#the world oughta know bout it..

[todayisafridaynight]

I FORGOR to tell you but I grabbed kewpie mayo from the market bc you mentioned using it so often - it's not something I've ever just kept around. My life is changed.

DO I mention kewpie a lot ???? i believe it...... it's really good aintit......

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?

[miintsprigz]

Hi! I was wondering if I could ask for the Demo, Engie, and Heavy for the fear-punch prompt if that's okay. Thank you!

FINALLY WRITING THIS. I appreciate your patience so much, Anon. It means the world to me.

GN!Reader fear punching the Mercs, part 2

Characters: Demoman, Engineer, Heavy (Team Fortress 2)

Warnings: uh some stuff relating to anxiety/panic attacks, cuz fear response.

Part 1 can be found linked below!

Demo ⚔️

You finally had the base to yourself, or at least, you thought so. Everyone had been all up in arms lately, it was just exhausting. Having fixed a cup of your preferred hot drink, you went to walk back to your room.

A door suddenly opened loudly behind you, and with your free hand, you swung, not even registering what you were doing until your fist made contact.

“Hey—oof!”

Your mug clattered to the floor, breaking and spilling everywhere.

“Demo!?”

“…oh! Did I scare ya there? Sorry ‘bout that!” His eye caught the mess on the floor as you tried to catch your breath.

“…now, that won’t do—”

“Tav, lemme—”

“No, no; I scare you, you drop it, tis only fair that I clean up the mess—”

Stumbling over to the closet to grab a broom, mop, whatever else he might need—still a little hungover—Tavish got to taking care of it in no time. He worked with surprising efficiency.

“Now, we oughta replace that drink o’ yours.”

“…Tav, I’m sorry.”

“Wha? Whatever for?”

“…I punched you…” Your voice shook a bit. The guy had only just woken up, and you’d socked him in the face.

He seemed confused at first, then touched the side of his face that you’d struck tenderly, realizing.

“Ah…that ya did.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Oh no, no! That’s alright, luv. Sometimes ya just get spooked. Used to do it to me mum all the time.”

“Really?”

He smiled in a somewhat tired sort of way. “Yup. Ya’d think I’d be more careful, especially cuz she couldn’t see me, but I guess I sorta forgot m’self there.”

Demo gave you a pat on the back, gentler than the usual. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’ve definitely knocked a few lads on the floor m’self, so trust me, I get it.”

“Thanks, Demo.”

“O’course, mate!” Your hair was lightly ruffled, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Want me to help ya replace that drink though? Heh, maybe I’ll make one for me, too!”

“That might be good. Do you want some ice though?”

“…nah, nah I think I’m good.”

Engineer ⚙️

It had been such a long day. You were more exhausted than you’d thought you were capable of being.

So when you arrived back at home base, you basked in the peace and quiet and decided to kick back and read for a bit.

Hearing sudden rapid, thundering footsteps, however, your adrenaline skyrocketed again, and so when the “intruder” inevitably entered…your adrenaline did the work.

The Engineer bursted into the room, clearly quite excited about something he was working on.

“Ah, (Y/N), c’mon, I gotta show ya—agh!!”

Your eyes locked onto him, staring daggers in fright as he rubbed at his jaw, wincing.

“Now what in Sam Hill—oh. Oh no.”

Those wide, terrified eyes told him all he needed to know. He didn’t even realize how suddenly he’d come flying in…

“…oh, darlin’. I scared the daylights outta you…”

“A little…” Your voice came out as a squeak, and all at once, everything became all too much. Tears flooded your field of view.

“Honey, I’m so sorry…”

“I, I didn’t mean to hit you…”

“Shh shh shh, I know…I know, I’m okay… lemme just…”

Offering open arms to silently ask first, Engie wrapped you in a hug when you stepped closer, petting your hair softly. He didn’t say anything really, aside from the occasional coo of reassurance that it really was okay.

There was a slight sway to him as he held you, trying to soothe the sudden rush of anxiety he’d accidentally triggered.

You knew, but between the fright and the guilt you felt for socking him in the face like that when he was just excited about something…you couldn’t help but cry for a minute or two.

After a bit, he pulled back, looking almost as though he could cry himself.

“I’m…sorry about that. I wasn’t thinkin’. I know ya had a long day, I just…”

“You were just excited to show me something.” With one last sniffle, you smiled over at him. “It’s okay.”

“…would ya still wanna see? I get it if uh, you’d rather have some time alone…”

“No, no! I’d love to see…”

That warm smile returned to his face once again. “You promise you’re alright?”

“I promise, Dell.”

With a nod, he took your hand sweetly. “Well alrighty. I think you’ll really love this, (Y/N), I’ve been tinkerin’ with this new feature for weeks, and I think I finally got it down!”

Chuckling, you followed after him, feeling your frantic heart slowing once again as his fingers gave your hand a light squeeze.

Heavy 🥪

You are in the thick of it now—bombs flying all over, a hail of bullets seemingly around every corner.

Truthfully? It was too much. But you had no intention of letting the enemy team know that.

Although it seemed cowardly to you, you ducked behind a corner for a minute to just…exist uninterrupted for a moment.

Your overwhelming didn’t go unnoticed though. Help was on the way…but you were unfortunately not able to fully recognize it.

A tap on your shoulder sent the tension building in your mind over the edge. Your fist made contact with the stiff gray of Heavy’s protective vest.

“(Y/N)! Is only me! Do not be afraid. Am here to help you.” Thankfully, the person you’d struck was basically a brick house. He had hardly felt it. He didn’t look angry…actually, he seemed worried.

“Uh…Heavy?!” “Da, it is me.”

“Well. I punched a friend. Great…” Looking down at your hands as you went to pick your dropped weapon up, they were shaking.

“Hold one moment, (Y/N).”

One huge hand carefully cradled yours, holding it steady.

“All due respect, I am giant man. Is very hard to hurt me. So do not feel so bad, okay?”

You tried to breathe, and it caught in your throat. Carefully setting Sasha to the side for a moment, Heavy looked down at you. Even with the chaos nearby, his eyes were so soft when he looked at you.

“Take deep breath.”

You followed that direction as best as you could.

“Very good. Again?”

It got easier.

“Perfect. Battlefield can be scary place…I know that too. Is okay to be afraid.”

He gave you a quick hug—it seemed he really was full of surprises today. His hand practically covered your shoulder as he gave it a pat when you pulled apart again.

“You need minute? Heavy is here! Giant man is on your side, remember?”

Now that you thought about it, maybe you’d be a little more prepared if you had a minute or two to yourself. “…could I just take a second back here out of range? I know it’s kinda chicken of me—”

“Not at all, (Y/N)! What do you think I carry sandvich for! Even big strong man need break. Smaller strong one like you no different.”

To your surprise, he actually handed you half of the tasty treat in question.

“Here. Enjoy, eat, and do not worry.” Picking up his minigun, Misha gave you a determined smile. “Heavy and Sasha will crush anyone who move too close until you are ready.”

If you weren’t where you were right now, it honestly might have made you cry. “Thanks, Heavy.”

“Of course, (Y/N). You are very important to me, you know that?”

A bit of warmth rushed into your face as he gave you one last grin before walking back out from behind your little shelter to face the opposing team.

“That’s right, I AM BACK! YOU MAY NOW RUN AWAY! HAHAHAHAHA!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you took a bite of the sandwich and breathed easy, knowing nobody would get within range of you anytime soon.

Whew! I hope that was good, Anon. I had fun writing it. I’d love more Heavy, Demo, and Pyro requests! I don’t write for them much but they’re a lot of fun!

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Good Husbandry

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: One day in the mess hall Elvis breaks his self imposed rule of not talkin ‘bout ensuring marital satisfaction and the key to makin a woman like taking her man

Warnings: crude and dated lanaguge regarding women, marriage, sex and female pleasure

Circa: 1959

There’s a lotta talk in the army about women. No surprise really, anywhere men congregate be it barracks, backstage, manholes, urinals, studios, they tend to talk about dames. But in the army there’s an extra air of entitlement to any sorta talk about them. Women at home and women on the streets, women in magazines or on tv, all the women in their lives and, initially at least, a whole lotta talk about Elvis’ woman.

His wife.

He reiterated her honored title pointedly to any fella who started talking as if she wasn’t a married before god wife and the revered mother to his children. Anyone who took her at her photographed face value as just another woman with beautiful tits and a trim waist, a gippable ass and a generous mouth and devilishly glinting eyes that just anyone was allowed to jerk and spatter over.

That was his wife.

It was a typical sort of hazing and like all the other forms thrown his way by his fellow soldiers he had surmounted it, along with the help of good ole gentlemanly Hodge, and now when the privates and corporals and sergeants milled around and talked about the only subject worth any breath, they didn’t include Elaine Presley in the discussion.

Most times.

Now that she’s over here Continental side, and now that he’s done his duty by her and filled her full again and she’s ripening right up like the goddamn fertile minx she is, it’s made matters both better and worse. Now there’s a hostess and a soul and a kind lady to put to the face of the pretty Mrs. Presley they’ve speculated about, and it causes the better sort of men some shame to drool and wank unashamedly over her as she pops in for the occasional visit to the base. Though now she is an indisputable fixture in the social life of these men “Elaine” in all her real life glory gets thrown about quite frequently, and while often it’s in the context of her house parties and her snacks and her friendship with their women, Elvis can tell by the rush of color and the heavy silence that often follows a mention of her that they ain’t thinkin things they oughta be thinkin about another man’s wife. He knows it, he knows it because if she weren’t already his he’d have unchristian designs on her until she was. It makes him grabby and possessive and irrational and more than a little proud as each week ticks by and shows her swelling more and more in the magnificent cause of growing a second batch of his twins. She looks so happy about it the guys just know, they just know she has a grand time making them. Something her husband is doing makes her whale-like proportions and aching feet a goddamn badge of honor.

So there’s a lotta talk. They talk about women and they talk about wives and they talk about his woman and his wife. They never say her name but they speak of the anomaly, they speak of the constant struggle men have between the sweet wife at home and the back alley whores. How the sedate and respectable wives ought to be the preferred choice but the joyous and hungry alley cats can’t ever manage to keep their claws out of ‘em…their minds if not their bodies.

That’s when they bring her up without ever saying her name, but as he fiddles with his footlocker at the end of a long day before he gets to shuck off and go home to her, he hears them saying “reckon the secret is to combine the two.”

And he knows even without the use of his eyes that they’re looking at the back of his head enviously. As if god made Elaine soley, out of all the women in the world, the only hungry wife.

It’s not just whores, they talk about. There’s the other types and likelihoods. They talk a whole lot about secretaries or waitresses they met on the side, the sweet-tight-blow-naughty-dirty-tits-ass-pussy-bar-backseat-desk-lunchhour kinds of women, who made noises and told them they were good lovers, who responded with all the arched back-tits up-snatch clenched-back scratch-eyes roll-throat hoarse-enthusiasm a man could dream of, the ones who would do the things their wives wouldn't. They sigh longingly about those women, they damn them for being so addictive. It never occurs to them that their wives could be that, too, if they’d just love them into it.

Elvis would sigh and slam his foot locker closed.

Elaine was not aware of the logistics of conjugal life when he wrestled her father and got ahold of her, she was unaware that a man shoved himself inside a woman on their wedding night. She had laughed and then frowned and then gulped in fear when she realized he wasn’t kidding. When she realized what he intended to do to her.

She had been like any other woman.

But he had managed to soothe, and love and stoke her fire till she was doing the ‘shoving in’ herself a mere two hours later. His jaw had ached for days after from unhinging itself in devouring her skittish pussy all that interim, but it had been worth her slick and gentle first ride. He’d never told her that riding his face or swallowing his seed or letting him take her hot and vicious from the back was something wives did not do, that it was naughty or the “other woman’s” job.

On the contrary, all Elaine ever knew was that it was exactly what wives did, what they were fashioned by God to do. And to enjoy. The men and women who saw the enjoyment written on her face and the joy stretching her belly thought her a scientific anomaly.

But Elvis bites his lip and doesn't comment when the men talk about women. If he speaks up he doesn’t think he’ll be able to shut up. That maybe he’ll say some shit he’d rather keep private, maybe go on too long orating the perfect fit of her and the way her face scrunches and glows when he does his job right.

Elvis rarely talks about women, and never about the waitresses and fans and secretaries and starlets he’s had. He gets asked often but he laughs it off, he remembers their particulars as about as fascinating as his hand. It did the job but wasn’t the one he can’t stop thinking about, even though he woke up next to her this morning. Women mean his wife, too, so he doesn’t talk about women.

That is until today. The subject is back up like a bad penny and the naughty girls and side women are being extolled and the wives are being complained of in usual fashion. He chews in silence and jiggles his leg under the table of the cafeteria mess as he listens:

-“Well, I'm in her, right, and she says it's too much and makes me stop. Too much! Can you fucking believe? Tammy never had a problem taking me, you know?

They talk a lot about taking - about taking her, taking me, taking it.

So much talk about “taking”. They’re always dreaming of the gals who take them, Elvis supposes those fellas who don’t talk much must be happily married like him, they just eat their collards in peace while everyone else talks about those rare female unicorns who were made to “take” men.

Made for it. He’d taken a raw virgin and made her into a howling baby making machine who wears satisfaction on her face like it’s Vaseline. She takes him easy as pie and she’s a wife. It doesn’t make her a whore that she can take him, it makes her his well loved wife.

“Whadda ya mean your wife *can’t* take ya?” he waves his fork around in annoyance and the man pauses halfway through his anecdote about how his old lady for some reason freezes up and winces when he rolls on top of her and puts it in without notice.

The whole mess hall goes deathly quiet and somehow Elvis knew this would be the reaction if he ever spoke up, somehow he just knew not to but he had to go and put his foot in it. Or his mouth, that is.

“She -she’s all tight and shit.” The guy swallows and looks at his fellows and there’s various faces around the table, ones who are sympathetic, those who look condescending and those who look confused. Elvis is the later. The guy shifts in his seat at the idea of The Pelvis finally taking the bait and joining in only for it to be on the subject of his lackluster marital bed. “And look,” he goes on chuckling nervously, “I’m a nice guy, I’m not one to force the issue. She’s just all clammed up, can’t get her excited, always says I go too fast, then too slow then changes her mind and -hell, why can’t she just be easy like them waitress girls?”

“Thought Debbie had been a waitress ‘fore y'all married.” Elvis mumbles around his next bite.

“What? Well yeah, yeah, but she was different then.”

“She was different then.” Elvis imitates mockingly.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Loverboy?”

“Just wonderin the last time ya kissed her without askin for more.” he shrugs.

“I-I don’t get it.” the guy looks for backup around the mess but everyone’s rather invested and hoping that Elvis will finally start spilling whatever black magic tricks he’s got up his sleeve that made a whole nation cream themselves over his voice alone. No one intervenes.

“If ya go out an’ crank the tank in the middle of winter, then curse it for takin a little while to idle before it runs smooth, er’yone here’s gonna think yer an impatient fool, right?”

“Uh, yeah. -What have tanks got to do with my wife, Presley?”

“They both got slow warmin’ motors, man.”

The guy looks torn between brawling and asking for more explanations. “She used to -didn’t used to be this way, man, we had some good times. Used to take her out back behind the diner and she liked it. Dunno why she’s all clammed up now.”

“Well I reckon that was nice and excitin for her back then.” Elvis says, “Bein’ adventurous and defyin her mama and lettin ya fool with her.”

“You’re saying she was thinking of her mother while we-“

“-no, no not that, -look Kipper, for women more than half the hots of it is in the mind, alright? It’s in the anticipation, it’s in the motivation, it’s in the intent ya have when you finally go to take her. The suspense of the thing. That behind the diner stuff -it’s old hat now, gotta keep her ‘cited in other ways now. Half of the thrill for them is in the mind. And it’s in knowin not every touch and kiss is gonna end up with a man jackhammerin inside.”

“Well, what would ya do if a Elai-“ Kipper snaps his mouth shut and judiciously rephrases his legitimate question, “What would you do if you had a wife who was all clammed up on ya?”

Elvis pushes the peas around on his plate and contemplates that, his mouth puckers childishly and Charlie Hodge thinks that maybe he didn’t hear, or is deciding to retreat from the conversation while he’s ahead. All the men are leaning in when Elvis flicks his eyes up and he has to clear his throat a little to work up his voice in nonchalance,

“Why Kipper, I’ve only had one and that one only for a couple a’years.” he chuckles self consciously and the men join in, he milks his mouth briefly in embarrassment.

“C’mon Elvis, just…hypothetically.” another man pipes up from father down.

“What would I do with a clammed up wife?” he repeats the question like he does in his interviews, “Well, for one I’d make certain it weren’t no extracurricular matter weighin on her mind, and if, havin judged it is a uh, uh matter of distaste for relations then, well then I’d start assuring her I value her, I’d compliment her, worship her and I’d try to take her out for nice little things when I could and I’d try not to fall asleep after dinner so we could chat and I’d only ever initiate one bit of contact for a lil while.”

“What’s that?” a couple dozen voices ask, entranced.

“I’d kiss her wrists.” he shrugs, “And if after awhile of that one day ya feel the pulse jumpin under your lips, then you’ll know you’re makin progress.”

The table nods solemnly in unison before suddenly Kipper has a heavy realization settle on him. “Wait, you’re saying don’t try anything besides that? Might as well go celibate for eternity than wait for her to pounce!”

“Hmm, well,” Elvis skewers a ham cube with his fork and proceeds to chew it obnoxiously, “if ya do what I’m sayin and ya do it with patience, she’ll come round. She’ll start wantin it. Women are like horses, they can sense impatience and since they wanna please they get all skittish and they…clamp up. Even the ones who are tryin to be pleasin, they’re tryin too hard and too focused on makin ya happy, ya gotta flip the tables. First night she makes a move, you better eat her kitty out like it’s your last meal and not so much as wet your tip.”

“You’re kiddin man, you eat your wife’s beaver?”

“Breakfast of champions.” he grins cockily until it dies on his lips as he sees a couple dozen pairs of eyes glaze over at the thought of Elaine’s perfect pussy. “Anyway,” he clears his throat pointedly, “you might shock yourself and like it. Better yet if you can shock her and make her like it. And don’t ask for no returns, that’ll come later. Power of suggestion is highly powerful.”

“How’da ya mean?”

“Look,” Elvis wipes his mouth on a napkin, “you might not think about wantin a donut but then you see I’m eating a donut, then suddenly you want a donut. Power of suggestion. Now it won’t be the same donut but it’s the same craving. Lick her kitty and she might start thinking to -ya know…suck your pole. Women are a lot less stingy than men, they see ya do a nice thing and they wanna repay, just gotta make ‘em feel safe for doin it, appreciated. That sorta thing.”

“A-and that will do it?”

“It’s a start, man.” Elvis shrugs, “Suck her button for a bit, Lordy, it ain’t complicated. Her nipples, too. Make out with her for a couple nights like yer teenagers again. Ha! Look at you cats actin like you’ve never got your face up in there before, ain’t no different than slurpin watermelon off the rind.”

-“Well, fuck man, sounds kinda hot when you put it that way.”

-“yeah, any other tips?”

“Get messy.” Elvis grins, leaning back and starting to enjoy the superiority he’s being in, “Get in there, don’t just smooch her down there, suck at her, swallow her, tongue her, ya know like-“ he closes his eyes and waggles his head while making a obscenely skilled motion with his tongue that makes it blur in a whizz of pink movement that the table can generally assume has come from much practice.

Someone down the line is getting patted on the back after inhaling some cola. When Elvis opens his eyes he looks a little lost, like he really went somewhere far away in his mind for that brief second. Kipper's spoon drops and hits his plate with a clatter.

“Look, you and you and especially you-“ he points at the fellas who a years worth of communal showering has given him more knowledge of than he strictly needs, “unless you take these precautions you’re gonna hurt some poor dame ‘makin’ those things fit.” the table laughs and things start to loosen up, “Gotta grease her up, get all the blood rushin down there so she can hold -uh, take- more, best way to do it is ta lick ‘er up to a couple of orgasms first. Check ‘er lips, her mouth that is, before ya go in, if all the blood’s gone south, her lips’ll be cool to the touch.”

“Sergeant Presley!” an orderly taps him on the shoulder, ears pink from embarrassment at overhearing more than he bargained for in delivering a message, Elvis tries to give him a stalwart grin of encouragement, “Phone call for you. Says it’s your wife, she says ‘come quick, the boy just said’ -um, um” he squints at the table cloth trying to recall what the very pretty and very excited Mrs Presley had breathily charged him with relaying over the crackling receiver, “uh.”

“My son’s first words and you can’t remember?” Elvis thunders, rising from his seat without leave.

“Elvis, sit!” Hodge hisses, plucking at his elbow.

“Don’t calm me down man, I gotta know!” he pleads, flopping down in a dejected lump anyway. “Kipper, be a pal an’ ask the Colonel if I can be excused from mess, tell him it’s of the utmost urgency and this idiot can’t be trusted to carry important information.”

“Give me private lessons.” The Colonel bargains from the head of the table and Elvis gives him a disbelieving stare. “O-on women. Ya know…wives.”

“You’re shittin’me.” Elvis growls.

“Casual like,” the Colonel assures him, “off the books -just tips and date ideas and such.”

“Hey I want in, man!” another voice chirps up.

“Yeah, ain’t fair hogging the tricks all to yourself!” a corporal from Missouri objects.

“If it’s got a show an’ tell about how to take a woman with Elaine as Exhibit A, then I wanna buy tickets.” Kipper is grinning, thinking he’s real funny.

Elvis is ready to commit himself. Sometimes he despairs of mankind, he really despairs. God, why can’t the fucker just remember what his son said?

“Bubbles!” The lingering orderly recalls suddenly and Elvis swivels fully around to face him in his excitement, “It was bubbles. The word was bubbles!”

“You hear that cats? I’ve got an ed-u-cat-ed firstborn! What’s your name, my boy?” Elvis rises from his seat beaming and embraces the orderly, protocol be damned, “Colonel you’re on, so long as you agree to buy this fine fella an officer’s commission.”

“Elvis that isn’t legal anymore…” he thinks he hears Colonel begin.

None of it really matters. His son knows how to say bubbles.

[akewanchan]

[Break My Case] Personal Story - Akehoshi Hinomiya, Part 1

Translation by akewanchan. Source is mobile game Break My Case.

TL note:

(edit) Thanks to Imai for letting me know that Kyousuke is actually a reference to Kyousuke from Stand My Heroes!

For clarification, Hinomiya is referred to as Ninomiya in an instance. This isn't a typo!

Ain’t sayin’ working yourself to the bone or yer surroundings don’t play a role.

I’ve seen folks pullin’ it off.

The real thing… Talent as ya say, got no mercy… 

Livin’ in high cotton, all the luxury, don’t come to mind no more.

No doubt I wished a lifetime supply of it by now. 

Akehoshi: ….

Akehoshi: (..... I’m home?)

Akehoshi: (Eh… managed to get back home properly. Good goin’)

Moving my head a wee bit while probing ‘round for my phone was ‘nough to make my world spin, making me all sluggish. 

Akehoshi: (Aaah. Still hammered as I can be. I’m parched…)

Akehoshi: …Ah. Darnit

Akehoshi: (Ain’t refilled dispenser’s bottle.)

Akehoshi: (Do recall thinking ‘bout 30 minutes before leaving the house yesterday, how I gotta swap it out since I’d wanna have a sip in the morning.)

Ain’t like anybody’s gonna complain ‘bout sleeping in on a sunday with no plans in store.

Even then, I sorta had a hunch I wouldn’t be able to hit the hay a second round if I tried to.

Feelin’ as if I was lifting a heavy load, I stood up.

Akehoshi: …Bwech

A wave of nausea washed over me yet again from gulpin’ down lukewarm tap water ‘till the last drop.

Akehoshi: (Shoot. Reckon I went too far yesterday. Sitting here and not rememberin’ what got me plastered like this just means I’m done for.)

Akehoshi: Shoulda called it quits halfway through…

Woman: …Huh! Don’t tell me, is that Ninomiya Akehoshi?

Man: Whozzat?

Woman: He’s a celeb. Y’know, that “way too angelic child actor!” guy. He showed up in TV dramas until he grew quite a bit. 

Akehoshi: Ahaha. Sure can see through the darkness in here, eh. You watched ‘em? Thank ya kindly

Woman: Eeeh, oh my god…! He’s the real deal!

Akehoshi: (....Real deal.)

That’s right, yet it ain’t.

Unfortunately, I was different.

From beginning to end, all the way through.

Akehoshi: (….Oh)

Akehoshi: Someone’s awake. Morning

Yuragi: …You’re alive.

Akehoshi: Ahaha, do feel like I’m on death's doorstep. Am muddling through one way or n’other

Akehoshi: Did I cause a ruckus in my drunken stupor when I got back? Pardon me for waking ya up if I did. 

Yuragi: Don’t you remember

Akehoshi: Not a darn thing for a while now. But good goin’ on my part for making it back home, right?

Yuragi: …

Akehoshi: (Huh. What’s that look for.)

Akehoshi: …Reckon that it ain’t~

Yuragi: Yesterday, what did you do.

Akehoshi: Eh? That’s new. Usually it’s in through ear and out the other with you when I’m doin’ the talking.

Akehoshi: Was just havin’ a drink to answer ya, though

Yuragi: Anything else? 

Akehoshi: Other stuff… nothin’ in particular?

Yuragi: …. ‘Kay

Yuragi: Then, s’fine

Akehoshi: Eh. Wait

Yuragi: What

Akehoshi: Naw, ain't it my line to ask what

Yuragi: …

Akehoshi: (If I did do somethin’ wrong, he oughta been pissed the moment he saw me, no? Seriously, what… Ah)

Yuragi: ---You scared me… Lights aren’t on either, what are you doing

Yuragi: …Can you stand?

Akehoshi: ….

Yuragi: Water. Want some?

Akehoshi: Don’t

Yuragi: Eh

Akehoshi: ---I said, I don’t need anything.

Akehoshi: … Aaah….

That feeling of swatting his hand away, the sound of water hitting the floor.

And then, the tone of voice I usually never use against other people.

Akehoshi: (....That ain’t a look of anger. It’s one of concern, huh.)

Yuragi: Remembered?

Akehoshi: I did

Akehoshi: Had been mullin’ over it myself of how I kinda drank a wee bit too much yesterday.

Akehoshi: But turns out it was more than that. Sorry for all the trouble I caused ya

Yuragi: ….

Without a word Yura turned the other way with a hmph, opened the freezer and started diggin’ through the stock of ice cream.

He picked out one, and while I was thinkin’ he’d just go back to his room-- He put that popsicle on that table, leaving it as is. 

Akehoshi: …Eh. You mean you’re giving this, to me?

Yuragi: I’m going to bed, don’t wake me up.

Akehoshi: Ah. Sure, thanks

Akehoshi: ….Reckon I made him worry.

Around the time I headed to my room after a quick shower, my mood improved somewhat compared to when I woke up. 

Akehoshi: (....Still rock solid, eh.)

I absentmindedly looked around my room while hitting the top of my ice cream with a spoon.

And then my eyes caught a glimpse of a DVD set from that old TV drama that was brought up plenty yesterday. 

Akeboshi: (...Watched it more than enough by now.)

Ain’t like I had anything I wanted to do, so I opened the DVD set to kill some time until my ice cream thawed.

Out of the six CD’s, I took out the 5 with ease and put ‘em on playback.

Akehoshi: …..

A child actor lucky enough to hit it big, his career lasted just short of 10 years until retirement. As a final conclusion to his acting career he received a spot in a TV drama set in a school.

I reckon that I, a so-so kid who wasn’t fated to be the main lead until the very end, received the main focus in an episode as a gift of kindness. 

However.

Akehoshi: …Yer amazing no matter how many times I watch it. Kyousuke-san. 

Akehoshi: The “real deal” is different.

He debuted a few years before I called it quits, and he made a beeline for the top spot within my generation.

What kinda connections or brute force got nothing to do with it, that much is clear when you sit through it just once.

Akehoshi: (That’s why… no matter how many times I watch it.)

Akehoshi: …What’s with that? That awkward silence just now. 

Reason why it didn’t take him 10 years to have grasped them roles as a rookie wasn’t luck or his surroundings, and this one episode makes me realize again and again each time. 

Akehoshi: (Aah, shoulda stopped right there before turning around.)

Akehoshi: (S’important line, yet it’s all pouring out--)

Akehoshi: …. Haha, 

Doing it more like this woulda been better, doing it more like that woulda been better.

Realizing I hadn’t learned my lesson thinking ‘bout stuff that wouldn’t reach my past self, a halfhearted chuckle escaped my mouth.

With my own strength, I wasn’t able to grasp what I wanted. 

It didn’t come true.

Just like this TV drama that’s frozen in time, no matter how many times I’ve seen it by now, it won’t change.

Akehoshi: …..I’m sure the Akehoshi-kun on screen wouldn’t wanna hear the ramblings of a guy who got off that ride a long time ago either, eh. Let’s just stop here

“My one and only wish, won’t come true anymore.”

Once I got that through my head, not a single thing mattered anymore.

But, I reckon that was for the best.

Rather than obsessing ‘bout what I can’t get, taking what I do get is a way of living that’s more suited for the likes of me.

Akehoshi: (Ah, spoon’s getting through.)

A blend of vanilla, chocolate and cookie cream. 

I stuffed my mouth with a spoonful while wondering where you can even find these sorta things, and sure enough it was so sweet I could only laugh.

Akehoshi: (Felt it in my bones this ain’t the thing to stomach when yer hungover.)

Akehoshi: (But, it do seem to be the flavor Yura likes. Let’s just eat it all up.)

Akehoshi: ….. Thank ya.

Looking at the wall, I gave my word of gratitude to Yura who’s surely drifted off to dreamland by now, and I took one more bite.

This sweetness so strong it’ll jolt you awake, slowly melted away together with this lazy afternoon.

[thedevilworksharder]

⋙ WHEN? march 25th, evening ⋙WHERE? the games room ⋙WHO? @sarahshercohen

There's no announcing his presence as he enters the room late that night. Devan had been watching the redheaded woman, not pointedly, but from the corners of his eyes, in passing, a glance while in conversation with someone else. They don't know if they'd been clocked in turn, but perhaps if they had been, they are sorely disappointed in the lack of reaction thus far. Of course they recognised her. If not just because she was famous at one point in her career, world-wide, in fact, reaching chart tops in just about every country he'd find himself in for a good while, but also, with a hair colour that more reminded him of home, she stood out in his memory of this year alone. From the refugee camp.

They certainly hadn't left one another on the greatest of terms, but Devan realises a conversation is in order. If he's going to make a place for himself here, all bumps in the road have to be smoothed out, and Sarah Cohen, aka Sher, is the first of undoubtedly many down this path.

So no, he doesn't come in with the grin the Wexley is used from him. That's not what Sher had come to know of him, the month they'd been forced together. Devan's demeanour now is a sharp contrast to how he's interacted with others so far; hands still and fingers pushed into the pockets of his jeans, face relaxed in a more serious, toned down expression, eyes scanning the room -- like a survivor would.

Without a word, Devan sits down next to her on the sofa, letting out a long soft sigh. "Heard 'bout yer guitar. Guess we oughta find ya a new one, ain't we?"

[elvisabutler]

the girl is mine

summary: the colonel has never liked you. he likes you even less with this special and suggests a quick divorce to free up elvis. you bear the brunt of elvis's aggravation on the matter. you're his, aren't you? fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley pairing: austin butler elvis x female reader rating: m. word count: 1423 warnings: throat fucking. possessiveness. 68 special elvis. the colonel being the colonel. mild hint of face fucking. oral ( m receiving, f implied/referenced ). reference to cheating but no one is cheating. author's note: welcome to the double dip day 29 for kinktober, throat fucking with austin!elvis. imagine who you want, this is supposed to be austin!elvis and imagines what happened post the "mmhmm" scene but can be read either way. i've got no other real comments to say other than woo i am almost done- in the middle of november- with kinktober ( at least the main parts since i had that tiny gaggle of double dips ). also at some point tonight you might end up seeing a little mood board for something i've been cooking up.

Once upon a time you're pretty sure that the Colonel was useful to Elvis. Once upon a time he helped your now husband navigate a world he was never a part of. Once upon a time he helped him shoot to the level of stardom that no one had ever seen before. He had his use once upon a time but nowadays you truly wonder what exactly is his use. Elvis's last films had flopped, Elvis was deliriously unhappy with the quality of work he was putting out and well- he was just unhappy in general, unfulfilled and you knew better than anyone that an unfulfilled Elvis was a dangerous Elvis.

Elvis had kept you in the dark as to what all exactly was happening in the special, telling you that he wanted to have you be just another audience member and saying "don't you be asking Jerry 'bout it, he ain't gonna tell you either." It's fun if you're being honest, usually you're at least mildly privy to the things your husband will do but not today. Of course, this meant that you wanted to go and congratulate him on what was one of the best shows you think he's ever done with some of the best singing you've ever heard and tell him how the entire crowd was obsessed with him.

But, then you hear it outside the door. You hear your husband's voice harden, you hear the Colonel threaten him and you fight the urge to storm in there, guns blazing to ever so delicately- truthfully not at all- punch that toad in the face. Before you can properly entertain the idea, the door is opening and the Colonel leaves but not before glancing at you with a huff and a shake of his head. You think maybe you should let Elvis cool off, knowing fully well that when he gets hotheaded that sometimes even you can't cool him down and you hate being on the receiving end of his frustration like this especially when you were in such a good mood. But you hear him muttering and you know that no, you ought to check on him.

"Baby?" Your voice is quiet when you enter the room but Elvis hears it nonetheless his facial features shifting from pure anger to something far more fond for a moment.

"Darlin'." He opens up his arms as if to ask you to come closer so that he can hug you and you oblige knowing you just want to do whatever it'll take to make him feel better. You'd like to talk about it, but- that might be better saved for later. "Colonel's- talking goddamn silliness again. Thinkin' I oughta divorce ya after that comment you made about the sewing machine and how you make a great wife but you'd rather hand stitch or have a professional do it in that one magazine."

You bite your lip in a bit of embarrassment before you shrug. "It's the truth though, I know even with those machines anything I turn out isn't gonna be half as good as what I can pay an honest working woman to do for me. Should be happy about it. I didn't say it wasn't a good-"

He chuckles, cutting you off. "You might as well have." He rubs at the back of his neck in thought before he sighs. "He thinks- He never has liked ya, thinks you're with me for all the wrong reasons, thinks you're sleeping with half the Mafia when you and I both know you wouldn't dream of that. Right Mama?"

There's a pause where you lick your lips and ponder before nodding. It's in the moment that you look up and see Elvis's eyes looking just a little more stormy than they already were that you realize your playful pause was a mistake. You open your mouth to say something before he places his finger on top of your lips.

"Not a peep out of you darlin'. I know the Colonel ain't right because you've been a good girl. You are a good girl. Always take my cock so well. Always let me get my fill of ya." He moves to grasp your chin, pulling you in for a soft kiss that quickly turns into him nipping at your lower lip. "Can I use you right now, darlin'? Get what I need out of you for right now? I'll give you a present at the end."

You should say no, you should say no because usually when Elvis is like this and asks you a question like that you end up doing something that you really shouldn't have. But- he's your husband and truth be told- the idea of having a promised present at the end fills you with enough excitement that you nod your head slowly. "How do you want me, baby?"

He shakes his head as he bites at his lips. "On your knees for me." He pulls at the tie on his robe, revealing that he isn't wearing a stitch of clothing underneath. You gulp as if it's your first time as you sink to your knees. You should wait until Elvis is ready, should wait until he pulls your mouth onto his cock but you don't, you see how he's for some reason already hardening just by looking at you on the floor so you start to wrap your lips around the tip earning a moan from him.

"Satnin." He groans, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, cupping your neck in an effort to get you to take more of him into your mouth. He knows he could get you to deep throat him immediately, you'd adjust but he's trying to be gentle. As if you can hear him being worried about the need to be gentle you look up at him and relax your throat, a hand moving on top of his giving him permission.

It's all the permission he needs, his fingers somehow gripping at your hair in whatever way he can and pushing your mouth further down his cock until he feels the tip of him against the back of your throat. You're coughing around his cock a little, trying to adjust even as you swear he's becoming girthier than he already was. The temptation to shut your eyes is there but you resist making sure to train your eyes on Elvis even as you try and make a swallowing motion knowing that the few times you've done it before Elvis has seemed to enjoy it.

The way his hand tightens and tries to yank at your hair tells you that you made the right decision. His thrusts into your mouth are sloppy as he mumbles above you words that are truly going in one ear and out the other with you catching snippets about "the colonel" "best girl" "my wife" and you start to clench your thighs together, your hand moving down to between your legs before he does a particularly rough thrust that has him hitting the back of your throat with enough force you can't help but stop breathing for a moment.

"Don't- Goddamn- sorry darlin' but don't you be touching what's mine. Gonna take care of you like I always do. You just wait a few minutes." He mutters, shutting his eyes for a moment as if to stave off the inevitable that is coming barreling faster than he intends it to.

Now that you know that you being touched depends on him coming first, you hum around his cock, the vibrations causing him to still for just a moment before an almost inhuman growl leaves his body, the thrusts and the pulling and pushing of your head on his cock reaching an almost fever pitch as you try and keep up, your tongue moving and your mouth just focusing on the task at hand. It doesn't take too long until you feel him coming while he's at the back of your throat, the salt and warmth of it coating your mildly abused throat as you try and not cough too much, as you try and not waste too much.

When Elvis pulls you off his cock, you think he's going to say something before you feel him picking you up and just setting you on the vanity behind the two of you and pulling down your underwear. Your voice is a little rough when you speak. "Elvis?"

"We'll talk later. Think I promised you a present, didn't I?"

[themattress]

Clips from the videos I recently linked to.

Out of all the main characters, Nomura and Oka's writing in Kingdom Hearts III (and the preceding Dream Drop Distance + 0.2 Birth by Sleep for that matter) significantly derailed five of them, four of whom the video above discusses and the other whom I'll bring up myself.

Axel then: A deeply selfish guy whose pursuit of his own agenda above all else puts him into conflict with others, even his own friends. Has a fiery (heh) side but is usually cool and collected, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, and is very smart and calculating.

Axel now: Honestly still selfish but in a bratty petulant way rather than a mature interesting way, and the narrative pretends like this isn't the case and portrays him as this great guy and wonderful friend. He's also hot-headed dumbass whose style of humor is more "wacky", based in catchphrases and self-aware jokes. Yes, I'm aware he has a heart now, but that explaining the difference doesn't work when the series is now claiming he had a heart all along as a Nobody anyway! If Lea's gonna call himself "Axel", he oughta resemble him more!

Kairi then: Spunky and sassy. Prone to reckless actions due to following her heart without thinking. Will fight to the teeth against any enemy trying to chain her down and will always use her agency every chance she gets, even if it's simply sending a letter. While she obviously loves Sora, she cares deeply for others too and does all she can to help them.

Kairi now: Meek and polite, a "Yamato nadeshiko" type. Frantic and self-doubting, to the point of freezing up in combat. Greatest contribution is "believing really hard" rather than doing anything, and who will write a flowery love letter for the sake of it but never send it. Her care for others is de-emphasized in favor of her love for Sora, even though he barely if ever thinks or talks about her when she isn't right in front of him, making her look pathetic.

Riku then: Starts out as a rude, arrogant jerk who uses darkness and falls prey to it, ends up a still rude but humbled and considerate guy who overcomes his darkness and turns it into a unique power of twilight. At peace with following his heart more ("which is Sora-esque").

Riku now: Totally polite, nigh-infallible hero who just uses plain darkness, not twilight, without consequence. Acts like a dull stick in the mud who barely shows emotion from the heart.

Sora then: Just a regular kid/teenager. Could be kind of a dumbass but not to the point of chronic idiocy that's always being made fun of. Reacted proportionately to events around him and was prone to bouts of depression that he covers up with his usual cheerful attitude.

Sora now: More childish than he should be at his age. Stereotypical shonen Idiot Hero, to the point of everyone making fun of him for it. Reacts over-the-top and excited to everything, is seldom if ever depressed about anything short of people dying. "Weak" yet OP all at once.

Ansem, Seeker of Darkness then: Profoundly arrogant in order to cover for his insecurities. Feels as though everything he does is justified. Cares for no-one but himself + darkness.

Ansem, Seeker of Darkness now: Will openly admit to his insecurities and stow his pride. Knows and acknowledges what he does as evil. Apparently cares for "Subject X", and Riku to a degree, plus chides Ansem the Wise for his cold treatment of others. Seems on board with Xehanort's plan which evidently is meant to safeguard the worlds against darkness.

[nekroligion]

MARIUS ULLAND

i wanna move / i oughta feel / i need to drift into a world so unreal

Born to Kristian and Sonja Ulland, Marius is a Norwegian man, aged 22. He has dirty blonde hair he cuts himself, a crooked, arched nose, jacked up teeth, scars all across his arms, and eyes that have been described as ‘dead’ over the years.

He is not a perfect man, and he has never claimed to be.

Marius came up with the idea for Nekroligion in high school, shortly after moving to Sweden and meeting Joen Lindqvist. The two were both obsessed with all things metal, and vowed to create the best band in the world after graduation.

The two of them met Adrik Antonov on one of their weekly scope-outs. Marius knew he had to have him in his band after seeing him perform so passionately. So he stole him.

He’s pretty sure it was the best decision he had ever made.

Now, Nekroligion is on tour, with a pretty decent kvlt following. Little does Marius know, the worst is yet to come.

he’s got charisma, but when he’s all alone / he curls in a ball and wishes he was / home again, home again, home again

FACTS:

Born January 26th, 1973. He’s an Aquarius (although he doesn’t care what it means).

Has hypersomnia. He’s slept through whole days.

Struggles with bouts of depression and suicidal ideation. Has gone to the hospital for excessive self harm multiple times. He’s used to it.

Craves validation.

His nipples are pierced! He was dared to. His parents were not very happy when they found out.

Has two younger siblings: his sister, Janne (aged 17), and his brother, Aksel (aged 7). He hasn’t seen them in a while.

Grew up Catholic.

Hates his father.

Is bisexual. Will not admit this to himself.

–

Read more about his past here.

Look at his Pinterest board here.

Listen to his playlist here.

[dave-brubot-real-life]

oi piano man! ive got somethin to tell ya. before you get mad yes i found out scrap's login but that doesnt matter. Toonie's in mad love with you, I wont beat around the bush and make some joke I'm just gonna be straight forward. She adores you, she wants to spend every waking moment with you. How do I know all this? because she wont shut her yap when we're tryin to brawl. or when we end up somewhere together and arent in the mood to fight. its annoying as shit but shes also too dumb to really notice somehow. much like you. youre both dumb as shit. but its bout time someone told one of you and brought you two together so the world can stop collectively groaning at how oblivious you both are. (@ask-toonie-cogsworth Salty Westerdile🐊)

...Mad love?

With the musical monster of melody himself???

Well- who doesn't love Dave, that's the double slimes juckpot one trillion quiz question of this suggestion-!

But Dave ain't done yet with ya, glorified rug, he's got something else to say to your scaly mug- be a hater all you want, Dave knows ya ain't surviving the winter with a stone cold soul in control like that-!!! But leave Toonie Baby outta this! She ain't dumb or annoying, hold those words to the mirror, stand in the spotlight, and you see with your eyes that it's the right, the the left, the left to the right, the flip-flop of dumb and annoying! Can't see it? Well lucky for you, Dave can see, she sees all the time, right through her own eyes, a list of what makes this jellyfish the brioluimenesscanecce decadence that's got the every single fin flapping and floundering, wishing they could be like her!!!! Their soft swaying locks, a beat that never stops, a sour devilish record, moves to match, a shell to catch, a savvy suit, a sweetheart from the start, lock breaking, piercing bite, a sense of humor that any animated amigo oughta find delight, accessories for days, a master of rave, and through it all, a sweetheart soft touch that's got THIS Da-

Oh.

OH.

OH.

[@ask-toonie-cogsworth]

[squallsong-survival]

Hey, could you leave my friend alone? He hasn't done ANYTHING to you. He's just a damned kid for crying out loud. I'd let you taste the wrath of Ho-oh and Lugia myself if it wouldn't just prove you right in your fucked up mind.

I don't know what the hell is up with your universe, but in most universes, humans work alongside pokemon constantly. Maybe you should think about that before saying shit to people on the site that connects to the damned multiverse.

Leave Gen alone, he doesn't deserve the shit you're threatening him with.

//Hiya, @silveredfeathers mod here! Feel free to ignore this if it's too much.

oh, well at least this one’s around my age. not that it seems ta have given him much more sense.

Gen is a kid, yes, and frankly he oughta grow up. he ain’t that young and here he is bawling ta all his little friends about the scary man who didn’t sugarcoat it for him. very cute invokin’ legends as if that’d scare me off, by the way. nobody sees them shits fer a reason: they know ta mind their own fuckin’ business. the prospect ain’t even that scary. ya gotta have similar levels a experience ta me, so surely ya know at this point that even some renowned horrible monster ain’t much against a well-placed strike.

besides, the whiner is so prone ta tears I don’ think it’s possible ta have a useful conversation with ‘im. poor bastard kinda proves my point ‘bout these freaks livin’ pathetic miserable little lives. he ain’t even worth puttin’ out of ‘is misery, myself. crossin’ borders’d be such a pain. if he’s lucky maybe someone local’ll take note of ‘im.

and the fuck do you mean, universes? there’s only one world pal, and we’re all livin’ in it.

[drunkelreporter]

Vash was definitely perceptive enough to notice the stare of a stranger boring into the back of his head, Roberto watching him intently from where he leaned against a wall, smoke streaming idly from the end of his cigarette. This was clearly not who he was looking for; no blonde in his hair at all, a decidedly meek and slumped manner to him that wasn't like their Typhoon at all, tall and gangly and worn.

The coat had caught his eye at first, because of course it had. When looking for a blonde in a red coat of course he was going to notice every red coat in the vicinity. But there was something about this guy that was all-too familiar, something other that he'd gotten used to with their Vash. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stick straight up.

He blinks, realizing he'd been staring too hard.

"Hey there friend," he half slurs, raising his nice, shiny, new flask in a salute. "Sorry 'bout th' starin', think I mighta had too much to drink, you know? You're looking an awful lot like someone I know, though you ain't him at all. Lookin' run down though, you oughta have a drink and relax a bit, quit lookin' like you're carryin' the world on your shoulders."

Helpfully illustrating his point, he tips his flask back and takes a hearty swig. Its half to sell him being a harmless old drunk and half because he feels like he's going to go crazy of he looks at this guy for too long.

"Take it from an old coot like me: you'll age more gracefully if you spend more 'f it drunk and less of it worryin'."

@amoirsetpacis

[septusuki]

"Arius, I oughta say." Turning from the boat's wagonwheel controls, Priorie addresses her singular companion with only a mote of concern. "The 'maids round these parts, they're a bit..." she trails off, one finger raising to her chin as she gnarls the pipe about in her mouth. "Different. Nasty different." Finally concluding her thought, Priorie shrugs and decides that's as far as she's getting with it.

"So... What? A new ordo? Class?" Arius is excited, all of a sudden. She's meant to be doing research once she arrives, but to get a discovery or two in before the boat even touches land will be a hefty addition to her title. "Even a new form'd be nice..." Turning from the boat's stern, Arius' glittering eyes lock in on the captain. "I'll get my camera!" She claps, and begins rummaging around in her backpack, displacing entire weeks-worth of rations before finding the little snap-camera she'd buried inside of it, just in case.

"Subspecies. I think." Swallowing, Priorie turns away, as if she can't bear to see Arius so excited. She's brought it up, and now she has to deal with it. "I don't think you'll be too excited bout 'em, either way." Trying to humble herself, and downplay the things she has to navigate past, most every week, Priorie shrugs again. "Just though you should know." With a begrudged tip of her head, Priorie decides that it's time to pay attention to piloting, instead. After all, they're entering the cave, now.

Equipped with a tiny little camera, with only a few photo's worth of reel left — and her own enthusiasm, of course — Arius taps her feet on the deck as she turns back. "Maybe they'll have amber scales, or proboscis, or bigger fins..." She dreams, her mouth twisting unflatteringly as she begins to giggle. She'll roll up to the scientist's confer, already decked out with a fresh biological first to foist upon them. "Unhh..." She gets lost in those daydreams as the world around the boat goes dark for a few moments. "Or... Or maybe some kind of biological ornamentation...." Her wheezing grows heady, her giggles turning to hyperactive breaths as the boat's auto-lights snap on.

"Y-Yeah, somethin' like that." Priorie tries to entertain the conversation, but she can't keep up; she's never been especially educated, definitely not to Arius' dizzying level, where she gets so worked up over tiny little discoveries. Arius might end up as a footnote in the biological mythos, but she'd still be happy. Priorie wished she could wish for such a simple life — but she's been saddled with a boat, and told to sail it.

The cave opens up, yawning out into an entire cavern, with only the slightest reems of sunlight poking through the roof. It glitters and gleams with ore and gems, making the water almost look powerful. Arius makes the tiniest of gasps as the elegance of it all overcomes her, for just a moment. She takes a few photos, but instantly regrets it; that reel is for the mermaids, idiot! "So... Where are they, Priorie? Captain Priorie?" So amused by the idea that she'd be remembered for whatever she finds in this cave, Arius begins to get almost overexcited.

"You'll see 'em when you see 'em, Arius. You can't miss 'em." Priorie sighs as she admits to herself that Arius doesn't have even the remotest of titles to add to her name. Yet. "You... Really can't." She repeats, almost glowering at herself for telling her in the first place. Arius is going to be disappointed, no doubt about it. Not in Priorie's mind, at least.

"Well they better hurry up!" Arius demands, checking and re-checking her camera to make sure it still has a photo or two left. "Major Arius wants to make her big debut!" Adding the honorific herself, Arius smirks as she indulges in the aspiration of it all. She's so lucky, to be being taken on this secret route to the conference — by her best friend, no less! The whimsy of it all gets to her head, and she salutes, all of a sudden. "That's Major Arius to you, deckhand!" She preens, imagining all the horrible things she'll do to her subordinates once she's afforded the discovery of a lifetime. The tips of her mouth spiral and squeal, hardly able to stop themselves cracking apart with excitement. "Any hints? What do they look—"

Arius is cut off, instantly. Her train of thought is severed, as she realises that that was what Priorie meant. You couldn't miss them, not in a blue moon, not in a month of sundays. You couldn't miss them, because they're whales.

"Aaahhh... Please... Feed me..." the first of a dozen whales lets her voice linger and she limps through the words. Lazing in the low-light on a gigantic grey rock, this seal chews some kind of cud as she rubs and plaps at her belly expanse. "Shoo... Hungwy..." She mumbles, licking her lips as she no-doubt images a trillion types of food being shovelled into her mouth — all at once, preferably.

"Yeah. Different." Priorie doesn't even spare a second to look at the beached whales that are now surrounding her. Like stars on a dark night, as soon as you pick one out, their compatriots soon appear. As large as the pseudo-islands they're laying atop, these mermaids idly bathe in the light, their pale skin betraying the fact that they don't get much, really. "Don't get mixed up with them, 'kay? You know the rules, just like normal ones." Priorie groans, as she hears their magic sympathy-sounds switch on. Her arms almost stray from the boat's wheel, but she keeps herself steady.

Arius isn't so lucky. "You know, Priorie..." She garbles, her mind being massacred by the mermaids pulling on it's heartstrings. "I-I've always kinda been into fat girls..." Dumbly, Arius happily admits her biggest secret without a second's reserve. Her mouth is so oozing with drool that she can't speak straight, anymore. Words come out of her mouth, rolled about and gargled in an ocean of saliva.

One of the mer-seals rolls onto her side, her humongous flank drooping over the basking rock and tumbling into the ocean's surface, like a waterfall of blubber. Realistically, she is no different from any other mermaid. She has the elegant, jewelled bra that most are outfitted with. She has the glassy hair ornaments they've been genetically trained to scavenge from the ocean's floor. She even has the navel piercing that some so rarely have — clearly, this one is the queen of her little caste. Only, this one, this elephant seal of a mer-creature, has an entirely smooth, grey tail, speckled with spots of black. Where the leathery, flawless grey flesh becomes skin, lays an entire ocean of the stuff. Half of her tail is covered by belly-meat, and half of that, still, is adorned with barely-restrained boob-fat. Even with this all-encompassing roundness, this queen is still beautiful. Her fat, round face pulses cuteness, and her curvy blonde locks frame it all so perfectly. So big that she could be mistaken for one of the damp, black rocks she lays atop, the queen is so beautiful that she could be mistaken for a world-level supermodel. It's alarming, almost, that she's this big. She ought to be slithering down a runway.

"Ungh... Feed me, Arius...!" She mewls. Her arm looks almost short, when compared to the balloon of her belly, but she smacks it nonetheless. "Pwease, Arius!" She coos and calls across the lake, smacking her lips as her tiny arms fail to rub the full expanse. "Feed me, and rub my bell--y!"

Arius is in the water, already.

Priorie is so distracted with not getting distracted that she hardly notices. By the time she becomes aware that her childhood friend is halfway across the short swim to the mermaid's murder rock, Priorie can do little more than scream. She's not going in there to stop her. There are always little ones, that'll pick apart any stragglers. Arius is the queen's prey, so she's untouchable. For now. "Arry! Arry, fuck, come back!" Priorie screams, trying oh-so valiantly to steer the boat and rescue the floundering figure of her friend.

"Aaa-rius!" The seal-mermaid giggles, growing ever-fatter by the moment. Trying to fit itself to Arius' hyper-specific specifications, the seal-maid's face becomes a sack of blubber as she is utterly overcome with the stuff. "Ugghh..." It whimpers, as the rock beneath it begins to groan with the weight of the goddess laying atop it. Her little bra strains, jewels bursting off of it and into the water as she bloats up, pushing her clothes to grow by two sizes at once. The queen's belly-piercing is gone, soon, masticated between belly-rolls. "You're making me— Oughh —sho fat, Ariush!" She laughs, only a little scared of how huge she wants her.

[toujokaname]

HiMERU Idol Story 2

Author: Akira

Characters: HiMERU, Kohaku

"(Let's get properly involved with the world, "HiMERU".)"

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Season: Summer

Location: Seisoukan Common Room

HiMERU: ~...♪

Kohaku: Mm? O~i, HiMERU-han, what're ya doin' this late at night?

HiMERU: —Oh? HiMERU could say the same to you. Are you out on a walk at such a late hour... Oukawa?

Kohaku: Koh koh koh ♪ I'm jus' happy I'm able to walk 'round freely.

Also, when I was at home, I got used to stayin' up late, so sleep don't come to me easy at this time of night.

I keep thinkin' "I oughta go to bed early," but I can't.

That bein' said. If we both don't go to bed soon, it'll have an effect on tomorrow, 'cos human beings can only recover through sleep.

HiMERU: —Is that so. HiMERU's view differs from that, and Shiina, for example, would most certainly hold a different opinion.

Kohaku: Yeah. That moron's a special case in that he can't recover from anythin' that ain't food.

As we spend more and more time together, I've unavoidably learned that he's like a single-celled organism that'll put anythin' and everythin' in his mouth.

He's eatin' all the time. I lose my appetite jus' by lookin' at 'im.

HiMERU: —Fufu. Shiina would surely be unhappy about that, since he seems to love serving food to others.

Kohaku: For real. That guy's like, his whole life's centered 'round his stomach.

HiMERU: Fufu. To HiMERU, that is an enviable thing, to have something so irreplaceable—things like that.

Aah, what does the world look like to such a person?

—Anyhow. To answer your first question, as you can see... HiMERU is writing a reply to a fan letter he received.

Kohaku: Fan retaa[1]?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU takes pride in his long career history and is a popular idol in his own right.

Letters from fans arrive in boxes, and all of them are piled up here.

Kohaku: Oh? Really, all of these?

Haah... I can't help but sigh. I'm still unfamiliar with idol culture, so this's new to me, y'know?

It's real impressive that they're all handwritten, even in this age of the Internet, ain't it?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU is very grateful for it. Even then, these don't include those that were slanderous in nature. The agency censored and removed those.

Kohaku: Huhh~... And despite that, there's still these many left. HiMERU-han must be a real popular guy, huh?

HiMERU: Rather than it being a result of his popularity, HiMERU is one of the rare types of celebrities who reply to letters. His fans are likely to know this, and thus, they send him more and more.

Anyone would be happy to receive a reply to their letter, after all.

Kohaku: ...That's right. Communication's only possible when you speak or write and get a proper response.

To communicate with someone can be a pleasure hard to come by. Screamin' into the abyss will only hurt yer throat, and nothin' worthwhile's gonna come of it.

HiMERU: —Oh dear. Oukawa, you look a little hurt. Apologies, did HiMERU unknowingly tread on a sensitive topic for you?

Kohaku: Hm. It ain't good to be too sharp, HiMERU-han.

...No need to worry 'bout it, I'm fine. I was jus' thinkin' 'bout an old pen pal of mine.

Hm. Even though I thought I'd come to terms with it and forgotten 'bout it, the wounds in my heart'll remain unhealed and hurt forever.

Oh, well. Sorry I called out to ya while you were workin', HiMERU-han.

I'm goin' back to my room to rest. When it comes to yer letter writing... there ain't anything I can do to help ya, anyway.

HiMERU: Indeed. The senders of the letters, the fans, would most certainly want to receive a reply from their favorite idol written by the person in question.

HiMERU cannot ask someone to write on his behalf, so even if he gets tendonitis, he will have to write them all by himself.

Kohaku: Hmm, "the person in question", huh...?

HiMERU: —What is it?

Kohaku: Nothin'. If you've convinced yourself of that, then I've nothing to say. ...Jus' be careful not to break yer body or mind by overdoin' it, HiMERU-han.

HiMERU: —Yes. Thank you for your concern, Oukawa.

Goodnight, have a pleasant sleep ♪

Kohaku: Koh koh koh ♪ ...Though that surprise attack was meant to shake ya up, you didn't even tremble a lil while you were writin'. I gotta praise ya for that.

You've got a calm face and guts, I'm glad I can rely on ya as a unitmate.

Welp. For real now... G'night, HiMERU-han ♪

~...♪

HiMERU: (...Hm. It looks like he's gone. That made me break out in a bit of a cold sweat.)

(It's the same for you. You have a cute face, but I should never be too careless around you... Oukawa Kohaku.)

("Oukawa". I've heard rumors that they have a family history of single-handedly taking care of dirty work...)

(Sure enough, the more someone wants to hide something, the more likely it is for it to reach their ears.)

(But. Even if you heard about the secret that "I'm" carrying, you should've pretended to be unaware of it.)

(And yet, just now, you deliberately gave me a warning, as if to say, "I know"—why?)

(Maybe you were so sleepy that you slipped up, or maybe you didn't mean anything by it...)

(Was it a threat, or a sign of trust as a colleague? I don't know. There's not enough material to speculate, either.)

(Aah, it's really... interesting. Communication, that is.)

(That which is called life! Overflowing with pleasant discoveries and emotions, the most valuable treasure room in this world!)

HiMERU: (—So. "You". You can't keep averting your eyes and pretending you don't see it... Let's get properly involved with the world, "HiMERU".)

Kohaku repeats this in hiragana, indicating his unfamiliarity with the term.

In his inner monologue at the end, you can notice I didn't make HiMERU talk in third person. The reason why is that in most of his dialogue, he actually omits personal pronouns entirely. In those cases, translators default to making him speak in third person. However, given the context of what he's saying, I felt it appropriate to make him use first-person pronouns. In the Japanese script, he only uses "ore" once, where it's in quotation marks.

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[smokeys-house]

Puukko’s Travel Log 2

Passage from Puukko's Travel Log

I'd ne'er put much thought into flying. Snork has though, it seems. A ship that can fly, quite the thing! Imagine, another golden age fer piracy, all the way up in a different wild blue. 'Cept o'course if ye fall overboard, it's less Davey Jones an' more broken bones. At least the burial's still free! I Imagine the hole you'd make oughta be at least six feet deep. Maybe they ought t' tie rope to one another so they just dangle over the side a bit instead? [A small doodle of a grumpy looking moomin with an eyepatch dangling from a rope in the clouds below a flying ship fills the gap before the next line] 

Apologies on the grim jokes. Somethin' 'bout adventurin' brings back a bit o' the old me. Beneath my admittedly cuddly exterior these days, turns out I'm still a rough ol' sea dog at heart. Moominmama stuck a big ol' jar of things in my bag when I weren't lookin'. Lots of thoughtful things, little though they may be. A fine letter, as well. Her handwriting's a mite prettier than mine. Gon' stick it the next page over. She's a kind woman, and I've no doubt within her lies a raucous beast. Her husband writes about his "stormy youth", but I'd bet Moominmama's got some memoirs of her own t' write. 

Made landfall somewhere flat and dry in what I assume is Italy. Bound t' be a long trek to civilization, but that's all part o' the journey. Snork dropped me off, headed somewhere else. He said somethin' 'bout "making some adjustments" afore he goes off t' find his precious cargo. It's not often I find myself feeling that perhaps I'm in over me head, but if I'm not over me head, I'm at least over me snout. Got to thinkin' so much on people, and being in a strange place, and whether I'll like the food or what have ye, I ne'er even thought on where I were landing or even where I were going. Fixin' t' make camp fer now and see that I can't find my way toward something a lil more populated come morning. The adventure's only just begun. 

Day 3

Signed Puukko

--

To Miss Puukko, from Moominmama 

Hello dear. It was lovely to have you, if only for an evening. You're always welcome at Moominhouse. Moomintroll seems to think you a legend like from his fairytales! How fun an idea. I hope you don't mind the intrusion, but I've left with you some treats to help you feel more at home on your journey. I'm sure Moominpapa won't mind missing a pinch of tobacco or a drop from his still. You'll be gone before he notices, anyhow. There's a number of things here, but don't be hasty to enjoy them right away. You'll know when you need them! Stay safe out there, dear. The world's changed a lot since you came to the valley, and pirates aren't quite as common as they used to be. 

I hope whatever you're looking for, you find it. Or maybe you're hoping it'll find you. 

Warmest regards,

 Moominmama and the Moomin family. 

A large glass jar with a red cloth pinned under the lid. It's filled with a variety of things, most of which are labeled in Moominmama's handwriting. Some have a small note attached, as well. Below the letter, Puukko has inventoried the jar's contents in her journal. 

A satchet of tobacco from Moominpapa's pipe bag

A small portion of raspberry jam

A pouch of loose tea, it smells sweet but medicinal. "should you feel ill, or for sour moods"

A dram of whisky, courtesy of Papa's still. "just a taste, don't go overboard!" 

A tin of some kind of balm or poultice. "one of grandma's recipes, for cuts and bruises"

An off-white kerchief with a rose embroidered on it

A few cookies. "filling, but not too much"

A single serving of spices with a fish drawn on its wax-paper bundle

[afteriwake]

She Has Nice Silk Knickers, Too

So this is an old songfic I wrote for the Buffyverse fandom challenge group "You Got The Stones?" for our main mod Collie. All I did to it was reformat it for AO3, but I hope you all enjoy some drunken Spike!

She Has Nice Silk Knickers, Too - Spike decides Tom Petty should rot in hell.

READ @ AO3

May Tom Petty rot in hell. How'd he get so filthy stinking famous by writing songs like...well, like this? Take a listen, mate. I mean, who'd pay money to listen to dribble like this?

Oh, we got another one, just like the other ones Another bad ass, another trouble-maker I'm scared, ain't you boys scared?

Not a bad beginning, right? Simple little ditty, there's another bad ass in town, la-di-bloody-da. I know what you're thinking; sounds a bit like me when I arrived in this little hellhole, Sunnyhell, home of the Hellmouth. But you know what? I was the bad ass, the trouble maker. And then Angelus had to take over the poofsters body and my life went straight down to the brink of hell. Making that deal with the Slayer didn't help much, either.

No, wait...listen to this next verse.

I wonder if he's gonna show us what bad is? Boys, we got a man with a dog collar on You think we oughta throw ol' Spike a bone?

See? See? Now you're gonna say this is all true, that this is what the Slayer does to Spikey here. Well, bugger off. I'm not a man with a dog collar on unless I decide to put one on and go to one of those S & M places or something or other.

Anyway, she thinks I'm just a neutered little puppy. The big bad Slayer doesn't think I have any stones, and that she has to throw me a bone. Oh, look...made a rhyme.

Here's another misfit, another Jimmy Dean Bet he's got a motorbike, What'a y'all think?

Bloody hell, no, I don't have a motorbike! I have a De Soto. You've seen it...blacked out windows, filled with alcohol bottles, keeps getting dented from running into that blasted welcome sign. Why won't they just learn to take that hideous thing down?

And I'm not a misfit, not anymore than that Slayer. She isn't like the Chinese bird I got in the Boxer Rebellion, or that afro'ed freak I got back in the 70's or 80's. She thought I was a Billy Idol worshiping freak, that bloody...bloody...

But this Slayer. She has family. She has friends. She has nice silk knickers, too.

Bet if we be good we'll get a ride on it If he ain't too mad about the future --

What do you mean, how do I know she's got silk knickers? I've stolen a pair or two. Tracking her scent and all that. Not a better scent to track than the one from that region, know what I mean? Course not, you're not a vampire. It's the primalest of scent. Well, now primalest is a word, mate. Cuz I said so. Anyway, it's the primalest of scents. You can use all the deodorant in the world and drown yourself under a hundred bloody showers but when a woman gets aroused...easiest scent in the world to attract.

Maybe we oughta help him see The future ain't what it used to be

Attract our kind, mate. And her scent's different from the others.

Of course the underwear's not clean! Well, some of it, anyway. Think she'll always smell like Mountain Fresh Tide with a bit of Downy Fabric Softener and a Bounce Gentle Breeze dryer sheet thrown into the mix?

Yeah, I have more of it at home. and you can't have any. It's mine. So there.

Well, she's my Slayer, my mortal enemy, and I don't feel like sharing.

Hey Spike what do you like? Hey Spike what do you like?

I am not nursing an affection for the Slayer! She kills my kind, she dated Mr. Cardboard who helped do this chip job to me, she wouldn't have me get it out cuz she knows the first thing I'd do is go after her with a railroad spike and some rope and...

Hey, Willie. Can I get some more O Neg with another shot of tequila? Yeah...want to be nice and drunk when I go back to Harmony, that airheaded git. That way I won't remember anything.

Hey Spike what do you like? Hey Spike, you're scarin' my wife Please Spike, tell us 'bout life?

As I said before, I think Tom Petty should rot in hell, the filthy wanker. Why's he so popular, anyway?