#one of the bullet points on this post is like. 'hey. do NOT do custom formatting in your comments just for aesthetics' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lacefuneral · 2 years ago

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hi reddit. here are some tips.

i will be putting these below a "readmore" - which is the first lesson. on desktop there is a button for this. on mobile you type :readmore: followed by a linebreak. it is considered common ettique to shorten your long posts in this way.

by the way, are you reblogging a long post that isn't under a readmore? tag that as #long post so users can blacklist it and not have to scroll for five years.

(weird gaps in bullet points due to character limits lmao)

Title. Icon. Banner. blog description. (look around if you need an idea for what to put in your blog description.) Blogs without this information (ESPECIALLY the no icon + no title combo) gets you blocked immediately. This is because tumblr has always had a severe bot problem. Just grab a meme from your camera roll or a picture of a character you like from google.

also, because most users have their pronouns in their bio, it is expected that you will look there to check before addressing them, out of courtesy. don't just default to "they" - only do that if a person's pronoun's are unclear or if the pronouns listed ARE "they."

Disable public likes. the like button is for personal bookmarking. very often, people will like posts they have not read yet, so that they can read them later. a person's likes is not always reflective of their stances, and if your likes are public, people may use them against you in an argument. think of your likes as your browser history. tumblr users value privacy in this instance.

unrelated to the above point: likes are also used to show compassion for a user going through a tough time, or to say "hey, i thought this joke you made was funny." this use of likes is more for friend-to-friend communication.

Disable anything in your settings that is algorithmic including seeing posts based on other people's likes (one, because algorithms exist to make you mad and two, as part of respecting privacy)

set "following" to appear before "for you" (and overall avoid "for you")

Snooze Tumblr Live (sorry. you have to do this once a week bc tumblr sucks.)

Open your askbox so people can communicate with you. Decide if you want to allow anonymous asks and/or public DMs.

Enable the desktop version of your blog. This makes it so that when you use a computer and go to [yourusername].tumblr.com you can have a website with HTML and CSS. tumblr has tried very hard to kill blog personalization but you can find many helpful users posting in the tags, as well as pre-made themes you can install. tumblr users are the ones making the bulk of neocities websites, and in general tend to be friendly in redirecting you to resources.

enabling your desktop blog also allows you to insert links and do very basic editing (like inserting line breaks) in your blog description (we call "bio") which translates to the mobile version of your theme. you have to do this in the editor for the desktop on a computer. also, editing your theme on mobile (like changing color, font) will undo your HTML. your best bet is to edit your mobile theme first and THEN do the HTML/link stuff on a computer. i know it sounds a bit convoluted but you'll figure it out. (this website is made of duct tape)

also while you are on desktop: download xkit rewritten. it won't work on mobile but it gives you a lot of helpful features. also consider installing ublock origin if you haven't already, because tumblr will sometimes add annoying widgets to their website and that tool will allow you to block them. i also use "palettes for tumblr" to customize my dashboard color. tumblr DOES have built-in dashboard themes but i do not like them personally.

pinned posts. you can pin any post you make or reblog. some people use this to pin a funny meme, and other people use the pinned post as an extended bio (or otherwise an alternative to it). a tumblr post made on desktop can hold up to 30 images (the limit is 10 on mobile.) you can also embed links, a video, and even audio. you can change text color, have bullet points, and increase font size. as such, you can express yourself much more in a pinned post than in your mobile blog description. a typical pinned post may include information about the user, a link to an external website (like a carrd, neocities, or linktree), and sometimes an image or two. tumblr allows you to disable reblogs for a post, so most pinned posts are set this way so it just stays on a user's blog.

DNIs (also called "BYF"). not everyone uses them, and they can be divisive. it stands for "Do Not Interact" - and is a boundary set to keep people away. this may include age (example: "minors DNI"), political opinions (example: "prolifers DNI"), and sometimes deeply niche online discourse. DNIs are also sometimes a joke (example: "DNI if you like tuna salad"). there is actually a meme where someone will write a post with a very long, unreasonable DNI and users will count how many apply to them.

If you would upvote a post on reddit, you would reblog it here. If you see something and you think it is cool, you think it is funny, or you think it is helpful, reblog it. Some users have sideblogs (you can have infinite sideblogs attached to your main account) to organize all of the posts they reblog. Others simply use a tagging system for organizational purposes (and so users can blacklist ("filter") those tags in their settings if they don't want to see the post). For example, if I followed a user for Star Trek, but they also posted a lot of Star Wars, I might add "#star wars" to my list of filters. This way, I am only seeing the Star Trek posts. Tumblr's default way of handling this is to display a box that says "this post contains #Star Wars" and you can choose whether or not to open it. on desktop with xkit rewritten, you can have it hide those boxes entirely. please use filters. your sanity will thank you.

In a reblog, Organizational Tags are for /you./ I see a lot of confusion about this from new users. If you reblog someone else's post and add 500 tags..... it's not going to get picked up in tumblr search. You're not going to get any sort of exposure. Because it is not your post. Those tags are only for /you/ - if you want to find the post again.

tags are also used for commentary. most tumblr users do /not/ talk in post replies or in the comments of a reblog. most of them talk in tags. tags have a character limit so these messages are broken up in fragments. tumblr uses a comma (,) to make a new tag, so users often use either no punctuation or a period (.) or a hyphen (-) to break up thoughts. two apostrophes ('') are used instead of quotation marks (because they dont work in tags). this is also where "tumblr writing style" comes from. we all began to write in lowercase and use punctuation in. a weird way. like. for emphasis. there is also the Tumblr Comma, a special unicode character that resembles a comma and works in tags when copy+pasted or put there with a keyboard shortcut. but this is often not used. here it is: ‚

also here's an example of tags. you will notice that commentary goes before organizational: #GOD DHSHSKDDJDL #i cannot BELIEVE i forgot about this. what the fuck #star trek #spock

when leaving tags, most users talk to themselves. but please remember that tags can be seen by anyone, including the original poster. in general, it is discouraged to traumadump or be rude.

"prev tags" (which tumblr staff is trying their damnest to erase sadly) is when a user reblogs a post from another user and tags it simply ''prev'' or ''prev tags" (meaning "i agree with the previous user's tags"). sometimes it's because a thoughtful observation was made, but usually it's a way of saying "hey! that was a funny joke!" without putting the user on blast by screenshotting the tags. it's most common between friends and mutuals (users following each other). i would say it is equivalent to users whispering to each other and giggling rather than getting up on a table and shouting. "prev tag chain" is when users reblog "prev tags" "prev prev tags" - and so on. however, sadly, tumblr has removed the feature of moving backwards in a reblog chain on desktop. i have not updated my app and refuse to, so i so not know if it is gone on mobile as well, but it probably is. EDIT: the browser extension Xkit Rewritten has an option now, in "tweaks" called "restore links to individual posts in post header." it should be the first option. prev tags, on desktop at least, is saved!

screenshotting someone elses tags and adding the image in a reblog is known as "passing peer review." it is, however, considered to be Greatly Annoying to accompany those tags with unnecessary commentary (ex: "these tags pass peer review!" "WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE THIS IN THE TAGS" "LMAAOO THIS IS SO FUNNYYY"). the tags can stand on their own. the only instance in which this is different is during a serious discussion, when you want to build off of another user's perspective. in which case, you address them as normal. some people credit taggers, some people don't. crediting tends to occur in discussions.

when making an original post, do not use irrelevant tags for Exposure. this is Greatly Hated by the userbase and is also against the TOS. you will get blocked at best, reported or yelled at at worst. only add relevant tags, and do not go overboard.

reposting other people's artwork is highly discouraged and is considered the Highest Offense. if you do any sort of reposting, you should credit and link to a creator directly. however, tumblr loves reposted videos, especially ones from tiktok. there are entire accounts dedicated to posting those.

sideblogs! it is possible to have multiple blogs under one email address. tumblr treats these blogs as proxies of your main blog. this means that sending someone an ask/commenting in the replies of a post will always appear with the name of your main blog, your likes will appear with the name of your main blog, and that if you follow someone you will appear on their followers list as your main blog (so you may be mutuals with someone and not even know it because their sideblog interacts with you, but isn't on your follower's list... because their main blog is listed there instead.) however, DMs DO appear as the sideblog name. you cannot swap your main blog with your sideblog. and right now, there is a bug where deleting a sideblog will delete your entire tumblr account so. don't do that lol. anyway, the amount of sideblogs you can make is literally infinite and i think there's just a Daily Limit of creating 10 of them or something. some users make a sideblog for each interest they have. others have no sideblogs and reblog everything to main. and then you have people like me that do both. somehow. some users will make sideblogs to hoard URLs. also sorry i'm just introducing this now, but that is what our usernames are called. because when tumblr was more desktop-oriented, every blog was literally a Personal Website. so ya. we call them "URLs." anyway, if someone wants to hang onto a URL for later, they might save it on an empty blog. this usually pisses people off. a "canon URL" is when someone has a URL that is like One Word or a Company Name or a Fictional character. hypothetical examples: "ketchup" "burgerking" "lukeskywalker." these are highly rare, coveted, and you look cool as hell if you have one.

tumblr's /\/SFW policy (/\/ is an N. i've censored it.) is best described as ???. posts that are safe for work get marked as /\/SFW and hardcore p0rn somehow persists. in general, be very wary of posting even artistic nvdity (even though it is supposedly permitted.) never deliberately mark your own posts as Mature. this is essentially like walking directly into a bear trap and waving a big sign at tumblr staff saying "hey! make it so people can't find my blog and i'm far more likely to get banned!" also do not tag posts with "/\/SFW." too many of those will get your entire blog marked as mature (which makes your posts pretty much invisible to other users.) tumblr users used /\/SFT (/\/ot safe for tumblr) for a long time, but staff caught on. there is now no consensus and people use their own personal tags for it. just pick something and people will catch on and blacklist it if need be. (btw you CAN type whatever you want on this website. i am only censoring in the hopes that this will allow my post to appear in the tags. this isn't tiktok lol)

while it is possible to disable reblogs on a post, this is a very RECENT addition and most users forget it exists. as such, please use common sense. if someone has written a post about, say, how sad they are feeling because they got in a fight with their family... that's not a good post to reblog. a like would be better here, like a pat on the back.

we LOVE polls. we love them. they are like sports to us. most of them are popularity polls - who is the better character? but people also use polls for, say, making bug emojis "race" each other. or "lets build a cake." other people use polls to write poetry, or learn about regional differences, or even to draw a pen!s. if you tag a poll as "poll" it will most likely be seen and voted in, because users look in the tag to find buttons to click.

there is unfortunately a T3RF (this one censored specifically to protect my notifs lmao. 3 is E) presence here. report, block, ignore, move on. common courtesy for users to inform each other if one is accidentally reblogged from. it also helps to blacklist tags related to them to avoid them. use shinigam! eyes browser extension on desktop.

there is NO equivalent to reddit awards on this website. as the userbase hates the staff, it is considered blasphemous to spend your money on checkmarks, etc. - buying them as a gift for another user is seen as a hostile act. it's like receiving a "kick-me" sign. once owned, badges cannot be deleted. thankfully, tumblr now allows you to disable checkmarks and other badges from appearing publically. that said, some users also give checkmarks unironically to show appreciation??? and others buy checks for themselves???? so yeah. tumblr doesnt actually have a verification system - these exist to mock twitter and to make a quick buck.

tumblr blaze. essentially, tumblr has a system in place to showcase user posts instead of advertisements sometimes. this is done by the user paying money. the higher the amount, the more impressions. tumblr users can now also blaze OTHER PEOPLE'S POSTS. MAKE SURE YOU HAVE BLAZE DISABLED!!! blazing another person's post (without asking first) is seen as a hostile act. why? because most blazed posts result in rude comments from strangers who are annoyed to see the post on their dashboard. unless it's like, a cute picture of a cat. or something genuinely helpful. boosting your soundcloud or a selfie or a rant about fandom does not typically garner positive responses. you can blaze just like. watch out. and also always ask the OP if you want to blaze someone else's post. (there is a reason this feature is called "blaze pvp")

tumblr merch is also frowned upon, as tumblr staff steals ideas from the userbase and profits off of them without financially compensating or crediting the users. there was a meme on here, "vanilla extract", that tumblr turned into water bottles while the person who made the meme was having to fundraise to survive :(

BLOCK. LIBERALLY.

umm i think thats it for now. but like if you have questions feel free to launch them into The Void with some tags and users are pretty quick to help out! hopefully i covered some stuff that other ppl haven't

#reddit #196 #reddit migration

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fallatyourfeet · 3 years ago

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Alfie working a day at your work would include: (Headcanon: Alfie Solomons x Female Reader)

Request

Hey, I saw your post about writing a fic about alfie solomons x reader, I have an idea about a bet of switching roles, reader controls the bakery and alfie does whatever the reader does, see who survives the longest, could you also make it funny? Thanks

This idea came through my messages. It's such a gem of an idea and I'm gonna give it a go 😁 But, be warned.... I'm not very confident with my humorous capabilities 😬🤞

Okay, so this got completely out of hand. It's nearly a 2000 word headcanon. It's really not much of a headcanon though, it's more of a one-shot in bullet point form. I didn't even get the whole request filled. It was supposed to be Alfie and the reader swapping jobs for the day (but I liked the idea of them seeing each other work, and that's why the whole thing got out of hand). Maybe if you guys like this one, the rest can be written in a part 2 ???

Word Count: 1946

Warnings: Swearing. It is very suggestive, but there's no actual smut.

Please feel free to send a comment/message/ask, I’d love to hear from you.

If you like this, then please feel free to head over to my blog and take a look around. You’ll find my masterlist in my bio.

• You and Alfie were a strange match, but somehow a perfect fit. Whilst you both may have started life in Camden Town, you took very different roads to success.

• Alfie earned his money doing things he would rather not talk about, at least not to you, and yet, you knew very well everything he was doing.

• You, on the other hand, worked extremely hard on the right side of the law, saving every penny to open up your own little boutique. At first, it was a tiny store way, way down a side street off the main shopping strip. And now, five shops later, you were located in the centre of the high street. A perfect little bespoke boutique that every designer fought tooth and nail to get their clothes into.

• And it was in that very first rather unimpressive shop that you met Alfie. He had been trying to coax his mother into the store to buy a dress for a funeral, but she refused in her thick Russian accent, “No, no. It’s too fancy here. I wear one of my old dresses.”

• To cut a long story short, you recognised his Camden Town accent (an accent you worked very hard to lose), went to offer assistance, instantly hit it off, and the rest is history. Now, back to the story.

• It started as a bet. One evening you were laying on the couch, your head resting in his lap, a peaceful silence lingering as he ran his fingers gently through your hair.

• When from nowhere you were overcome with dread at the thought of having to work in the morning, the thought manifesting into a rather loud and unexpected groan.

• In the very next second his fingers froze, his brows furrowing as he looked down at you with intent eyes, “What’s got you all suddenly pissed then?”

• You ran your hands across your face, “Just the thought of going in to work tomorrow.”

• Alfie almost snorted, “What... You can’t be bothered sittin’ down and sippin’ champagne, tellin’ fancy women how good they look when they try on your dresses? It’s gotta be the easiest fuckin’ job in the world.”

• You raised your brows, your eyes almost rolling into the back of your head. Mirroring his smart-arse tone, you replied, “You wouldn’t last five minutes. Those women would eat you alive.”

• And it was then that it occurred to you. Serving itself up on a platter, was the perfect opportunity to set your dear little Alfie up, realising that tomorrow you were hosting a private group of ladies at the boutique.

• All of them were invited to have an exclusive opportunity to purchase the new spring range a month before it was due on the shelves.

• It wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all. There would be champagne and strawberries and cheese platters galore, but there would also be a large group of ladies, valued customers, all of whom you knew quite well. Women that would indeed eat Alfie alive (if by chance, you instructed them to do so).

• With a sly smirk, you laid the bait. In one smoothly executed movement, you went from laying on the couch to straddling his lap, your arms entwined around his neck... and his expression told you, he thought he was about to score.

• He gripped you around the waist, but after a short heat filled kiss, you pulled away.

• His disappointment was adorable.

• Leaning back, you licked your lips and said, “You’re not doing anything tomorrow.” Then running your hands down his chest and up under his shirt, you offered, “If you can make it through just one day intact, doing what I do... then I will reward you in ways you can’t imagine.”

• Never had you seen someone so suspicious and hesitant agree to anything so quickly (Honestly, when you were straddling his lap he was like putty in your hands)

• In the morning he was already regretting it. Maybe because you woke him to a dapper grey suit laid perfectly across the bed, a tie and freshly polished shoes.

• He looked up at you with pleading eyes, but you cupped his cheek and replied, “I'm sorry, my love. But you must look the part.”

• Really though, you weren't sorry at all. By the time he was dressed he look so handsome that you already knew.... win, lose or draw, Alfie was getting his reward tonight.

• It was easy really. The group wasn’t expected until eleven o’clock that morning, so Alfie had an easy time organising the platters and polishing the crystal glasses, completely smug that he would make it through the day without a hitch. Calling for your attention he closed his eyes, his hands continuing to buff away a non-existent smudge from a china plate, “See, I can even do your job with my eyes closed.”

• You laughed, moving to him you pulled the plate from his grip, kissing him softly, “We’ll see.” And that was when the phone rang.

• His eyes popped open and you motioned for him to answer. His features crinkled as he made his way over and picked up the receiver, using the greeting he heard you use on the odd occasion he called you at the boutique. His silence followed as the muffled tones of a woman spoke from the end of the receiver.

• You knew exactly who it was, trying to suppress a smile as he fought to get a word in edgeways, his frustration evident, not used to being ignored. Biting down his frustration, he offered you the phone, “Mrs Fuller would like to speak with you.”

• This was turning out better than you expected.

• Alfie’s eyes narrowed, taking in your expression as he handed you the phone. Holding it to your chest, you spoke loud enough so Mrs Fuller could hear, “Alfie dear, please head down to the kitchenette and put the rest of the champagne in the cooler."

• (A side note: Mrs Adeline Fuller is a young married socialite, who much like you, was born without privilege. But a naturally elegant nature and disarming wit and charm, saw her marrying well, absolutely adored by her extremely wealthy husband)

• Adeline began speaking before you even had the chance to greet her, “Don’t tell me we are finally going to meet that brutish man of yours.”

• Normally such a sentence would have your face burning in anger, but you knew she meant no malice. You may have tried to dull down your Camden Town accent, but you were not one to hide away your past. You weren’t ashamed of your upbringing.

• And you certainly weren’t ashamed or secretive about your choice of partner. He was considered a brute by many, but with you, he was a rough and hopeless sweetheart, and so, you simply replied, “Yes, indeed you will.”

• You then proceeded to reveal your cunning plan (with no mention of the reward), and she was fully on board, ensuring that she and the rest of her party would make him earn his wages. And after confirming the booking for eleven, and adding two more attendees, Adeline concluded the conversation, “See you at eleven... This is going to be fun.”

• And it was. In all, there were fifteen women, all of them young rich socialites with money to burn, none of whom had ever met Alfie, but they all knew of him. Truth be known, in some indirect way, most of their filthy rich husbands/boyfriends were probably involved with him. And thanks to Adeline, all of them knew the little plan before they stepped foot inside the boutique.

• Initially, he greeted them by the door. Each one of them expecting their own personal greeting as they came through, you whispering their names seductively into his ear. His face was red before he spoke his first greeting.

• Once inside, he busied himself with the champagne, popping bottles and filling glasses as they all eyed him intently, their scrutiny making his movements awkward and rigid and his face beetroot.

• You wanted to laugh. It reminded you of a poor little cocktail waitress surrounded by a large group of men, all of them eager to slip a pound note in the top of her skirt.

• Now normally you weren’t used to seeing him so flustered, he was usually so confident and intimidating and in command, but these high-class women had him run off his feet.

• And foolishly, like an amateur, he kept their glasses flowing with bubbly, the result seeing them grow ever more comfortable with him, their hands brushing over his suit, admiring the fabric, an excuse to admire what laid underneath. Their brash and obvious flirting left his eyes pleading for you to rescue him. At least their inebriated state meant the till would be overflowing by the end of the day.

• When it was time to roll the racks of clothes out, the fun really began.

• From the change rooms they called for assistance, asking for dresses and lingerie in all different sizes, requesting hats and shoes by names and styles he didn’t understand. And they were playing hard, barely giving him a chance to think.

• It was perfect. But you had to give it to him... he didn’t give up... and he didn’t curse once.

• At one stage he had dresses strewn over his shoulder, lingerie hanging from his fingers and shoes piled in his arms, not to mention one of the hats perched precariously on top of his head.

• All while you sat back and sipped champagne. At one point he made a sly comment in your ear, “Havin’ fun sittin’ on that pretty arse of yours?”

• You just took another sip from your glass and shrugged your shoulders, “Well, according to you, that’s all my job entails.” Then you winked and turned your attention to Adeline coming out of the change room, “That looks beautiful Adeline, blue is definitely your colour.”

• When it was time for the gathering to finish up, it was just as amusing to watch him concentrate with great effort to wrap up and bag all of the sales, only for them to look like a pound of badly wrapped sausages. It was the only task that you had to take over, you couldn’t afford the expensive clothes getting ruined.

• When he farewelled the last guest, he turned with an expression of utter relief, but you squashed his spirits when you spoke with a smirk, “Now we just need to clean up and open the store to the public for the rest of the afternoon... and then we’ll be done for the day.”

• His poor little face shattered.

• And when it was time to shut and lock the door behind your last customer, he admitted, “That was fuckin’ horrible... I don’t know how you do that every bloody day.”

• Alfie had barely turned the open sign around to closed before you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his middle. And the poor man who looked ready to collapse suddenly found a second burst of energy.

• Wrapping your arms around his neck, his lips began to assault your neck with exquisite torture, but somehow you managed to speak, “Well, my good sir, I think I may have managed to destroy your fierce reputation in one single day.” Then with a nibble of his earlobe, you murmured, “But now it's time to collect your reward.”

• Alfie almost growled, his grip tightening around your backside as he made his way to the back of the store, his voice rough and hungry, “You might have fuckin’ destroyed my reputation, but don’t worry, cause I’m about to fuckin’ destroy you.”

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagines #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons headcanons #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction

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heckinconfusedparade · 3 years ago

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Hey buddy I found your blog awhile ago and than lost it but I really want more boom and movie universe interactions maybe have the boom cast meet Tom and Maddie or have boom sonic of all people tease movie sonice about the possibility of meeting his movie amy.

Welcome back honey! I’m glad you found it again.

I’ll make two posts; this one and the other one tomorrow.

I’m gonna use nicknames for some of the boom characters

Key-

Boom Sonic: Scarf

Boom Tails: Flyer

Boom Knuckles: Knux

Tom and Maddie Meet Sonic Boom

The Wachowski brothers have gone to the Boom universe a few times using a device the Tails’ made. Today is the day Team Sonic meets the fam!

Tom and Maddie are a little nervous, but also excited that their boys have made some good friends.

A portal opens up in the living room and here comes Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, and Sticks! Amy has got Sticks’ arm tightly in her grasp. Sticks doesn’t trust universe hopping Mumbo Jumbo!

“Welcome to Casa de Sonic!” Sonic emerges from the kitchen. Tails shoots out to greet his older self, who we will call Flyer. “Hi other me!! I’m happy you could make it!” The two share a friendly fist bump as Flyer laughs. Scarf (boom sonic) starts to speak “of course we made it! We had to drag Sticks here though. Not because she didn’t want to see you guys, but-“ he is cut off by Sticks herself “every time there’s dimension hoppin happenin, something goes wrong! What if we accidentally get lost in space??” “I won’t let that happen! Honest!” Flyer has made a promise. He has to keep it. Amy roles her eyes “it’s very nice to see you boys again. Where’s Knuckles?”

As if he were summoned, Knuckles is coming to the livingroom with a tray of snacks. Maddie and Tom are following behind with some glasses of water for their guests. Maddie and Tom are a little shocked at how big these guys are. They aren’t sure how they feel seeing their boys so grown up.

“Oh sweet! Goodies! Hi little me!” Knux waves to Knuckles, who places down his tray on the coffee table before he waves back “hello other me. I hope you had safe travels.”

“Oh it is so nice to meet you all! We’ve heard so much about you guys!” Maddie shakes everyone’s hand. “I haven’t seen Sonic this excited since Sonics opened up nearby!” Tom chuckles and also exchanges handshakes. “Hold on. Sonics? Do they got a place named after me?” Scarf is extremely interested. “It’s named Sonics because of their slogan ‘service with the speed of sound’.” Tom is happy to indulge in that interest. “I get free chilli dogs!” Sonic is a frequent customer.

The guests and Wachowskis sit down.

(I’m tired so everything will be in bullet points)

Maddie gushes about how big her boys are. Both she and Tom get a kick out of Flyer being taller than Sonic. It’s cursed yet hilarious.

Ozzie receives all the pets he could possibly want.

They like Scarf. He’s a lot like their Sonic, but definitely a little more braggy. Upon hearing that their Sonic won a race against himself, they’re shocked there was a timing difference and wanted to know how they managed to figure out who was first. Tails tells them that he set up an automatic camera to take several photos of every frame. It showed that lil Sonic won, posed for the camera, then went back to join Scarf in the race, only to win again. Scarf says it’s because Sonic is smaller, therefore lighter on his feet. Sonic and the Sonic from Sonic X share similarities.

Flyer is adored. Celebrated. Look at how wonderful he is. He happily talks about his adventures with his inventions. They sound dangerous, which worries Tom and Maddie that it may be a bad influence to their Tails, but then again, Flyer has no parental figure to tell him not to do stuff. And Scarf just encourages him. He’s told that if he ever needs parental guidance, he and the others are free to come any time.

Knux is met with confusion. He is so much different than Knuckles. There’s no thoughts behind those eyes. The lights are on but nobody’s home, and it’s a very dim lightbulb. Though he does say something smart which shocks everyone.

Maddie loves Amy. Tom thinks that Amy is the missing piece to Sonic having a good childhood. He wonders if there’s an Amy in their universe somewhere. Maddie and Amy bond over the obnoxious adventures the boys get into. Sticks joins that conversation. Both she and Scarf get flustered when asked about their relationship. Everyone knows it except them.

Sticks.. oh sweet Sticks. She was not impressed to figure out that SHE is the alien now. She is, however, still happy that she was right and that aliens do exist. Cause if they didn’t, she would still be in the comfort of her own home. Maddie and Tom listen to everything she has to say, because it’s all so interesting to them. They have to deal with Knuckles and Crazy Carl, so patience and understanding is a breeze.

Speaking of Crazy Carl, Sonic has the drawing framed. Scarf loves it and asks for a copy. Sanic will go down in history.

They also discuss the differences between their Eggmans. They all agree that the SCU Eggy is much more intimidating. It doesn’t help Boom Eggman that Flyer caught him in 4K in his pink onsie.

Flyer helps Tails with some of his inventions and gives him pointers. Knux and Knuckles are training like the apocalypse is coming and they will be the ones to save us all. Scarf and Sonic are racing around. They be goin. The girls? Making sure nobody fucking dies. They are the chaos control.

The visit goes well into the night. Tails wasn’t awake to say goodbye. Lil man is exhausted. He woke up sad. Then remembered that he and the other Tails can connect through their Miles Electrics. Flyer wakes to a sweet little message from a very tired fox. Sonic and Knuckles are out as soon as their faces hit the pillow.

They will meet again!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic 2 #sonic the hedghog movie #miles tails prower #movie tails #tails the fox #sonic #knuckles the echidna #movie sonic #movie knuckles #sonic boom #amy rose #amy the hedgehog #sticks the jungle badger #sticks the badger

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inklore · 2 years ago

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Hey dear! How long since I wrote to you, I don't know if I can ask but could you give me some advice on how to edit/theme/customize your blog in an aesthetic way?

Idk, even basic tips are fine, I really love seeing your blog and I think you have really good taste in aesthetics ❤️

hey lovey! it would be my pleasure to try and help you <3. i say try because my explaining skills are the absolute worst but i will do my best lmao. gonna do this in bullet points ok:

have an idea / inpisration / a crumb of what you want your blog to look like! you can find inspo literally anywhere, a friends blog even (but please remember to always ask and don't take it harshly if said person declines you doing so). pinterest is also amazing for this, looking up graphics, different aesthetics, templates, i literally have a board on my pinterest i've had for years now where i get graphic inspo or where i go when i just need to feed my creative juices to put me in the mood to create something. canva is also great, i literally go on there and look up headers, moodboards, etc and just star them for later. keywords are everything as well, so like 'aesthetic here + color, vibe, look, graphic, template' helps sites like canva and pin lead you in the right direction. same with just typing things like 'green, grunge, lovecore, etc'.

edit on desktop! now i know not everyone has a laptop or ipad or the ability to do this but i highly rec it over editing on the janky mobile app where sometimes things save and sometimes they don't. plus i always use one of the random saved user blogs i have to make a test layout / theme so if i don't like it everything on my main blog is fine, didn't change, and i didn't waste all that time on a theme i don't even want to look at lmao. so making a side blog where you do that is also great cause you can just copy and paste your nav post over, you can take the graphics you've already made and upload them onto your main without second guessing if they look good because you've already seen what it all looks like!

start small! by that i mean start with a simple theme or idea and build up from that. don't just start with seven graphics and ideas and overwhelm yourself. sometimes i just think of a color and be like yeah i'm make something with this color or wrapped around that color and i create something great.

ask a friend for help! i can't tell you how many times i've asked friends if this theme looked good or to send me inspo pics or what theme they think i should do, or even asked them to help me find resources. utilize your besties and mutuals.

not everyones aesthetic is the same! some people like messy themes, some like overdone, some like super simple. don't compare yourself to anyone!!!! everyone creates differently, everyone sees colors and aesthetics amd themes differently. no matter what you decide to go with is all your own and great and special.

etc: putting all your most important links in your nav is always a good rule of thumb (anything you really want to highlight as well), if you use pngs they're all over tumblr and pinterest 'transparent' + 'png' at the end or beginning of what you're looking for will always lead you in the right direction, and when it comes to pngs i highly rec adding them to a white background or transparent one and make the size of the background 500px and move the png halfway / towards the bottom (centered) of the background so tumblr doesn't make your header all the way at the top and ugly, don't make your nav post too long, take colors from your images / aesthetics to incorporate throughout the whole theme so everything meshes well together, don't use flashy dividers because it's not good on a lot of users eyes and unless you state a tw in the tags it's just not as cool as some people think lol.

that's all i can think of but if you have any more questions bby my pms are open!!

#theme help #▸ laur answers #about laur !

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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

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Since people actually liked it here's the continuation of the modern Xiao camgirl!darling post I cut from the original, as promised, most if it's under a cut. Here’s the original post. I didn’t think people would actually like the camgirl concept so I thought I was rambling too much and cut this part out lol but here it is now!

Tws: derogatory language/female slurs, mentions of reader being a cheater, reader is promiscuous, murder, incel-y mentality (our modern boy would be a 4chan user, look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong) and mentions of upsetting realistic things, this one's darker than the first part. If you're bothered by other modern stuff for being too realistic best avoid this too probably, involuntary pornography ---------- Coming up on one year since you gained your most loyal subscriber, you get a rather... Unsettling request. He has something he would like this month, in fact, he adds a few hundred to the regular amount (he's been saving up just for this) and asks for just the answer to one simple question. What's your name?

Your real name, he clarifies. He doesn't need a last name, nothing like that. It would just... Make him feel closer to you. He avoids using the term "anniversary," even though that's what comes to mind. He also doesn't tell you that he already knows, that this is just a test of your honesty. For someone who's so cautious, you would think you would think to give a fake name whenever you go to coffee shops for them to yell out, or change it on the packages you get. You hesitate. And it would be easy to give him a fake one, yet, you don't really think about it too much, you kinda think about that as an afterthought, what you should have done, but your very real name is typed out and sent before you really process it, and you feel a sort of unease, but it's already sent. No big deal. He can't do much with just your first name, right? If your name is common, you feel pretty safe, but even if it's a rarer one, surely there are other people with it, right? He's happy though. Kinda surprised, really, that you didn't lie to him. Maybe you trust him?

You're not stupid, you know something is wrong, you're becoming paranoid. And you connect the weird feeling to him, bc he goes radio silence for several days leading up to finally taking you. This dude who used to respond to any messages you sent within 10 seconds suddenly... It's like he disappeared? He hasn't responded to anything you send him ever since you said your name. You send him messages saying you haven't heard from him in a while and you're worried... The way you word it makes it sound like you're worried about him, but you both know that's not what you really mean. You're hesitant and suspicious of every guy you meet. You buy pepper spray and start carrying some around, you nearly spray a poor guy who you thought was trailing you, turns out he just lives in your building. He makes note of it. He watched you buy it, and is quick to realize you always hold it in the same hand. That must be your dominant hand, that's an important mental note for the future, since you're more likely to try to attack him with that hand. He'll remember. He has a note in his phone with information like that. Height, weight, birthday, social security number, parents' names, school she graduated from. All in little bullet points. He adds dominant hand to the list. He's not worried at all really. Already watched you struggle to carry packages he could lift with one hand, your strength doesn't cross his mind as a threat. At first he just doesn't know what to say, and that's why he stops responding, he feels too awkward but... He starts to enjoy the weird feeling of power the whole situation is giving him. You're worried, you're constantly paranoid, and it's because of him. Now you finally understand the same feeling you inflict on him, how you consume his thoughts every waking moment of every day. It used to irritate him that you held so much power over him, while he meant nothing to you. Now, the tables have turned. You're forced to have him constantly in your mind, whether you like it or not, just like you are in his. It's giving you what you deserve. It gives him a feeling of significance. He matters, even if it's not in a good way. And he keeps telling himself that once he's all you have, he'll matter even more. He's smart enough to realize that if you're paranoid, you might have mentioned him by username to someone else, so to ensure he knows what to do from this point, he has to sneak into your apartment at night as you sleep. It's so unbearably tempting, you have no idea -- you're right there and so vulnerable. He has to hold himself back because he knows that if he so much as touched you, he couldn't hold back. But it's torture, standing there so close, watching your chest rise and fall as he fiddles with the phone. Even when he unlocks it with your thumb, he tries to hold the phone from an angle to do so, even if the skin of his hand grazes yours, it would be too much. You have a lot of contacts across your messages and a bunch of different apps. You have one guy in your online chat you've exchanged far more messages with than anyone else! Hundreds upon hundreds of messages, and huge paypal cash drops, who the hell is -- oh, wait, that's him. Nevermind. But, to his pleasant surprise, he's the only one of your... customers that you regularly talk to, the rest just have a few paypal notifications or clarifications on your policies, but no actual conversations like you have with him. Of course, that's literally part of your deal, he's literally paying for it, but it makes him happy nonetheless. But as he goes through your personal messages, he finds that you are... in no shortage of options. Like, holy shit. It was kind of expected. You *are* really pretty, that's how you have so many followers after all, but this is a lot. So many contacts named some variation of "DO NOT ANSWER!!!" or "creepy guy that forced me to give him my number at the club", etc etc. Plenty of unsaved numbers texting you to never get a response. You've ghosted enough dudes to make your place haunted. It's... kinda awful, really. It also kinda hurts his heart a bit more than he expected. You have so, so, so many options, even without the cam thing, he's more insignificant than he even realized. ...Well, for now, at least. He'll be significant to you soon enough. And then you seem to have a sort of "boyfriend of the month" deal going on, aside from that. Plenty of male-name contacts whose last exchange is a "don't talk to me again!" message from you, plenty of messages corresponding to the same time as those to your girl friends about how you can't find a good guy and every relationship ends badly. How unfortunate. See, it's because you choose bad guys. You probably go for dicks and not.... well, he can't exactly pull the "nice guys like me" mentality, he doesn't delude himself into thinking he is one. He's lucid enough to realize that most nice guys would not be sneaking into your house and standing over your sleeping body to stalk your phone as they make plans to kidnap you. He knows he would probably fall under the classification of a creepy guy. He's just too far gone to care. Still, he would be so much better to you, he tells himself, not a cheater or a player like you complain about. To say he resents those kinds of guys -- ones that can do the unthinkable and actually talk to girls, let alone successfully, only to be assholes, and yet girls like you still go for them -- is an understatement. You're basically just a slut, you probably ignore all the guys that would be nice to you, just like all those internet forums he reads talk about. Typical.

Well, those forums also make fun of guys like him who pay for girls like you, but he can't blame them. It *is* kinda pathetic. There is one dude you talk to, though, now. Current boyfriend of the month, from the looks of it. You have a little heart emoji next to the name. He knows it's kinda pathetic that something so simple and insignificant sets him off, but it does, makes him pout and grind his teeth and curl his other hand into a fist. It's so unfair. Some dude you barely know gets to fuck you, and you haven't even known him nearly as long as you've known him! He doubts this dude -- hell, any of your boyfriends -- has put in the same amount of money that he has into you. They fuck you practically for free. And that, unfortunately for you, only solidifies his decision. If you're fucking some dude for a month because they buy you dinner every now and then, if we're going by that scale, then you owe him quite a good deal of pussy. Any hesitancy or guilt he had about the whole thing is gone. And he's a little mad. Keeps grumbling to himself that you're just a loose whore, fucking so many people and putting yourself out there on the internet. He wonders if they even know about what you do. Probably not, you probably don't tell them. Yeah, that sounds like what you'd do. Really, you're kinda lucky that someone like him is so willing to commit to you, since you are a slut. You don't deserve it, but he loves you anyway. And you'll probably have the nerve to be ungrateful for it too. Sigh. On the bright side, by some miracle, it would appear that you have not told any real-life people about him, you haven't sent out any hey if I disappear you should probably look into this creep type of messages. But he can't afford to have you doing so in between now and when you move in with him, so, he decides he has to act within the next 24 hours. While he's here, though, he decides to do a quick sweep of your place. Makes note of what snacks and drinks you like, what brand of toothpaste and shampoo and the like you use, so he can buy some for you. Maybe you'll adjust better if you have some of your favorite things. And then, after days of silence, he sends you a message, says it's fine, his internet went out for a few days. He means it to reassure you, but somehow it makes you feel more uneasy. He has everything planned out, or so he thinks. But you deviate from your usual schedule. When you leave work or class, you don't go home, you go somewhere else, first. How strange. Maybe picking up groceries? He follows from a distance. No, looks like you're going out to eat...? Maybe you're meeting friends or family or -- no that's a guy. Fuck. You must have planned this just earlier today, since there were no messages on your phone. It makes a bitter feeling rise in his gut. He hates that he can't get close enough to listen to your conversation. Well, he hates the whole thing, sits there and seethes the whole time. Watches you through the windows in the parking lot, thankfully you chose to sit outside. Feels his eye twitch and his hand clench every time you smile and laugh. It takes way too long. The fact that you split the bill feels like a punch to the stomach too. Shouldn't you be used to taking guys' money? Oh, and what's this...? This guy isn't the picture on boyfriend-of-the-month's contact. Well, well, well. You really are a whore. See, it's a very good thing he's taking you off the market. You're probably a reckless heartbreaker too. He's doing all the other men of the world a favor by taking on such a burden as you. And it makes him feel far more justified in keeping you locked away, since he has every reason to believe, now, that you'd run off and fuck someone else if given the chance. Halfway through, the guy briefly gets up and runs to the bathroom or something. While he's gone, he sees your face fall a bit. And then he sees you look around. You turn your head from one side to the other. Your eyes scan the area. You shuffle uncomfortably and you bite your lip and your eyebrows furrow. You're scared. You feel like -- no, you know you're being watched and it scares you. That makes him a little happy, for some reason. He wouldn't be sure what to do if you went home with the guy, but thankfully you don't. No big deal, this was just a bump in the road, he still beats you back to your building and he still goes through with the original plan. Even better, now that it's even darker outside. If anything, now he's got extra aggression and testosterone in his blood, running over the events in his head and going through some... very forceful and violent fantasies. The message he sent had you uneasy, and it's also how you immediately know what's going on when it does finally happen. You keep telling yourself you're being unnecessarily paranoid, that it's nothing, maybe that guy actually got his life together or got a girlfriend or something. Things like... What you fear, don't happen in real life, that's stuff that only happens in movies and stuff. You keep calling it that or it in your head. That won't happen to you. It's not going to happen. The series of events that play out in your head, scenarios you try to push out of your mind. Sure, in the movies it always takes place in the stairwell, but that's fiction, so you go up the apartment stairwell as always. You're not gonna let a bunch of B-grade old films scare you. And it's always some dude standing and waiting, but that nice young boy that you've never seen before is just leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, he only glances up for a second as you pass by, he's not a threat, you're being paranoid. You flash a smile and a little wave as you walk by, he doesn't return either, just looks back down at his phone. See? This guy doesn't even care, you're being paranoid for nothing, you tell yourself. But as you make the turn to go up the next set of stairs you hear the click of a phone being put on the lockscreen, a few metallic footsteps ringing out in the open hall and echoing, coming up right behind you, but for that split second you expect a tap on the shoulder, maybe he has a question, it's not like movies, it's not like movies, you're not gonna get a cloth shoved over your face and--- Well, it's not exactly like the movies. You were prepared, but it all happens in one motion - one hand grabs the hand with the spray and twists it, making you drop it, the other wraps some material over your mouth. You were prepared enough that you don't gasp in surprise, you hold your breath and thrash, but it doesn't make any difference, you wiggle and writhe for a few moments but can't even begin to break free, eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen and take a deep breath. It takes a few seconds to settle in, it's not so immediate. You instinctively panic and thrash again, but he has a complete iron grip. The dizziness takes a second to set in. He huffs a bit in frustration and says stop moving, it's fine. It's definitely not, but it occurs to you that that's not something a kidnapper looking for any potential vulnerable girl says. It's a poor attempt at comfort. It's someone specifically looking for you. And if that wasn't enough, he says your name. Your very real name. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him after all. But the worst part of it all is that there's not a single doubt in your mind, even in your panic you have the realization, it's definitely him and this is literally exactly what you were afraid of. And it's the last thing that goes through your head. And once he's got you out cold he just takes a sigh of relief. He may have been very neutral faced to you, but in reality he was incredibly nervous. He hasn't exactly made or used chloroform before, our boy is operating on YouTube tutorials here. He's got adrenaline pumping through his veins and carries you with his arms trembling. He's on autopilot carrying you out, but his mind is also consumed by holy fuck I'm touching her she smells so nice she's so warm her face is so close I'm actually touching her-- you get the idea. He feels bad about taping your hands and feet together and putting you in the trunk of his car, kinda. It feels too much like what a really bad person would do to a girl they didn't care about, like he's a trafficker or a murderer or a criminal or something, but that's not true at all. Sure, he's still mad at you for being a whore and all that, but it feels improper, he just has no choice. It's late at night, but he can't risk getting pulled or being at a stoplight and someone seeing an unconscious girl in his backseat, so, trunk it is. But once he's home, to his tiny little downtown apartment (he'll probably be able to move into a better place soon, since he's not paying you tons of money anymore), he takes a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, and drags you out, up the stairs, all the way into his apartment, sets you down on the bed, where you'll be staying. He even washed the sheets and cleaned the place up a bit for your arrival. You probably would not like to see what this place looked like before the five trash bags worth of cleaning was done. He'll probably be more motivated in the future, though, since now he won't be so depressed all the time. And then the adrenaline of the fear of being seen is over, and that's when it sets in that this is real. It's very, very hard to hold back. You're real, in the flesh, he can reach out and touch you with his hands! It feels like a dream. And he realizes he can take this opportunity to do things he would be far, far too embarrassed to do when you're awake. He takes a few minutes to do just that, cautiously reaches out to poke your face, and then run a hand down your neck, your skin is so soft! Your hair smells so nice, he lays down beside you and runs his fingers over it. Puts hands on your body and just lays there in awe of the fact that you're real. He's pretty certain he's never actually touched a human female before now. Everything about you feels soft. Weirdly feminine, which is something very foreign and confusing to him. And he kinda uh... Loses it. Goes buckwild with just taking in every aspect of you. Again, since you're unconscious he can be gross and entirely shameless about it. Peels your clothes off and runs his hands and mouth over every inch of flesh, takes the tape off your lips and presses his tongue into your limp mouth until he's forced to let go to breathe, fingers you and tonguefucks you and sucks on your nipples and your neck. Lays pressed against you and just breathes in your scent. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to fuck you already. But he does jerk off a few times. That way he'll last longer, so it's a win-win. And then... you twitch. Tape goes back over your mouth. And then, you twitch again. And this time, you make a little "mm!" under the tape, you start trembling and he sees you try to pull your hands apart. You whimper. It sounds scared and distressed. He feels kinda bad, but it also makes him hard, and that outweighs any guilt by far. Besides, it's what you deserve after what you did earlier. You tortured him mentally, it's only fair. On the good side of things, you suppose, you don't have to worry about the usual fears one would have over such a situation - you're fairly certain he's not going to kill you, nor sell you. In fact, the bed you wake up on is pretty soft. You're naked and the tape is uncomfortable, but... At least he was considerate enough to give you a blanket. He does care about you, after all. First thing he says is asking if you're awake. Can you hear me? You hesitate a moment, and then you nod. He's a bit new to this whole abduction thing. He wants to make sure he didn't pull a muscle or something with the tape. So... Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head hurt? Oh, right, the tape. He's not stupid either. You have to promise you're not going to scream. In fact, he's angry enough about earlier that he gets a bit meaner than he originally told himself he'd be. If you scream, I'll make you regret it. Understand? You nod, so he takes it off, holding it close in preparation in case you were lying, but you don't actually answer him, you're silent again for a minute, then just ask a question of your own. You're that guy, right? He's silent for a few seconds, there's no need for any clarification. Finally just says yeah. You just breathe again. Silently. Finally you summon the courage to ask him what he wants with you. And why are you doing this to me? And his answer is fairly simple. What do you think? You don't say anything for a minute, and neither does he. He's not good with words, and you don't really have ones for this situation. It occurs to you that offering to pay him to let you go is probably not the solution. After all, this is the guy that's dumped unimaginable amounts of money onto you, you couldn't even come close to paying him back. You figure maybe, after he gets what he wants... well, you get the courage to ask. Is there anything... that I can do o-or... anything that will make you... are you gonna let me go, after you....? And the answer is, again, simple, but the one you did not want to hear. No. He's a blunt boy, so he doesn't beat around the bush, but he doesn't torment you by keeping anything from you. In fact, he's already rehearsed this speech a few hundred times in his head. He just wanted to make sure he's very clear so there's no misunderstanding, and while he likes some discomfort in a vengeful sort of way, he doesn't want you to be too freaked out to where you have a panic attack. He says he's just going to... keep you here. He has the things you'll need. He got your purse with your keys, so he'll even run to your apartment after this to go get some of your stuff. You don't need to tell him which number, he adds, he already knows which apartment you're in. He needs you here, he says. And he makes sure to add that it's your fault. If you were never out there selling yourself in the first place, this never would have happened. If you're good, he can make things a bit better for you. But you need to go ahead and accept that you're going to be staying and that no amount of begging or offers is going to convince him to let you go. He can be nice to you, he promises. A better boyfriend than the others. You just have to be a good girlfriend -- you know, obedient and sweet and do what he says. Just like you always were when you talked to him. Just keep being sweet like that and doing the things he tells you to do. You would argue that the terms boyfriend and girlfriend are not appropriate descriptors of the sort of relationship he's creating, but you keep that thought to yourself. Instead, you ask, How long are you going to keep me here? Which is a dumb question, since he's pretty sure he already made that clear. Forever. -----

There's a double homicide in the area. Takes place on the same night, and the same diameter of knife is used, so police believe maybe the two incidents are connected. Especially because they do have something in common, one girl. She was romantically involved with both of them. The girl in question's apartment has been vacated, very suddenly, and the girl has disappeared without a trace, taking things with her from the looks of it, so police believe she may be responsible, but other than that, they have no leads. A few weeks later, a video circulates all over the internet. Some famous camgirl finally started making porn, apparently. Just one video, but the description (which was totally written by her, it has to be since it's written in first person right?) says something about how she decided to quit camming, so this video marks the end of her career. She got into a relationship, so she says in the description, so she has to quit. It's roleplay porn, apparently, she's doing a good job at the acting. All tied up and gagged and getting fucked by some big-dicked guy holding the camera. He's silent, but she's making a ton of noise, cums several times. Really good acting, the fear and desperation in her eyes looks so real. Talk about going out with a bang. It gets a lot of likes. Tons of comments about how sad people are she's quitting. And of course, a lot of comments say, what a lucky guy.

#.camgirl

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie.

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him. I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

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justalost4girl · 4 years ago

Text

" If anything can go wrong, it will."

Good night!! (Here it's still night :p )

A few weeks ago I said I would do a oneshot Lorraine Broughton x F! Reader, but it got too big so I decided to follow the initial idea and turn it into a mini series. I have two chapters written and I'm going to post them here and in Ao3, I think there will be 3 or 4 chapters in total, but I'm not sure yet.

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!!

warnings: mention of violence, R cursing, forgery of documents (?)

Words: 4573

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1989

Berlin, East Side

You feel in your bones, when you wake up, the consequences of last night and think that the famous Murphy's Law decided to test you. On this side of the wall few things go right, but having an order in your head two days after joining STASI's wanted list proves that nothing is so bad it can't get any worse. Courtesy of a dumb customer who messed with the wrong people and thought revealing where you find your customers would be enough information to escape death. The Local Gang (or Angels, as they call themselves) loves to eliminate competition from the market.

Now he's dead and you have to deal with the STASI AND the Local Gang (you refuse to call them Angels).

The local fucking gang that sent a team of idiots to break into your favorite bar and made you run out the back door before meeting a customer who was going to pay well. The local fucking gang who must be pissed that you shot the six dumbest members you've ever had to face in your life. No really fatal shots, but of course that won't matter as they do business with the KGB.

Sometimes you want to ignore the rules you've made for yourself, especially "never kill someone unless it's in defense of yourself or someone you love", but you think killing six agents who don't have the ability to set up an ambush of success would be a great waste of bullets. Now you know you're going to have to leave town soon and you have no idea how to break the news to your brother/partner, how do you honorably abandon a war before it's over?

Damn Murphy's Law

You know you need to sort this out, but you refuse to stay in bed crying over what's already written and decide to leave the wonderful Egyptian linen sheets you got from your favorite client last month to face the world and it's impossible to face the world without a good amount of coffee. After a quick shower with a cup of Blue Mountain in hand, your newest addiction, you sit in a robe in a nice armchair, look out the window at dying Berlin and thank heaven for the comfortable life you've earned by working with one of the greatest smugglers on this side of the wall, perhaps from all over Germany. Some desperate customers offer you valuable items from them in exchange for passports and unlike your idiot “brother”, you don't have a rule about only receiving cash. Almost everything here comes from gifts, from the sofa, pictures, bags, clothes and even some books on your shelf. You don't even remember buying that cup, or the coffee set, for gods' sake.

If he saw you now he'd complain about being soft with customers and say something about how items aren't a bargaining chip in the real world, you'd get into a tiresome discussion about enjoying the finer things in life and how bills don't compare in the importance of yours. silver chain with moon pendant that was once an amulet for more than three generations for a French family.

At the end of the day, Merkel has a large information network and an office that takes up half the block, where she keeps as much money as she has secrets, and you have a house decorated by other people where each object symbolizes someone you've helped.

Four walls don't make a house

The thought takes away some of the almost peace you feel and you decide to finish your coffee before it gets cold.

After a quick glance at the calendar you remember about the march that will take place in Alexanderplatz square and decide to go scream for Germany one last time, hopefully you'll be able to hide long enough to see the fall of the damn wall that divides this country. It's not your country, not really, you don't even like to remember how you got here, but the experiences you gained wouldn't be exchanged for anything, not even for an original Van Gogh. Also, Merkel asked you to go and bring a black umbrella, the reason was not explained and you didn't feel like asking, sometimes you think Gordon Merkel is not his name, but how to judge the man who is your only family in this end of the world? You smile when you remember that he shouldn't have an umbrella with a story as cool as his and decide to piss him off for it.

Your phone rings, and you notice you've lost track of time. Merkel was helping a blonde woman named L, he didn't give you more details other than a few stories about how she was a perfect and dangerous assassin that you should keep your distance, as few people know how to deal with her. You thought he overreacted, but you had to take over some business from him while she was in town. She seemed important considering the way he told you about her and you knew better than to deny help to the person who always supported you and declared himself a brother, you trusted him because not even the best agent in the world could fake so much sincerity and affection in claiming this title for himself.

You reach out, pick up the phone, and decide to answer it. “Hey little sister, how are you out there? I called to say that everything is fine for dinner today, but there was a mishap and the wine ran out, bring the best Bordeaux you have, I'll return the courtesy as soon as possible." A code, of course.

He needs your services ASAP. Wine is a passport, Bordeaux means two elements, courtesy involves a child.

You can combine business with pleasure "Hi brother. I'm looking forward to today, I'll take the best wine I have, don't worry. I already know how you can thank me. I need to clean the house and go to the office first, but I'll be there on time. wait for me." you say in a voice that oozes normalcy, you never know when someone's listening on the phone especially now that you're a fugitive, disgraced customer. Your body sinks into the armchair noticing the oncoming cloud of worry

Merkel now knows you need his help, as cleaning the house means getting away and going to the office shows you're in a hurry.

"Alright, do you want me to send the driver?" He asks like he's not freaking out and offering the bloody job of one of his mercenaries

“No, bro, thanks, I know the way.” You say as if you really have an escape plan besides getting a fake passport, emergency backpack and all the money you can find.

“See you later, don't forget the wine. Are you sure you don't want the driver?" You wonder if he has forgotten that knowing the way literally means everything is fine

“Relax, see you later” It takes a few seconds for him to hang up and you can hear his sigh.

He will be SO pissed.

You put the phone down as you get up to gather the passport forgery materials and put them in a briefcase. Your cookbook is already there along with some banknotes from different countries. As you pick up the black backpack of standard clothes and accessories that always waited for you in the corner of the door, you decide to wear the first jacket you bought, the dark blue jeans, the combat boots you got from a skinhead, the wristwatch you bought. you got for your brother's birthday, thick leather gloves and a thin white shirt that matches the rest of your outfit. After all, if you can die when you open the door, then die well dressed. Be sure to keep the Colt 1911 around your waist and the Russian dagger around your ankle, after yesterday you never know, Your pocket watch with the coat of arms of the Brazilian imperial family indicates that 15 minutes have passed since Merkel's phone call

You take one last look at the house you've been so proud of in recent years, snap a photo with the Polaroid you've won, and, with a bittersweet smile, close the door. One day when the wall comes down, the government changes and your face is forgotten, you can come back here, until then you will have to make do with the photo album you keep in your backpack and this photo.

Putting on your sunglasses, you arrive on the street and decide to take a taxi on the other corner, make sure you look around before leaving your home, no one knows your address, but you can't be sure the local gang is so stupid to the point of not following you after last night.

Getting a taxi was relatively easy. Neil, the driver, thanks to the boots, mistook you for a revolutionary and talked for 10 minutes about how he hoped he could take down the wall with his bare hands, you thought it was cool, but as you passed the big river that was just a few blocks away from the your brother's office, you couldn't hear a word from him.

A sign signaling that the river was closed to visitors made your eyes fill with tears. You used to go there when the day was bad, spread a blanket in a corner and watch the stars, or just laugh at the distinct reflection the water made of the moon and stars. Merkel accompanied you on anniversaries, justifying them as bonding experiences. After some freaks started swimming in the river and executions increased, STASI took over and you replaced the dark water for the restaurant's bright lights. But seeing it tightly closed gave him a feeling of anguish and rancor. You would silently curse the wall builders for the rest of the trip.

Neil seemed to notice but didn't comment on it, you thanked him, wiped your tears and left a good tip as you descended a block away from your final destination. This time you didn't need to look around because even though Merkel was super busy, he made sure to leave some security close to where your landing place was.

A tall man dressed in a red T-shirt approached you and hugged you as if he hadn't seen you in a long time. You've known him since the beginning of last year, when he arrived at Merkel's office begging for a job, and from the first moment the way he turned grief over his brother's death into a thirst for revolution made you admire the young man. The two of you walked through the great gate hand in hand as you asked about his life with genuine interest, and Klaus increasingly believed in Merkel's theory about you having such a pure heart that you didn't care about motivation or the number of lives they took, your explanation of the judgment not being your responsibility, crossed the man's head before he escorted you to the main office.

You thanked him with a smile, opened the door and stood in front of the table in the windowless room, where your brother was already waiting for you.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay? I was about to send J to get you, please tell me what happened"—he said hurriedly as he got up and pointed at the couch for you to sit on. J was one of the most dangerous women in the building and you were grateful for not wasting her time.

Putting your backpack and umbrella aside, you answered:

"I'll explain later, little brother, now let me help you. You need passports urgently, don't you?" Yes, you were stalling and postponing the conversation. He'd call you an idiot for going out on the street right after you got on the wanted list, and he'd feel guilty when he found out why you didn't tell him. Merkel wasn't going to understand that her fear of failing him was no one's fault but yourself.

Your sentence seemed to give him some responsibility back, but still, as he held out a glass of water for you, his eyes met yours with a glint that warned that this conversation was far from over.

"Yeah, I really do, but don't think I'm going to forget about it. Let's talk when this is all over. Even if it's the last thing I do today."

You accepted the glass with a bit of trepidation and stood up towards the large center table while opening the briefcase with the supplies you were going to need, if Merkel noticed the bills he didn't say anything. Once at the table, you made two passports for mother and daughter in record time. According to the clock, 10 minutes passed, faster than a car, this deserves a celebration. It would have been six if Merkel hadn't been so curious to make you waste time pulling your watch out of your pocket just for him to analyze.

Everything was going well and there was only one last detail for mother and daughter to be taken by one Percival to the other side of the wall. Percival, according to Merkel, was strange and fickle. Unreliable and extremely dangerous, you should also keep your distance from him, as this man had crucial contacts on both sides of the wall.

"He must have fewer contacts than you", you would answer

If a loud noise didn't break the silence

The annoying noise of the door creaking made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you almost missed the last signature, it made your body vibrate with irritation and your eyes follow to the offensive source of the sound. A tall man with short hair and blue eyes was holding the doorknob with a military posture and before you could release your anger and explain something about how people shouldn't be violent inside Merkel's office you noticed he was accompanied by a woman.

AND WHAT A WOMAN!

Your eyes connected to a pair of fierce, intent green eyes, surrounded by a pale skin tone and hair so blond it looked like snow. The barely perceptible frown showed she was surprised to find someone other than Merkel there, yet she looked ready for a battle. You looked into her eyes again and nodded in acknowledgment, this must be L, the woman he was talking about.

She looked at you suspiciously, but also as if she could see into your soul, and what must have been frightening, you found endearing. A few stories of murders orchestrated by her crossed your mind, but all you could imagine is how beautiful she must be when she's mad.

They say green eyes darken when we're high on adrenaline, does that happen to her?

Her analysis of the intriguing blonde ends when she notices that the man accompanying her has raised his voice and from his furious expression, it's not the first time he's repeated the question. You interrupt him before you hear him and make sure to direct the ghost of anger before him:

"Have you lost your mind? Who walks into the office without knocking? Surely you should be here asking about passports, but if it weren't for my experience and steady hands, they would be in the trash by now. Learn to be civilized. You're under two paws not four, so act human and not animal" you say in an explosive but articulate tone to make sure he understands what you say. Sometimes when you speak fast, you are betrayed by faulty diction. Not today. Today you want this man to feel every fiber of irritation that went through his body.

Hearing Merkel holding a nervous laugh, you try to relax, but judging by the cold, almost murderous look of the man in the doorway, you've definitely gotten yourself in trouble. Looking at the organized clothes, you notice it's an old police uniform, probably taken by your brother, and unless Merkel has hired new employees, you've never seen it around here. His eyes snap back to his and something inside you warns that this must be Percival. He probably wants to kill you.

Damn Murphy's Law

A brief silence settles in the room and you shake off the fear and turn away, refusing to play the glaring game with a man who almost spoils your art. On other days you might look at him at a party, but today you want to make him swallow the ink on the stamp in his hands and invite the blonde to dinner

And it's her voice that breaks the silence.

You're flipping through the two passports for failures when she says

"Sorry, miss. My friend is an unprecedented idiot. Shall I close the door and knock again? Perhaps your highness too--"

You turn her body towards her when you hear the slightest hint of irony in her tone and interrupt her with a fake smile as you look into her eyes.

"It's not necessary, I accept your apology, Miss. I always said that Merkel should have someone armed at the door to remind everyone of the need to knock on the door. Anyone who didn't knock would lose his mind as the law of my reign says. Perhaps I should start. for him, since the top head is the last thing he wears lately" you joke look at Merkel who doesn't seem offended by the statement, shrugging you look at those blue eyes again and say "the passports are ready. Let's get out of here."

You close the passports, reach for your backpack and umbrella and start moving towards the door, both agents let you lead the way and judging by the blonde's expression, she's not used to being interrupted, nor is she used to seeing someone talking like that with Merkel, but today it was acceptable. You really think she's adorable, but you know better than to let someone make fun of you, especially in front of your brother who wouldn't let you forget about it. Either she doesn't care, or she's a great actress. Anyway, that idiot is still by her side and you refuse to be the reason for his possible laugh.

Her friend probably didn't have the same acting classes and his resemblance to the local gang members, like he's going to kill you in the blink of an eye in a cowardly way, is almost frightening. If Merkel hadn't said L is a woman, you'd be scared. It makes you shiver a little and look for Merkel, but he's not following you. Looking over his shoulder you see him putting a few more piles of dollars and euros into your briefcase. With a snap of your fingers you get his attention and before you walk out the door, you hear the briefcase click closing.

Once out of the room, you look around and realize that nothing has really changed, all faces are familiar, except for three people: a couple talking to a child. After a brief analysis you find yourself facing the passport clients, mother and daughter. The man doesn't look older than 60 and has kind eyes, almost as if he doesn't live on this side of the wall.

They don't seem to notice you

Your observation is interrupted by Merkel's loud, proud voice, right behind you. Here it comes

"This is Elizabeth Loyd and Percival, two trusted clients. Elizabeth and Percival, this is my little sister, she will be on the march today, if you need anything in the future you can talk to her."

Hearing her name, you notice that Merkel really wasn't creative at all. Who would use the initial letter of a surname as a symbol? Anyone who heard the stories about L and met a loyde who knows a Merkel would make the connection. As you turn around, you swallow your nervousness and try to put on your best smile as you say your name to them. The blonde woman who finally has a name, Elizabeth, leans closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you wonder if she can feel the jumble of emotions that is unraveling inside you.

She smiles a smile that makes you sure she does and reaches out and greets you with a firm grip, if she noticed the sweat on your hands, she didn't let on. She also looks a little more comfortable.

Maybe because she noticed you said her real name, idiot.

You hate yourself for one second and the next you want to be without gloves because it feels soft and warm.

The man, Percival, comes next and looks at you suspiciously and the smile fades from your face, you wonder if no one else can smell the strong smell he gives off, a smell of cheap whiskey and arrogance. Still, he holds out his hand and this time you thank the gods for the gloves. Make sure you don't bow your head or fail in your posture. He still looks at you like you killed his son. Useless even to pretend, for God's sake.

Merkel watches the exchange from afar and nods to Elizabeth, she responds and Percival walks away looking uneasy. You look around uncomprehendingly, feel a little left out, and wonder which computer must have Tetris installed.

You would kill for a distraction right now.

Going out on the street in a crowded march while being chased by two groups still makes you sick.

Your brother approaches and extends his hands around you. You've missed him for the past few weeks. He still wears the perfume you gave him for his birthday and it makes you sink deeper into the hug. You know he's going to be mad when he finds out what happened so you enjoy as much affection as you can

"Little sister, in addition to our conversation I need to tell you something" his voice is low in tone and you doubt you would understand the words if you weren't so close to him "but I can't do that until the march is over. Meet me at usual table at the restaurant where we celebrate our achievements, It's very important"

His even low voice is charged with strong emotion and you are genuinely worried, Merkel has never been like this before.

"I'll do it, brother, I promise. Whatever it is, we can work it out together" you say with all the certainty you can muster in your voice, because you need him to understand that this is true.

You feel eyes on you and as you look up you notice that Elizabeth keeps an eye on your exchange with Merkel while talking to the little girl's father, from the distance she probably can't understand anything and you don't know if she celebrates or cares with so much attention received. A little further away is a Percival who pretends to be busy with the coat he's wearing. He also pays attention to your exchange, but his talent for discretion is as effective as his ability to open doors.

Your eyes return to the concentrated blue eyes that are in front of you and Merkel speaks in an almost inaudible way:

"When I whistle, I need you to raise your open umbrella and stay alert. The three people we're going to cross are very important, nothing can go wrong. But if it does, I'll be at the restaurant, whatever happens find me there."

Noticing the proximity of Percival and Elizabeth, you place your hand on your brother's shoulder and smile as you speak a little louder:

"Don't worry man, it's always a pleasure to help you. I'll leave my briefcase here, then meet you to get it. Good march."

Merkel shows that she understands his strange move and smiles, you greet some friends of his that you haven't seen in a while and as you head towards the exit, you meet a pair of deep green eyes. Elizabeth is gleaming in the cold lights that are refracted by the mosaic of the gate, she looks into your eyes, ever alert, looks at the object in your hands and nods her head with a half smile, do you think the guard's idea black rain was hers.

As you wave back, you can feel that a pair of eyes haven't left your back since the moment of your brother's embrace, as the old man is saying goodbye to the family, you know who they belong to and decide not to look for them. If the STASI, KGB or local gang find you, he doesn't own the pair of eyes you want to remember before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you walk through the gate and blend into the crowd.

..........................................................................................................................

After leaving Merkel's office block, you take a hat out of your backpack and wear your sunglasses as you look around, not that a local gang member is here but because if he sees you in disguise he will ask a series of questions and he has enough problems already, plus STASI must be monitoring this area and the last thing you want is to be arrested. You decide to tuck your coat into your backpack to change your look, and while internally debating your ability to ignore the cold, your eyes catch the almost snowy blond hair in the crowd.

This signals that they are already on the march and you decide to get a little closer to them, but make sure you do this without drawing attention to yourself since the nasty man is still there. Elizabeth is on your diagonal absorbing all the extraneous details that might be a possible threat, she seems so focused on the job of passing the owner's gentle eyes in a safe way that it makes you wonder how important he is and if she's noticed you.

A few meters later a familiar noise floats through the march and you open the umbrella almost instantly, as do other protesters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Percival taking the man's family across and sometime later Elizabeth does the same. You notice that her posture has changed and when she decides to stop for a better look, the crowd drags her and you can no longer locate her.

Her feet continue forward and as some signs are raised by the protesters, you try to find your brother. Unsuccessfully. You decide to trust their ability and hope that you can meet him again at the restaurant.

You also want Elizabeth to be okay.

Continuing on the march, after two or three long blocks you notice the familiar silhouette of one of the STASI bosses, he is watching the crowd as if looking for someone, but he doesn't seem to notice you. You notice observers on top of buildings and decide to leave the streets. Whether it's the Local Gang, KGB or STASI itself you don't know and decide you don't want to know.

Your brain tries to design routes to escape and your body mimics the movements of the closest protesters so as not to draw attention to you, but when some agents in black point in your direction and make space in the crowd, you run between people to seek shelter in somewhere you know and at every step you are sure that the day will be worse than you thought.

Damn Murphy's Law

#lorraine broughton x reader #lorraine broughton #atomic blonde #charlize theron

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nightingaelic · 4 years ago

Note

Fnv Companions react to Fem Courier being trans girl (sorry feel abit of self projection today hahah)

Don't feel sorry for wanting to see yourself reflected in the world around you, we all want to know that we belong.

The Forecaster frowned, and his eyes moved rapidly from left to right as if scanning some hidden radar. "Your face does the thinking... two to the skull, yet one gets up," he said.

The courier who stood before the boy nodded and touched her fingers to her temple, almost reflexively. "That's me."

"Odds are against you," the Forecaster went on, squinting. "But they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You've changed suits once, clubs to diamonds, and now you're playing the hand you've been dealt."

At this, the courier stiffened suddenly. "Um..."

The Forecaster went on, unaware of his customer's discomfort. "But you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble... a gamble that may pay off? But how? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."

"Um... thanks." The courier counted out the caps and handed them over to the boy, then beat a hasty retreat from beneath the overpass.

Once back atop Highway 95, she took her traveling companion aside. "Before you think I worked for some Mojave faction and deserted, that thing he said about changing suits... I didn't think he'd... what he meant was... I wasn't always..."

She sighed and ran a hand over her head. "Hell, it's about time I told you anyway. I'm trans."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stopped her before she could stumble into an over-explanation. "It's, uh, it's okay. I... may have already known."

"You..." The courier's eyes widened. "You did? But who told you?"

"I, um..." Arcade straightened his glasses and looked up at the sky, avoiding eye contact. "Oh boy. Doctor Usanagi..."

Immediately, the courier's eyes narrowed. "... doesn't betray doctor-patient confidentiality, but I was in one of her medical clinics that day you came in for the NEMEAN sub-dermal armor," Arcade finished hastily. "She, uh, asked me and a couple of the others to help her close you up."

"Oh." The courier relaxed her stance a bit. "Oh yeah, I remember. I mean, I don't remember you, but I do remember signing the form that said I was okay with med student assistance. Why didn't you say anything, when I first asked you to tag along?"

Arcade shrugged. "I don't betray doctor-patient confidentiality either. Usanagi hammers that into you pretty hard on day one. Besides, something like that doesn't matter much outside of a doctor's office."

Craig Boone: Boone shrugged. "Okay."

The courier's eyes darted around his countenance, looking for some kind of stronger reaction. "Nothing? Not even a 'congratulations' or a disapproving grimace? Who are you, Boone?"

"Unconcerned," he shot back testily. "Unless it affects your aim somehow, it's not a problem. If that's what you're asking."

The courier sighed. "No, it's... you're fine. I guess I'm still pretty defensive about it. Especially around NCR types."

Boone nodded. "There were a few officers that Manny and I operated under who weren't the open-minded sort. They didn't last long."

Lily Bowen: Lily looked positively stormy. "Did that young man just air your personal business for the whole trading post to hear without a care in the world?" she thundered, with all her grandmotherly might. "Let's go back, dearie, I need to give him a piece of my mind."

"Lily, no," the courier protested, grabbing the nightkin's arm before she could stomp off toward the overpass again. "He probably doesn't even know what he said, it's just part of his gift. And no one's going to put two and two together unless I tell them outright, like I did you."

"If you say so, pumpkin." Lily smiled and settled herself. "But I can always ask Leo for a little help if anyone has cross words for you about this."

The courier sighed and patted her companion's arm. "No need for that, Lily. That reminds me, you should take your medication today."

Lily wrapped her up in a hug. "You take such good care of Grandma, my sweet girl."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Mija." Raul smiled. "How long you been holding onto that for?"

The courier let out the breath she'd taken, and her shoulders sank back to a normal level. "Well not everyone takes news like that too well. I didn't know if you would... mind."

"Mind?" Raul shook his head. "Oye. I've lived a long time, out here in the desert. It's a lonely place, even if you're surrounded by a crowd on the Strip. You can lose yourself pretty easily, lose sight of what you want, what you are. I'd know better than most. If you held onto who you want to be, then that's a victory, in the Mojave."

"Um..." The courier's eyes were shiny with tears, but before Raul could comment or pull out a handkerchief, she'd enveloped him in an unexpected hug. "Thanks, viejo."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Well, I'll be a gecko's uncle." Cass grinned. "You're serious? All this time on the road together, and you didn't think you could tell me that? I'm wounded, Six."

"Hey now, you were slow to trust me, too," the courier pointed out with a growing smirk. "I was gonna tell you after the Silver Rush situation, if we made it out alive, but then we did and you were riding so high at the Atomic Wrangler that I didn't want to dampen your memory of that day."

"Dampen my..." Cass chuckled and clapped the courier on the shoulder. "Better fix your metaphor there, Six. Rain in the desert is a good thing. And trust between friends would never dampen my day."

She held up a hand before the courier could protest. "I know, I know what you were worried about. Trust me, I'm not the type to froth at the mouth over propriety or 'family values.' Thought you'd've picked up on that, with my smart mouth and wanderin' eyes."

"Wandering..." The courier ducked out from under her arm and danced away, laughing. "Uh-uh. I helped you with your vendetta, now you help me with mine. Then we'll buy a drink at the Tops and talk, whiskey rose."

Veronica Santangelo: "You..." Veronica's eyes went as wide as the Mojave's full moon. "Oh. Oh."

Slowly, the Scribe sank into a sitting position on the cracked asphalt. "That explains a few things, I suppose."

The courier sat down next to her. "Like what?"

Veronica started ticking things off on her fingers. "Both that guy in Primm and the bartender in Goodsprings called you by a different name, but they were the same name and it sounded kind of like yours so I wrote it off as a coincidence. Benny didn't recognize you right away, even though he shot you in the head. And Arcade locked us all out of your room that time you took some shrapnel to the torso and were laid up in the Lucky 38 until you weren't covered in bandages."

"Oh yeah." The courier grinned. "Surprised you didn't piece it together sooner, then."

"I sometimes forget that's something people can do," Veronica admitted. "Remember when I said that some in the Brotherhood don't look too kindly on those who choose relationships that don't produce new children? Well, ditto and worse for those who want to transition. Most of the ones brave enough to do it anyway don't stay Brotherhood for long."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped in mock surprise, then whizzed around the courier three times playing triumphant music. She giggled and swatted the bot away playfully. "Go on then. I have no idea how you could've known, but there it is."

ED-E beeped quizzically once it came to a stop.

"Why hide it?" the courier responded. "Well, unlike robots, some people think it's strange to change your... parts. Or even just your classification. Honestly, it's old-world thinking, no clue."

The eyebot beeped long and low, almost like a coo of affection and reassurance.

"Thanks, ED-E," the courier said with a smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Rex: Rex cocked his head to the side. The courier knelt down to his level and scratched his ears, inspecting his new brain and cybernetic limbs as she did.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she murmured, increasing her attentions as Rex leaned into her. "You probably already knew, with that amazing nose of yours. I think your owner knows, otherwise why keep spouting that line of his whenever I come around?"

Rex whined, and the courier smiled. "You know. 'Do what's right for you, so long as it don't hurt no one.' Got that seared into my brain as surely as that bullet, thanks to him. I bet that king he's worshipping never even said that."

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writertothemaximum · 3 years ago

Note

hiii i just wanted to say that your writing makes my day and it has always been delightful to read some of your pieces to the point i'm re-reading them ;o;;

do you mind if i ask what your writing process behind one shots and longfics are?

;w; omg thank you so much, the fact that you are taking the time to reread makes me so happy, I always wonder which pieces of my writing stand out to people more than others...It's useful info for me to continue improving, as well.

My process of writing longfic and oneshots is relatively similar, but with a few key differences!

(More under the cut)

For writing program, I just use Google Docs, but I have it a bit customized so it looks like this:

The main thing that helps me is the dark mode, and the endless page, because I only post online, so page view doesn't really help me, much.

Either with longfic or oneshots, my inspirations usually come from art that I see, but I always try to think of a distinct "theme" whenever I write anything, and have every single point connect back to that "theme" or idea, no matter how trivial it is. This theme can be literally anything, but usually it's something like "I want to write about the different ways people handle loss of control" or "I think fingering buttholes is hot, so I'm going to try and make it as hot as I possibly can, so that other people can understand how hot it is."

I see characters as tools to tell a good story, and regardless of how much porn is there, it still needs to be a good story, you know! If you just wanted senseless fucking, why would you read it when you could go watch porn? I need to give the reader that reason.

I also really like to write themes that subvert expectations, or force the audience to see a new perspective that they might have not otherwise considered. My femdom works as an example of that, as I would often read femdom self-insert fiction I felt was......."wrong"? idk, it wasn't hot to me, and it didn't feel like my kind of femdom. So I put my skills to where my mouth was and! I think it turned out well!

So once I have that theme or general idea (and by this point, it's usually pretty easy to select/create the characters that fit that), I make a rough outline. For oneshots, this is usually just in my head, unless there's a really specific scene in mind? But for longfic, I plan out....a lot. Not everything, but my outline for Niki's (Morbid) Kitchen was around 5.5k before starting so uh.

My outline usually consists of bullet points so, it'll be like this:

-This is the location/conflict

>chara does something

"Hey, you should probably use this dialogue"

-this happens next (oh no)

Or something along those lines.

Then, after that, I just fill it all in!

Occasionally, I will write without an outline but uh...yeah it can get messy, so I prefer to use one.

I've been told that I edit as I go, and I usually reread as I write. I hate completed drafts sitting there, so I often miss a lot of stuff when I do a light proofread, so I apologize for any typos you've seen. Feel free to point them out in my comments or in an ask here.

When it comes to the prose itself, I write in third person limited, past tense so uh—Third person, but also from a character's perspective. I like to see it as them telling me the story.

Additionally, something that helps me a lot is to think about "Show, not tell," so if a character is stressed, instead of just. saying that they're stressed, they will cross their arms, their heartbeat increases, and they start saying meaner things. Something like that.

I like to think about how I, or people I know would react to a situation, and also what reaction would help connect best to that theme I decided at the beginning.

If you don't already know, I am working on a longfic called Niki's (Morbid) Kitchen, featuring Niki as a cannibal and Hiiro as a budding yandere. If you'd like to read it, you can here:

Well, I hope this gave you some insight, and thank you again for reading!

#writing tips

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theutterlyboredwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Bounty and the Hunter

Summary: The Mandalorian's newest bounty is a seemingly harmless prostitue who offers up her services for him not bringing her in.

Rating: Explicit (I know you won't listen but if you're under 18 don't read)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT (if it's cringey I'm sorry,it's my first time writing smut), oral (M receving), mentions of prostitution, generally sexy themes, cursing, if there's anything else let me know

A/N: HI!!! This is my first post (!!!) and also the first smut I've ever written so if it sucks...sorry lmao. I also just finished rewatching the Mandalorian and it's SO GOOD!! I hope you like it!

The alarm that usually roused you from sleep had been playing for nearly half an hour before you realized that you were late. After getting dressed into the pink bra and underwear as well as the pink mesh tunic that had become your uniform these past six months, you walked out of your house. Running through the empty street you ducked into an alley and walked into the back entrance of the club, hoping that your boss wouldn't notice that you were fifteen minutes late. Thankfully, the early morning/late night rush was enough to distract him as you slipped in and set your stuff down at your station. The club was both a strip club and brothel, the latter only for those who were of a certain rank and distinction, and it was always busy between ten pm and five am. The clock on the wall read 3:58, you only had two minutes before your first customer was due to come and call on you, so you sat and touched up the makeup that had smudged as you ran from your place to the club.

"Hey! Booth number one wants you," Linberen called to you as she walked out on stage.

Your services ranged from lap dances to…well, there hadn't been anything you hadn't said yes to for the right price yet, but you had quickly become one of the most sought-after girls in the little club. The lights were a dim yellow, low from broken lights and dust that had covered the bulbs no one ever cared to change. The owner, Gribrad said it gave the place some character and ambiance, but it just accentuated the shitty stone walls and grimy wood floors that Gribrad was too cheap to replace. It was busy, the stage was covered by four girls, and there wasn't an open space around the jutted out stage, crowded by men throwing measly credits on the stage. To your right were the different booths, each covered with a purple velvet curtain to allow the customers some privacy. Towards the front of the building was booth one and you took a small breath before pushing the curtain back far enough to allow yourself entrance into the small space. Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the significantly darker room before you spotted something shiny that struck fear into your heart, beskar.

"Don't run, I can see in your eyes that you want to. It will be a waste." The voice was deep and gruff, altered by a modulator, but the voice struck a nerve in you and sent chills down your spine. You set your hands on your lap, allowing the armored man to see that you didn't plan on pulling a knife on him, while silently reprimanding yourself for not bringing a knife like Linberen had told you to do so many times before.

"I have to say, 60,000 credits for a prostitute is a hefty bounty. Usually, that kind of price is attached to someone who's committed treason." The words fell heavy into the air. The shitty dance music in the background did little to ease the looming silence that was so obvious between the two of you.

"What's a Mandalorian like you doing here? I thought you all were killed years ago?" You asked weakly, the lump in your throat making it hard to do anything else but breathe heavily.

"Apparently not."

You'd heard that all the Mandalorians were dead, wiped out in a massive genocide by the Empire, but yet here one sat across from you. That's when it struck you that Beskar was still being sold on the black market and this could just be a silly impostor.

"I beg to differ. For all I know you just bought the armor off of some black-market dealer to scare other bounty hunters. Mandalore was destroyed years ago by the Empire," you said with a smirk. Today wasn't the day that you would be played by some asshole in armor; you needed to make money, and this wasn't a real customer.

"With all due respect, I have things to do like work, and as much fun as sitting here in silence with you is, I need to get back to work. I'll tell Gribrad that it was just a meeting, so you won't get charged but if you exc-," you'd started to get up, but the man grabbed your arm and threw you back onto the leather seats.

"With all due respect," he began through gritted teeth, "I'm not leaving without you in handcuffs."

"Listen, if you want it like that just tell me and I can get that arranged," you chuckle, hoping that the joke will lessen the growing tension in the booth.<;p>

It didn't.

"The only way that I'm going to leave is with you, now I can kill you or have you come along cooperatively, your choice."

"Who are you taking me back to? Why is there a bounty out for me? How did you find me?" You try to cover the apparent fear with anger, hoping that something drastic will happen and allow you to escape.

He sits in silence; his regulated breathing is so overwhelming that you feel suffocated. By now your eyes have adjusted to the dark and you see that his blaster is pointed in your direction, sitting by his right thigh. A million scenarios race through your mind of how you could try to distract him and kill him with his own gun until you realize that your bounty would only grow and make it harder to hide. You don't realize how deep in thought you are until the man slaps his gloved hand on your knee to get your attention.

"Listen Mandalorian, I don't know why you are here but I'm innocent. I've done nothing to warrant a bounty and I haven't hurt anyone. Let me go, I'll give you whatever you want to just pretend you never saw me." The desperate slew of words spills out as he cocks his head off to the side to look at you. You feel the judgment and disgust burning a hole into you, and suddenly you wish you had been much later to work.

"I don't bargain with criminals."

The answer is plain and cuts you like a knife.

"There has to be something that you need! A maid, a mechanic, a-a um… a stress reliever?" You know throwing out sex for protection is a low spot in your life, but you have no interest in being turned over to be murdered or tortured.

For the first time all morning, you feel that he is contemplating what you've said. But truth be told, you have no idea what is going through his head. The rigidness of his body rids you of the advantage of reading body language, and his chrome helmet blocks and facial expressions you could possibly read, but something in your soul tells you that even if you could see his face right now it wouldn't help you.

An eternity passes before his modulated voice lets out an answer.

"Have you ever worked as a mechanic before?"

Not the answer you wanted.

"For a few years, yeah," you mutter, voice wracked with worry.

Again, the two of you are left in silence; so you resign to twiddling with the worn pink mesh that covers your body, running your fingers over the rips that have gathered these past few months.

The man sighs. Loudly. You take this as a sign of hope, you hope.

"I am willing to postpone the date in which I bring you back in return for you to work for me. You step out of place once and I put a bullet in your head and deliver you to the people who want you, got it?"

You gulp and slowly nod, not wanting to upset him in any way.

"I'll give you five minutes to grab your things and then meet me here. Don’t run."

You stand on wobbly legs, grabbing onto the wall to support you, and begin to walk to the back of the club so you can grab your things. The thought of running seems nice, but you know that he probably has someone at the back just waiting for you to run. The loud music is drowned out, secondary to the thumping of your blood through your heart. You don't have much to take with you, a couple hundred credits, a change of clothes, and a small bag of makeup.

"Didn't you just get here? Why are you packing your shit up?" Ajislen asks as she changes into a new outfit for the next stage show.

"I have to leave, I can't really explain it," you try to answer. You don't want to say too much, but you also don't want to leave your friends without a word. Then it hits you, your friends. You won't see these people for a while, possibly forever. Not that it would matter much to them, but you'd like to think that your absence will be noticed.

Suddenly the lights begin to flicker. Just for a second, but long enough to draw the attention of all the girls in the room.

"Ugh, this place is a dump. I don't blame you for leaving." With that, she leaves.

You walk through the front of the club and see the Mandalorian standing at the front of the club, guarding the front entrance. The man grabs your arm and guides you from the club, looking around at the empty streets. Being only 4:30, the streets are bare and it's dark out, but it somehow feels more dangerous with this heavily guarded man on your arm than it did as you ran to the club less than an hour ago, defenseless and utterly alone. The walk to his ship takes forever, maybe because you are now fearful to be on this planet; or maybe because you aren't sure if he is going to stay true to his word. He could be leading you back, only to turn around and put a bullet in your head. But either way, as your feet trudge through the sandy road, you find yourself in painful silence.

Talking was one of your most favorite things to do, there wasn't a person you'd met who you hadn't been able to strike up a conversation with. You loved the idea of getting to know people, to open up and share something with someone. You knew better than to try and talk to this man. You feared to ask his name or say anything around him.

The ship was parked in the middle of a sand dune, far enough to not be bothered by the local traffic. In all honesty, it looked a little shitty. Part of you hoped that he would allow you to work on it and try to make it look better. It could be your ticket to surviving, spoke a little voice in your head.

He pushed you into the ship, and your breath caught in your throat as you swore you felt his fingers trace down your spine. Nonsense, you told yourself and started walking forward. If the outside was shitty the inside was utterly depressing, you could tell that this ship was in desperate need of your touch, and though you didn't realize it at that moment, so did something else.

"I'll find some blankets and you can make a spot to sleep on the floor." He said as he began to close the door to the ship, "The fresher is behind that door and the cockpit is up this ladder."

That was all he said before ascending the ladder, leaving you alone and scared. You assumed that he was getting ready to take off, so you found a spot on the floor to sit and try to grapple with what had happened in the past hour. So much had gone unprocessed and you were just coming to terms with the brevity of the situation. There was a 60,000-credit bounty out for you, who hadn't committed a crime, who was just trying to make enough to live. You knew why the bounty was out, but you decided in that booth that he obviously didn't know, so you'd feign ignorance too. It probably wouldn't do much, but you didn't know and trying to stay alive and uncaptured seemed like a good idea.

"Damn it!" You heard from above, and without thinking, you went to explore.

It was only as you entered the cockpit that you realized that you were probably overstepping your boundaries. It was too late to go back though, so you walked towards the pilot seat hoping that you'd be able to be of some assistance.

"Can I help?" You asked meekly.

The shiny helmet jerked to look at you, probably out of shock but quickly turned its attention back to the dashboard.

"Not unless you can fix this to let me input the coordinates."

You looked over his shoulder at the switches and knobs illuminated in a variety of colors, trying to find the thing that was causing trouble. You saw it finally, a small button that was lodged in a funky position that was preventing the circuit from running and allowed the coordinates to be input.

Without a word you reached past him to fix the issue, your mesh-covered chest brushing past his metal shoulder piece. You gasped to yourself, the cold beskar evoking a far more sexual feeling than it should. With a small breath to yourself, you pushed the feeling down and went to work on fixing the button so you two could be on your way.

"Thank you," he said curtly.

You just nodded and sat in the passenger seat, trying to remove your mind from the fact that just touching his armor had turned you on more than you had been in years. Silently you wondered if he'd heard your gasp, silently you hoped that he liked it. The feeling stayed, and further reflection only deepened the growing warmth in your stomach. First, his hand trailing down your back and then that? That's when you remembered that you had offered yourself not only as a mechanic and maid but as someone to help alleviate his stress.

So maybe it was this memory, the growing wetness between your thighs, or some entirely different force that compelled you to slide off the chair and onto your hands and knees. You waited until he had successfully entered hyperspace before you crawled under the dashboard and settled yourself between his thighs. He looked down at you, giving you the perfect chance to see yourself reflected in his helmet. Slowly you ran your hands up his thighs, shuddering as you ran your fingertips gently over the beskar. Your left hand stroked his thigh while your right hands began to palm his crotch through the thick fabric. To your very welcome surprise you found that he was hard, he seemed to be just as turned on as you were. The fabric was thick, but you could feel him getting harder as your fingers ran over and gave a little squeeze, and it was then that you almost ascended into the next level of consciousness. His hand, his strong gloved hand, wrapped around yours and gave a squeeze.

The moan that you let out was unholy, and from above you heard a little sigh of approval slip from the helmet. Drunk on the confidence you'd just been given; you reached for his zipper and began to work at releasing him. He lifted his hips so you could push his pants and lower armor down to his ankles.

Now you'd never been a religious woman, not by any stretch of the imagination, but as you saw what this mysterious man was hiding underneath all the armor you felt compelled to thank whatever was out there. Again, you let out a moan. You reached out to grab the base of his cock and slowly began to pump him, trying to commit every ridge and vein to memory. But it was too dry, and no doubt uncomfortable for him, so you reached between your legs and pushed aside the thong that was painfully damp to gather some lubrication. Quickly you returned your now wet hand to his cock and started to pump, your thumb swirling the tip and gathering all the precum he had to offer. This time it was his turn to let out a moan, and god were you thankful for it. Even with the modulator, you could hear how gritty it was from having a dry throat. And that's when you decided to say fuck it and go in for the gold. Leaning back on your haunches and grabbing onto his thighs with a still sopping wet hand, you took all of him into your mouth.

His whole body shook, overwhelmed with the sensation. You took your time, tracing your tongue up and down his cock, occasionally swirling your tongue around the tip.

"F-fuck," he muttered more to himself than to you.

One of his hands reached behind your head and grabbed hold on your ponytail in a death grip. Feeling his hand tighten around your hair drove you to just swallow him, your tight mouth struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. He wasn't unusually large, but Maker was he thick. As you sat there, viciously bobbing your head up and down, it occurred to you that tomorrow you wouldn't be able to comfortably eat food, and that thought spurred you on more. Your hand moved from his place on his thigh to cradle his balls, trying desperately to please him.

He could barely stand the sight of your big eyes looking up at him so innocently as you devoured his cock in the vilest way. He felt his stomach begin to tighten, hurtling towards a release that you both wanted. You could feel him starting to become rigid, and to compensate you sucked harder, hollowing out your cheeks, and moaned into him.

That was all it took. He tried to pull himself off of you, to cum somewhere else but you pushed yourself down, gagging as ropes of cum painted this inside of your throat. The man who was so silent, so restrained, had turned into a moaning mess in your mouth. You waited, rubbing his thighs with your delicate fingers until he had finished before looking up at him and swallowing.

You pulled yourself off of him and he let go of his hold on your hair.

Crawling around him you got up and decided to go to the fresher and try to take care of yourself. Though he hadn't done a single thing for you, you were wetter than you had ever been before. That's when it hit you, this was the first time in your entire life that you had given a blowjob out of pure desire, no money or bribery to entice you. A small chuckle left your mouth as you started to descend the ladder when a voice called out for you.

"I'm not done with you yet."

#theutterlyboredwriter #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x reader #smut #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #fanfic #din djarin #din djarin smut

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xandriagreat · 4 years ago

Text

Janus Always Wins

Author's note: This is from an ask post from @timegirl

Summary: Logan and Virgil Sanders owners the Sanders' Restaurant. Even though the restaurant life is great, the everyone in the restaurant are facing a BIG problem with the banker who wants to take it. Then out of the blue, a lucky man named Janus comes by, looking for a job.

Warnings (please tell me if I missed anything): drinks, flirty Janus, knocking out, past death mention, kidnapping, crying, dealing

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

Logan and Virgil Sanders just had a meeting in their office with Mr. Sun, the banker.

Virgil sat in his seat and his hand on his forehead while Logan was pacing back and forth in front of both of their desks.

"Lo, can you stop, please. Your pacing is making my head hurt more." said Virgil, rubbing his forehead. "I just can't believe that he could do this to us!" yelled Logan, stopping his pacing and face Virgil. "$43,110,000 dollars?! We don't have time to get that amount in a month!"

Virgil raised his other hand, to stop Logan from taking over board, and said, "Okay, Lo. You need to cool down a bit. Because we have an interview with someone, who is trying to find a job."

"But the money-"

"We'll worry about the money later. But you do need to fix your hair. It's a mess!"

Virgil got a mirror and brush out from his desk and handed them to Logan. Logan looked in the mirror.

Virgil was right. His hair was a mess.

He started to brush his hair back to place. He thanked Virgil when he gave the objects back to him. Then someone knocked the door.

"Enter." said the both of them, looking at the door. A young man came inside, closed the door, walked over to them.

The young man had a white dress shirt with some wrinkles, a yellow vest, and black dress pants. He was carrying a hat and a vanilla folder in his right hand. His eyes were two different colors; brown in the right eye and hazel in the left eye.

"Hello. I'm Janus Dean." said the young man when he got to the desk and held out his left hand. "Nice to meet you, Logan and Virgil Sanders." Virgil shook it first, then Logan shook it.

Virgil gestured Janus to the seat, Janus sat in it. "So, tell us, why do you want this job?" asked Virgil.

"Well, sweeties, I want this job because I'm a good worker and a good entertainer, if you wanted more on the stage. Also, I'm very responsible." said Janus with a smile.

Logan and Virgil looked at each other then back at Janus when he said sweeties.

"Okay," started Logan, trying to remain calm. "Do you have a resumemay?"

Janus nodded and handed the vanilla folder to him. Logan opened the folder and started to read it.

"Hmm." hummed Logan as he finished reading the resumemay. "This is a really good resumemay."

He handed it to Virgil for him to read. "Agreed." Virgil said, while read it before handing it back to Janus.

After the interview, the both of them thanked Janus for coming in and told him that they'll call him in a few days for work.

"Okay, see you both in a few days." said Janus, smiling. Then he left.

Virgil was blushing more than Logan after he left.

"Virgil?" asked Logan, waving his hand in front of Virgil's face.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"I... I'm fine. Don't worry." Virgil cleared his throat. "Let's think of how to get the money."

•

Janus' first day was interesting.

Logan noticed that he was doing really well. Most new people would be nervous, but not him. It was like he knew what he was doing and what was happening.

He would sometimes flirt with the others staff members or entertain the customers with tricks, mostly cards and magic tricks.

"So, how did I do today?" Janus asked Logan with a smile.

Logan smiled at him. "Well, you did a good job today. Just try to control your flirting. You almost got the twins to faint."

Janus hummed in agreement, then asked, "Are you doing okay?"

"Mhm? Oh yes. I'm fine." said Logan. Janus looked at him with a frown. "You're lying." Janus said, his eyes narowed. Logan was surprised that Janus knew that he was lying. "Come on, tell me what's wrong?"

"Well, I'm just stressed about money, the future for this place, and the future for my husband and I."

"Maybe I can help."

Logan looked at him as Janus puts an arm on Logan's back.

"If you help me, if you can. Either way, I'll help you." Janus continued. Logan smiled and said, "Thanks, Janus. So, what do you need help with?"

Janus pull out a picture and showed it to him. It was a picture of a younger Janus, probably at the age of fifteen years old, a man with sunglasses, and a nine year old boy.

"This is my papa, Remy." Janus said, pointing at the man with sunglasses. Janus then pointed at the nine year old boy. "This is my little brother, Emile." Janus paused for a moment. "This was taken a week before papa got the bullet and my brother was kidnapped by the same man.."

"So, you're trying to find the man and your brother?"

"Yes. Can you help me, if you can?"

Logan looked at the picture more. "I'll reach out to some friends that I know and see where they are."

Janus smiled big and gave Logan a hug. Logan didn't push him away. He just hugged him back as Janus quietly cried.

•

A two to three weeks later, after work, Virgil still stayed in the restaurant, trying to figure out how to get the the money. The next day was the day. They were having a donation to help them, but it wasn't enough.

Virgil sighed as he rubbed his forehead. 'We can't lose this place.' he thought to himself. Then a glass was put next to him. He looked up at the person who put the glass next to him.

"Janus?"

"Hey. It looks like you needed a drink."

Virgil looked up at Janus then back at the glass. "Yeah, I need a drink."

Virgil took the glass and drank it as Janus sat next to him with his own drink. "So, what's gettin' you down like everyone else?" Janus asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Virgil looked at him. "Why you want to know?"

"I want to know what's going on, alright? Because you're stress. Logan is very up set. The twin performers, they act like their performance is like their last one by tomorrow. Patton isn't his up beat self, that's saying something. And for everyone else, they're in the dumps."

Virgil sighed. "Well, you've been here long enough, that you should know."

"So, what's happening?"

"We may or may not lose the restaurant tomorrow."

Janus looked at him surprised. "But the bills and taxes have been already been paid." he said, setting his cup down.

"Well, to Mr. Oliver Sun, we need to pay $43,110 dollars by tomorrow or we lose this place." Virgil said, resting his head on his hands.

"Mr. Oliver Sun?" said Janus. Virgil looked at Janus. He looked like he was trying to remember something or someone. "Does he have orange eyes?"

Virgil nodded.

"I know him. And I have a plan."

"Okay, what is it?"

•

Mr. Sun was smiling when he arrived at the restaurant while the coworkers were scolding him or had fear in their eyes as he walked by them. When he got to the table where Logan and Virgil were, he counted the money that was collated.

“Well,” he said, looking at the amount. “It looks like you didn’t get the amount.”

He turned around to face Logan and Virgil.

"So, you've both lost this-"

"Wait." Janus said, walking over with a chess board. "How about we play a game?"

Mr. Sun chuckled and said, "What are you betting if one of us wins, young man?"

"If you win, you can take this place. If I win, you better leave this place and everyone else alone."

Mr. Sun thought about it, then said, "Deal."

Logan and Virgil walked to the others with the money to watch Janus set up the board and pieces.

"So, black or white?"

•

They were playing for about thirty minutes.

Janus looked calm while Mr. Sun was sweating.

Then Janus moved a piece in front of Mr. Sun's king.

"Check mate." Janus said, smiling.

Mr. Sun was in shock.

"You- you cheated!" Mr. Sun yelled. Then he looked back at the others. "Right?! You all saw him cheat!"

"Actually," said Logan smiled as he walked up with Virgil. "He played the game fair."

"It's over, Mr. Sun. We won and you lost." Virgil said, his arms crossed.

Mr. Sun looked like he was going to attack Janus, but Janus gave him a 'do you want to get in trouble' look as he put his hand out to shake. Then Mr. Sun shook his hand and got ready to leave. “You know,” Mr. Sun started, putting his coat on. “You remind me of a man, he was a game man as well.”

"I know who you're talking about, his name was Remy Dean." said Janus, standing up. “It was the game; poker, and he won that game. Because of that game that you two played, you said that he cheated and gave him the bullet after he won. And you kidnapped one of his sons.”

"How did you know that?" asked Mr. Sun, staring at him with fear as he backed away.

"Because you're talking to his other son. A just to let you know, the cops will be here any minute. So, I suggest that you run if you can."

Mr. Sun started to run out of the restaurant, but Remus, one of the twin performers, knocked him out with a wooden bat.

“See? Told ya that we needed this.” he said to Roman, the other twin performer. “Yeah, we’re still not using it to hit each other for the performances.” Roman replied to his brother.

Patton got zipties to binded Mr. Sun’s hands and legs together when some of the other coworkers got him into a seat.

•

The cops came in, got Mr. Sun in one of the cop cars.

Before the cops left, Janus walked up to Mr. Sun. They stared at each other. Then Mr. Sun asked, "Well, what do you want now?"

"I want you to tell me one important thing that I want to know." Janus said sternly. "Where's my brother, Emile?"

Mr. Sun laughed. "He's probably on a boat to Iraq by now. So, he’s long gone."

Janus backed away as tears formed in his eyes. Virgil walked up to him and gave him a hug.

He'd never broken down in front of someone and getting comfort like this for a long time.

"Hey," Virgil started, rubbing Janus' back. "There's someone that my husband and I think that you're going to like."

"Who is it?" Janus sniffed, letting go of Virgil.

Logan came out with a fithteen year old boy with some bruises and had a blanket over him. Janus felt his heart almost stopped when the fifteen year old boy made eye contact with him.

"Emi?!"

"Janny!"

They both ran to each other and gave each other a big hug.

"Where have you been?! I've been looking for you!" Janus cried as Emile cried, "The man put me in a cellar! I'm very glad that I was found!"

They both fell to the floor and cried more. "I'm glad that you're safe now." whispered Janus to Emile.

Janus looked at Logan and Virgil after crying for a bit.

“Thank you both, for finding my brother.” he said standing up and hugging his brother.

“Actually,” Logan started, looking at Virgil then back at Janus. “Thank you, for helping us to keep our restaurant.”

Then Janus got a big hug from them. “Maybe we could celebrate a bit and talk about the money.” said Virgil. "If that's alright."

Janus smiled. "That sounds great.”

After getting their drinks, Logan asked, "So how did you win?" "You did your magic, didn't you!" said Emile smiling big. Janus nodded.

"Magic?" said the married couple, looking at the siblings.

"I have a great mind with games." Janus said, taking a sip of his drink.

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