#new game plus bullshit

[minkhollow42]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58257394/chapters/160626034

In this chapter: Super special crossover event!

[arolesbianism]

Oh also further update on my experiences with the new oni dlc. Bionic dupes struggle in early game ceres a bit I think (their poor poor gears)

[korattata]

i think pokemon masters would be a better game if it didn't have 43872491083rt574294013t57 million things to do

[amiyakc]

I wanted to play a game so I started a new Dragon Age Inquisition play through

But that made me remember that I haven’t played Dragon Age 2 much so I hopped onto that and started making several new play throughs

But that made me remember how much I love Dragon Age Origins so I hopped onto that and have been lost in the brain rot

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

christ more dragon god sy yapping:

all those b-points he got from finishing that first quest? gone. my mans got like 100 every time he blessed a new generation of peak lords, plus the 500 he got from finishing that first main quest {From the Ground Up}, plus whatever he got from fighting off all those beasties who tried to kill his little cultivators way back when.

but when he unlocks his human form, he does not unlock clothes, and he has to buy them from the system store! truly unfair! he looks pretty similar to how he looked in his first life, just a little less sickly. he also has to buy a sword from the system, which is frankly bullshit. but lanrui is a lovely sword—an almost pearlescent sheen to the blade, with peach blossoms inlaid in the hilt and a dragon scale sheath that…it’s almost certainly made from his scales, actually. weird. after buying everything he needs from the bullshit system’s scam shop, he’s left with about 150 B-points.

after his magical girl transformation from gigantic dragon god to gangly human wrapped in way too many layers of sumptuous green and blue silks, shen yuan is sent off the mountain on a couple of missions from the system. pop into the demon realm to slay this evil, fend off these fierce corpses attacking this little town—tutorial shit. it’s weird having such a small body again after six (or seven hundred???? he’s not thinking about the enormity of time right now) years as a gigantic dragon. his steps feel a thousand times lighter, and the first time he tries to pick a fruit from a tree, he kind of explodes it with spiritual energy. the tutorial is, unfortunately, necessary.

the system is almost helpful when it shares his stats and all his cool dragon skills. his official name here is lord canglong, but honestly it would be so hard to explore this world if people were falling all over themselves when they heard his names. did dragon gods get personal names before courtesy too? fighting with the system gets him a corny, half-assed compromise.

he still gets to be shen yuan, but while his first life’s yuan was 垣 yuán (wall), in his second life it’s 愿 yuàn (desire, hope), and the shen he has is… very transparently 神, shén (god, deity). he’s got stupid amounts of spiritual energy, he doesn’t need to eat or drink, and sometimes plants bloom around him since he’s the also kind of the god of springtime?

right when he gets excited thinking about how he’s a god!! (the dragon god in PIDW!! that bastardization of qinglong that airplane wrote who never did shit to defend the realms until his mountain was being destroyed by binghe merging them!!) the system butts in to remind him that there are limitations. he can’t kill humans except in certain circumstances or else he’ll be punished, which—fine, he didn’t plan to go around murdering people anyway? his dragon form will be locked whenever he’s not on canglong peak (bullshit!! what kind of half assed nerfing—) and there’s a permanent penalty on his account, [Dragon Ex Machina], that threatens to penalize him if he uses his dragon god powers to bully the plot into going his way.

so what’s the point of being a dragon god, then!?!??!?!

he spends days bickering debating with the system while he learns to use his sword and qi without exploding whatever he touches, but the system refuses to budge. if he tries to bully the plot too much, he’ll be punished. it’s bullshit, but so is this whole novel he’s found himself in, so…

shen yuan is ready to spend a few more days acclimating before he gets a game plan together but that flies out the window when something starts burning at the back of his mind, screaming that something’s wrong, something is in danger, part of his territory is threatened. he hasn’t felt that since the last demon invasion, and before he can stop himself, he’s mounted lanrui and darted off toward that feeling that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

he ends up having blown in a wall of qing jing’s discipline hall, the tail of shen qingqiu’s whip caught in his fist (and fuck, that hurt to catch!!! his hand is definitely bleeding) as he stares down the man who was really just about to start whipping a child. a couple of disciples have gone white; a couple others have fallen over. the only ones in the room unaffected are shen yuan, luo binghe whose eyes are wide as he gazes up at him, and fucking scum villain extraordinaire, shen qingqiu. and the scum villain’s first words to him, lord canglong, dragon god of qing jing peak???

“move, or i’ll beat you too.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 4

Logan Howlett + Omegaverse

Feral mutants? Feral mutants. Readers based on a coyote, because I like coyotes, and it feels funny. For once, the reader is on the scrawny short side. I had to look up coyote and wolf behaviours for this, and I still feel like I didn’t do well. My version of omegaverse amongst feral mutants, enjoy.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Logan had been living amongst the pack of wolves for who knew how long. When one lived in the woods, as far away from civilization as they could get, you had a tendency to lose track of time. You noticed the passing seasons, only based on the fact that the pack would migrate to better areas, and that pups would be born. What Logan did notice, was the other feral mutant who’d edge at the borders of his pack’s territory.

Everyone knew that the whole alpha beta omega hierarchy was bullshit when it came to wolves or other animals. But for mutants, it was very real, only feral mutants though. For the most part it didn’t mean anything, only a certain feral edge to the feral mutant, even when integrated into society. But putting two together, could cause problems along the way.

Logan had always prided himself on having a steady mind and having patience, at least when it came to living amongst his pack far away from human stresses. But that stupid feral, the one that reeked of coyote instead of wolf, was getting on his nerves. Especially with how they dragged their alpha scent up against the same trees Logan would mark, as if taunting him.

Logan may have been an omega, but that in no way made him weak, that much was clear with just how much of a heavy hitter he was. His usual patience amongst his pack was hanging on a thread though, and when he finally caught that stupid loner feral marking up the spot logan had just marked, then he saw red.

The other feral was younger than Logan, at least he appeared to be, or maybe that was just his mutation. He wasn’t as hairy, not as muscular, more on the lithe nimble side which made him fast. Which made you fast. The circles you ran around logan, nipping at his sides and thighs, jumping away quicker than he could snap back at you, it was all a game.

It was only when you two had travelled deeper into what Logan registered as your territory that he realized what you had done, or at least he thought so. Logan was used to most wanting to pick a fight, so that was what he got ready for, unsheathing his claws and barring his teeth with a feral snarl. The mutant was left confused though, as instead of charging at him with the intent to kill, you just jumped close, nipped at him some more, and jumped back.

Logan wasn’t really sure what to do with that. Maybe hed spent too much time around people, or maybe he was just too old, but having a young buck like you showing such clear interest was new. Logan had had many partners over the years, don’t get him wrong, but no one quite like you. No one as deeply intertwined in their own feral side as he was, at least nobody that wasn’t an enemy.

But Logan also wasn’t gonna act on what was stirring inside him, without knowing how present you were mentally. He knew from experience that some mutants just withdrew into their mind for their own safety, letting their bodies carry on without them being present. You did seem a little confused when Logan sat back on his haunches, staring you down.

“I’m Logan” he finally grunted out, at least wanting to confirm that you understood. You seemed uncomfortable with talking, having most likely been alone for a long time, but relief did fill his system when you replied back, giving your own name.

Getting down onto your stomach, you start dragging yourself towards him, like a more submissive gesture that you wanted to get closer, you wanted him. So, what if some didn’t like omegas that were bigger and stronger than them, you were a man of refined taste, and Logan was the most delicious omega you had ever seen. Plus, hed allowed all your games for so long, if he had really wanted you gone you would be.

Neither of you really liked talking much, instead just relying on the cloying scents hanging in the air, only growing thicker and headier with time as you finally got up between Logans thighs, your sharp canines digging into the strong muscle of it. It was more a request than anything, and had you had a tail you would have been wagging up a storm, as Logan finally huffed and gave a grumble, before rolling onto his front. There wasn’t much presenting in his position, but you really hadn’t expected that from a guy like Logan either, so you didn’t mind.

As you bit your way up Logans thighs, you finally put your jaws into it, lapping up the droplets of blood that escaped before the bites healed back up again. There wasn’t much need for talk in a situation like this, the only noises you cared about were the ways Logan groaned as you buried your face between his cheeks, lapping at whatever you could reach.

Unlike popular belief, omegas didn’t create slick. You guys were just people, with a little bit of extra. So, it wasn’t like Logan was gonna start slicking up and start popping out pups just because you fucked him. Hell, you didn’t even have a knot, if your dick started growing like that you’d start fearing for your health. So really, the whole secondary gender thing for feral mutants didn’t matter much, outside of some changes in pheromones, hormones, and different preferences. You could easily live normal lives without being an alpha or omega posing any problems.

It was most likely the fact that you two had been up here, far away from everything, that had driven you both into such an instinct fuzzy frenzy, your claws digging into the meat of Logans thighs to hold him still, as he snapped his teeth at the air and growled, grinding back against you.

Neither of you had the patience to work Logan open with your fingers, the pitch of Logans noises letting you know that the older mutant didn’t have all day. So, with a few extra wet swirls of your tongue, you finally pulled back, almost clambering up onto his back.

You were skinnier than him, and much less hairy, but it just made it feel extra good as you glued your chest against his spine, your own puffed growls against his ear as you ground against him. Logan gave another growl, one of his hands reaching back to grab onto your hair and wrenching your head to the side, a snapped “get on with it bub” leaving him, voice thick and dangerous.

And who were you to deny him his request. It took some fumbling with your hips to find where it needed to go, since you didn’t want to unwrap your arms from his torso, hands too busy fondling his hairy pecs. Logan groaned as you finally pushed inside, shoving his hips back against yours to make you hurry up, he wasn’t scared of a little pain.

As you bottom out, Logan could at least appreciate one thing about alphas. They may not have knots, or some kind of powerful alpha voice, but shit were they big, and by god did he like being full, something hed blame on his omega needs.

It may have been cold out, but neither of you could feel it, as your bodies moved in rough desperate ways. The forest floor was torn up by Logans claws as he huffed and groaned, the many clearly not one to just moan for no reason. You on the other hand was struggling, face buried against the back of his neck as you panted and keened. You truly were a greenhorn against a seasoned professional, your lesser experience clear in your quickly depleting stamina.

Had it been any other time Logan might have taunted you a little bit. Maybe a few jokes about you not being able to keep up, but right now he just found himself growling that you couldn’t give it to him as hard as he wanted it. Part of it could probably be blamed on his adamantium skeleton and healing factor, but there was also part of you that was trying to be careful. Both for him, but also to keep yourself from finishing to face.

It was damn near impossible, you almost wanted to cry. He was so tight and hot inside, his growls and scent driving you mad. You wanted nothing more than to bite into his neck and mark him as yours, even if you both knew it didn’t really matter in the long run as your healing factors to wipe away any mark or scars you left. It didn’t keep you from licking at your teeth though, your entire body shaking weakly, trying to keep yourself from tumbling over the edge.

You didn’t stand a chance, as Logan seemed to be able to sense or smell just how close you were. So, like the asshole he was, Logan put more energy into his hips, rolling them back against you until you were keening into his neck, hips stuttering and shaking as you mumble out warbled apologies.

Falling limp against his back, you felt not worth your salt. You had tried to entice him for so long, and here you were bursting not even five minutes in, he must be annoyed with you. Count you surprised when Logan makes you pull out, only to flip you onto your back and sit right back down on you, his grin cocky and dominant in ways you just couldn’t match. “don’t worry, pup, we will work on that” he growled, the noise coming from deep in his chest, as he started bouncing in your lap.

One of his rough hands wiped away your tears of overstimulation, looking almost like he was pitying you for picking a fight you just couldn’t win. Hed have you up to par in no time, don’t you worry.

[thewertsearch]

TT: It seems that you consider me to be, no less than one hundred percent of the time, an obstinate stick in the mud. […] GT: Wait… GT: "It seems"?? TT: What? GT: Oh for fucks sake. […] GT: This is your auto responder.

Wait, really?

If it is, it's very good. I guess it's possible that Bro wrote all those responses himself, but I suspect instead that the thing is just actually sentient. Why not, right?

Plus, it explains why Bro doesn't like that Jane enjoys it so much. Like, imagine the AI you made as a personal assistant is more popular than your actual personality. That'd hurt!

TT: Bullshit. TT: I'm being like, the perfect dude right now. A fully fucking legitimate human being. GT: Ok then check this out mr legit human dude. GT: Excuse me sir not to be a bother but could you please tell me all about this strider fellows auto responder? TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 96% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now. GT: You see! TT: What if I was just fucking with you there?

Definitely sentient, and pretty funny to boot. The responder is set to answer someone fun Sburb questions I never thought the game would address, such as:

Does it think an AI can count as a person?

Will the AI at least have a sylladex?

TT: Would it really be so unthinkable for a human to type that? GT: Because you always say shit like that after i catch wise to your games.

'Like that' is important. It means there are variations in how it responds, which means the AR is actually making new shit up.

Plus, this is long before ChatGPT came into the picture, so the shit it 'makes up' is supposed to be a sign of true creativity, rather than generative AI slop.

GT: Hey. Tell me about the auto responder. Make it snappy shitknickers! TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 93% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now. GT: Gee dude you sure typed that exact same thing pretty fast. GT: Are you still fucking with me?? TT: It could be a coincidence that I typed the same answer. GT: You always type that answer!!!!! TT: It could be a coincidence that I always type the same answer.

Oh my god, this guy rules.

Can we keep him? C'mon, surely there's enough room to squeeze a fifth Player into the session. He can be our new Davesprite!

GT: This is pointless im not having this conversation unless its with my REAL LIFE FRIEND. THE ONE WITH HUMAN FEELINGS WHO ISNT A PRETEND PERSON INSIDE SUNGLASSES.

God damn it, Jake! That was not what I meant by 'the new Davesprite'!

[visceravalentines]

small town, sunday night

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

a discarded scene from a longer fic. Bo's pretty sure by now you know who you belong to, but he oughta make sure, just in case. on ao3 here if you wanna.

2.4k words. porn with plot if you squint. extremely dubious consent. Stockholm syndrome. forced exhibitionism, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, emotional manipulation. tried out something new where the narration is written more in Bo's voice and i'm interested to see if that works for you or nah so lmk.

The whole family’s gathered in the den on a Sunday night. It ain’t tradition, not really, it’s just that if everyone’s gonna get together it’s gonna be on Sunday. 

Nobody felt like cookin’ and he don’t trust you ‘round the knives yet, so Les picked up some fried chicken from the Kroger and Bo said grace and you behaved yourself like a nice young lady, and now everybody’s sittin’ in front of the television drinkin’ beer and watchin’ football like some kinda all-American family. 

He’s got you sat on his lap in a sundress that belonged to some other bitch before you. It don’t fit you right, barely covers your ass, but that’s fine by him. His brothers keep eyeing you like you’re the skin mag by the cash register. He'll let ‘em look; in fact, he wants them to look. Plus it freaks you out, makes you press yourself against his chest in search of protection and boy, if that don’t make him wanna laugh out loud. He’s all too happy to oblige, wrappin’ you in his arms and whisperin’ sweet sugary bullshit in your ear. You’re servin’ yourself up to him on a silver platter and you don’t even realize it. 

He snags the six-pack off the side table and hands it to you, watches you wrestle a beer from the plastic ring and pop the tab for him without being asked. 

“Good girl,” he says, and kisses your cheek when he takes the can from you. You're bein’ such an angel today that it’s got him nostalgic for that bitch with the bad attitude. He wonders if she's gone for good or if he could dig around in that pretty head of yours and find her. “You want one?” 

You hesitate. He watches you do the math. You know by now you can’t get somethin’ for nothin’, but apparently you think you got plenty to give because you nod quietly. 

“G’on.”  He dangles the six-pack in front of you and lets you pick one for yourself. He watches the way you set your lips on the rim of the can, watches your throat bob as you swallow. Your gaze shifts uncertainly to him and he winks at you. You almost—almost—give him a shaky little smile. 

You adjust yourself in his lap, tug on your dress, try to get comfortable. He rests his chin on your shoulder and waits for you to settle. He likes the smell of his soap on your skin, even if it makes him miss the animal stench of you from before. Bringin’ you home was a good call. You clean up sweet and so far you’ve been learnin’ your lessons real well. Shit, he’s almost proud of you. 

Once you’ve mellowed out, sippin’ on your beer and pretendin’ this is where you wanna be, he slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips twitching at the hem of your skirt. He watches you frown and glance down at his hand and then back up at the TV like you think you can ignore him. He pushes your skirt up an inch or so and bites back a smirk when you shift and squeeze your knees together, shooting an anxious glance in the direction of his brothers. 

“Somethin’ wrong, baby?” he whispers. You answer with your eyes, give him this pleading look that makes him want to tear that dress off you right here, right now. “You’re alright. Watch the game.” 

Reluctantly, you turn back to the TV with this blank expression on your face that tells him he has your full attention. He moves his hand between your legs and gives your waist a hard squeeze when you stiffen. When you glance at him again he treats you to an ice-cold smile. 

This is a test, girl. Better hope you got a shot at passin'.

You’re bare beneath the dress ‘cause what would you need panties for, and he worms his hand between your thighs until his fingers find that soft, warm center of you. You jerk like a mare tryin’ to shake off a fly, but you don’t make a sound. He probes until his middle finger slips like silk into your slit almost up to the second knuckle and Jesus, girl, you’re so wet it makes his mouth water. This is why he never listens to you, because you don’t even know that you’re lying when you do it. 

He eases his finger out of you and back in deeper, watches your lips part but no sound come out. He does it again and your lashes flutter like a doll’s. You’re sittin’ still as a statue for now but he’s gonna break you. Promise. 

“You been so good, baby girl,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His thumb prods at your clit and you strangle the life out of a gasp as it tries to sneak into the room. “Wanna make sure you know how much I appreciate you behavin’ yourself.” He rubs that sweet spot in lazy circles and savors the way your back arches slow, so slow, tryin’ so hard to keep it a secret that he’s finger-fucking you ten feet from his family. 

You think they don’t know, huh?  You think they don’t see you’re nothin’ but a slut?  Maybe you oughta think a little less.

You get that look on your face like you’re determined to take back control of yourself but you belong to him, girl, that body is his. When he pushes another finger into your pussy your toes curl on the arm of the chair and this little moan makes it out alive and both his brothers were raised huntin’ so they know what a creature in distress sounds like and all the sudden, you’re the Sunday evening special. 

“Well looky here,” Les says, and wolf whistles. 

Your eyes go wide and you cover your face with your hands and Bo can’t help it, he breaks into a grin. He thought he’d wrung all the shame right outta you by now, but apparently he thought wrong. 

You peer over your fingers at him with tear-filled eyes and this time, you might just be cryin’ for real. You look so betrayed it makes him sick, makes him wish he could take it back just so he can do it to you again. 

“’S alright, baby, they’re just lookin’,” he coos.

“We are most certainly lookin’,” Les agrees, and ordinarily Bo would smack him, but the way your lip quivers makes his dick twitch. 

“Pretend they ain’t even here,” he says low in your ear. “Unless you like that sorta thing. You like bein’ watched, honey?  You some kinda slut?”

He already knows the answer even if you don’t. He can tell by the way that sweet little cunt keeps spasin’ around his fingers like somethin’ dying. And you don’t deny it, just keep beggin’ him to stop with those big doe eyes. He don't gotta work hard to pull your focus back to that ache between your hips. All it takes is a little spit on his thumb, a little less friction on that poor swollen clit, and you’re melting in his hands. 

“I’m just showin’ ‘em, baby,” he whispers. “Just makin’ sure they know you’re mine.” 

He collects your wrists with his free hand and pulls them down to expose your face. You make a sound, some kinda protest, but you don’t fight him off like you used to. That girl’s been buried six feet deep inside you and you’re all that’s markin’ her grave. 

“Hey Vince. Do me a favor?”  Bo tosses his head towards the camera sitting on the coffee table where he left it, a brand-new roll of film ready and waitin’ inside. His twin snatches it up without question and puts his goddamn gift to good use. 

You’re fightin’ it hard, makin’ him work for it, but he knows your body better than you do by now. When you cum, you try to hide it, bitin’ your lip and screwin’ up your face. But you can’t keep that pussy from grippin’ him tight, throbbin’ like your life depends on it. You squeeze his hand. A whine sneaks out of your throat and he catches it in his mouth, swallows it whole, savors it to the last.

You slump against his chest, let your head roll into the hollow of his shoulder because it's got nowhere else to go. You're soakin’ his shirt, soakin’ his hand. You're made of water, girl. Maybe that's why you make him so goddamn thirsty. 

“Well she’s a delight,” Les says, slaps his thighs, stands up. “I'm gonna head home ‘n jerk off unless you gents need anything.”

He has the gall to reach for one of the Polaroids Vince is layin’ out on the coffee table like playing cards and Bo hisses through his teeth. 

“Leave it. I ain't handin’ out souvenirs.”

Les rolls his eyes and slinks off like a stray mutt. Vincent looks for a second like he might make a case for himself, but thinks better of it and rightly so. He hands Bo the stack of photos and creeps back downstairs where he belongs and now it's just you and him and the TV static. 

You're stiff as a board in his arms but you're clingin’ to his shirt with all you got so which is it, woman? He kisses your temple and starts shufflin’ through the pictures. Mama's favorite son ain't immune to the charms of the pornographic and most of them center on the view up your skirt, the curve of your ass, your juice shinin’ on his knuckles. 

But there's one, just one, of your face lookin’ up at him. With these big, round eyes fixed on him and your hands cupped together in front of your chest. You look like you're prayin’, girl. Like you're worshiping him. 

He licks his lips, looks down at you. You’re starin’ straight ahead into space, head on his chest, tits swellin’ against the bodice of that dress as you breathe deep in and out. He can tell you're searchin’ for the way back to that place you used to go, safe and warm without him. 

You can't find it. It ain't there anymore. All you got is what you got.

“Can we go to bed?” 

He’s surprised you’re speakin’ to him. Your voice is low and rough from the tears. You don't look at him until he tucks his finger beneath your chin and tilts your face up. There's somethin’ bright and broken in your eyes like glass. 

“Please.”

He hates givin’ you what you want, doesn't want you gettin’ the wrong idea about who's in control here. He can't be spoilin’ you any more than he already has. But he prizes that look of relief and gratitude you give him when he's generous. That little furrow between your brows that melts away when he's good to you. 

“Sure, baby.”

There it is. You slump against him beneath the force of your relief and fuck you for the way his hands move to hold you without him thinkin’ about it. 

He don't carry you to bed. You're not a goddamn princess no matter what you might think of yourself. But you drop that dress that ain't yours to the floor and crawl naked into his sheets and when he climbs into bed beside you, you inch your way over ‘til you're pressed up against his ribs. 

He can barely hear you breathin’. You're hardly even there. The old you would be rippin’ into his stomach, thrashin’ fit to snap your own spine. This new bitch, though, she’s manageable. Sweet, even. 

Probably you don't mean for him to hear it but something like a sob sneaks out of you and it gives him butterflies. He rolls onto his side and slings his arm around you. 

“Don't cry, now. You're alright.”

You shrink into him, make yourself small and bite-sized. You need him so bad and he knows it, figures you’re startin’ to figure it out too. What would you do without me, huh?

“Was I too mean, baby?” You choke on those tears and he bites his lip. “I'm sorry…you forgive me?”

You whimper, can't commit. It ain't your fault you're stuck tryin’ to make sense of it all, ‘specially with him feelin’ you up like he is. He can't keep a straight face, grinnin’ into the back of your neck. “I just got carried away, showin’ off my girl.” He pushes his hips against your ass. “You are my girl, right?”

A breath shudders through your body. You arch your back, don't even know you're doin’ it. He wraps his hand around your throat like a collar, nice and snug, squeezes just a little to get you back on course. “I asked you a question. You got an answer for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I'm your girl.”

Your voice breaks and whew, he's got blood rushin’ every which way. “Tell me you forgive me.”  

You don’t respond. He tightens his grip just beneath your jaw, brings his lips to your ear. 

“Fuckin’ answer me, huh?  You forgive me?  I gotta hear it, baby doll, or I’ll be up all night.”  

His fingers dig into your flesh. He can feel you shaking like a leaf in the wind with fear or fury or something else he can put to use. He’s grindin’ against that ass, just about ready to flip you facedown and fuck the sense back into you, when you finally give him what he wants. 

He always gets what he wants, baby. Haven’t you figured that out by now?  

“I forgive you,” you rasp, and he loosens his grip and feels your tits press against his arm as you suck in air. 

“Ain’t you sweet,” he says, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head, and when he rolls back an inch or two you scoot right along with him until your back is flush to his chest again, and that’s fuckin’ hilarious, huh?  Just can’t get enough. 

He lays in the dark and feels your breath on his knuckles, feels it hitch, feels it slow, feels it mellow out and go feather-soft, and before he knows it, he’s out like a light. 

You wear him the fuck out, girl. 

[teastainedprose]

Breaking Point (Homelander x reader)

Homelander delights in teasing you until he needles you too much on the wrong day. 1.5k words | Jerk Homelander to guilty Homelander, hurt/comfort if you squint. Homelander x gn!reader, implied chronic pain reader, implied plus-sized reader, [A03]

You are so soft. Your flesh gives under his grasp when he yanks you by the arm, careless with how it makes you stumble. Homelander laughs mockingly at the small, annoyed twitch of your lip as he tugs you close. Too close.

"Hey. Where are those new poll results, sweetheart?" The words are a purr, warm breath a caress against your cheek as he looms too close to be proper. Everything done with calculated intent to pull a reaction from you.

You stare blankly up at him, expression schooled neutral. You're used to this game. You've watched other employees crack and fracture under the pressure Homelander exerts. You refuse. You're made of sterner stuff, a master of hiding how you're honestly feeling.

He knows he gets to you, but you rarely let it show on the outside. You can school your face, but there's no controlling how he makes your heart hammer in your chest. How being so close to him sets your nerves alight in a pleasant sensation. Homelander leers down at you, pleased at how your pulse skitters under his scrutiny. He releases you, stepping back as the persona of a proper gentleman settles into place. Homelander smiles as he waits for your reply, the well-practiced one that the cameras always catch.

You're quick to give Homelander an indulgent smile back. An exchange of fake expressions as the two of you play nice. You look so placid and calm before him, but Homelander knows better. He can hear your heart jumping in your chest.

"I can pull them up for you right now if you want?" You reply, the words even and calm as you look up expectantly. You're too tired to deal with any bullshit. Homelander's included. You're always too tired.

In his eyes you're so amiable, so sweet. So disgusting. Your response isn't what he wants.  It's controlled and that's no fun. He's not satisfied with your performance. Homelander sneers, whirling away with a flutter of his cape. "Never mind."

You stand there, grimacing in his wake as you rub the spot where he grabbed you. You briefly let your honest emotions flicker freely on your face while his back is turned.. No eyes on you at this moment as sheer frustration and pain settles in. You take a breath as your mask of calm is set back into place. You go on with your day.

Why are you so soft? Under his hands and how you interact with others. Why do you always hand out such easy smiles so freely? He hates that about you. You carry that weary calm like a cloak, but you'll shake it off with a vibrant smile and a laugh if the right person engages you in conversation. They distract you from your fatigue and you light right up.

Homelander has yet to earn one of those sunshine smiles. He gets the fake ones. The ones that make him feel like a child clamoring for attention that you only indulge with your patience. He hates it. It makes him feel small. A god should never feel this way around such a weak mortal as yourself.

As any god does, he lets it bruise his fragile ego. The mortal must be punished and punish you he does. Every day Homelander tries to get a rise out of you. He tries to crack that cheerful facade you've welded in place. It must be fake. No animal has such a cheerful disposition naturally. There's no reason for it because you're so often a lethargic thing. He can smell the weariness on you, the stress, and even pain. How the fuck are you still smiling?

-and why the fuck do you never smile at him? 

Homelander decides, in his usual mature fashion, that if you won't smile? He'll bait out your anger instead. He wants, needs a reaction from you beyond those fake smiles.

He continues to goad you day in and day out. He'll slide right up next to you, too close, and lean down to ask directly into your ear for a report or some statistics on what his numbers are doing. Any old excuse to engage with you. He gleefully invades your personal space and is extra handsy because Homelander knows you hate it while he's aware of the effect it has on your body. 

If he grabs your shoulder and squeezes just so, your breath hitches. If he places a palm against the small of your back, your pulse races away without fail. If Homelander berates your fashion choices or comments on how tired you look, you flash that hollow smile while your eyes speak loathing at him. He wants that fire, craves it.

The tired fatigue that you always carry briefly pulls back to hint at a simmering something. One day he'll get you boiling over. In anger, in lust. It doesn't matter which one as long as it happens with him there to witness it.

Homelander finds himself brimming with anticipation for that day until it finally happens.

Everyone has a breaking point, even you.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It's too much, please just-

He's caught you trying to hide away in a conference room, the scent of adrenaline in the air as your heart races. A glance with his x-ray vision reveals you staring off with shaking fists clenched against your plush sides.

Finally!

Will you lash out?  Will you bite back? The thought sends a thrill through Homelander at seeing little Miss Sunshine finally rattled. There's a storm brewing on your face as your fingers tighten. It's an expression Homelander knows he's worn many a time. The sort of look that has interns scattering and Ashley stammering.

What a delight it'll be to see what you unleash. What can you possibly do, as small and soft as you are? Will it be like watching a kitten hiss and claw? Adorably pathetic.

He strides into the conference room with a smirk, the door clicking shut behind him. "There you are! You missed today's meeting, you know." He chides softly with a waggle of one finger as Homelander strides closer. You stare up at him, eyes blazing.

"Now what are we going to do about that?" Homelander goes on, voice as smooth as honey as he smirks down at you.

Something in your expression shifts. A crack in your mask appears.

Gotcha.

"Well?" He prompts, expectant. Giddiness trickles down his spine as Homelander grins wide, fangs on display. He can't wait to see how this rage of yours plays out.

Except you don't unleash anything on him. You don't even insult Homelander, which would give him reason to taunt you further or retaliate. It would give him a reason to finally lash out at you in earnest, but all you're doing is standing there.

Your expression crumples up like wet tissue. The tears are white hot and silently streaking down your face in an instant. The sound you make is beyond pathetic as you drop back into your seat, huddling into yourself. Homelander watches stock-still as you draw your legs up, arms coiling about your knees as you bury your face away from his gaze.

It's a truly pathetic sight, sobbing like the little mud person you are.

Homelander should feel triumphant. His grin twists to a grimace. He awkwardly shifts, gloves creaking as he balls his fingers into fists at his side.

Why isn't he pleased? He's watching you shatter and it doesn't wash him in the usual delight bringing misery to others does. Your sunshine is gone and it's raining on your parade, which is exactly what Homelander wanted.

Your crying should amuse Homelander. He's not amused. Instead, there's a sinking feeling within the pit of his stomach. A dead weight settles heavy inside as all his amusement flees at the sound of your whimpering sobs. It's a foreign sensation and Homelander doesn't like it one bit.

Homelander works his jaw as guilt chews away at his insides, stuck to the spot hovering over you. You continue to cry, quieter now with your back bowed and face hidden. He can smell the salt of your tears easily. 

Silently, he reaches back to pull up the length of his cape. This Homelander offers to you. He doesn't have a handkerchief like a proper gentleman, so this will have to do.

He knows he's broken something. Carelessly snapped it in two. Homelander has done it countless times before. The snap of a spine. Fizzle pop of a control deck. The crackle and sizzle of flesh. The wet sucking sound as organs spill on the floor. It's natural for a creature such as him. Things breaking is a fact of his life. He's never felt guilty about any of those times. Guilt is a rare emotion for Homelander but now it's clawing up his throat, threatening to choke him. 

Homelander blinks and refocuses his gaze as he feels a tug on his cape. He watches in a detached way as you dab at your face with the fabric, sniffling loudly. Homelander can't make himself apologize. He doesn't know how.

Instead, he asks in a surprisingly tentative voice. "Bad day?"

That takes you by surprise as your gaze snaps to him. You stare a beat up at Homelander and then you smile. It's a quavering sort, but it's an honest smile. The sunshine rushes back into your face as Homelander sucks a breath in. Were you always such a lovely little creature?

"Yeah," You say slowly. "Something like that."

[venus-haze]

Under My Skin (Black Noir x Reader)

Summary: Just when you think you don’t have a chance with Black Noir, an investor gala gives you a new opportunity to get under his skin.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also the song I’ve Got You Under My Skin. I’m so glad I’ve finally gotten a chance to write for Black Noir! Pre-season 1 where you’re in The Seven. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The piece of paper on the table in front of you was mocking you. Black Noir had already won three out of the four tic-tac-toe matches you were silently engaged in during The Seven’s daily briefing, and with the way things were going, he was poised to win a fifth. With a huff, you drew a hopeless circle and silently slid it back to Noir.

“Nightowl,” Homelander said.

You looked up, bringing your attention to him. 

“Great work on the team-up with Noir the other night.”

Noir slid the paper back to you, his tic-tac-toe win marked with a clean line, but he’d also drawn a smiley face.

You smiled. “Anytime.”

Homelander continued on, and you only half paid attention, your focus increasingly on the man sitting beside you. Even before you joined The Seven, you admired Noir for his stealth and prowess, something you aspired to. Upon your first team-up, it was clear your powers, most effective at night, complimented his incredibly well. Plus, he seemed to like you from the start, which put you in Homelander’s good graces most of the time. 

Absentmindedly, you drew a little heart on the paper, feeling your face heat up when you saw Noir’s head turned toward you. He didn’t acknowledge the drawing, instead beginning a new game of tic-tac-toe. Embarrassment flooded your chest, blood rushing in your ears. You hoped he didn’t think you were being weird.

“Last thing…” Homelander said, reading off the agenda. “Oh yeah, investor gala this weekend.”

“Great, another ass-kissing convention,” Maeve mumbled.

“Can we make sure shrimp cocktail isn’t served this time?” The Deep asked. “I just feel like—“

Homelander’s jaw clenched. “Jesus Christ, do I look like a caterer, Deep? Am I carrying around a silver platter–”

After a few more moments of bickering, Homelander ended the meeting, not without everyone still grumbling under their breath about the gala. No one particularly liked schmoozing over rich assholes, but they made your lucrative paychecks possible, so it was a necessary evil. 

You and Noir hadn’t finished the last round of your game, but when he left, he took the paper with him. 

You sighed. You knew you had it bad for him, but it was tough to gauge his feelings for you when his face was constantly covered by his mask. Even when you blatantly flirted, he seemed unaffected by your advances toward him. Of course you’d fall for this mystery of a man, the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. Your endeavor was starting to feel hopeless.

“So, when are you gonna make a move on Noir?” Homelander asked, walking out of the meeting room with you. “And don’t give me that ‘we just work together’ bullshit. The tension’s so thick I could laser through it.”

“You can laser through anything.”

He rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face. “Look, there’s only so long I can take the two of you making heart-eyes at each other. I mean, get a room.”

“He makes heart-eyes at me?” you asked softly.

“Yes, so do something about it already.”

“Maybe at the gala. Everyone’s there to see you, anyway.”

“That’s true. No one would really notice if you and Noir weren’t there,” he said, before giving you a slightly painful pat on the shoulder. “Well, except me if you’re loud enough.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Thanks, Homelander.”

You never took his comments like that to heart. You knew you weren’t one of the more interesting members of The Seven, especially compared to the likes of Homelander and Maeve. It was a blessing in disguise, as you ended up stuck doing far less schmoozing than they did. Homelander could hide his disdain for whoever Vought wanted him to entertain for the evening, but on more than one occasion, you’d been on the receiving end of his rant about “pandering to the mud people.”

Noir always showed up to these events, despite not interacting with anyone unless it was to get food. Once in a while, you’d watch as someone tried to start a conversation with him, only to be ignored before awkwardly making an excuse to leave. At least he’d give you the time of day, silently letting you people watch with him, acknowledging your observations about the various guests with a nod, or on rare occasions, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly when you’d said something funny. You always felt especially accomplished then.

The night of the gala was only nerve-wracking because you were finally going to be forward with Noir and see where that got you, rather than your tentative approach in the past. 

When you arrived on the floor where the investor gala was being held, you went through all of the necessary introductions as quickly as you could. Across the room, Black Noir was playing the piano, as he tended to do during crowded events. You’d asked him before where he learned to play, and he wrote simply on a cocktail napkin ‘My grandma.’ As much as he trusted you, there were still parts of himself that were guarded, carefully revealing pieces of his past to you, though you could never fully put the whole picture together. In all the years you were a member of The Seven, you weren’t sure you ever would. 

His past didn’t matter to you. You were fond of the man he was, even if he didn’t reveal his whole self to you. Still, you wished you knew more. He didn’t seem to have any family, at least that he was in contact with. Then again, most of your teammates had complicated relationships with your families, yourself included. That one talent of his, however, showed that at one point there was someone he was close to, that he had a life outside of being a member of The Seven. You hoped the two of you could have that together.

Finally able to slip away from the people whose names you couldn’t be bothered to remember, you made your way over to Noir. He looked up from the piano, tilting his head a bit in acknowledgement of you.

“This party’s so boring.” You made a point to lean against the piano, letting the spandex of your suit highlight your body. “I mean, I can think of much better things you and me could be doing with our time.”

You weren’t sure if he was nodding along with your sentiment or the music. Ever so frustratingly difficult to read. Taking his response in stride, you sat down next to him on the piano bench. He didn’t stop playing, but he didn’t move away from you either. 

“Will you show me how to play?” you asked.

He paused, the soft music stopping momentarily. With a nod, he shifted closer to you, placing his gloved hands over yours. You let him guide you, though your gaze was on him rather than the keys. 

“You’re great with your hands, Noir,” you said. “I mean, playing piano, fighting criminals, I’m sure there’s more you can do, if you ever wanna show me sometime.”

No reaction. Maybe it was useless. Maybe Homelander was just messing with you. Maybe—

He rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. It was something, finally some indication that he returned your affection. 

“You wanna get out of here?” you asked softly. “I only came for you, anyway.”

He took your hand in his, the music from the piano ceasing abruptly again. He brought his pointer finger to his mouth, and you giggled despite his silent instruction to be quiet. 

Glancing around, you noticed everyone else was preoccupied, mainly with competing for Homelander’s attention, as usual. The perfect opportunity for the two of you to slip away from the party with ease. Stealth was his speciality after all. 

You let him lead you away from the gala and to an empty balcony on another floor of the tower. The city seemed to sparkle especially bright that night. Feeling bold, you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand still intertwined with his.

“I wish we could be like this more often,” you whispered. “You’re the only person I like spending so much time with. I think of you, and I—it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted you to know.”

After a few minutes of silence, Noir moved away from you, reaching for something in his pocket. A folded piece of paper, the same one the two of you had been playing tic-tac-toe on just a few days earlier. He handed it to you, and you scanned the page before landing on the heart you’d drawn, finding he’d drawn another one around it.

“This is so high school,” you laughed, nevertheless taking his covered face in your hands and kissing him. “So, what do we do now, loverboy?”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you could’ve sworn you heard him sigh contentedly.

[minkhollow42]

In this chapter: Sae faces some harsh truths.

[icbgwy]

THE WAY THINGS GO ♱. ── 西村力

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⎯‎⎯‎⎯⠀⠀⠀⠀⋆⠀⠀⠀⠀ׄ⠀⠀⠀一

riki ‘ni-ki’ nishimura stood on the court of the basketball gym, missing every shot he took. on the rare occasions he would succeed, it was sloppy.

this court was his sanctuary— not the empty mansion his parents bought to show off to other parents in seoul when they first moved to korea from okayama, japan.

here, on the hardwood floor of the basketball court, his worries melted away. every negative emotion he’d been harboring throughout the years would be irrelevant.

riki was naturally gifted at the sport, and combined with his obsessive drive for perfection, he had become the best basketball player seoul yeonhwa high school had ever seen.

yet there he was, losing his skills, his spark, and soon enough, his passion if things kept going the way they were headed.

it had been like this for weeks now, and he had no idea why. physically, he was fine, the picture perfect representation of a healthy teenage boy. emotionally? somewhat stable, though he was still recovering from yet another breakup with his toxic on-and-off girlfriend, choi soyeon but that never threw him off his game, if anything it fueled his drive towards perfection.

riki groaned in frustration. jake and heeseung exchanged side glances as they worked through their own shooting drills, both debating on whether to say something to riki or let it slide once more like all the other times.

even the basketball coach had started noticing riki's game or lack there of, and he wasn’t shy about voicing his criticism.

“the hell is wrong with you? If you keep this up and can’t focus on the team, you won’t be on the starting lineup this season and heeseung will take full responsibility as captain.”

riki and heeseung both knew it wasn’t a threat but more so a promise, if riki didn’t fix whatever was going on with him soon. he’d be sitting on the bench… with the water boy.

not only were riki's skills on the court slipping, but his so-called “rizz”—a term jake used unironically, despite being told multiple times how cringe he sounded—was faltering too.

in a childish attempt to get back at soyeon, riki wanted her to see how easily he could move on from her for the umpteenth time these past few years.

although this time around, it wasn’t working like it always did. every girl he approached and flirted with—classmates, girls at parties, old hookups, even ones he knew for sure liked him—seemed entirely uninterested in him all of the sudden.

“dude, seriously, what’s this? week five of you being like this? the season’s creeping up on us. what’s going on?” heeseung finally spoke up, walking toward riki.

riki snapped out of his inner turmoil, facing his co-captain.

“nothing. i just need to try harder or something,” riki muttered, attempting another shot. he missed. again.

“nah, something’s definitely up. plus, i haven’t seen your fan club sitting on the bleachers lately.” heeseung raised an eyebrow skeptically trying to fish for a proper answer.

“maybe he’s cursed,” jake chimed in flatly, appearing out of nowhere, standing behind riki.

“jesus, jake! we told you to stop doing that!” riki jumped away, startled by the shorter boy’s unexpected presence.

“right… my bad,” jake shrugged.

“also cursed? don’t start with that spiritual bullshit again,” riki groaned in annoyance.

“it didn’t help you pick up girls then, and it’s not going to help me now either,” riki added on.

“so you admit it? something’s up with you.” heeseung smirked knowing he was right, slinging an arm around riki’s shoulder.

“obviously smartass.” riki rolled his eyes and shrugged heeseung’s arm off of him.

“you should visit a shaman. i heard they work miracles, don’t they, jake?” heeseung said mockingly, though jake didn’t catch the sarcasm, thinking heeseung finally saw the appeal on his new found interest of spiritualism and the occult.

“hundred percent. it’ll totally help!” jake eagerly agreed, looking like a puppy dog being offered a meaty treat.

“yeah, because that’s exactly what i need right now! a shaman to scam me out of my money,” riki shot back sarcastically, dismissing the idea entirely.

jake and heeseung gave eachother side glances then stared blankly at riki, who knew what they were trying to convey.

“…okay. my parent’s money, but the point still stands!” riki admitted almost defensively, in typical rich teenage fashion.

riki was slightly taken aback by the defensiveness in his own words. it was at times like this where he sometimes wonder how he turned out to be the snobby rich kid that he so easily hated when he was a lot younger.

“hey! it’s real, it helped my cousin a few weeks ago, she’s a brand new person now, even better than before!” jake whined, breaking riki out of his thoughts.

“that’s for pathetic and hopeless people who don’t know what to do with their lives, i’m not at that point,” riki shook his head.

“…yet,” heeseung and jake said simultaneously, earning a glare from riki.

It’ll pass. It has to.

ִ ࣪ 𖦹 物事の進み方 ָ ࣪ ׅ

prev . masterlist . next

notes: i get to so embarrassed and shy whenever i write something, please don’t judge i swear i got some pans and pots to cook trustttt, also can anyone tell me if i edit a post with people tagged, does it notify them every time?

summary: at the start of his senior year, riki nishimura notices that everything feels off—his basketball skills are slipping, and his usual charm with girls has vanished. desperate for answers, he follows his co-captain heeseung's joking advice and visits a local shaman. she reveals the source of his bad luck: major karmic debt. to regain his balance, riki must make amends for his broken and abandoned childhood friendship with the one girl who truly knew him, y/n matsuzaki.

tag list ( open ): @tasnemluvs @elegancefr @jiiyen @skepvids @enhypenlovre @mylettterstoyou @delirioastral @who-tf-soddhi @aespaqq @nat123c @nodoubtily @right-person-wrong-time @beijinkaoya @awhrin @ami-soph @ravendove666-blog @dollrincess @notab1tchwho @starssfall @aryannabananas

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 19

Hello everyone! Welcome to the new year! I am back and swinging! I have a good backlog now and I'm feeling better about writing after that break. I was feeling really burned out after Christmas. I still love writing, but I didn't have the energy to do it.

But after that three week hiatus, I am back to writing 800-1000 words a day which is what keeps me up to date on my backlog when I'm posting.

I recommend reading the last chapter again as a refresher before this one (linked below).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

In this chapter we have the boys' night out and Eddie and Steve talk about where they stand with other.

~

Eddie was standing at the front of the hotel looking at his watch and tapping his foot, when the three adults pulled into the valet parking lot.

When Gareth got out and tossed Steve the keys, he came bounding up to them. “What time do you call this, young man?” he teased, putting his hands on his hips.

They all burst out laughing as Eddie tried to hold the serious pose and failed miserably.

“Just a small hiccup up at the stadium,” Jeff said, rolling his eyes. “A fan recognized me and Gare and we were signing autographs for about a half hour.”

Eddie paused for a moment and tilted his head to side. “You were signing autographs without me?” He put a hand on his forehead and pretended to swoon. “You have forsaken me!”

Steve turned to Gareth and blinked rapidly. “Um..is he always this dramatic?”

“No,” Gareth snorted, “he’s worse.” He turned to Eddie. “Chill out you big baby. You don’t like sports and would have been miserable.”

Eddie stopped for a moment and then straightened up. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“God,” Jeff huffed, “I’d kill for a stiff drink. Have the front desk call Brian up and meet us in the bar.”

“Sounds good to me,” Eddie said, falling into step next to Steve as they walked to the bar, Gareth splitting off temporarily to get Brian to join them.

“Did you have fun?” Eddie asked, a big grin on his face.

Steve rolled his eyes and licked upper lip. “You’re the one that suggested they take me, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Eddie said, twirling his rings. “But Jeff and Gareth loved the idea. They wanted to get a chance to know you better and this basketball game seemed like the perfect opportunity. Plus I know you’ve been feeling trapped in this town with all the bullshit that happened with your dad.”

Steve smiled up at him. “Well, I approve. It was lots of fun. The Harlem Globetrotters are known for their wacky playing style and over the top theatrics. So I was a little,” he held his finger and thumb really close together, “surprised when you didn’t want to come with.”

“I think I would’ve been more annoyed,” Eddie huffed. “Can’t stand it when people play normally, so having a group of players just fucking around and still have it be legal...no thanks.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said as they reached the bar.

They sat down at one of the tables and Gareth ordered two draft beers, one for him and one for Brian. Jeff ordered a double shot of whiskey and Eddie ordered a Manhattan.

“I’ll have a Coke and lime,” Steve said as a waiter took their order.

Eddie smiled slyly at Steve. “Good boy. I was wondering what you were going to order with my little ban on alcohol until you’re actually twenty-one.”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. “If I keep up this dry spell, I’ll lose my tolerance for it and lose my title as keg king.”

Jeff who had been taking a drink, did a spit take. “You were a what now?”

Their drinks arrived, so Steve was able to dodge the question for a moment longer. But he was forced to confess under the stern eye of Eddie Munson.

“Me and my friends would have chugging contests,” Steve said with a shrug. “I had the best time. Like always. But I haven’t even had a beer in literal months.”

Eddie blinked. “Wait, really? I would have thought for sure you would found someway to get a beer at least.”

Steve shook his head. “The people who still like me are kids and their parents. One of which is the Chief of Police. Yeah, I’ve been sticking clear of booze thanks.”

“Um...” Jeff said, rubbing his chin. “The hotel room is in Eddie’s name and he’s over twenty-one. You could literally order from the hotel and no one would bat an eye.”

“I just figured that fell under the umbrella of buying alcohol using Eddie’s money,” Steve said with a shrug. “So I just didn’t.”

Eddie slid over his Manhattan. “I wasn’t intended to dry you out completely. I just didn’t want you flashing that fake ID around using my credit card.”

“Oh,” Steve blushed and hid it by taking a sip of the Manhattan and he closed his eyes, letting the alcohol hit his system for the first time in months. “Yeah, I’m going to have to go easy on these otherwise you’re going to be dragging my drunk ass up that elevator.”

They all laughed.

Steve finished off the Manhattan while Eddie ordered a different cocktail. Then he went back to the Coke and lime as to pace himself.

They all talked and laughed and got to know each other better. Steve was only tipsy when they called it a night.

Eddie walked Steve to his room, not only because he was the suite across the hall, but because he wanted to make sure Steve got in okay.

“All right, little Canary,” Eddie said sternly. “What aren’t you, Jeff and Gareth telling me?”

Steve put his arms around Eddie’s neck and cooed, “What makes you think we aren’t telling you something?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I might not know you as well as I would like, Stevie, but I know when Jeff and Gareth are leaving something out. And with you a little tipsy, I thought I’d see if I could weasel it out of you.”

“Missed you,” Steve breathed, trying to grind against Eddie’s crotch. “I’ll be super good for you.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hips and pulled him a little bit away from his waist. “You are a treat, sweetheart, make no mistake. But you’re a little too drunk for anything other than conversation. So why don’t we get you in bed?”

Steve pouted but did as he was told. He opened the door to the hotel room and immediately started stripping his clothes off.

Eddie turned his eyes skyward, with his hands on his hips until Steve pulled up the shorts on his pajamas Eddie had gotten him his first night at the hotel. But he was grateful when Steve shimmied the top over his head, neglecting to undo the buttons.

“You look cute, Stevie,” he murmured as he came up to him, checking him out as he neared. “I thought you would. You really look good in yellow.”

Steve blushed, tugging at the hem of the top, “Thanks.”

Eddie scooped him up and carried him over to the bed, that was turned down by Rosa, like it was every night. He laid him in the bed and then tucked him in. He brushed Steve’s hair out of his face and kissed his forehead.

“Good night, little Canary,” he murmured.

Eddie moved to stand up, but Steve caught the hem of his jacket, keeping him there. He looked down at Steve and immediately his heart broke. Steve had tears in his eyes and one slid across his nose.

“Baby?”

“My dad was at the game,” Steve murmured. “We didn’t see him until after we were leaving, so we don’t know if he saw me. But that’s why Jeff and Gareth did an autograph signing, so that I could sneak past him.”

Eddie’s knees hit the floor and he was gathering Steve up in his arms from one breath to the next. “Oh, Stevie...” he whispered into Steve’s hair. “Now I understand why you guys didn’t want to tell me and I’m not mad. Well, I am but at your dad for ruining your night out. I wish I could just make him go away for you. Just *POOF* off the face of the earth.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and then another. “But at least this means we know they’ve been staying in Indy.”

“There you go,” Eddie whispered, smoothing out Steve’s hair, “a silver lining. So we’ll make sure you get to go places other than Indy and you know what your dad likes so if there is a fun thing you want to for one of your kids like skateboarding or something that you know your dad would avoid like the plague, we still send you to those, okay, little Canary?”

Steve ran his nose along Eddie’s jaw and he shuddered with want. But he knew Steve was too drunk to do anything but sleep, so he gently untangled himself from Steve’s arms, and before he could even get to his feet, Steve was sound asleep.

“Sleep well, my little angel.”

~

Steve woke up with a pounding headache and lancing of shame down his spine. He had basically thrown himself at Eddie last night and the man had been a perfect gentleman. He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, wallowing in his misery.

There was a gentle knock on the door and Steve forced himself into a standing position and waddled over to the door. He opened it to see Eddie on the other side, bright and cheery. Which made the pain in head throb worse.

Eddie held up a bag of McDonald’s and grinned. “I brought you best hangover cure known to man.”

Steve let him in and Eddie set the food on the table. Then he went over and started brewing a pot of coffee. He then filled a glass with water from the tap in the bathroom and handed it to Steve with two pills that were obviously ibuprofen. All this without comment or condemnation.

Steve took the painkillers with a grateful smile.

“Eat one of those Egg McMuffins,” Eddie said indicating the bag with his chin. “Then go shower. By then the coffee will have been brewed.”

“Thanks,” Steve muttered and ripped into one of the breakfast sandwiches with relish. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I behaved badly last night and I’m sorry.”

Eddie chuckled. “You were cute. But nah, I get it. You’d been dry for a couple of months there and then suddenly drinking again? Yeah, I would have been more than a little tipsy, too.”

Steve blushed and focused on his food for a moment before he said, “It was really scary seeing my dad last night, but Gareth and Jeff handled it. Better than I would have had I been alone. I really owe them.”

“I talked to them after tucking you in,” Eddie said sprawling out on the sofa. “They didn’t want to tell me because they were worried that I would forbid you from going out again. Which, I can see where they’re coming from. But I would rather know about it and plan better than not. So they agreed to tell me from now on.”

“Lucas loved hanging out with them,” Steve said, smiling around his bite of food.

Eddie chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. Jeff and Gareth had a blast, too. Jeff is talking about getting season tickets to the Pacers’ games. I told him to hold off on that for a bit to see where this goes first, but they definitely want to hang out with you more.”

Steve finished the sandwich and wiped his mouth again. “I had fun hanging out with them, too.”

“Go get your shower, little Canary,” Eddie said fondly. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”

Steve got up and rummaged through his drawers for something to wear. He settled on comfort over style because even though the pain in his head was beginning to recede, it was still there throbbing behind his eyes. The shower went a long way in driving the pain further from his head so that when he got done with his routine he could walk almost normal instead of everything hurting with every move he made.

When he walked out, there was a woman arguing with Eddie. A woman he vaguely recognized. Then it hit him. Chrissy Cunningham. Their manager. The one that currently didn’t like him because he took up too much of Eddie’s time.

“You know,” he said dryly from the bathroom door, where he was leaning against it with arms crossed, “I might be only nineteen, but I at least know to talk to someone when they have a beef with me.”

Chrissy whirled around and stared at him in shock. Like she had forgotten this was his hotel room. “Steve!”

He walked up to her and huffed out a breath out of his nose. “It’s a free country the last time I checked. Eddie can spend his time and his money how ever he wants. So either suck it up or hit the road, because even I know I can’t reason him out of giving me things.”

Chrissy looked between Eddie and Steve and then sighed. “You don’t care that he’s basically your sugar daddy at this point?”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and licked his lips slowly. “Considering the alternative is living out of my car? No. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that Eddie wants to take care of me. So you know what? I’m going to let him. I like him. I enjoy spending time with him. I’m not a gold digger or whatever else you think of me. But I will enjoy it while it’s here.”

Eddie slow clapped. “He’s got a point. We get along great, we enjoy each other’s company, and I like spoiling people. Is my Uncle Wayne a gold digger because I take care of him too?”

She glared at him and then threw her arms in the air and then with a terse, “Fine!” she stormed out of the hotel room.

Eddie grinned. “Now where were we?”

Steve just threw his head back and laughed.

~

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Tag List: CLOSED

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3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

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10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

[dalekofchaos]

REVIII would've been better if we played as Mia

Not gonna lie. I think it REVIII would've been a better game if Ethan "died" and we played is Mia instead.

Imagine Mother Miranda abducted Ethan instead and Chris shot "Ethan" instead of Mia.

Ethan dies and Rose is taken. Okay Ethan wouldn’t really be dead either, either because of the mold or it was Miranda pretending to be him instead. Ethan being the one locked up and “experimented on” makes more sense too if the mold reveal is kept. 

Then we have Mia coming to rescue her family.

Mia as the protagonist would've been great. Her coming to terms with her guilt that her actions working with the Connections is catching up to her, we learn why Mia worked for The Connections and we could've gotten parallels to Miranda. Two mothers who worked together in The Connections. & a chance for her to be forgiven/forgive herself

Again, Mia and Miranda knew each other

Plus Mia dealing with the Four Lords would've been fun.

Lady D has been confirmed as gay, so just imagine instead of "STUPID MANTHING" Lady D instead tries to make Mia her pet and lover. Dimistrescu's daughters refusing to let Mia leave. Because "Mother has chosen you. You're gonna be our new mommy" when Mia kills the daughters, Lady D starts to lose it. What started out with Lady D having an obsessive crush, turned into a violent lust and then slowly to revenge.

Same scenario with Donna, but Donna and Angie just wanted a new playmate in Mia.

Same scenario with Moreau, but I could see Mia having a gentler touch with him and giving him the affection Mother Miranda refused to give him

Heisenberg's dynamic with Mia would be the same as Ethan. He disgusts her and just wants her family back. Heisenberg wants to use Ethan and Rose to kill Miranda.

One thing I would change is adding Zoe Baker to the mix. One thing I noticed is Zoe contacting the Winters and the BSAA contacting Zoe, Zoe grew suspicious of the BSAA. So have Zoe contact Chris, Chris has Zoe help Mia while she's on the island via the laptop in the church. When Chris and Mia officially team up, Zoe is there. And in the ending we see Ethan, Mia, Rose and Zoe altogether.

Mia calls out Chris on his bullshit. If he trusted her and Ethan, they could've stopped Miranda together, kept Rose safe and none of them would've been endangered, but instead he had to play the hero and kept them in the dark and acted like the villain.

You could have Ethan sacrificing himself to bring Mia back from the dead or you can have Ethan and Mia bonded by the mold, Rose is alive and they leave together as a family. I'd rather choose the second option because I feel like the appeal of the Winters family is better than "lol Ethan is dead you get one DLC with Rose but no Mia" lol fuck off Capcom.

So yeah I REALLY feel like REVIII would've been better with Mia as the protagonist.

[impishjesters]

Comforting a Scared Child Reader

warning(s): Jax, Caine, and Bubble are warning enough... A/N: These turned into less of a direct comfort and more of a how they'd distract them... sorta... though to be fair it wasn't gonna be very detailed given I had to write everyone... I think if I re-did these properly I'd only do a couple of characters to elaborate on. I don't think Bubble was intended, but I included him because of chaos. Needless to say, I think most of them would kinda suck at comforting a scared child, but they'd definitely put on a strong front to try and comfort them. request: Please can you do some seperate prompts of each circus member and ai comforting a scared child reader?

Pomni

She’s not the ideal person to comfort someone but she knows what it’s like to be new and scared—plus when she finds out you’re only a child??

Pomni tries her best, she really does—it’s like seeing you scared and shaking gives her barely just enough courage to step up and comfort you.

She’s not one for touching but if you need a hug while she’s around she’ll likely give you one.

It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s about as shakey and anxious as a chihuahua, but she tries her hardest to come off as calm and normal for your sake.

Pomni gives off anxious first-time big sister vibes.

Jax

Also not an ideal person when it comes to comfort, but he can only imagine how terrified you are right now.

The others are adults and can handle his bullshit, you however are a child and he’s not about to bully a child. As tempting and funny as the thought is.

Jax uses his jokes—on a less insulting, more child-friendly level—to try and calm you down. When he gets you calmed down and the two of you start to get buddy-buddy? Oh, it’s over for those suckers.

It takes the whole gang to try and prevent Jax from turning you into a mini Jax, though he does let you tag along for the more minor kid-friendly jokes and shenanigans.

"Who the fuck leaves a child unsupervised to put on some weird sketchy headset??"

Jax gives off the cool, prankster big brother vibes.

Gangle

She’s just barely holding it together on a good day, but the moment a child shows up scared and crying? Big sister mode activated.

Gangle’s the type to try and calm you down with stuffed animals or art depending on just how young you are. She’s got all sorts of craft stuff and a collection of stuffed animals, she even lets you pick one out to keep for yourself.

While in big sister mode, she’s a little more protective and worrying, trying to keep you from getting hurt by Caine’s little games or away from Jax’s nasty behaviour.

Unlike Pomni, Gangle likes hugs and is always willing to hug you or hold you if you start to miss home or your parents.

Gangle gives off the protective big sister vibes.

Kinger

Surprisingly, Kinger is the best out of all of them when it comes to taking care of a kid. He’s the quickest to get you to stop crying and the quickest to distract you from those scary thoughts. He’s also the first one to ask for your permission before picking you up with ease.

Out of all of them, he’s the one who watches after you the most—sure it’s a joint effort in babysitting you but he’s the one who watches after you the most.

If you’re particularly young he’ll probably carry you around or hold your hand—even if you could technically walk away with his hand, at least he knows where you are.

Similarly to Gangle, he’ll find something you like and either play with you or talk to you about it. God, if you also have an interest in insects like this man then he’ll tell you all sorts of useless facts and stories, all the gross picture books.

Kinger gives off warm, golden retriever dad energy.

Zooble

Not surprising Zooble isn’t great with kids, and not great with touch either. It’s not they can’t carry you but they’ve only really got one good arm to carry you with and it’s just…awkward for them.

That said if they see you fidgeting or picking at some part of yourself in an anxious-like fashion they’ll offer up their left arm for you to fiddle with. It’s a little more sensor-friendly to fiddle with if you exclude the pointy claw bits, they make sure you don’t hurt yourself. It’s not the most pleasant feeling having their limb messed with, so it doesn’t happen too often.

Zooble doesn’t really do much with you, but if you find yourself wanting to sit with them instead of play with the others they won’t protest. On occasion, they might play with you, or read you a book or whatever as long as it doesn’t involve them doing much.

Zooble gives off relaxed, lazy big sibling energy.

Ragatha

Similar to Gangle she gets her shit together when a child shows up, her chipper optimistic shtick comes in handy when it comes to comfort. She hasn’t had to deal with a child in a really long time though—were they always so…loud?

Ragatha’s the second one who watches after you the most, if she had it her way you’d never be around Jax, he’s a bad influence. But if you like playing with him then the most she can do is stay close by and make sure he doesn’t do or say anything badly. (Man’s gonna give her a heart attack)

Similar to Kinger and Gangle, she’ll play with you and let you join in with Caine’s less dangerous games. She’s nervous to play hide and seek with you but if you really wanna play she’ll set an area limit so that you don’t accidentally get hurt.

Ragatha gives off frantic first-time mother energy.

Caine

Doesn’t know the first fuckin thing about children, well he does but he’s never actually interacted with one.

Thank heaven for the censorship, he doesn’t want that foul language anywhere near your young little ears.

Caine’s the worst person to be left alone with you, not that he’ll be bad to you no, he just won’t understand that while he’s trying to keep you entertained and happy it’s probably a huge safety risk. If the shit the adults experience is dangerous god only knows what he might subject you to by accident.

Despite everything, Caine is actually pretty good at getting you to stop crying. It helps when he can quite literally snap his fingers and poof a random toy you might like or something else he thinks is cool.

Caine gives off crazy Uncle vibes that you only get to see during big family get-togethers because he has a habit of causing trouble on accident.

Bubble

For the love of all that is holy. Do. Not. Leave. The. Child. With. Bubble.

I take back what I said about Caine being the worst to leave you with, Bubble is the worst. Well, they both are but still.

While entertaining (and disturbing) to watch Bubble do stupid stuff, everyone will tell you not to do what he does—or say what he does, in fact just pretend he doesn’t exist. He’s a bad role model.

NO. STOP. DON’T EAT THE SOAP. I DON’T CARE THAT HE SAID IT WAS TASTY. HE CAN’T TASTE. YOUR GONNA TAKE THE WORD OF A LITERAL TALKING BUBBLE?

Bubble is that dumb dog that eats its own vomit because it can, that’s his vibe. Don’t be a Bubble.

[issa-pheonyx]

Being Johnny Cage's Niece...

𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱, 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗼𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀. 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹. 𝗬𝗲𝘀, 𝗜'𝗺 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝘀✨𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗮𝗻✨, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱-𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗝𝗼𝗵𝗻𝗻𝘆. 𝗟𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗻 𝘆𝗮'𝗹𝗹 [𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗱𝘂𝗹𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆]🤭

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-He is literally the fun uncle...with such dad jokes and puns that makes you double take on being his favorite. Yes, you're his favorite what makes you think he is open with you hanging around when he is in acting mode at work or he invites you to the red carpet to announce the winners for best actor (AKA him). Plus, there is a new game system you've been investing? He got you. Student loans? No need just tell him how much it is for each semester, he is very supportive of your career. "Is that your uncle Johnny fucking Cage!?" He is at the drop off waiting for you to be picked up in his red Lamborghini, blasting California Love,"Yup...that is my uncle."

-Speaking of his acting career he will NOT permit you to go to any film industry if he is not around. He will confront any sleazy creeps who dare to make you sign a contract, because you will be the biggest star like your uncle. Nope! Not on his watch. "Give me that. Who gave you this paper?" "Uh, some bald guy-" "Yeah, didn't I teach you any better talking to strangers??" "Uncle J you're not even my da-" "I'm calling your mom."

-Not only is he protective, but he will keep mad bugging you to teach you his martial art skills. It is just an excuse to have some uncle and niece bonding-both you hang out 24/7 it is ridiculous-so, you could be his trustee side kick and who knows if he ever has another movie coming in he would definitely drag put you in since you learned martial arts like him. On a serious note though he would let you know he is not doing it for clout (bullshit), but to make sure you are safe and know what to do in dangerous scenarios

-Of course, you will be bombarded with paparazzi when you're hanging with your uncle, however the pictures seem to have a unique pattern about you both. It is like a game between you and Johnny against them. You received little attention before your first movie with your uncle, yet after that you decide to troll them. Every picture they failed to take your face either you wearing a hoodie only seeing your mouth in view, surgical masks and not being to capture you pulling it down when you're eating/drinking cause the angle is shit. Or even then you would position yourself around objects or things that it just looks like a tree branch covered the majority of your face flashing a smile cause Johnny cracked a joke as he was smiling too, eating frozen yogurt going for a walk at the park

-Now being introduced with Lui Kang God of Fire, Sub Zero, Scorpion, and so much was mind blowing. Even you were part of it. Johnny being the protective uncle he absolutely REFUSED to get you involved. So, instead you had to stay close to him at all times since you were forced to join. It was quite a beauty since these different timelines had gorgeous views, so you would snap pictures here and there (without uncle Kenshi knowing cause he bonked you with the sword once). Plus, you were stunned how pretty everyone was there like holy shit why is everyone so hot???

-Furthermore, everyone was just as curious as they were with Johnny to you. "So, you're related to Johnny Cage?" Lui Kang asks as he was behind the entrance door of your uncle's mansion with his arms crossed,"Unfortunately, yes-" "That's it! Youngins' shouldn't be here. The adults are talking." The ladies were a little confused you can be the opposite of Johnny being humorous and all. "How can you tolerate such patience with an uncle so untamed, (Y/N)?" Kitana whispered to you after he told her she was gracefully aging for a 10,000 year old,"I don't know, princess. I question myself that everyday."

-Of course, your uncle J told you to be close to you at all costs, but you end up snapping when someone laid a hand on your uncle. That's when all that work of martial arts paid off when you were popping awf, honey. Everyone was shook and couldn't believe their eyes even Mileena complimented,"Such fire you show within kombat! I wish you can stay here in the Outworld to teach all my guards." You chuckled,"I would be very honored, your majesty, but I don't think uncle Johnny would be okay with that."

-Being his niece has taught you to enjoy life even when things don't go your way it'll get better. With you he learned that not everything shouldn't be taken so lightly when it is necessary especially to those he has a special bond with. Lets just say it is a healing and mind opening moment for you and you uncle away from the riches, the media, and fame into the Outworld

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣