#save this man from the SoUp
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Lost in the sauce @frogayyyy
#star trek#ds9#odo#soup man#star trek meme folder#save this man from the SoUp#i searched beige sauce for this sfhdskjfh#turns out a lot of sauce is beige#this sauce is peppercorn sauce tho so its technically the best kind of sauce (besides tomato)#frog n mouse shenanigans
308 notes
·
View notes
Text
What a plot twist you were. [x]
#Like. The narrator introduces jc to us as the antagonist#Then we got to know him. Not who people think he's. But who he really is#And we saw jc giving wwx a piggyback. Giving him soup. Rescuing him. Putting himself between wwx and any danger (madam yu/wen soldiers)#And even the staged fight. It's yk. Staged#jc wanted to protect wwx at any cost. But wwx wasn't willing to compromise. But jc did#The fight was wwx's idea. Because jc is an enabler (just like jfm and jyl)#jc is ready to bend for his loved ones sake#The point is. Every action jc takes. Is in the name of his loves ones' safety. And surprise. wwx is one of the people jc really cares about#Even after wwx' return. Aside a broken cup. jc isn't doing much to stop wwx or anything. We know that jl was able to free wwx from Zidian#only because jc - Zidian's primary master- wanted it!#And jc fling himself into danger countless times to save wwx even though wwx can't sit still with him for a hot minute#What I wanted to say it's that the jc is presented to us - the mean ungrateful man- is very different from the real jc -#the indulgent uncle who rolls his eyes at his nephew antics. the brother who buries the hatchet for his sister's happiness.#the uncle who kinda wants to help wn to get up from the floor because he was an ass to jc but he helped jl and that's what matters to jc#the sect leader who let two women speak freely their mind in a patriarchy society#People better than me have already said this. shit I can't remember my point lmao#Like. jc is presented as an antagonist but what this man wanted was an apology and an explanation#This post is a mix of a rant I wrote last year (ha) after seeing a bad take. About what I don't remember lmaoo. And me wanting#to make gifs of wzc in this scene. Why does he look so good. It should be illegal. Seriously#jiang cheng#*mgifs
137 notes
·
View notes
Text
Medical log, stardate 18935.15. Once more have I seen the tailor go out in his lizard fashion—
#least funny way to make this joke BUT. look how much thought I put into that stardate!#Star Trek: Deep Space 9#it would be so much easier to listen to the new audiodrama podcast of drac daily instead of reading but unfortunately#our dear solicitor will forever sound exactly like our dear doctor to me now because somehow it has become Hot Reptile Summer in my brain#and everything is melting together like changeling soup. and this is BEFORE the gomens s2 premiere. christ.#Dracula: How dare you touch him!! This man belongs to me!! I too can love!!!#me reading All That: omg just like in all my favorite ''Garak saves Julian from other Cardassians'' fanfics :3#god I love how as far as I know there's literally nothing in canon to support any of our weird kinky#''claiming a mate by leaving a bite mark scar on their neck'' or any of that other fanon stuff for Cardassians#it's not like with the Klingon dicks or Vulcan pon farr. anybody could make up absolutely anything about Cardassians#and every single writer I've ever read has chosen shit like mating bites scent marking egg laying#and of course. glowing blue WAP with a built in strap. I fucking love you Deep Space 9 fandom there will never be another like you!!!!!!#Starky's Original Posts#Dracula Daily#COMPUTER. ERASE LOG.
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
where the dead will walk again
(palette from here)
#bound with thread | original posts#seal it with wax | art#g'raha tia#crystal exarch#ffxiv#final fantasy xiv#hello everyone. 2am palette art upon ye#i have so many palettes saved to draw this man in and i am free from classes (for now) so i may slowly work my way through those#anyways. holding this man gentle. he needs a twenty hour nap and to be given hot soup and a thirty minute hug#i am slowly getting better at drawing hooded exarch which is always fun bc hooded exarch is always a Vibe (positive)
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Y’know I kinda wanna elaborate on the HC I mentioned, where I said that if Donald hadn’t found out what Douglas was doing and intervened, Douglas would’ve eventually cracked and fessed up
Mostly I wanna elaborate that he wouldn’t have fessed up because of ethical guilt (though I do think he may have something somewhere inside him that would give a damn about ethics. He did seem pretty excited to do good things after all) but more because he’s got the emotional strength of a wet tissue and would feel personal guilt after getting so attached
I’m gonna put most of it under a cut ‘cause it turned into a full on Douglas study I guess
Like... obviously I’m prefacing this with it being my own interpretation of the guy, but Douglas was a pretty emotional dude in the show. His entire redemption was rooted in his emotional attachment to his family. His morals never 100% improved, and the growth we did see was almost entirely motivated by “My family won’t like me if I’m a bad guy :(”
And while he’s not a particularly GOOD dad, he is a dad. Literally every kid Douglas gets more than 2 minutes of screen time with, he goes into some kind of Dad Mode
So, the way I see it, I don’t think Douglas would’ve lasted if he got to keep the Rats for longer than he did. It’s never actually said how old the kids were when Donald found out, but they couldn’t have been older than like... 3? Tops? Possibly even younger, technically. If Douglas actually got to watch those kids grow up in whatever messed up environment he had them in to keep them hidden (Which, I’ll be honest- based on comparing the brothers’ lab quality, was probably a worse environment than Donald’s lab) I don’t think he would’ve been able to commit. Not with the original trio, anyway
ALSO. I wanna bring up Donald, ‘cause he’s also a factor in of himself
Yeah, the brothers fight a lot, and did fight a lot. But I think it’s worth remembering that despite that, these two founded a company together. They invented things together. They work together seamlessly when they get in the zone. Douglas, despite all the animosity, was ecstatic at the prospect of getting to work alongside his brother again, and was genuinely sad when Donald didn’t feel the same, but chose not to fight Donald’s decision
Douglas cares what Donald thinks of him, and I bet he cared a lot more before Donald discovered what was happening and made his own judgement call. The two of them had to have been incredibly close, and that probably would’ve weighed on Douglas, too
But Donald found out on his own, and he didn’t waste time. He saw the children, he saw the conditions, the plans, the schematics. There was absolutely no way to rationalize what was happening here, Donald had to get these kids out and away. His little brother was using their assets to make deals with terrorists regarding the creation of bioweapons in the form of children
And Douglas was left ghosted by the most consistent presence in his life for the past 20+ years, locked out of the company he helped build from nothing, and separated from these kids who have also been a consistent presence in his life for entirely different reasons
And Douglas is notorious for deflecting and pushing back when someone else decides that he’s in the wrong. All that potential turmoil means the time between Donald finding out and Douglas “dying” was probably like. Intense. To put it mildly
All this to say: Douglas is still a DICK lmao and the point of this post is NOT to be like “Douglas deserved better” or even “Donald is to blame.” It’s more about how Douglas is a notably emotion-driven character and how it affects his dynamics and actions, both positive and negative
It’s also my favorite kind of angst- where technically, things could have turned out okay, or at least better than they did, if everyone involved hadn’t been such a mess
#Lab Rats#Douglas Davenport#I'm only tagging Douglas 'cause he's the focal point but Donald does get a fair bit here#Anyway Douglas fascinates me 'cause like. I definitely don't want him or his actions to be underplayed#Like it really doesn't matter if he wouldn't have gone through with it. Especially not at the time everything happened#The fact that he got as far as he did is damning enough#But also he is SO pitiful and his emotional reliance on others is interesting#Especially in contrast to how nonchalant he tends to act#He's perfect for exploring how consequences effect someone#Which is why I draw him with such tired eyes and like to write him being Fucking Miserable#And I'll say it. Dude was a SOFTIE in the actual show#Seriously- in no particular order:#He made Chase some good soup. He went above and beyond to save Leo's arm. He gave every Rat a new ability for various reasons#He stood up for various kids on numerous occasions. He cried when Leo became an instructor#He saved a stray dog. He put a kid up for adoption to keep him safe.#He encouraged his robot son's passion for drama club. He actively helped Donald with the indestructible car#Look me in the eye. Make direct eye contact with me and tell me#That this man could raise 3 flesh and blood children from infancy#And simply pawn them off as disposable weaponry#You cannot convince me. Douglas Davenport is too pathetic to commit to that bit#He's willing to kill a kid but that goes out the fucking window if he spends more than 1 non-hostile hour with said kid#He acts like he hates his brother's guts but will literally drop it the minute Donald's nice to him in any capacity#... See now I went and wrote TWO essays#Kill me
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love the idea of Kae getting used to eating consistent meals bc of a significant other or even a friend who made it a point to always eat with him to ensure he doesn't forget, and even gaining a little weight as a result, even with his metabolism.
#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//Him playfully protesting that he hates the couple extra pounds and 'blaming' his other for it#//Meanwhile first chance he gets; he's happily observing his figure; and relieved he's at a healthier one than he was before#//Smth smth abt the healing process and him no longer being so stressed/distracted to neglect to take care of himself in that aspect#//And many others; bc a s/o who goes through routines like that with him (like naps) DEFFO helps him keep on top of that shit#//Or even going through their own routines and him doing smth in parallel play sorta helping remind him of his own shit#//Deffo was sickly thin as a kid; then got better with Addie's care; then his eating routine went OUT the fucken window when Luc left#//Bc he couldn't stomach much with his stress and guilt eating away at him instead#//And then leaving her care it got WORSE; bc then he was too busy/stressed to worry abt himself save his own appearance#//ALL his spoons went to Investigations; Knight Duties; and Beauty routines#//Hence why Noelle bcame so dear to him; when she came into his life; she likely picked up how busy he was and helped him out Lots#//His newer routine of bugging Luc at the tavern actually helps him remember to eat#//Bc he /hates/ drinking on an empty stomach; but typically doesn't care. With Luc; however; going to see him; he gets an urge to front mor#//And snacking means he's less likely to make faces when the alcohol doesn't sit right with him/he drinks too much#//So Luc's less likely to deny him drinks. Charles; Kae can just charm more out of him regardless. Luc takes more convincing#//Drinking at Cats Tail helps too; bc Margaret makes SURE he's had smth before drinking. She understands him in that regard#//Typically makes him eat smth that ends making him sleepy like soup so he heads home & promptly passes tf out hitting the pillow#//He's not actually caught on to the fact that she does this on purpose in the entire time he's been a patron with her#//He keeps chalking it up to how relaxed the mood there is that lulls his body into some sense of security#//bc he DOES gets sleepier around ppl he trusts for that very reason; is why sometimes he pulls away from them#//If Addie manages to get her hands on him before he skeddadles out of the Winery; she'll have him tucked away and sleeping in no time#//And actually having the MOST restful sleep he's ever had in AGES; up until he startles himself awake and realizes Luc's home#//And has to book it TF out of the Winery bc he doesn't want to deal with the man & bicker so soon after waking#//He's already made vulnerable by Addie's care; he doesn't need Luc to carve him right open if their bickering goes too far. Not like this#//It'd be all too easy#//Is also why he likes staying awake and watching people he cares for sleep. Bc if HE sleeps & wakes w them; he shows a MASSIVELY vulnerabl#side to himself that he REALLY doesn't want people seeing; and for hella good reason. It's an open shot at his heart; after all#//Wow; SO many points where it veered jdfbgf. And this was supposed to be abt healing & self-care jdkjfg
1 note
·
View note
Text
NOW I KNOW WHAT THE MINISTRY OF LOVE REMINDS ME OF:
soup.avi
Forever going to picture O’Brien as Ray Ray LOL
#1984 book#soup.avi tw#cannibalism tw#just in case#Don’t worry guys; soup.avi is a piece of performance art#It’s so bleak tragic and macabre…. I kind of appreciate it now that I’m not a petrified twelve-year-old#From the graininess of the camera to the comically large spoon to the sterile monochrome set and characters juxtaposing the man#the table and the bowl#Even though the two guys are obviously costumes; the way everything is done makes them appear as if they are some real alien entities#And the fact that there are two that look exactly alike is reminiscent of the “men in black” urban legends (not the movie LOL)#And the fact that you cannot see anyone’s faces really dehumanizes everyone: the Brothers Ray look otherworldly#and the man looks like an abused animal#There is no real dialogue either; only crying from the man and silence from the Rays#which adds to the anonymity of the piece; making it seem more believable as a “video from the dark web”#Especially considering the fact that the way the man’s face is censored is with the use of a black bar across the eyes#Because the eyes are the windows to the soul; so it symbolizes the loss of a soul on his part… because he ate the soup. He is defeated.#He was forced into destroying his sense of identity and morality by some unknown circumstance#If it is his wife he’s eating (as the theories say); then why is he eating his wife? Likely to save his children from the same fate#Sorry this got dark#Why the fuck am I analyzing soup.avi#Get a grip woman
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
I don't think job recruiters even hear or understand themselves sometimes. This man really just rejected me outright because I don't have a car and I'm like.. you realise this is exactly why I work from home right now right? (something he was also skeptical about) Like how the fuck am I supposed to be able to afford a car if no one will give me a chance and try employing me? Of course I'm working from home! At least they're fucking giving me money
#i don't even WANT to work from home anymore because i feel guilty every second that i'm not working#i just constantly feel like i'm not doing enough and like i'm wasting my time#and it's because i'm IN my work environment all the time. i don't have a home office or anything#i just work on my personal laptop in my living room#i've been thinking about turning the box room into a home office but the wifi in there is shit#and it's money. it all comes back to money#like sure i could buy a desk and an orthopaedic chair and a fucking stress ball and a usb stick for my wifi#but how many fucking hours of work is that going to cost me?? like#and like honestly that room needs to be completely gutted. when the roof was falling down it rained INTO there#the wallpaper is coming off the walls; the carpet has been in like 2 other rooms previously and it NEEDS to come up#i'd also need to get the bookcase (and the books) and the chest of drawers (and their contents) outta there to fit a desk#which honestly isn't even the hard part. like i could use the chest of drawers in my bedroom#and i've got storage boxes for everything so it can either be donated or go in the loft#it's just like.. it's a lot. it's a lot!#and meanwhile i have a master's degree and i've just been rejected to work at a petrol station because this man doesn't trust me#to be able to convince someone to transport me 5 miles on a regular basis#and i'm just like this is why people kill themselves. i'm not going to DO it. not for him and not for anybody. but i understand it#every single day i think about throwing myself on the mercy of my old boss. just being like pleeeeeeease#i'll make coffee for minimum wage. i'll wrestle with the soup turrine#i just don't want to spend all my savings so that i can spend the rest of my life working in the box room#personal
1 note
·
View note
Text
Why Sims 2 has been so broken the last ten years
This is down to my own research, and I'm not saying it is the one and only reason why the game is so broken these days, but I have some points worth mentioning.
So, you're bored one day. You remember this game you had so much fun playing a few years ago, or maybe as a child. It's The Sims 2!
The game has a few issues than from when you last remembered playing, so you search on google for some fixes for the tiny resolution, and among the countless posts you may find, you may find this:
Or this:
(to the creators and players mentioned here this isn't me making a dig at you, i'm just pointing out some cc that could affect the game from working properly. your stuff is all beautiful :D)
Lesya's game is gorgeous!!! Oh, how can I get it to look like that?
So you, with a clean, vanilla (ugly) game you decide to download a few mods she listed, such as:
Skylines by GCKP (you can get optimised ones by me here)
Skies by Lowedeus (you can get optimised ones by me here)
Trees by Criquette (you can get optimised ones here)
No More Blurriness by Voeille (you can get optimised snow only here)
Cool! And then you notice some cheats than can give the game that open-world, interactive feel. Even better!
And you shove them into your folder and you boot up the game. Everything's going great!
Until...
You search hundreds of posts looking for the fix. Some recommend 3rd-party tools, but they seem to make the problem worse. You reinstall, finding you only wasted your time. Something has to be causing this, but you'd never guess it'd be the mods everybody swore by.
Well, in fact, it is. Partly.
I've struggled with pink flashing since 2019, when I reinstalled Sims 2 after I got a decent computer for once. I did everything above, searched for fixes, found Lesya's blog which was my primary inspiration. It was through Lesya's guide that I was able to make my game look pretty!
These mods, which are a staple in the modding community, are beautiful indeed... but what if I told you that the reason they're so beautiful, is because they're high-quality. With textures soaring up to 4k, when, hang on--
In 2004, 4k resolution was... probably unheard of. With the leading monitor size being 1024x768, what would be the point of using such huge textures on an engine that was designed for monitors of at least this size? Would you be able to see the detail of 4k on a monitor of that size? Definitely not.
The max visiting sims, okay, a little hit or miss. If your sims are all wearing high poly alpha CC, then it's a problem. If not, good luck.
Then comes the cheats I mentioned. The lot skirt cheat expands the view distance a significant amount. With the mergenhoodflora cheat, that displays more trees. Combining the two, what do you get?
A massive view distance, blinded by trees.
With skies and skylines with large textures up to 4k, and trees with textures up to 2k, The Sims 2 will collapse. It's like forcing an old man with health conditions to do 20 situps, again and again.
It'll overexert him, by the very least. And you're overexerting the game by cramming custom content that is not optimised for the engine TS2 was built on.
So please, next time you encounter the pink soup, please check your CC folders, and research changes and cheats before you put them into your game. You will enjoy the game much more if you do this, and won't encounter this problem so often.
Don't use Graphics Rules Maker
Instead, opt for a maxis original Graphics Rules uploaded here by Veronavillequiltingbee. It's essentially a rewrite of an old tutorial I made a long time ago.
Once you download the file from VVQB, open DXDIAG by pressing WinKey+R and typing 'dxdiag'.
This value I've underlined is what you need to put after seti textureMemory. Open the sgr file and do CTRL-F and input seti textureMemory.
Add the value from DXDIAG and then save it.
You can use GRM for adding your GPU to the game, but I do not recommend it for anything but that.
Optimising the game... inside the game
*shoves GRM off the table*
We're going to go into TS2 in-game settings for this one.
These settings are optimal if you play CC-heavy households. It will ease the load on your game to make space for the heavy CC you have in your current household. You can tweak these when you want to take photos outside, but for playing I recommend them all to be off - especially at community lots as there are lots of sims there.
I never see anybody talking about Object Hiding.
Object Hiding hides objects from floors that aren't in view. If you're playing downstairs, objects upstairs won't be rendered, thus minimising the load on your game.
I have reflections and smooth edges off because I use ReShade.
Snow on Ground is optional. Sometimes snow can cause pink flashing, I believe it's due to texture replacements that are huge in size too, Voeille's is 2k. I've linked a resized one above.
This post will be updated with later findings. I hope you all found it informative :]
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Moreau.
I hate when people ask me who my fav re8 character is bc how am I supposed to say Moreau with confidence
#he's not my favorite but i would defend it to the death#he is so cute and small and liddle guy coded he needs soup man. soup coded#need to give him blahaj (is fish like him) and save him from Miranda fr he can barely even write poor baby#i think he would really like the beach and he'd be so fun to go to a waterpark with!#he writes about wanting friends how could i ever be mean to him#resident evil#resident evil village#resident evil 8
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
wait r we allowed to send these in for characters u write for? :o
cuz i’m curious abt this one “What freaks them out the most in a relationship?” for jason
Yes, please do!
"What freaks them out most in a relationship?"| Jason Todd
Honestly, I think Jason Todd is afraid to love again, simply because of the way he loves. He tends to love wholeheartedly, without reservation, often to the point of self-destruction.
Remember that this is the man who endured at least six months worth of torture just so he wouldn't betray his father. Not a lot of people are capable of that sort of loyalty.
To add insult to injury, it's very likely that he never got to experience any sort of positive reinforcement when it comes to loving a person.
In my Arkham fanfics, Jason's father was an abusive drunk and his mother was a junkie. While he learned to avoid his father, I'd like to think that he did hold some sort of love for his mother. He tried, in his own way, to take care of her, keep her safe.
He'd put a blanket over her when she was lost in her heroine-dreams, he'd wipe the drool from the side of her mouth, he'd leave stolen food next to her sweat-stained mattress for when she woke up. And all it ever got Jason, I imagine, was an absent-minded sort of affection. Perhaps she'd give him a vague smile, her eyes bloodshot and glassy, as if she wasn’t really seeing him, perhaps she'd ruffle his hair.
And for a long time, he'd think that was love.
Something rare, something small, but something that kept him warm all the same (for East End was a cold place), and he'd sip it like rainwater between his cupped palms, because it was all he'd ever known.
But then he gets adopted, and suddenly his perspective changes.
Love, he realizes, can be patient. It can be his father Bruce, who somehow never got angry at him during those early days, when hope had warmed the inside of his chest like a swallowed star.
Love can be easy, he learns. It can be something as simple as Alfred, waiting up for him after a long rainy night, bringing him towels that were somehow always warm. It can be warm soup on the days that he woke up with a sore throat and a fever burning through his skin (and even to this day, he marvels at the idea that in Wayne Manor, food can come so easily--without stealing, without a fight).
But, he'll also tragically learn (or so he thinks) that love has to be earned.
I've always had this idea (and I stand by it) that Bruce did love his kids, deeply. But because of his own issues, he couldn’t love them in a way that they needed to be loved (and isn’t that true of most parents?).
It is the way Bruce never smiled at him when he was Robin.
It is long nights of training just for a hint of his father’s approval.
It is the constant comparison to another son, one who is faster, smarter, and better in every way.
It is the way he thinks–and becomes terrified–that if he doesn’t earn his place in Wayne Manor, if he doesn’t earn his father’s love, he will be back in that cold place in East End where nothing can ever keep him warm again.
And then Joker happens.
And then Joker happens.
And no matter how strong he tried to be, how silent, no matter how much he tried to endure.
He breaks (clean in two, a crack so wide it will never heal, you can trace the fractured seam of him and find the exact place where his heart was broken).
Even worse, Batman breaks: he leaves Jason for dead (or so he thinks).
And a part of him will always think: is it enough? Was I not enough?
Was it not enough to endure? To stay silent? To keep his father’s secrets?
Had Jason somehow, through some fault in his won, not done enough to earn being loved, being saved?
(Is he always going to be that small child in East End, and all he will ever know of it are vague smiles through bloodshot, glassy eyes? Was this his punishment for hoping for more? He can drink and drink and it will never be enough, the rainwater will always slip through his palms).
And then there’s you.
And at first he thinks it’s easy (as easy as warm soup on days when he’s feeling sick, as easy as a towel after a night in the rain), because you are brave and reckless and you are quite pretty when you smile. And it has been so long since he’s had a friend.
It’s easy because you’re easy to be with: you read into his silences, you calm him down when he falters and you are braver than he gives you credit for (and there are days when he wishes that you are less brave).
It is easy until one day, Jason realizes what’s happening and the first thing he thinks is that he can’t go through this again.
He cannot be that child in East End, who follows his mother for crumbs of her affection like a dog starving for scraps.
He cannot be the boy in the Batcave, practicing over and over just so he’ll finally get to see his father’s smile
He cannot be Robin in Arkham Asylum, with a bullet hole in his chest and a brand burning on his face
And yet, and yet, Jason does not know any other way to love.
He does not know of any other way it does not end in tragedy (and hurt and pain and betrayal).
Oh, he is terrified. He thinks he fears you more than any other living thing in Gotham.
To love you, he thinks, is to give you the chance to destroy him all over again.
And he can’t, he can’t go through that again.
(But oh, there are days Jason thinks you will be worth it.).
#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd headcanons#jason todd#red hood#i wrote this in like 30 min cause i overslept and forgot i was doing an ask game#i'll do better for the next questions tomorrow#ask me for characters i write for!
527 notes
·
View notes
Text
kitchen’s closed | t. richmond
About: Terry catches you in the kitchen late at night and has his own idea of a midnight snack. [word count: 2.1k] Warnings: Explicit language. 18+ Readers Only. Oral (female receiving), Unprotected PIV (wrap your willy, pls). I had concepts of a plot.
It was well past midnight in North Carolina, and you could hear the crickets and other critters abuzz outside of your bedroom window. You stared at the sliver of moonlight cast between your curtains, realizing the clutches of insomnia had sunk its sneaky fingers in you yet again.
Your boyfriend, Terry, rarely stirred in his sleep, and kept a hefty arm draped over your waist every night. Being that he was ex-military, it was sort of ironic how heavy of a sleeper he was. Some evenings you tried to count the rise and fall of his chest instead of sheep, but rather than lulling you to bed it just disgruntled you. You wanted to poke the bear awake and damn him for leaving you so smitten.
The room was quiet aside from the bustle of the outdoors, and you thanked God your man didn’t snore or else this would feel like a torture chamber. You flipped through the rolodex of your thoughts and landed on recapping your day; you went to work, Terry picked you up and made a stop at Kroger, then you two watched some sitcom reruns for a bit. House rules were to grab takeout after grocery shopping so neither of you had to bother with cooking something.
All that thinking of food must’ve sent a reminder to your stomach. You exhaled as it grumbled. While very cute, you would rather not see Terry’s grumpy face should he discover his miso soup missing. You perked up at the memory of slipping a pint of ice cream in the shopping cart earlier.
It was counterproductive, solving sleeplessness with sugar, but you hoped Ben & Jerry’s would be your saving grace tonight. You peered over your shoulder to find your boyfriend as sound as ever, eyes fluttered closed like a saint.
After a silent prayer, you wriggled from his hold and toed out of bed. You pattered around the twilight of the room, starting your mission to the fridge. Past the master bathroom, the thermostat, (which nearly broke the two of you up), and to the far right of your living space was your destination. Thankfully, the range hood light was on so you weren’t too sore of eyesight.
You opened the freezer and plucked out your reward. After grabbing a spoon, you settled in, sitting on top of the counter. The granite was cold against your bare thighs, your body only blanketed by a worn t-shirt that hung off your shoulders.
That first mouthful was instant gratification and you nearly rolled your eyes back in delight.
“Baby, what are you doing up this late?” You were startled by Terry’s voice, the tone more gruff from the interruption of his slumber.
You were caught red-handed, spoon in mouth, so you shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Wanted something sweet.”
He hummed. Terry made his way closer, no longer a distorted shadow in your peripheral vision. He had come to bed in only his sweatpants and socks.
Terry had a glow about him, even in the dim of your surroundings. He slipped comfortably in your personal space, stepping right between your legs. You relished in the warmth.
You had to look up even with the extra height the counter gave you.
“Sorry to wake you. I know you have to go for your run in the morning,” you said.
Terry gave you a lazy smile and shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. Everythin’ okay?” You nod wordlessly.
“Hey!” You protested when he nabbed the pint from you, his hands quicker than your reflex to reach for it back. It was a battle you would more than likely lose anyway.
He successfully hushed you by taking a scoop from the container to raise to your lips.
“Open.”
You held his gaze as you took what was given, inciting a groan that rumbled low in his chest.
Terry obliged you once more and made notice of your tongue swiping to the corner of your mouth to catch what you missed. His own hunger dwelled in his underbelly. Between your job returning to the office and his growing trucking business, you haven’t made much time for intimacy as of late.
“I think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet too.” The spoon and tub clattered by your side and he disappeared from your view.
“Terry--”
“Open,” he demanded once more, kneeling toward your feet, causing fire to crawl up the back of your neck. He did not take kindly to being ignored, and you wanted this to be an easy night, so you let your legs spread apart.
He tossed one behind his shoulder, mumbling something inaudible to you. A kiss to your ankle, the inside of your knee, then your thigh.
A yelp pierced the air when Terry’s large hands claimed the curve of your hips, tugging you closer to the counter’s edge. Your clammy palms braced themselves on the flat surface beneath you. You could feel his smirk and goatee rubbing on your exposed skin.
Your breath quickened with the anticipation of what was next. His mouth ghosted over your center, blowing on your clit through your dampening panties.
“Oh, fuck,” you shuddered.
He was a merciless man, dropping open-mouthed kisses to your clothed center. He retreated as you tried to furl into his touch, reaching underneath your shirt to roll your nipple for more stimulation.
“You’re so fucking wet,” Terry inhaled your scent without shame. Finally, the cotton of your undies was torn from your pelvis to who-knows-where. You felt the coolness of the air over your exposed skin for a brief moment, the absence of touch not lasting long.
You jerked, feeling his tongue swipe a slow strip up from your wet entrance, gathering your slick. He lewdly spat it back over your clit and sucked until you cried out. Terry ate you without abandon, with little regard for any manners, overtaken by his own greed. --
“I missed how you taste, baby.” Voice muffled in between your legs, his eyes flitted up at you, earnest as always. Terry’s grip maintained the underside of your thighs, keeping your legs spread so he could continue to steal all breath and sense from you.
“Oh my God,” you moaned. Your brain and your body sounded an alarm, reeling with the increasing need for release. His name fell like a chant from your mouth.
Two fingers pushing into you caused the band to snap, Terry immediately seeking the button that left you gushing. He was unaffected when your heel dug deep at his shoulder, urging his face further in your pussy as if it was possible. His fingertips sped in pace, turning your mewls into high-pitched squeals.
Soon enough, your back bowed with the intensity of your orgasm. He tightened his hold, keeping you steady as the current flowed through you. “That’s my girl,” he kissed and licked you through it. Pleasure never reached a precipice when you were under his care, and you shouted to the heavens.
When your legs eventually deflated, your hands found his ears, rubbing behind them gingerly. A grunt slipped from his mouth.
Terry staggered to his feet, hooded eyes glazed over your heaving body. His teeth nipped between your breasts over your shirt, up to your collarbone and your neck. You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in to feel his erection prod at your inner thigh.
Instinctively, he rutted up against you and you sighed. You were warm all over, sheeted with sweat and clenching around nothing, wanting only to be full of him.
His lips left your jawline and found your mouth, luring you into a mind-numbing kiss. You cradled Terry’s face in your hands and took control, allowing your tongue to slot against his. It felt all the more indulgent, the lingering taste of chocolate on your lips mixed with your own arousal.
He was still rubbing on your leg and it only intensified your need for connection. Like a minx, you curled into him, purring in his ear. “Terry, I need you. Please.”
Your hands lowered to explore the solid planes of his body, all of its beautiful ridges and scars. He leant down so his forehead was touching yours. “Fuck, I need you too, baby. Been losing my damn mind about you,” he breathed.
Terry yanked at the waistband on his joggers and his dick sprung free. You two didn’t usually forgo protection but your cycle was around the corner, and desperation made your judgment very foggy.
His fingers splayed under your shirt to grasp at your plush waist, thumbing the folds of your belly from where you sat. Terry pushed his way inside, coating himself to about half of his length. You sighed into his hold, legs locked at his torso, trying, and failing to meet him in the middle.
Without much effort, he stilled your movements. Terry pulled out slowly, and slapped himself over your clit twice, leaving you to squirm pitifully. “Stop teasing and just fuck me, already,” you whined.
Terry did as told and burrowed into you in one, deep thrust. You ate your words in a choked gasp. His head cocked back as he felt your walls squeezing him, putting the cords of his neck on full display.
Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you tried desperately to hold on to the thread of resolve you had left. Terry trampled on it when he set a brutal pace, drilling in you like you owed him something. Your ears were ringing with your own moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. It all felt like too much, far too soon.
You pressed a hand to his chest feebly and whimpered. Promptly, he grabbed your trembling forearm and kissed the inside of your wrist. “I’m fucking you like you wanted, huh? Why you tryna run from me?”
“It’s t-too, m-much,” your words were slurring and you frowned through the pleasure, hoping he’d give you relief from his punishing strokes. That all too familiar storm brewed in your belly again and you couldn’t stifle any noise that left your lips. Each thrust brushed against that sensitive spot within you, and you try your might to stave off your climax.
His stare was focused on you, utterly enamored by your carnal state. “Terry!” You wailed, slapping the countertop behind you and shifting to scoot away. The crack of his hand on the side of your ass rang loud and welled your eyes with fresh, salty tears. Terry landed a sweltering kiss on your lips to pacify you.
He gripped you by the coils at the nape of your neck, and you blinked at him, huffing out shattered breaths. You wanted to ask him why he was fucking you like this, and what did you ever do to deserve it. But your brain could only compute expletives. You clenched and unclenched around him greedily, and his teeth clashed at the sensation.
“Stop holding back, I can feel it. Let that shit go.” And under his spell, you did, surmounting to a shaking ball in his arms. Your toes curled at his sides and his rhythm didn’t falter, his own release not far behind. You keeled with overstimulation, the air feeling sticky on your skin.
Terry’s hands abandoned your waist to cup your ass, bouncing you on his dick in hardy, final thrusts. You bite down his shoulder so you don’t scream loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. His head is buried in the crook of your neck now, sweat dripping on your collar.
“‘Gonna make me cum all in this tight pussy, fuckk,” he groaned, ropes of his release starting to spurt inside of you. Your body was taut around him as his hips slowed to a halt. You were filled to the brim.
“My pretty baby did so good. So perfect for me,” Terry was panting like he just finished a mile-run, and still chose to sing your praises. He softened and pulled out, a part of you now missing. You sat there for a beat to catch your breaths, limbs still tangled together.
“Mm..’can’t stop shaking,” you whispered.
His actions had left you exhausted, drowsiness coated in every blink of your eyes. Terry separated from you for a second and he had his pants back on, scooping you up in his arms. You latched onto him like a bear, nuzzling into his chest.
If it was up to you, you’d pass out right there and crawl to bed in the morning. Something squished against his foot on his trudge out of the kitchen.
“Shit, my socks are wet…what is that?”
Ice cream.
--
Author’s Note: Just wanted to drop my contribution to the Terry Richmond industrial complex.
P.S. This was supposed to be Trainer!Terry but my hormone monster won.
As always if you made it to the end, thank you bunches!
877 notes
·
View notes
Text
Iron
YANDERE BARBARIAN BAKUGO X READER
The king of the most violent and powerful tribe in the eastern world is captured during battle by a small farmers village. What does a violent man like katsuki bakugo do upon meeting a kind servant girl like you?
WARNINGS: reader gets hurt by villagers (bakugo saves her)
He couldn't remember how long he had been here, he just knew it was cold, dark, unsanitary, and painful. He remembered the battle that put him here, getting shot with a poison-laced arrow, feinting on the field. Heh. imagine it, the great barbarian Bakugo, the children's slayer, the village burner, the soldier slaughterer falling because of one puny arrow from one puny kingdom. When he first had woken up he could feel the slick of his blood under him mixed with the dirt and grime of the cell, he had giant iron cuffs wrapping his wrists and legs, binding him to the floor. He couldn't blame these people, truly, they knew that once he woke up if he were to get out they were all as good as slaughtered.
It was a small stone dungeon, with only a couple of stalls, he occupying one of them. There was a small barred window, along with a wall of iron bars serving as protection from him and the rest of the world. Iron, he hated the stuff, and banned it from his country, it burned him, burned his people. There was a thick, damp smell of blood and rust, a musty smell he could easily recognize as death. He would carve every person in this building up, then burn every building in the village, and he would let the fire spread to their fields and watch as their lives work shrivels up into ash. But for now, He would wait for the perfect time to strike, all he could do was wait really, watch the guard rotation, see which ones were talkative, and which ones were cruel.
Many of the guards would beat him, carve his skin, and watch him bleed, they know of all the gruesome things he has done to so very many people, and supposedly the bastards feel some kind of idiotic vengeance or justice for those people. They would pay in the long run, who exactly do they think they are? he is a king, royalty, the highest of the highest, the strongest too. If he doesn't kill them his people will, they'll see. All the king could do was watch, wait, and plot the splattering of this village.
That was, until you came along.
Little you, in your flowy little skirt that was all torn up, with no shoes and a dirt-covered face. Little you with your oh-so-innocent smile, and your callused hands. Little you with your malnourished body, frail and sickly. Little you, who had no idea who he was. Little you who snuck in when no guard was on duty, a small bowl of soup in your hands, and a cup of water.
“I-im sorry that this is all I have, I know you haven't eaten in a long time I just- I’ll have more tomorrow” you whispered, and he swore he fell in love right then and there, you were too frail, too weak to be giving out food that you surely needed. Yet here you were, shakily handing him the bowl and the cup. He stared at you for a solid second, not even his own mother was this selfless, and you don't even know him. Who were you? You did not seem like aristocracy, too kind, maybe a farmer? Maybe a maid, a servant even.
He hadn't realized how hungry he was, not until the entire bowl and cup were gone, and he was left to stare at you. You were ethereal, dirt-covered and all, your eyes, your hair, your hands, everything, absolutely stunning. You had a look in your eyes. Something hungry and fearful told him that you were not happy, not safe and sound, not as you should be.
“I don't have anything to treat your wound, but- I'm sorry. Nobody should be treated this way, not even prisoners. I'll be back tomorrow, please don't tell the guards that I've done this. They will kill me.” you whispered, cautiously reaching to grab the glassware from his grip, waiting to see if he would snap at you. He didn't, only stared, grunting in response to your plea. You stared back with those sympathetic globes of yours, as if you could see the anger in his soul. Before turning on your heel, and quietly sneaking out of the dungeon room, you gave him one last glance before disappearing.
He was left in the quiet, in the cold, falling head over heels in love with you, a mere human. A peasant at that. Strange. You were too sweet, too kind, you clearly needed the food, clearly were starving and malnourished, yet you still stood here and offered your only food to him, a prisoner of war, you were so sweet. So kind. His people were not like you, they were not soft or sweet, he loved them for it, but you, oh you. You were soft and supple and sweet andso sickeningly kind. He would protect you, he has too.
The next couple of nights went similarly, you sneaking in during the dead hours following midnight with varying foods, sometimes a stale loaf of bread with milk, sometimes some leafy soup and water. He was grateful every time, thankful that he wasn't starving, still burning with absolute rage towards the mere peasants who believed that they could contain him. But you, in the very few days that he had known you, had wormed your way into his heart with your soft hands and pretty smile.
He can just imagine you adorned in stolen jewels and furs, dressed in the finest silk, or better, the clothes of his people. something soft like you, something pretty and supple and shiny and light. Something that reflects you, he would take you out of those rags, clean you up, teach you what luxury truly is. and you wouldnt have to lift a finger. he dreamed about your future everyday that you would visit, asking your favorite color or season or jewel.
That was, until you stopped showing up. No more quiet hours gazing at each other, no more shared food and drink, no more listening to you quietly talk about your life, no more sympathetic glances, no more questions about him from you, no more answers from him. It was like you had disappeared entirely, and back to his old routine of watching and observing the guards had begun once more. He had to admit it kind of hurt, having the only good thing here disappear entirely, he resented this place more, resented you.
He hated you, how could you leave him? You, a servant girl abandoning a king. Funny, hilarious, he sat in a pool of blood and hatred thinking about you, about this town, about the people who put him here, who chained him to the floor and watched him bleed out, this city will burn. And burn and burn and burn and burn and burn, his people would tear it apart until it was nothing but ash and blood-
What tore him out of his internal monologue was a pained scream, but not just anybody, he didn't know anybody in the town, it was yours. With that whispery rasp that you had from overexertion, and that neverending fear that dripped from your tone. He stood up to stare through the small window, only to see you on the ground, surrounded by many people, all bigger and stronger than you, yelling and screaming.
“It's her, the traitor!”
“She has been feeding the enemy, treason, treason I say!”
“She should be beheaded, the traitor.”
You let another scream ring out through the town center as one of the men brought their boot down on your bare foot, he could hear the crunch followed by another scream. The first kick sparked more from other men as they brought their feet down on frail little ou, you slowly reverted into a fetal position, lying in the dirt as they beat you relentlessly. He saw red, crimson blinding him and overflowing all of his senses. How could they? You did nothing, you knew nothing. You were just a sweet, innocent little human who knew no better, who were they to punish you, to beat you so cruelly? You were thin and frail and he could hear each one of your bones cracking and breaking into pieces.
He saw bright ruby red, anger wasn’t the word, absolute rage is a better way to put it.
Red red red red red red red red red
He didn't even realize he had broken from his chains till his legs were moving,
Red
He didn’t even feel the burn of the iron till the bars holding him were bent out of shape and twisted
Red
He didn’t realize they were all dead till his hands were stained with that bright crimson color he loved so much- you guessed it, red
He killed them all, so painfully, knuckles crunching skulls and tearing off limbs, pulling people apart faster than any wolf or bear could even try to. The thrill of freedom mixed with rage and pure anger let him revert to the ways of his homeland, back to the thrilling violence and electrifying feeling of tearing another apart. He enjoyed it, enjoyed tearing them limb from limb and watching them bleed as they had done to him. He cackled as they screamed in terror, relishing in their fear.
You watched deliriously, you had lost too much blood in too short of a time, and you were positive that you had many many broken bones, pain overcame you as you watched the bloodshed in front of you, your vision was blurry and shaking but you could tell that somebody was strong, and enjoying violence. Fear budded in the back of your brain, he was enjoying this, enjoying their pain, he would hurt you just the same, kill you, and relish in it.
You hadn’t known who he was, you swore to the village leaders, swore that you just felt bad for the poor starving man in the dungeons who seemed to gentle and sweet, they hadn’t cared. You were to be burned or drowned or noosed they said. But a death like this, at the hand of a man you had been fooled to be sweet? That was worse. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god you were going to die
Your breath became shallow, both because of what was surely a punctured lung, but also because of the slowly approaching footsteps crunching on the dirt. A small whimper escaped you as the figure towered over you, and your hands came up to shield your face from the blow that was surely to come.
But Instead of a painful ending blow, arms wrapped under you and hoisted you up, you never realized how tall this man was. Naturally, you curled into his warmth and tried not to think about how sticky his hands were with blood. your breath hitched as he squeezed you closer with calloused rough hands. Tears washed down your face, you were quivering, shaking in fear.
“P-please-“ you quivered out. Hand moving up to push him away, your statement had many meanings, to beg for your life, to beg him to put you down, to beg him to leave you and your village alone, to beg him to forgive you. He stared down at you with crimson eyes, a sudden softness overcoming them, more than he thought he could have.
“Don’t you worry baby,
I’ll take good care of ya”
———————————————————————
Cute
Anyway enjoy, I noticed a lack of barbarian bakugo content on here so I figured I would add some fuel to the fire.
Love you all, make sure to have a great day!
#soft yandere#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere my hero academia#fem reader#soft yandere bakugo#yandere bakugo#romantic yandere#yandere romantic#platonic yandere#yandere barbarian bakugo#yandere barbarian#platonic yandere katsuki#yandere katsuki bakugo#yandere dragon king#yandere dragon king bakugo#dragon king bakugou#barbarian bakugo x reader#platonic obsession
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
I love all ur blog sm!! Can I ask abt something with the slashers (specially Thomas <3) with an foreigner!reader that don't quit speak english very well and normally forget words?
(Sorry if something is spelled wrong, English is not my native language lmao)
Absolutely, I can!
And because the request didn't specify, this fic will strictly be about speaking a foreign language.
Sorry if this is inaccurate! I'm a native English speaker and don't know many who aren't. Sorry in advance!!
Slashers x Foreigner!Reader
Micheal Myers:
•This man will act like he doesn't care but in reality he's so intrigued. (It might be why you're still alive)
•He’ll spend his time watching you practice your pronunciation and recognition patterns, like it's a movie.
•Is he a bit mean about it? Yes. Will he laugh? Probably.
•If you find yourself not knowing what certain words are and stumble around until you find the right word, You'd be surprised at how patient he is.
•If you are very new to the English language he'll secretly get you flash cards and stash them into a place he knows you'll find them
•Despite everything, if you ask him for help, he will help. He might be mute but he can write and use TV to aid you.
Billy loomis & Stu macher:
•Stu is already romanticizing your language, but instead of using the actual name of your language, he calls it “Talking pretty to me”
•Billy asks if you want any text books or study equipment to help you on your English speaking journey
•Both boys are a surprising help! Stuttering trying to articulate what you mean? They've already jumped in to, A) help save you some of the embarrassment, and B) give you time to think about what you're trying to say.
•Someone making fun of you? They're either dead or a social outcast by the end of the week.
•Are you struggling to remember a certain word? These boys are willing play charades until you figure it out. And they won't drop it either, Stu says ‘It’s bad to give up when you've already come so far.’
•Over all it's not so bad (Stu 100,000,000% uses Google translate to figure out how to say ‘i love you’ in your native language)
Thomas Hewitt:
•When both of you met, he had never met an actual foreigner before.
•He knew people travel around and occasionally some valley girl would end up in their small town, But someone from a whole different part of the world?
•His interest in you spiked the moment he heard your accent
•Thomas has so many questions but doesn't know how to ask you
•With him being mute and your struggles with English, It's not the easiest relationship. In the end both of you just end up pointing at things and making noises to get your point across.
•Absolutely loves to listen to you speak in your native language, Even if he'll never understand it.
•When he's first trying to court you, he leaves you slightly damaged flowers (he struggled to pick them) to communicate his affection.
•even with a language barrier, he's gonna love you like no one ever could
Bubba Sawyer:
•He had no idea people outside of America existed
•When You fell into the palm of Texas and his brothers found you failing to remember the word for your favorite snack, They knew you would be an easy target.
•When they kidnapped you and brought you to the basement so Bubba could chop you up, he was fascinated by the way you desperately tried to beg him not to kill you.
•It ended in a huge fight in the family, But he got everyone to let you live a bit longer.
•Sits Criss Cross applesauce while you speak for your life. You could babble about anything and he would listen intently.
•He pulls out his alphabet soup machine and spends hours typing with you. (You help him finally get past the clown level)
Bo Sinclair:
•absolute meanie, stinky poopy head about it >:(
•will mock your stutters and say stuff like “Oh come ON! The word is Cat! C. A. T. CAT! What's so hard about that?”
•If you speak your native language around him, He thinks you're insulting him or intentionally hiding something.
•”If you could say it to my face in your language you can say it to my face again in mine!”
•The same sentiment is not shared when it involves bedroom fun
•Will eventually apologize, But that's going to take a while
Vincent Sinclair:
•As another non-speaking fellow he takes his time to make sure you two can understand each other
•He’ll mostly use body language and and little doodles to get his point across
•Stuttering over a word? He doesn't care, he'll let you work it out without any judgment!
•Want his help? He has several books, Vincent will just pull out a book he knows as the word in it, flipped to the page, and point at the word.
•Love listening to you talk, In English or not. He'll happily let you yap his ear off.
Lester Sinclair:
•Poor boy was lovestruck when he first heard you talk!
•Full on heart eyes while you explain where you're from and how you ended up here
•If you end up fumbling on a word he'll start shouting out potential words for what you're trying to say.
•Example: “and then I had too…uh…um..” “Run? Pee? Eat? Were you hungry? Are you hungry right now?”
•So helpful, I know
•But the guy is already googling restaurants based off your native cuisine. He's got the date set up.
•”It's no biggie, I'm a native English speaker and I still can't get it right!”
Billy Lenz:
•Billy 100% understands the struggle of finding the right word to say
•He can't stop stuttering himself, so when you start stuttering you kind of reinforce us in his brain that you were meant to be together
•He feels like he can bond with you over it, and even feel safer around you knowing that you also mess up
•the thing is if you start stuttering, he'll start stuttering. If you can't get it by God he will.
•”W-we can't bo-oth be wrong.”
Brahms Heelshire:
•this man will 100% try to learn your language as soon as he finds out you're a foreigner
•That man has a huge library, there's bound to be at least one book written in your mother tongue
•He spends a lot of time practicing your native language so he can speak to you more comfortably
•You already know he has children's learning books he'll pull out if you ask.
•Can't find the word you're looking for? He's already 10 books deep, he'll find it for you.
•Brahms is a well-educated man and he intends to use His years of learning to help
•If you want to take classes to better your English skills he will 100,000% throw money your way to do so.
Hannibal Lecter:
•Now Hannibal really understands
•He's a Lithuanian who learned English as a 10 year old
•He didn't struggle as much, But for the first couple of months you bet he was stumbling.
•If you're struggling with a word, He has a process of teaching you so you don't forget it again.
1) Identify what you're trying to say
2)Slowly begin to sound out the word
3)Have you recite the word a few times
4)He'll either teaches you a little tune to remember or he'll do something so you remember the moment
•Does it feel a little condescending? Yes. But it works
•He's also willing to pour an ungodly amount of money into your English education if you ask
•He'll even teach you himself in his spare time
Will Graham:
•Doesn't really know what to do, He's a bit awkward about it
•He'll also identify the word and repeat it a few times so you can get a better handle on it.
•He thinks it's a bit funny and a bit cute when you stutter or mispronounce something
•He will gently correct you and move on like nothing happened
The Lost Boys:
•holy fucking shit this is a cluster fuck, let's do this one by one
•David
-David, having been around a while, has picked up a couple languages.
-If he does know the language you're speaking he'll speak it back to you and guide you into English better than the other boys could
-If not, he'll just read your mind and tell you what you're trying to say. It's by far the easiest way to articulate what you mean.
•Dwayne
-Dwayne being just slightly younger than David has also picked up a couple languages
-It's really the same if he does know your language But with a little more verbal teaching
-If he doesn't he'll patiently wait until you figure out what you're trying to say.
•Paul
-as soon as you start to stutter over yourself Paul starts shotgunning words off
-some slightly related to the situation and others wildly out there
-”Drink? Food? Ocean? Horse? The unforgiving eyes of God and His kingdom???”
-he'll do this to confuse you and have a nice laugh
•Marko
-Marko speaks English and Italian, so if your language isn't one of those two you're kind of shit out of luck
-”Come on babe, you'll get it”
-He finds it a bit funny but still tries to help in little ways
Thanks for reading <3
Sorry if this seems hastily written together, I haven't had the request in a while so I kind of jumped at the opportunity.
#the lost boys x reader#slashers#micheal myers#billy loomis#stu macher#thomas hewitt#bubba sawyer#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair#lester sinclair#billy lenz#brahms heelshire#nbc hannibal#hannibal lecter#will graham x reader#the lost boys#david the lost boys#dwayne the lost boys#paul the lost boys#marko the lost boys#slashers x reader#fluff#sfw#horror movies
849 notes
·
View notes
Text
AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.
This by @ghouljams for some reason made me wonder what the men would be like when sick.
Price: Gets extremely congested and his snoring gets so much worse. He's practically a chainsaw. His sneezes are obnoxiously loud. His only saving grace is Vicks Vapo Rub. You have to rub it on his hairy chest so he can get some sleep. His bedside is also littered with snot filled tissues. Some tea and cough drops would be much appreciated if given. He sucks on them obnoxiously too but you don't mind as long as he's getting better. At least he's not stubbornly working unlike someone else you know. He has the most sense compared to the rest of the men when sick. But that doesn't mean he isn't stubborn when he wants to be.
Simon: He's also congested but tries to play it off as allergies (That man doesn't have allergies). Will not admit he's sick until he's physically unable to move due to the fever. Like he'll have to collapse onto the floor before he admits he has a cold. Will complain about being babied when you push him to lay down but secretly loves it. Likes being tucked into bed and told to rest because he can't say it to himself. Loves chicken soup and would propose to you if you make it for him. Will not admit it but he likes when you pat his head while he's resting. Overall he's difficult to deal with at the start but he's docile when pushed to rest.
Kyle: Suffers from extreme muscle pain when sick. Everything gets aggravated when he gets hit with a fever. He hates moving especially when he's running hot. He's another stubborn man, he'll only rest when things get bad. But is surprisingly willing to go to the doctor straight away when you say so. Would be eternally grateful when you massage his sore muscles and run him a bath to help his blocked sinuses. You'd have to keep his fever low by placing cooling cloths over his forehead. Also some muscle gels would do him wonders. By far the most agreeable when you tell him to do something to help his cold. He takes his medicine on time and he eats the food you give him.
Johnny: The most needy man you'll ever meet when sick. A total baby. Needs constant attention 24/7. Wants blankets, plushies, snacks, you name it he's asking you for it at some point. Is a nightmare when taking meds because he doesn't like the taste or the fact that the pill is too big. He's sticks to you like glue unwilling to let you leave more than 10 mins at a time. WILL COMPLAIN ABOUT EVERYTHING! Only until he can speak though. His sore throat quickly shuts him up. He needs to hear you talking constantly now that he can't hear his own voice. The constant chatter soothes him. He also thinks handjobs would help sweat out his fever... among a variety of other methods he'd like you to try too.. Worst patient ever!
Masterlist
Dividers by @cafekitsune
Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.
#MDNI#captain john price#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#cod x reader#call of duty#x reader#tf141#task force x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader
794 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part One Two Three
Robin sucks on her drink through her straw, “why, exactly, are we here?”
Steve sighs into his own drink.
Robin looks around the yard from her perch on a lawn chair, “I can’t help but notice, Steven, that we are very clearly the oldest people here.”
Steve watches Eddie balefully. He’s trying and failing to light the grill. It’s almost embarrassing to watch; Steve can’t seem to look away.
“Steven, I am drinking something that was mixed together in bowl. I’m drinking it out of a red solo cup. I haven’t touched one of these in a decade. I require an explanation.”
“I don’t have one.”
“That is a lie. Your pants will catch fire and then you can use them to help that moron to light the grill.”
They watch for a little longer.
“Fucks sake Steve just go and do it for him. This tastes like paint thinner; I’ll need to eat some bread at some point or I’ll go into kidney failure.”
Steve gets up and lights the grill for Eddie. He’s wearing another butchered tee shirt and some black board shorts. He’s so pale, and all of his bony bits are on show. Elbows. Wrists. Ankles.
His hair is gathered up into a messy bun on top of his head.
He still has a smear of make up on one eyelid where it hasn’t washed off properly.
Steve knows exactly what he sounds like when he comes.
“Thanks man,” Eddie’s blushing. He’s rubbing the back of his neck. It reveals Eddie’s pale ribs. His dark hairy armpit-
Steve runs away before he does something stupid.
“Okay, so, step by step, no gory details please, what exactly happened last night, because I know damn well you didn’t spend the entire forty five minutes I was waiting hanging around in a gross bathroom.”
Steve sighs, rubs his forehead, then goes and gets them both refills.
“Coward,” Robin calls after his retreating back.
He’s refilling their cups with an honest to fucking god soup ladle out of the kitchen – avoiding the fly that has met it’s sticky end in what is, no doubt, highly toxic punch – when it happens.
“Hey man,” Steve is being addressed by an actual pimply teenager.
“Hey.”
“Nice car,” he sounds weirdly angry about it.
“Uhhh...thanks,” because Steve doesn’t know what the fuck else to say to a dude wearing a dungeons and dragons tee shirt over flaming basketball shorts. He has nothing on his feet. Outside. Steve represses a shudder.
“Look, you clearly have money, or whatever, and probably a fancy job and you’re like, forty-”
“Hey-”
“- or whatever, but this thing with Eddie, can you make it fast please? Dragging it out isn’t fair on him.”
Steve blinks. He’s getting a shovel talk from someone who probably doesn’t know what a VHS is.
Steve can remember playing video games with no save; if you were going to do it, you had to play the whole damn thing in one go. Steve didn’t have a mobile phone until he was fifteen. Steve is not going to take this.
“This ‘thing’ I have with Eddie is none of your business. Eddie can speak for himself-”
“No Eddie cannot speak for himself, because Eddie is the nicest guy I know and Eddie already thinks he’s in love. Don’t think I don’t see what this is for you, Eddie’s just another thing to play with until you get bored. Look at this place, look at us. Now look at you and you’re fancy friend over there,” the kid gestures and, yeah, alright, the difference is pretty obvious, “you wouldn’t be caught dead here, slumming it, if you weren't getting something out of it. Now hurry it along, Eddie only writes good stuff when he’s heartbroken. Which is a lot, by the way. We all know how this goes.”
“What’s wrong with your face?”
“I just got a shovel talk from a kid who probably shouldn’t even be drinking yet.”
“Ouch,” Robin takes her drink back, “how does that feel?”
Steve shrugs, “not sure, actually.”
Across the yard, Steve watches as Eddie gesticulates wildly and hisses angrily at the pimply face DnDer. He catches Steve watching. Eddie grabs the kid by the arm and drags him away.
“The burgers are burning,” Robin idly points out.
Steve sighs, he loves this polo, grease stains are a bastard, and the chances of finding an apron in this place are none existent.
At least Robin comes with him. She half unwraps some cheese and generally pretends to busy herself, slicing buns and stacking paper plates.
“So, last night?”
“Right,” Steve sighs through his nose, shuffling some onions around on the flat plate. “So I was just going to you know, get him.”
“Get your man tiger,” Robin purrs.
It shouldn’t be funny, but it kind of is. Steve laughs.
“But he just...grabbed my hand. And he said ‘Steve! Come and meet the guys!’ So I...did.”
“He introduced you to his friends,” Robin raises that lethal eyebrow.
“Yeah.”
“And you went along with it?”
“Well I kind of...he didn’t let go of my hand so I kind of…”
Both of Robins eyebrows are now in the stratosphere. She appears to spend a few minutes digesting that, “and then you got invited to...this.”
Steve’s already dug half a hole, and he still apparently has the shovel in his hand, so he keeps going, “he was just so happy to see me,” Steve admits, quietly.
“Who is that?”
“Who?”
Robin grabs Steve by the hair and forcibly turns his whole head, “that.”
There’s a blonde girl talking to Eddie. She’s wearing a white tank top and daisy dukes, “no idea.”
“Come on, high time you introduced me.”
Steve really tries, but he cant hide the fact that he is delighted by this turn of events, “why, Robin Buckley! Oh how the tables have turned-”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m going to make her cry.”
Part Five
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#pre getting together#pre steddie#robin buckly#steve and robin#ficlet#platonic stobin#ornamental fountain steve#age gap steddie
525 notes
·
View notes