken confidence helping you bluff but you don't mind. You look down at yourself, only have lost your shoes, socks, and jacket. Not bad.
Soon another hand is dealt and you mentally facepalm as the hand you receive is troubling. Two pairs, but low barely enough to stand a chance against the drunken boldness around the table. You try to keep your expression neutral, leaning back in your chair like you’ve got a royal flush, but the guy across from you narrows his eyes, calling your bluff with a smug grin. The round ends with you groaning as you're forced to peel off your shirt, revealing the simple lace bra you decided to wear.
You're so distracted by the warm flush of embarrassment that you don't notice the footsteps behind you. Soon that well-known lanky figure is standing behind your chair, leaning down and talking into your ear.
"I thought you were winning, what happened?" He teased, but you noticed a tinge of something else in his voice.
You quickly turn your head to him, surprised by the proximity. If you already weren't red with embarrassment, you most definitely are now by how close he is, you can smell the smoke on his breath. Crux's hand casually rests on the back of your chair, fingers tapping against the wood, but there’s a weight to it like a claim.
“Didn’t know you were putting on a show tonight,” he says lowly. His words are playful, but his eyes are not. You feel your heart pound in your chest as he speaks. Before you can respond, you feel the back of the chair being pulled out as you're moved from the table. Apparently you don't get the message to stand up quick enough because Crux is now grabbing your arm and making you stand.
"This party is shit, let's go." He says with an annoyed tone. You gather your clothes from the floor and table, putting them back on as Crux is already moving to leave making you hobble after him as you try to put on your shoes.
As soon as you both step out of the small house you feel the bitter cold air touch your skin. You've gotten used to the cold while being here in Evergreen Hollow, the green sky and stars no longer give you a queasy feeling in your stomach.
You still follow after Crux, his normal laid-back posture seeming a bit rigid as you walk. You catch his eye and he gives you a charming smile, making you think that maybe you're overthinking his walk. Like he’s trying too hard to look unbothered.
You walk a few more steps in silence, your breath fogging in the cold air.
“Crux,” you say carefully, testing the weight of his name. “You good?”
He shrugs, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Peachy. Just didn’t feel like watching you take your clothes off in front of a bunch of thirsty idiots, that’s all.”
"Didn't think you'd be the jealous type," you say, half joking but also hoping for a real answer.
Crux stops walking, turning to face you. His eyes meet yours, sharp and clear even in the dim green glow of Evergreen Hollow’s sky.
“You think I’m not allowed to be?” he says, voice low. “You think I don’t notice when you wear that perfume that smells like lavender and trouble? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention?”
Your breath catches, not from the cold this time.
“I notice everything,” he adds, stepping closer. “And it’s driving me crazy.” His eyes narrow slightly, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips but there's something raw behind it now.
“If you’re jealous,” you say, your voice steady despite your racing heart, “maybe you should just say it outright.”
Crux lets out a low laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe you just said that. He takes a slow step forward, closing the small gap between you. You can see the way fingers twitch like he’s debating grabbing your face.
“Fine,” he says, the word barely more than a breath. “I’m jealous. I’m insanely jealous. You sit on my lap, pout at me like that, make me feel like the only person in the room and then you go play strip poker with some half-naked guy named Trevor?”
You raise an eyebrow, "His name was David, but continue."
"Not the point here. The point is, yeah. I’m jealous. I’ve been jealous. And I’m trying hard not to be a dick about it.”
You look up at him, your breath catching again. “You’re doing a terrible job.”
He grins at that.
“So fix it,” he says, voice dropping. “Tell me you want me to be jealous for a reason.”
The air between you sizzles. You grab the side of his jacket pull him down to you and press up on your toes as high as you can go. You lock lips with him and feel everything melt away, the cold, the awkwardness, the party, all of it.
Crux kisses you like he's starved. The kiss is far from gentle, it's messy and slightly animalistic as you both paw and grasp at each other, the heat of it all teetering on desperation. You feel his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The sharp contrast of his cold fingers on your warm skin sends a shiver down your spine.
You pull away from each other breathless and dizzy, Crux slightly leans into full height, his eyes half-lidded and dazed as he stares down at you.
You can’t help the smirk that crosses your face. “Guess you won’t have to drag me out of any more parties, then.”
He huffs a laugh, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Still might. But next time, I’m calling dibs before the strip poker starts. Can't let Trevor have all the fun."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
i really tried to not make crux sound super ooc, so i hope it doesn't come off this way but it probably does.
i hope y'all enjoyed it <3 i haven't written a proper story in over a year so i might be rusty.
the art banner is work by the creator of reanimated heart @doubledeadstudio
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alchemistc · 11 months ago
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Just thinking about Buck internalizing 'i don't think you're ready'. Thinking about him running back over his 'I'm an ally' speech and cringing because God, WHY did he say that, why couldn't he have just been cool.
Thinking about him actually sitting in it, and thinking about why the interruption from Eddie made him Act Like That. There's obviously the newness, the discomfort, the fact that Buck hasn't really had a chance to explore much of "Oh, I am attracted to men." yet. He was so busy with nerves and he wanted more time and then there was Eddie, who knows (probably too much) about Buck's dating history and he Hasn't Told Eddie about this. He hasn't had a chance to wrap his own mind around it yet.
Buck usually goes to three people: Maddie, Eddie, Bobby.
And he hasn't talked to any of them. And he's stewing, trying to figure out WHY, because he's always been supportive, so why should he feel any different when he's on the other side of it.
He goes to Maddie and pushes his "I've always supported the gays" agenda AGAIN and Maddie has to parse the details, gently shove Buck in the right direction - well, if you're MORE than an ally now, that could be something that is preventing you from telling your best friend the truth, let's explore that some more.
It takes him two tries with Eddie, and maybe it's the setting (why would you think it was a good idea to come out in the middle of the station, Evan Buckley, supportive ally or no that's not exactly gonna put you in your comfort zone, c'mon) or maybe he just needs to work his way up to it because Eddie is obviously Preoccupied. But he almost lets the moment pass, again, at home, in his own space, bc Eddie is still Preoccupied. But -- but he doesn't WANT to, because they are talking about their love lives and Buck wants Eddie to be an active participant in his thought process just like he always is.
We were on a date, he says, and Eddie takes a second to process. Which. Fair. Buck had leaned against his kitchen island for like ten minutes after Tommy left, that night after he kissed him. Eddie prompts him to repeat it, and it doesn't suck, actually, it feels like a weight lifting off his chest -- "Is that weird?" -- but of course Eddie doesn't find it weird, he just didn't KNOW (so many pieces of the puzzle fall into place for Eddie, holy shit his best friend maimed him because he had a crush on their new friend, holy shit had Tommy been slyly pumping his son for information because HE had a crush too???).
And suddenly Buck is absolutely free to bitch about his love life again, and Eddie is there to give him advice and be fully in his corner and Buck has exactly what he needs to go Full Buck. He's got his sister, and his best friend, and maybe he actually doesn't need Bobby this time because it feels right to call Tommy up and set up a meeting for coffee.
No longer bogged down by "well I'm an ally why couldn't I have been chill about being on a date with a dude" - he can text Maddie that night and be like "Hey is Tommy already invited to the wedding?" and grin when she texts back "Buck what does this mean" and send back "You said you wanted to meet him".
With Eddie's support and his "well then he's an idiot", Buck has the time to mull over what he wants to say, what Tommy makes him feel, what he would want if Tommy was willing to give him another chance. He doesn't want it to be one failed date, he doesn't want to hide Tommy away, he wants something real and something true and something he can share with his family and friends and he thinks maybe Tommy could want that, too.
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quintessenceofdust88 · 6 months ago
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(you guys this just came to me while I was almost falling asleep it's unbeata'ed and unedited and I'll probably cringe at it in the morning but 3am me doesn't have that filter so)
Tommy's not sure what wakes him up; at first, he thinks it's the light of Evan's screen, but that can't be it. He has slept many a time with that light upon his face when his husband gets caught up in a research binge.
Then Tommy realizes it's the soft sobbing that's making Evan's shoulders shake slightly, and he's sitting up in bed and alert in seconds.
"Baby" He calls urgently, placing a hand on Evan's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Evan turns around to face him, also sitting up, and the knot in Tommy's chest loosens slightly when he sees the smile on his tear-stained face. Happy tears, then. A common thing for Evan for the last few months, but still quite unexpected at 3 in the morning.
"Did... Did you know they have fingernails already?" Evan asks, his voice thick with emotion as his hand moves gently on his bump which is already starting to stretch the old T-shirt he's wearing (and Tommy knows it's only a matter of time until he switches for Tommy's slightly larger ones).
"They do, sweetheart?" Tommy whispers in awe, his hand coming down to join Evan's over his belly. He knows that twelve weeks is too soon to feel anything; even if there are two babies, but he likes to know their babies are right under the joined hands of their dads.
"Y--yeah. And eyelashes too. I... I was just reading about fetal development and twins and... Fingernails, Tommy. I... I don't know why, but it made them seem so more real for me. There are two little people growing up inside of me. We made them!" He says, his voice filled with awe, and the tears start running down his face again. "Ohh, come on, that's not fair, the irrational crying was supposed to have stopped already!" He whines, and Tommy more than quickly pulls Evan to his embrace.
Evan drops his head unceremoniously in Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy runs a comforting hand on his curls, the other one still protectively draped above the bump.
"Well, if you ask me, crying over our babies' fingernails is not completely irrational" Tommy quips, gaining a wet chuckle for his efforts. "I... I get what you mean. It makes them... It makes them tangible. More than an idea"
Evan nods against his shoulder, and Tommy has to hold back his own tears as the thought fully enters his mind.
As he gently kisses Evan's forehead and convinces him to drop his phone and actually get some sleep, Tommy can't keep a grin from his face.
Two little people. Growing inside Evan. And they made them. What a wonderful idea to fall asleep to.
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theoreticalfishsticks · 5 months ago
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Warhammer 40k x Spider-Person!Reader
Sorry if this is cringe, but the autism got to me and I am physically incapable of not wanting to smash my current favorite medias together like a tyrannical toddler making their dolls kiss.
I purposefully kept it vague on exactly which legion found them and whether it was pre or post-heresy, cause I think, going forward if I write more, I'd like to jump around and just write for whoever, whenever suits my fancy, lol. This is meant more as an introduction of the concept than anything else.
Reader is non-binary because I said so.
divider from @/enchanthings
Word Count: 1929
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If someone had told you this morning that by the end of the day you’d be yearning for the comforting embrace of a back alley dumpster, you’d have called them crazy. But, alas, here you are: your suit in tatters, surrounded by the stench of foreign exhaust and something sickeningly biological, about to be absolutely eviscerated by some dude who looks like he just crawled out of Doctor Octavius’ worst nightmares.
Now, one might ask ‘how’ exactly you found yourself in this situation. And it would be a fair question! Really! Unfortunately, fair as it is, you don't actually have a proper answer, yourself.
‘Why’ you ended up here, however, was relatively simple: You’re the one and only Huntsman. A friendly neighborhood spider-person, looking out for their community. And most recently, what exactly your community needed you to be looking out for was a symbiote, loose in the city. 
Too bad, then, that lady luck must have had a bone to pick with you that day.
Because following an embarrassingly long chase of the damned thing through the New York City sewer system, the hungry, hungry parasite just so happened to stumble upon one of Os Corps. many, many underground research facilities. Seriously, why do they have so many of these things? One that apparently – based on what is to come – must have been deep in the midst of research on some form of teleportation or another. 
Long-story-short: In your desperate attempts to not be grabbed and eaten by an ornery symbiote, you may have stopped paying attention to what exactly was behind you whilst evading the weird alien goop. And what would you know? One careless dodge (and a near comically late tingle in your bones from your spidey sense) and a stray shot of said goop managed to hit and set off Os Corps’ latest and greatest affront to humanity!
BOOM! 
In the blink of an eye your entire world had been rendered to naught but blinding light, sharp pain in every inch of your body and a ringing in your ears that, in the moment, felt like it was going to be permanent. 
You really can't be sure how long you were trapped like that; your consciousness suspended, unable to gauge the passage of time, nor feel your material surroundings. It felt like a lifetime. But, then again, you have been known to be a little bit dramatic from time to time, so who knows.
What you do know for sure was that it ended. The feeling of being suspended, that it. And the light. The pain, of course, stayed. As did the incessant ringing. 
If you had to describe the feeling, you'd say it felt almost like your bones were in the process of trying to evacuate your body. Like there wasn't enough space in you, for you. It was agony. 
But, worse than the pain, you just felt… Wrong. As though your eyes had been pulled out and put back in the wrong sockets. Your tongue was the wrong texture. Your teeth were upside down. Your liver was too smooth. And a thousand other minute sensations that couldn't be real flooded your body. 
At least, you hoped to God they weren't real.
Lucky for you though, you didn't have much time to dwell on the uncanny sensation, as a clawed metal appendage descended from somewhere above you to close tightly around your throat. Your body felt like it was on fire as you were hefted up from the ground by your neck. Another claw grasped at your head and tugged away what was left of your mask.
You want to reach out and snatch it back. You want to struggle and kick and scream. But you can't. You can't will yourself to move at all as your eyes snap open at last, and you come face to face with without a doubt the most horrific monstrosity you've ever seen.  
Though now a putrid blending of flesh and machine, the thing before you looks as though it might have been human at one point. But that point was far from now. Now, what skin you can see is sallow and sunken, with veins protruding all across it. It has what looks like a gas mask embedded into its face and where the flesh meets metal is layered in inflamed, gnarled scarring.
Mercifully, however, its face is all you can clearly see. The rest is hidden beneath a rather ostentatious looking robe, disguising what you can only imagine to be equally horrific means of attachment for the several mechanical appendages that flow from it. Including, of course, the one currently choking the life out of you.
For a long moment you can only stare at the thing in front of you, gaping like an idiot, before you finally register that its horrid mask is moving. It's talking to you.
At least, you assume it is. Though, now declined significantly in volume, you still struggled to make out anything through the ringing.
You try to say as much, to tell the nightmare that you couldn't understand it. But it seems as though you weren't successful, if the violent, impatient shake the creature gave you in response was any indication. Or maybe your meaning came across fine and the thing was just an asshole. Both seemed possible. 
At last, the ringing begins to fade more or less and you could scrounge together two whole brain cells to rub together and bring your mind into focus.
“Intruder. Identify yourself,” the creature demanded, its voice horrifically garbled and interspersed with high-pitched whirring.
You’d love to do so, if only you could actually take in the air required to make noise. This hurdle, however, seemed to be lost on the mechanical horror before you, leaving you to squirm helplessly in its grasp whilst pawing at the claw around your throat in the hopes that it would get the message. 
“Magos, release your hold. They cannot speak if you’re obstructing their airway,” comes a low voice from somewhere to your right, rumbling through the air at a frequency you register as strange, to say the least. The words aren’t shouted, but they carry the same weight as though they were. 
You’re immediately and unceremoniously dropped by the “Magos’” and allowed to crumple to the ground with a dull thud. 
Sputtering and coughing as you desperately suck in some much needed oxygen, you’re finally able to turn your gaze to the man who’d probably just saved your life, for now anyway…
...
‘What. The. Fuck.’
The sight that greets you is not one, not two, but three, absolute behemoths, all in armor so bulky you struggle to wrap your head around the idea that it can move at all, staring straight through you.
'Is literally everyone here some kind of fucked up weirdo?'
They stand in a triangular formation, two flanking the one taking point, who you can only assume must be the one who spoke. The rear guard both sport guns that look to be the size of your torso, trained directly on you. 
“Now that you’ve caught your breath, identify yourself,” says the central figure, his voice rolling over you like thunder rolls over a storm. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, a familiar tingle running up your spine. 
'He’s human, for sure,' you think to yourself, 'But only in the sense that I am too.'
Between still ragged gasps, you manage to spit out your name. You decide to give both your real one and your alias, sensing that now is not the time to play coy.
The man repeats your name back at you, testing the syllables on his tongue. It doesn’t look like he likes them. “I’ve never heard such a name, nor of the title ‘Huntsman’ on any of the worlds nearby. Where do you come from,” he asks you.
‘Worlds nearby…?’  That doesn’t bode well for any hopes of an easy road home.
“Uhhh, Earth,” you squeak, though it sounds more like a question than you’d like. 
“‘Earth?’ Do you mean Terra? That's nonsense, there is no–” he begins to respond in a vaguely irate tone. 
And you panic. 
You’re tired and confused and in so much pain. And the idea that this man might just kill you over a misunderstanding eats away at whatever remaining self control you had. 
So while cutting him off probably isn’t the greatest move, that’s exactly what you do. “Not your earth! At least, I don’t think it is,” you say, tripping over some of the syllables in your haste.
It’s a safe bet. Nothing around you looks familiar. They’re calling Earth(?) ‘Terra.’ Whether or not it's even tangentially the same world doesn’t really matter to you right now. Right now, you just need them to hear you out. To understand that whatever trespass you’ve committed was an accident and that you would also prefer you weren’t here right now. 
“I-I…,” you stop and close your eyes, forcing yourself to take a couple deep breaths to try and steady yourself. He hasn’t ordered his men to shoot and he seems to be waiting for you to continue; and for now that’s enough for you to draw courage from.
“I’m gonna be honest with you, man. I don’t know how I got here either. At least, not in a quantifiable way…,” another breath, “I was in the vicinity of a misfire of a prototype teleportation device,” You decide to keep the true extent of your ignorance to yourself. These men don’t seem like the type to take kindly to it. For now, you just had to settle on what seemed most likely and sell it. “The thing was wildly unstable, and based on the fact that absolutely nothing I have seen in the last few minutes is even vaguely familiar to me, I’m pretty sure that space is probably not the only thing that machine moved me through.”
“Expound.” Still not dead, that’s encouraging.
“Well–Uh, You said that you hadn’t heard of me ‘on any of the worlds nearby,’ right? That implies regular space travel. And well, I know for damn sure that humans are not space-faring where I’m from! At least, not like this,” you give a vague gesture to your surroundings, “So, if I know that shouldn’t be possible where I’m from, but the abject reality before me says it is, I feel like it’s a perfectly fair assumption to say that I must then not be in the same time as I was previously. I mean, space and time are inherently enmeshed with one another, right? So, it’s really not that hard to imagine that a faulty spacial teleporter might invite temporal displacement as well...” You’re out of breath again by the time you’ve finished your nervous rambling.
The man just looks at you. They all do. The weight of their combined gaze makes you feel like an insect trapped beneath their thumb. 
You hate this. You miss your mask.
You never were any good at schooling your expressions. So you can only imagine what a pitiful, deer-in-the-headlights-esk look you must be giving them in return for their own utterly unphased, emotionless ones.
(Though, looking back on it later, you’ll come to appreciate that it was probably the guileless nature of your expression that actually saved you here.)
After a long pause, the man sighs and at least half of the tension previously present in the room dissipates. “So you’ve never heard of the Imperium of Man before, then?”
“The what of Man?”
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shinakazami1 · 7 months ago
Text
Transcript of IGN Handsome Jack QnA
This thing doesn't have the whole text but - questions and some of my fav Meg-Jack interactions :^] I tried to write their speech patterns as close as possible
youtube
Transcript under the cut:
0:30: Question: Is Buttstallion the best horse ever Jack : Well it’s my horse. That I made her ( <- FACT CHECK: he bought her) out-out of diamonds, so…
0:45 Q: What it’s like wearing a face (mask - though in video it's funnily shown) J: It’s not a mask, it’s a freaking face! Do people think I’m wearing a freaking mask on my face? MEG!! I’m kidding. You’re cute tho. You know what it’s like—do you ever put a onesie on right out of the dryer? (whisper) it’s like that. (normal volume) It’s cosy. It just feels right. And a cool thing about wearing a face is – you can swap them out with however many people you kill in course of an afternoon or a week or whatever. You get off that face – you put on another one! (laughs mid-sentence) It’s fantastic. I can look at whoever. I could look like you Meg if I wanted to. I might later. Wear your face.
1:43 Q: Boxers or briefs? J: Commando!
1:50 Q: What dead celebrity would you bring back? J: Tom Cruise. (learning he is still alive) He’s not dead. Oh. Well-well let’s kill him and then I can bring him back to life or whatever.
2:10 -2:52 (Off top) J: Where did you get these pretzels Meg: From the Hyperion vending machine J: They’re delicious. (long silence) They’re good. (longer) I promise someone will clean it up – my God that’s what happens If you drink beer at lunch, people!
(….) J: Pandorian, people are dumb but loyal. M: I’m loyal sir. I’m very, very very- J: Nah, so much of this. M: Oh yes, sir.
2:15 (Answer 3:25) Q: Do people recognise your voice in public? J: I’m all over the fucking place. I’m in megaphones, I’m in-in like convenience store, vending machines so—yeah. Yeah uh, I have to say. Yeah.
3:48 Q: Favourite type of weapon? J: What do you think, Meg? M: Uhh-anything that kills, sir. J: Well, I would say Hyperion would be a good start, wouldn’t you. M: (louder, nervously) That would be a very good start. J: There you go. Smart… uh. (Awkward horrible silence he prob wanted to say ‘smart girl’ and im glad he didn’t say it cus Jesus Christ man how much cringe can you spout out of your mouth). Anything made by Hyperion and anything that and anything that inflicts, like you said. Fairness to you. The most damage possible.
4:09 Q: (person wanted a greeting for her cat Tunses) J: Hey Tunses.
4:30 Q: Which Vault Hunter do you hate the least and which the most? J: I try not to play favourites. I hate them all the same. M: They’re all pretty terribl- J: (growling) They’re all equally hateable. M: They’re all pretty terrible. (you go girl say your lines) J: Each and every one of them. M: They all want to kill you, sir. J: God I hate them so much.
(Off top) J: (soft laugh) I enjoy your company M: You would make a great voice actor, sir. J: You know I’ve heard that! Yeah yeah yeah – people tell me sh# t all the time. You know. Like : , uh- I (chuckles) get that you, babe- M: You can cook, sir?! J: I- uh, um, I, uh – yeah. I'm really quite handy in the kitchen. M: Yeah? J: Yeah. M: What do you like to make sir. J: I find it- I find it z-zens me out after coming home and washing all the blood out of my clothes.
5:25 Q: Why are you so perfect? J: I don’t know, ask my mom. (pause) You can’t – you can’t because she’s dead, I killed her – but if she was alive, you could ask my mom.
(offtop) J: (playing the game) Where is my oxygen level? M: So, your oxygen level isssss – where the hell is it? J; Come on Meg – I cannot with your (Meg breaks out laughing) you stupid little sh#t like this (they both laugh) and you’re letting me dooown. M: Oh my God I’m the worst!! J: No it’s right over (chin upfront sounding voice idk how else to call him becoming a goblin) it’s right over there, did your little brain fall out of your head, Meg? M: Sorry, should be on your map. J: (genuine soft sounding) Why am I so mean to you? M: I don’t know, sir. J: (still soft, but cool persona) AAA that’s cus of what- that’s what I do.
J: How does Handsome Jack butt slam? M: I think youuuu- J: Anyway he likes (laughs) M: (chuckles) Yes, yes, exactly- J: Joke right there. Welcome
(…) J: That’s what the hip kid say. Instead of , they say (he becomes sonic and laughs like him). Did you know that? M: No, sir J: Yeah. That’s what they do.
(…) M: (after Jack killed a few monsters) Good job! J: Thank you Meg! Thank you for being such a loyal supporter. M: Absolutely sir: J: Really appreciate you, Meg. M: You do sir??? J: Claptrap (HEEEELP THE TIMING??? WHY DOES HE SAY THIS) M: That’s great. Oh- J: I appreciate you Claptrap.
(…) J: Gotta get some things- M: Yes. J: Gotta get some uh- hopefully some grenades. I love- I love the grenades! I got to say, I’m a huge fan (starts chuckling) blowing sh#t up.
7:25 Q: Is Handsome Jack happy? J: (laughs) That’s a great question. It’s deep, isn’t it? Um, there’s a lot of smiling going on here (chuckle) but really, I’m dead inside. It seems like everything I say has just a weird connotation to it. Some kind of inappropriate connotation to it. (sincere) Did you- did you ever noticed that? M: No, sir. J: Good answer! (laughs)
(Offtop) J: Ah for f#ck sake (kills a skag) M: That’s where you’re supposed to go. J: That’s – so I got to go outside. M: Yeah, you have to go outside. J: So you were right. Before. First time for everything, Claptrap. M: Yes. Yes sir. J: Yes siiiir.
(…) M: You’re doing great, sir. J: Atta girl. (pause) I got- I got to stop saying that. (laughs) Okay (nervous chuckles continue) M: And you got another badass rank so you can use that as well. J: Oh, okay – that’s see- now that is some useful information. M: (joyful and surprised) Really?? J: Yeah!
(…) J: (Asks about a game feature. Ben, someone out of the mic, answers before Meg in a monotone voice) Why is Ben so much smarter than you. Ummm- (nervous chuckle turning into silent cry-laugh between Meg and him) M: I’m doing my best sir. J: Ay-ay.
(…) J: What the f that just happened here. That just- I just picked that and now I can-okay. M: You have- you have- you have multiple. So it-do-does it— J: Oh, you’re God, how do you make so much sense when you say things. (…) J: (talking about enemy name pronounciation) Had to do an r-roll with that criiiticic crrrretin (??? im sorry I cant hear it well 9:15 pls help ) M: That’s very – that’s very fancy, sir. J: Mmm. You know what I am? M: What are you? J: I’m so fancy. M: You’re- J: I’m schmancy. (Meg snickers) You cut that one out too, Ben. That was- that was some bullsh#t (laughs) M: You’re so fancy, we already know.
(…) J: (About game dialogue) I don’t know who that is but I find them (emphasis) extrrrRRREMELY annoying. M: Oh they are the Vault Hunters si- J: (immediately) God they’re f#cking annoying, aren’t they. M: They are really, really annoyin- J: I feel like they’re trying too hard, that’s the thing. That’s the thing that’s standing out for me here. M: Yes, I think you should kill them. J: It’s one thing to be naturally funny and then there’s another – it’s another thing to- to be like – you know what I mean like – put yourself out there too much, feel like you’re overcompensating is the world I’m looking for. M: Don’t think you have to worry about that at all. J: (smooth convo swap) You know what I’m liking the most about this game? M: What do you like- J: The lack of Claptrap. M: Oh-uh, well, he is, he’s in here, if you want to- J: Listen, that’s fine – I’m in a good mood run right now, you don’t have to ruin it byyy talking about how I’m going to run into Claptrap. M: (silence) Okay sir. I’ll be quiet, sir. (pause) Yes. (pause) OH!! There’s Claptrap (in-game) Claptrap: HELLOOO- J: Oh you little son of a b#tch. Welcome to the pit of pseudo-solid sorrows, that is some alliteration. That’s a literary term for (long sign) all you people that didn’t finish school. Meg. Arena – of, partially see-through Triumph, the Hippodrome of marginally tangible everything else. (quieter) Do that make any sense to you? M: (joyful) No sir.
(…) Axton (in-game): Is it going to be a LONG story? Gaige (in-game): Yeah, just give us the Bluff’s Notes. J: (Jack is mimicking Axton’s voice) Wait, is it going to be a loooooong story? M: Yeah, they just keep talking- J: Axton is a handsome guy. M: Kinda looks like you sir- J: A little TOO handsome, if you ask me. M: He’s not as handsome as you. J: Well- I mean (chuckles) good luck with that, right. M: I mean, he might sort of be but- J: Oi! (pause) Slow your roll, sister. All right – wait, I was too busy talking, cus I love the sound of my own voice, now the f#ck am I doing? Am I loaded for bear? (Meg is trying to talk) Oh wait- M: I feel you are. No, you’re full (on amo), oh- J: Oh yeah, okay. That’s what she said. (immediately quickly nervously) Joking there. Okay if you want to, TAKE IT MAG feel free take it. M: No, that’s- J: (forceful) TAKE the joke, MAAG. M: I-I- J: Take the joke or you’re fired, Mag – or wait actually – take the joke or I’ll set you on fire, Meg. M: (playful) That’s what she said, yeah? J: God it just-it just sounds so much better coming from you for some reason.
(…) J: I think living on the moon would kind of suck. M: Why? J: I mean uh- I mean if you had to run like this all the time, you’d think it would be more advantageous or better than uhh, running –uh, say with like, uh, gravity? M: (smacks lips) Yeah, but you can do- J: Yeah but gravity Meg, is something it’s-it’s a force of energy that keeps the- it’s the Earth and the moon create, and it keeps things on the… neverm- ff, M: That was a great explanation, sir. J: (defeated) That’s fine. M: I have no idea what the hell you just said. J: (chuckles) It’s really – it was really scientific, wasn’t it? - M: It’s a thing! J: It’s a thing with the… M: I think it’s a good place to wrap this up.
(….) J: You want to do another-another thing? M: Uhh, I don’t, I don’t think we have time to do another thing, sir. J: Is that because I’m so busy and important that I have to go do stuff that is, I have people to do, and places to see- M: You’re- J: Places to see and people- I mean, places to go, people to see, things to do. M: All that. J: Yeah. M: All that more. J: Correct (laugh) Well listen, kids, first of all – you’re welcome, because this has been a real treat. Sorry about- what was your name again? M: Meg. J: Yeah, she tries real hard but uhh- let’s face it. Uhhh I don’t know. We will see. M: Thanks. J: You still might get a retirement package out of this. M: Oh- that’s great. That’s uhh- J: But it’s been a lot of fun, will go to build homeless shelters, and, (pause and rapid speech) dig wells. M: In Africa. J: Yep. M: And by Africa, we mean Africa on Pandora. J: (giggle) Yes.
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