#pleas price

[mothwingwritings]

I don't know if this has been done before (so if it has I apologize) and it may be a dead meme, but I have to preoccupy myself when I have downtime at work somehow and what better way then to make stupid period memes while I am ON my period??? :D

Ren:

Lawrence:

Strade:

Celia:

Derek:

Mason:

Fox:

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

y'know if I had to write an Alford plea T141 series thing, it would probs be:

Head Chef Simon Riley x A chef de partie with whom he does not get along (Link)

Pot Wash Johnny MacTavish x His roommate who he is insane for and who is insane for him, but they are both blind (Link)

Bartender Kyle Garrick x A customer who is about to propose speaks to Kyle at the bar before his partner arrives, has his life derailed because soon to be married men do not flirt with bartenders like this

Kitchen Supplier John Price x The Sweet Pastry Chef who cannot understand John's unique rizz

Edit: Okay lmao I now realise I worded this post like a fool I actually have written for Simon and Johnny in this universe (LMAO IM SORRY I FORGOR) and I've added the links in now

[m0nst3rgunxz]

SWAP TWOMP BC I LOVE THEM

Argos with mr plants scar now. Mr plant as the tall and gentle but slightly erratic guy now. Argos as the calm and collected externally but internally about to fucking snap any second now. Argos but he also occasionally makes his victims into tea. Mr plant but he manages to be mute and yet still talk too much. Argos but he thinks shit like "Hes lucky i have a soft spot for flowers"(he still gardens) when Mr. Plant is being annoying.

S!Argos: *points at the void resident he just murdered because he was a mild inconvenience*

S!Mr. Plant: *signing* Oh no, again? Maybe you should find a therapist, I know a good one!

S!Argos:

S!Mr. plant:

S!Mr. plant: Can I have the body?

S!Argos: ????

[powdermelonkeg]

Alright so ive been thinking about it (probably far too much) and want a second opinion.

Tears of the Kingdom and Baldurs Gate 3 were the same price.

TotK gave me a total of like. I think it was 160 hours to 100% completion (koroks ignored) in my case. And then i set it down and have had no urge to touch it again.

I'm about 120 hours into BG3 now. I have not completed my first playthrough, and I expect Ive still got some 30 hours left of it. I DO intend to play through it again, and I know that there are countless things left for me to do in it still.

And like. I ENJOYED TotK. It was a blast. But looking at BG3 now, complete with its 3 stage city map, like five other maps too, full voice acting, complex storyline, multiple endings, replayability, etc.

It has me realizing that TotK reused its old map. The only major addition was a procedurally generated single-biome underworld and a couple of floating islands (several of which were copy pasted around the map). Most of its gameplay was already built on the previous game.

So the thought I keep coming back to then is that TotK was fine. It was fun. But if BG3 is a 70 dollar game, then TotK has no good reason to be any more than $40.

But I think youre more into both games than I have been, so I wanna know your thoughts.

Sat on this for a little bit and...yeah. $40 is a good price for it.

Like, I'm not too mad about the map thing. BG3 was in production since BotW came out, while TotK started in 2019 and has to deal with a physics environment. I know what I'm getting into with a Nintendo game when I buy one, I know the level of writing and effort (and railroading) to expect. But the price thing has been a thorn in my side that I've ignored for...awhile.

I do think BG3 deserved another year to cook. Maybe two. I'm extremely GLAD it came out when it did, because I found it when I did, but the third act, for all its complexity, has a lot of loose ends that need tying together. Which, I also am not mad about. When you've had Pokemon-level writing for most of your life, and you connect dots in Zelda, literally any snippet of BG3 writing feels incredible. Even the worst bits of Baldur's Gate are so rich in comparison to the Nintendo games I play. But I DO think that they rushed themselves, and they definitely did it so as to not compete with Starfield.

Which is like...I've spent a decade evaluating whole wheat bread, and you've put a massive chocolate cake in front of me. I'm not going to care that the icing on the third tier isn't as fancy as the first two. I am kind of going to lament that the baker had to rush it out the door, though.

Also BG3 replayability >>>>>>>>> TotK replayability. Like, it's past Skyrim levels. I love games where my choices matter and aren't retconned.

[insertsona]

hi tumblr this is currently present on my comms page on toyhouse but i thought id put it here too . i am now 100% serious if you buy me jsab on steam i will do you a fully shaded halfbody Or a flat coloured fullbody . just for you .

[inavagrant-a]

I just want to remind everybody that you don’t have to be active here 24/7 to stay “relevant.” You are here to have a good time, to try to relax, and if someone has some sort of problem with your activity for some weird reason it is their loss not yours.

[creme183]

WHERE IS ALL THE PRICE ART!? COD FANS WHERE IS IT!? I CANNOT FIND.

I will fill this void happily but I wanna know who I need to follow and support

[asterinthewritten]

i screamed when i saw this. IM SO FERAL FOR THEM GNC DNGNFJDNRKGMLXWOBFMGV JJNF

– « My family, my comrades, my homeland… They disappeared forever under the onslaught of the Abyss.

This is an ongoing pain, and no amount of time can numb it… even five hundred years.

I could not save the Khaenri'ah from the ravages of the Abyss…

And I can't just lose you, Mavuika. »

🌸 my HoYoLAB, Pinterest: Lunaressa

[lumalalu]

cannot stop fucking thinking abt how magnolia thunderpussy has a whole goth and industrial section (NOT THE SAME THINGGGG ‼️‼️‼️‼️) but nine inch nails is filed under god damn Pop Rock .????????

[help-mona]

Have our cries reached you after a full year of war that it is still ongoing! 🚨🚨

Today, we have completed a full year of the fierce war on Gaza – Palestine – and the world is still waiting for all of us to die. 😔

We know that you are tired of the many messages and appeals that we send to you, but there is no other way, which I have to admit that it is not the ideal one, to conveying our plea and the suffering we are enduring.

To donate, click here 🙏

To donate paypal here

We can barely access the internet, so please try to help us financially or by spreading our story whenever you receive one of our pleas.🛜🛜🛜

Look at the picture, and you will understand how much we need your help and support during these difficult times we are going through.

Will we be able to resist the cold of winter in these clothes? what about our children? ???!! 👧👦😔

Winter is coming now, and we need essential requirements that we miss and lack because they cost money in these harsh conditions and the insane rise in prices.

Starting with:

*** Rehabilitating the tent we live in, which does not protect us from the cold weather at night and has deteriorated under the summer sun.

*** Winter clothes, especially for the children and all family members.

*** Winter blankets to protect against the cold night weather.

*** Medicine, especially for my daughter’s eye treatment and for my mother, who suffers from high blood pressure due to the poor living conditions.

How can you help us during these difficult times?

Even a small amount of support can help us, at least initially, to provide:

*** Winter clothes and blankets for the children.

*** A new tent that can protect us from rain and strong winds.

*** Some food supplies to help boost our immunity.

*** The chance to relocate when the borders open and secure a safe place for the family where medical care is available.

In this critical time, we need your support, even if it’s just a little, as it can provide for our basic needs and help us to at least survive and stay alive

To donate paypal here

Thank you for your generosity and compassionate hearts.❤️❤️🍉🍉

[chrollobabymama]

cant stop thinking about needy nanami

its been a while that you have been friends with him, and theres a few signs here and there from both of you but you havent taken any next steps

he is so fed up and so are you, no one is admitting that you are both touching yourselves to the thought of the other but the tensions is there

one night, youre hanging out at your apartment and having a few drinks, then when everyone else leaves its just you and him

and his eyes are dark and tired, the lights are dim in your living room, the whiskey in his hand is almost done, and your stupid little dress is just clinging onto your hips in a way that drives him insane

the whole time that you and the rest of the gang were talking about shitty bosses and how the gas prices have gone up, all he could think about was how he needed to lift up the end of your dress and make you come on his fingers

the moment the door closes and your last friend leaves, he scoots closer to you on the couch and takes your half empty wine glass from your hand, setting it on the table and caressing your thigh

he brings his face closer to yours, and when youre about to kiss him on the lips, he drops to your neck and sucks and kisses

you bite your lip and sigh while he inhales your scent, which is sending even more blood straight to his dick

your hands reach to touch his firm chest, and you relax into the soft cushions

he grabs your hips and keeps on kissing, only bringing his head up to look at your eyes

"let me fuck you baby please, ill fuck you really good i promise" he begs

but when you give him the green light all of that attitude is gone, the soft pleas are history, this man is fucking you roughly and leaving marks and bruises all over you despite the fact that he was just begging you to let him have you

[malikhilles]

My name is Malik Kamal Hilles, a 24-year-old student at Al-Azhar University in Gaza. My family of 10 has been displaced multiple times, and our home reduced to rubble. Now, we’re struggling to survive in Rafah, surrounded by the chaos of war.

For years, Gaza has been under siege, but since October 7, the suffering has reached unimaginable levels. Constant bombings, destruction, and fear have left us with nothing but the hope to escape. To cross into Egypt, we need $5,000 per person. It’s a price we can’t afford alone, but with your help, we can find safety, stability, and a future free from violence.

Every donation, no matter the amount, brings us closer to that reality. If you can't donate, sharing our plea could change our lives. Thank you for giving us a chance at hope.

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

was just thinking of price punishing his younger gf, by having her naked body pressed to the floor, and her ass perched in the air, just a few feet in front of his desk. he nudges her knees apart, so he can get a better view of her pussy. and he just goes about doing whatever the fuck he does, and he has her there for hours-- her knees aching and back sore from the sharp arch that he's put her in.

john looks up from a piece of paperwork, and he can see the way her pussy flutters; see the way her stomach heaves softly, the soft pushing movement making her pussy leak; juices pooling from her hole, down her swollen folds, and then to her inner thighs. she's creamy and slick; literally dripping onto the carpet, and john is suddenly salivating. and she's been a good girl, no complaints and minimal whines and pleas-- that he can't help but push back from his chair, knocking it over in his haste to get to her.

she's too out of it to really comprehend what's happening before she's mewling out, thighs quivering almost violently as his tongue is suddenly thick and hot against her pussy. john swallows down her slick like a man starved, each curl and pull of his tongue full of her cream, and he rumbles deep in his chest like some kind of beast. his large, meaty hands grip the fat of her hips almost bruisingly as he devours her quivering cunt, her taste has him feral. she babbles mindlessly, her eyes rolled back; clit fat and stiff in his mouth.

and it takes him an hour or so to finally pull away from her pussy; she's a pile of overstimulated flesh, her plush little mouth parted and saliva dribbling down her chin, she looks like she's going to pass out but the only thing john does is push his thick, long cock into her pussy and fuck her into the carpet, her knees sliding and burning. this was a punishment after all.

[baycitystygian]

frothing at the mouth because the cheapest version of mick’s book is one hundred fucking dollars

[floralpascal]

NSFW, 18+

John Price always convinces himself that he means it. He’s not the kind of man who breaks his promises.

“Just the tip, love,” he groans, positioning himself at your entrance. Your desperate nod and pleas for him only spur him on.

He swears that he’ll restrain himself, that he’ll keep his promise. He just wants to feel you bare, if only a little. He’s a man of iron resolve — he should be able to control himself without a problem…

But he never was good at keeping this promise when it came to you.

Instead, he finds himself balls deep in your heat, fucking you furiously. The way you’re screaming his name in ecstasy would make him break any promise if only to give you more pleasure. When his cum has painted your walls and you’re both coming down from your highs, he can’t even find the decency to feel sorry for it.

“Fuck…” you groan, pulling him down to kiss you before begging, “Just… just do it again. Please.”

John smiles. With a low, seductive voice, he teases, “Just the tip, yeah?”