#the first of many terrible decisions
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I'm torn on making this stripper Steve thing a full fic or just a little drabble cause I know myself and if I try to make it a full fic I'll probably never finish it. Also I wouldn't even know how to tag it or define these relationships, mean dom Eddie Munson but also whipped as hell Eddie Munson and mean sub Steve Harrington but also reluctant switch Eddie Munson and mean daddy Jim Hopper who he's insanely jealous of because he wants to be Steve's daddy...and would it be considered dub-con if Eddie's only letting people fuck him to stay close to Steve? Like he doesnt want to do it but he's not not liking it, as long as Steve is there. 🤔
#thots#everyone is mean in this story lol#we started out in moulin rouge and ended up in showgirls#obviously they have layers#steve is just a little jaded#eddie is stupidly in love#like it makes him SO stupid 🤣#his clumsy ass really got up on a pole when he ran out of money for lap dances#the first of many terrible decisions#steddie#stopper#is there a ship name for eddie/hopper?#hopper owns the club btw
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Human Bill! I wanna put him in a microwave
Bonus-ish: Really liked the flats on this one!
#In my mind he is like physically 30-35. The Axolotl (praise) just gave him terrible case of baby face#He only has the 2nd friendship braclet in the first one because it takes YEARS for Mabel to trust him enough to give him one#first is maybe from Ford and doubles as a location tracker. Not sure yet. And Bill gets a little Missy dialogue as a treat.#these were meant to be calm down doodling to take a break from some background heavy stuff I gotta finish. but then I got carried away#I love when Human Bill designs are fat. defo Inspired by 1spooky2me! I adore their bill. as well as MANY other beautiful designs ive seen#gravity falls#GF fanart#fan art#fanart#bill cipher#human bill cipher#human bill design#human!bill#human bill au#handyman bill ajacent I suppose#implied billford. But trust. Ford is making terrible decisions here#ford pines#stanford pines#grunkle ford#my art#artists on tumblr
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Ep 10!
#Idk it was. An episode. Not many thoughts tbh ajhdblabfdl#The Kyouka / Akutagawa scene is my favourite ever. But I suppose there's little to say about them I haven't said already lol.#The “Because I knew a man who had the same eyes as yours” will never stop being endlessly impactful.#And I still find it very remarkable how Kyouka is pretty much literally the only person other than Dazai that Akutagawa respects.#It hits me so hard.#Nothing else to add? I think the storywriting in this arc is very good. The plot twists are very well executed.#I remember when I was reading the manga and Ranpo challenged Chuuya face off I was so hooked!!#I was like‚ how is he going to win!!! It's very nice.#I think it's interesting that Atsushi stayed behind with Kunikida instead of facing the pm with the rest of the pm.#I wish we'd explored his decision and state of mind more‚ especially since he was portrayed as being visibly conflicted.#I think part of it simply solves a storytelling purpose of not leaving Kunikida alone...#But I don't think that necessarily means the decision doesn't suit him. Atsushi really looks up to Fukuzawa.#His trauma probably makes him more reluctant to break orders than‚ let's say‚ Ranpo.#And he's always been very spokenly against violence.#Idk. I just think it's interesting.#The line “Kunikida‚ you're the strongest and most virtuous of us in the Agency. That's why the enemy tried to break you first.”#is very emotional#The animation is so strained it makes me feel bad for the animators. So many static frames lingering for so long...#I feel like the result isn't necessarily terrible either. The drawings are not ugly‚ just very undetailed.#But it really feels like there was a group of people doing the best they could with the llittle they had...#random rambles#And I'm now all caught up with the rewatch!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 See you on Wednesday!!!!!
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Me, while manically cleaning my room at 3:27am: I should make several large, life-changing, irreversible decisions.
#so ive been in a bad mental state lately#because of many things. but the biggest being (yes i know ive complained about this in multiple other posts)#that my best friend and my ex gf were fucking. without even asking or telling me. i got no heads up. just figured it out on my own#which sucked and now im not speaking to either of them#and when i first found out i was in a bad place physically too#i had a terrible ear infection that was so fucking painful#and i realized i could concentrate on both things. so i focused on healing#and then i remembered ny family is coming to visit for Christmas#and thats a lot to deal with. so now im focusing on cleaning the apartment. specifically my bedroom#so im manically cleaning at 3:30am while angry and stressed and trying not to focus on this thing that makes me really upset#and in the middle of cleaning ill suddenly think 'should i quit my summer camp job?' or 'should i move states again?'#its not good. but i havent acted on anything#AND in the middle of cleaning i found all of my meds#i havent been taking them for months. but i decided im gonna start taking them again#i have a few refills left but then ill have to find a psychiatrist. i dont want to. but its definitely for the best#im trying to get my life back on track and build and better it#but then something hits me and completely derails everything and makes everything so hard#so anyway im gonna go do some more cleaning and try not to make life-altering decisions. and maybe build a desk#btw i have to get up at 9am to take out my puppy. and at 11:35 i have to get ready for work. again its 3:30am#and im full of manic energy#tomorrow is going to be very bad but at least I'll have a semi-clean room
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hi update things are fucking terrible and my eyes hurt from sobbing. lol
#purrs#delete later#not to liveblog and be tmi or whatever but i feel terribly alone and terribly miserable so this is in fact a cry for help lol. or really#comfort bc im fucking going insane. so for context last spring when i was still an intern another intern orchestrated this back channel#where everyone was supposed to talk shit about our supervisors (my dearest most belovedest mentors) and all of us hid it for months and it#all came to a head at asb 2022 because there was a lot of drama witb the asb student facilitators and our staff team. and it was sooooo ugl#and messy and horrible and probably played a direct role in one of my dearest beloved est mentors (who was the point person for asb) fuckin#getting a new job and abandoning us in july lol 😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 and so i became a full time staff member and me and my remaining dearest belovedest#colleague besties fucking carried the world on oh r shoulders and put on amazing programs as just 3 of us in the core staff and we thought#we were doing a really good job with the asb 2023 leaders and that there were no drama dynamics or whatever and guess fucking what. tonight#we found out that half of them hate us for reasons we still don’t know and all of them are at each others throats and also some of the#participants feel a type of way about us. and i know i am being a fragile sensitive crybaby over it but i have had terrible cramps all day#and have barely slept since ive been here and feel like ive been bending over backwards to support the leaders only to find out that half o#them think we’re evil and i just… i couldn’t take it. so i cried and now im beating myself up for crying. but it’s like come ON. i know we#did a pretty imperfect job of preparing them for this. and i should just take responsibility for that and not be defensive. but it’s like…#have NEVER seen this program in person before or been part of the planning of it. i was just a student last year like all of you. and also#HOW many fucking times did we create space for you to talk to us and invite us in. and still this shit happened. and i just feel like a#failure. and i couldn’t react to that information in any way except cry liek it’s all so over my head and out of my depth and im not as#emotionally mature as my colleagues bc im the youngest and this is my first time dealing with this and i feel so incompetent and like i#failed. failed the first time by not speaking up when i was implicated in the stupid fucking Google form back channel situation last year#and now failed the second time by not being able to prevent this stupid drama bullshit from happening again and for not catching it. and jf#like… im in excruciating physical pain and haven’t slept and haven’t eaten well and my life is falling apart and we were ABANDONED BY THE#PERSON WHO WAS RESPONDIBLE FOR THIS (i know we weren’t abandoned she literally just got a new job i just have psychological issues) and#we’ve been running at a million miles per hour with absolutely no break and now you’re mad at us and not even telling us and it’s impacting#everyone’s experiences but you want to pretend this is fucking high school and keep secrets. i am TIRED of drama. i am TIRED of this stupid#bullshit. and not to say this bc i don’t know if asb 2022 drama factored into her decision to leave but if it did i get why * left now. i#get it. bc this shit makes me want to jump out the hotel window. i do not want to face any of them tomorrow and deal with more bullshit. i#am emotionally unstable and incompetent and not equipped to deal with this in a mature healthy way. i want this to be over NOW. im done.#ok i think that’s it um. sorry about that i just needed other people to know i am suffering and i will suppress the shame i feel about that#just this once. esp bc i denied myself the opportunity for my colleague besties to comfort me while i was crying and i regret it now lol
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Girl who has severe social anxiety when it comes to talking to people online and has to close her eyes to press the send button whenever she writes a message to anyone 😔
#That girl is me btw. I am that girl#Irl I'm pretty normal when I talk to people (unless it's like super serious school stuff and then I'm a stuttering mess)#But I think my mom instilled the ''Never talk to anyone online or you'll compromise your internet safety'' into me too far#And now it's like. Debilitating. I can't send messages on private Discord servers or dm people on social media anymore#I was active on miiverse back when that uh. Like existed? Well a little active. Well actually that's an overstatement#I also was active on the Nookazon discord but like. At first I was really nervous but then I found a Business Persona that made me normal#But anyway I made this post because I've done this like twice in the past two days#Once when I was trying to finally introduce myself in a rp server I joined a month ago#And once today right now like. Sending a message to a mutual. Hi thousand yeah it's about the comment on your post lol#It took me like a whole day after seeing my mutual respond to my ask to get the courage to say like. Yayy I love emperor on their post#I feel like an anime girl saying kyun or something every time I do it so it's funny but like. It also worries me#Since we live in a very virtual world and. How am I going to make connections in the future when I'm like this#Uhh anyway. 🐙 Oo octopus emoji weehoo#Nebbie text posting#Nebbie posts#I think I kind of derailed this I meant this to be a funny meme so. RIP anyway send post *closes my eyes as I hit post now*#Send fucking post#<- I'm making this my terrible late night decision tag vents tag now. Hopefully I will not have many posts for it.
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I’m in my early 20s so sometimes I forget I don’t live in a vacuum. If I fail here, if I pause here, there is so shame or rush, there are people around me that can help break my fall and I’m so lucky for that. My only job is to explore and figure out what will leave me with a fulfilling life and how my friends and family fit into that.
#I’m a neuroscience major and I have no idea what I want to do with it anymore.#in highschool and early university years it was always medical school#but first year and second year of university really broke me down#I have been considering what career I want since second year and have panicked and panicked and panicked#I don’t want to mess up the career I choose but. I have to understand that it’s ok if I do.#there’s probably no career that will be truly satisfactory#i’m rambling#I wish I had a clear cut goal#something that is driving me or something big and lofty I want to accomplish#I’m just going to list things I want in a career rn bc I’m ranting anyways#I don’t want to climb a hierarchy or rather I don’t care for it. I’m not the best at conversations and I’m terribly awkward#but I do get an energy boost when I talk to people#but my focus is best when I work on my own bc I tend to make more mistakes when working with others#when I do research for an assignment I can focus for hours at a time without getting up#all of these make me think that research might be smth to pursue rather than healthcare#but I’m scared about work life balance and general job stability#also imposter syndrome is going to hit hard#I have to do my best to get smth research positiony this summer so atleast I have experience before my last year of undergrad#and that way I’ll KNOW if it’s smth I want.#if all else fails I might go into medical lab tech bc it’s lab work forever and that sounds fun#or rad tech bc it’s a bit repetitive but also I’m scared that bc I would be working with ppl I’d make more mistakes#I just do NOT want to work in business#I’m so privelaged being able to choose a career like this when my parents couldn’t and had to grab at whatever they could#I think that’s part of the guilt of potentially failing. like I CANNOT fail my parents who worked so hard to be here and let me choose#GOD do I want stability most? do I want to learn something new regularly? id love to learn something new everyday#I think I might end up compromise and go into rad tech bc then I’ll be able to maybe do research with the brain and have a stable backup?#talks maburp#THERES TOO MANY CHOICES TOO MANY OPPORTUNITIES TOO MANY THINGS TO CONSIDER#I’m so lucky to be able to consider all these things#YAllah give me strength to make decisions and not get stuck like I keep doing this year. Yallah let opportunities drop on my lap
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Something really amazing happened in France, and I think it'd help us in the US to learn about it. Forgive the long read, but I think this is genuinely great both because of what happened and how.
So as some of you might have seen, in a decision historians will debate for years (mostly to figure out just WTF he was thinking, even though he is alive right now and can be asked), the French president, Emmanuel Macron, currently in power and THREE YEARS before the scheduled election, seeing the far right rise in popularity decided to dissolve the assembly and hold snap elections.
577 seats were up for grabs. Remember that number. Since half of that is 288.5, 289 seats are needed for a majority.
The first round happened last week and boy, was it bad. The far right made HUGE gains. It won or was in first place in so many races. And Macron's party ended up third!
Overall, this is how things ended up after the first round:
Far right bloc: 33%
Left bloc: 28%
Macron's centrist party: 20%
Conservatives: 7%
The way the French system works is that if a candidate gets over 50% of the vote, they win outright, and some of the far right did manage that. But, many races went to a runoff.
Immediate projections after were that the far right bloc might win anywhere from 240 to 310 seats, a catastrophe.
A shameful swing to the far right leading to the first time they'll be in power since the 1940s? Yes, but maybe not??
This is where things get interesting.
Unusually, a lot of these runoffs are 3-way, instead of a simpler 2-way choice. And in pretty much every case, that helps the far right.
So on June 30th, the night of the first round, this is how things went down:
Immediately, the left parties put out the call: anywhere they were third, they withdrew and their voters would go over to whoever was running against the far right candidate. Their goal: form a "republican front" to block the far right. The far right cannot get 289 seats.
Macron's bloc was not so...motivated. Different people put out different instructions: in some places, if they were third, they should drop out, but only to help the center left, not far left, in other places, see how far you are, only then drop out, that kind of thing.
The conservative party simply said they won't drop out and won't give their voters instruction either way in races they're not involved in.
Late night developments:
More people in Macron's party are now beginning to realize the situation and starting to coalesce around whichever candidate can beat the far right one. Prime Minister Gabriel Attal, from Macron's party, says clearly the priority is to block the far right. BUT, some Macron spokespeople on TV say they'll form a coalition only with the center left and conservatives, splitting the left bloc if needed. Some individual Macronists still saying they won't drop out, even if there's no hope of winning.
Lol.
So, now July 1st:
Only half so far. In one race, where the sister of Marine Le Pen (the far right leader and the face of their movement) was leading, the third place Macronist refused to bow out.
Excellent quote from another Macronist:
Perhaps realizing the same thing, that Macronist in the race against the Le Pen sister now drops out.
In some places, third place Macronists are dropping out DESPITE Macron bewilderingly telling them NOT to?
Halfway through the day:
Of the 311 3-way or 4-way runoffs, the number is down to 135 because of these candidates dropping out: 121 Left, 56 Macronists, 1 conservative.
Oh, there was this, in case people had any doubts about how terrible the far right are:
And to show the selflessness of the left:
July 2:
The deadline to decide if they want to stay in a runoff is today.
A dozen new third place Macronists who said they'd stay in have now dropped out. One got a call from both the PM Attal AND Macron to drop out, signalling the dawning understanding of the importance of this moment.
Even some conservative party members are now backing the left candidate who faces the far right.
A Macronist who had 30.55% of the vote in the first round and came in third to the far right's 33.11% and left's 32.73% and who would have been tempted to stay has dropped out.
The deadline to stay in or not has now passed.
Look at these far right shenanigans!
Macron still being a freaking loser:
July 3rd:
In the end, of the 311 3- or 4-way run offs, only 91 left. Some polls come out that have the far right getting between 190 to 220 seats.
July 4th:
New polls say the balance of the voting itself isn't transferring between the left and center and predictions have risen for the far right, now predicted to get between 210 and 250 seats.
July 5th:
New polls again, left voters now predicted to do better transferring vote to the centrists, decreasing the far right projections again.
However, scandalous reporting emerges: while Attal was trying to fend off the far right, Macron was not only NOT taking the far right seriously, he was undermining efforts to defeat them. His team shrugged off the first round results and celebrated a BIRTHDAY as the results were still coming in?
July 6th:
A few runoffs happened yesterday, nothing much unexpected, some left and center wins.
July 7th:
The day of reckoning. At this point, the expectations are that the far right won't come close to that 289 number but could still easily have the most seats.
GUYS.
It's over and the left are in the lead!
A LOT of cases where a leftist or centrist was 2nd in the first round and now won.
Amazing:
SO many lessons to take from this.
First, you have to vote! You have to. You can't do anything without voting. The freaking French, who'll protest for anything, are showing up to vote. If you're trying to achieve any kind of result and it's not going to happen by January 2025, you have to vote now.
But just as importantly, the left and center (and even conservative) parties made very key decisions. They were all lucky that Attal, who Macron chose, saw the big picture, bigger than indeed Macron could. A stupid selfish centrist leader could have still ruined everything if it were up to him.
TL;DR: After a disastrous first round in the national French elections where the far right was on the cusp of taking power, the left and center formed a strong coalition and through the power of voting and unity, overcame the far right AND their selfish centrist president to win.
#french elections#us elections#emmanuel macron#marine le pen#gabriel attal#attal really did the thing for them#french politics
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Imagine that your uniform is made up of several layers of different types of fabric and bulletproof shields. In addition to the extra fabric, you wear a mask and helmet that cover your entire face. Your costume makes it impossible to identify whether you are a woman or a man, and to top it off, you never speak. This leads people who aren't part of your squad to believe that you're just a short man who never speaks.
You work for the squad led by Colonel König. Recently, there were some situations that resulted in Kortac temporarily joining Task Force 141, two squads united to capture a terrorist.
You are not and have never been a sociable person. You don't talk to people you don't know and you always let someone else do the talking for you. As much as you are an adult woman, mature enough to make decisions on your own, you are shy. Very shy.
It's not unusual for other people to ask your teammates about you, always wondering why you don't speak up. They ask about the many layers of fabric that make up your outfit, whether you don't suffocate from the excess cloth and pockets.
And these people always refer to you in the masculine.
Always.
Soap is a bit of a curiosity when it comes to mysterious people who don't interact much with others in the room and who just stand in a quiet corner, far away from any living thing in the room. No wonder he made Ghost his best friend.
So believe me when I say that he's intrigued by you. The mysterious, masked guy in the dark corner of the room, who so far hasn't interacted with anyone since he arrived. You've caught his attention, but he won't talk to you because something inside him tells him not to come up to you out of the blue.
Something inside him tells him to take it easy this time, because that something inside him thinks that the outside of that guy should be molded slowly to reveal the inside. Does that make sense?
The first person Soap will ask about you is König, because them strangely hit it off, much to the unhappiness of Ghost, who didn't like König. Perhaps it's because he's taller and has stolen the role of being the tallest in the room from Ghost.
And also because he saw König talking to you about something, but you didn't use your voice and just nodded. Which led him to think that maybe you were mute.
Soap approached König with a smile, bringing up some other subject before starting to ask questions about you. He doesn't want to sound weird.
"Hm... You know, I keep asking myself..." Soap begins, waiting for a signal to continue.
"What is it?" König asks, crossing his arms and smiling beneath his mask.
"That guy in the corner... Why doesn't he join the others?"
"Oh." König straightens his posture and looks at you, standing in the corner of the room and staring at an interesting spot on the floor. "She's a bit shy, don't worry."
The gears turned slowly in Soap's head after this information.
"IT'S A WOMAN?!!??!!!!?"
It wasn't Soap's intention to draw the attention of everyone in the room, Including you, to him and König. But it just happened.
Hello:)) it's my first time posting something written by me and my English is terrible, but I tried my best with a translator 😞
#tf 141 x reader#john mactavish x reader#task force 141#141 x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#john price#kyle garrick x reader#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick#simon riley#kyle garrick
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watching this enhypen interview and falling asleep 10 secs in are these people even friends ????
#i see the english speakers are not conversationalists..i see they skipped class in the chan school of being friendly and approachable#getting terribly bad vibes from 1 of them wdym a death note of all the people you hate...... alright#one of them looks mean asf and if i remember correctly he said some fuck shit to sunoo once so hes on MY death note#sunoo <333333 new addition to my cutiepie list saurr cute all smiles and laughter and looks so kind in the face not many can say the same#heeseunggg we love youu making squidward walking noises and being all smiles and laughter too <33333#the rest.. im gonna need some time with you all to correctly decide your fate so far only sunoo and heeseung are making it to heaven#2 of them already burning in the 9th circle of hell not saying who tho but they look mean in the face and thats the ultimate sin#actually i dont need time with you all i have made my decision theres 2 i love ..theres 2 i dont fw ..the rest idgaf/not sure#jungwon might make it to the pookie side but he needs to get a giggle out of me first... sunghoon ... hmmmm hes currently on trial as well
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i love how as you read more into tlt, the ninth house seems more and more normal. Like if i'm at an immoral evil government competition, and i use human fat as soap and animate skeletons to do menial labor, i'm gonna LOSE if my competition is the third house, represented by ianthe "who HASN'T eaten human flesh and fucked a corpse" tridentarius. My weird skeleton thing seems normal, suddenly. Well-adjusted, even. It's recycling. They're using resources in a sustainable way. Normal and regular and productive for a post-climate change apocalypse universe.
People go on and on about how Muir drops you into gtn hearing from the person who knows the least about whats happening, and does not hand hold the reader through the crazy shit that occurs, and that's all true. It truly is a crazy writing decision to make your first pov character come from the universe's equivalent of amish fundamentalists. But the reader is actually done a huge favor being dropped into the ninth house first, because we already understand that space is cold and what catholic nuns are, and what goths look like, and what lesbians are. Very little time is wasted in the first chunk of gtn ripping hair out of your head wondering what the fuck is going on, because for all of its strangeness, the ninth house is already the most familiar thing we're gonna get.
Because THEN we learn that this whole universe's medieval chivalry system is designed to groom people from CHILDREN to not only be exploited and used as human batteries for necromancers, but to LIKE it. to wax poetic about it. to confuse it for love, to write fucking academic papers about it! Then we learn about planet flipping, an act so horrific and violent it turns the planet's soul into a massive vengeful monster capable of killing GOD. Like what do you MEAN the animals "change"? Is this why noodle has six legs? I would MUCH prefer to wear skeleton makeup and repent forever if the alternative was to witness my family dog grow TWO EXTRA LIMBS because the planet he lived on fucking died. Suddenly, living in the asscrack of a planet where no light gets in seems like a sweet deal when the whole solar system is lit by a sun that MAKES YOU GO CRAZY. The ninth house's WORST sin, killing 200 babies to make Harrow, a waste of resources and an act so terrible it haunts Harrow for the entire span of her life, is like a BLIP compared to the death count Jod's empire. God even hears about it and he's like, no big deal! The cohort probably kills that amount of people in a DAY.
And its ALSO tragic because you realize that all of this trauma and abuse that Gideon goes through is not really because of the ninth house at all. It's really just an individual skill issue that she wasn't treated with compassion. Nobody hated her because she's jesus or a bomb, nobody even KNOWS she's a bomb. It's just Priamhark and Pelleamena being deeply guilty and scared people that motivates her treatment, and absolutely nothing else.
They did something bad, and they know it, and Gideon survived it, and they can't kill her to cover it up, and that's IT. They killed themselves for pride, because they were afraid of the consequences of their actions (both the baby killing and Harrow opening the tomb) coming back to bite them. You can argue this is the catholicism of it all, and I wouldn't say you're wrong, but compared to the cavalier system, where exploitation is in the very lining of the house's institutions, the ninth house is really removed from the space empire's blood factory. This is compared to the fourth house where they have tons of children to be CANNON FODDER to join the cohort at fucking 14, compared to the eight house uncle nephew fuckery, even the fifth house which actually does seems nice to live on but also seems to have the fourth house in some sort of fucked up political bear hug??? (maybe the fourth house has so many kids in order to fight the fifth's battles? which is EXACTLY what jod's whole empire is about; politely stirring your tea and acting nice while you destroy everything) compared to ALL OF THAT, the cruelty that Gideon faces is really more a bug of the ninth's system than a feature.
There's nothing baked into the culture and everyday life of the ninth house that necessitated that cruelty; in fact, for such a pragmatic and resource-scarce place, it's WEIRD that a strong able-bodied young person was treated like a waste of space and resources. It could just have easily not happened, if Harrow's parents had been different people. Maybe they were products of their environment, but so was Harrow, and she values Gideon's life SO MUCH that she'd literally rather carve out parts of her own brain than exploit her. Gideon grows up knowing really NOTHING about cavaliers, so remote from the horrors of the empire that she develops an idea of what the cohort is from porn magazines. And in a lot of ways, that upbringing was desolate and terrible, and in a lot of other ways it literally DID NOT HAVE TO BE.
Gideon's MAIN THING is that she wants to be useful, to be needed, to be loved and it SUCKS that she couldn't even get it in the one place where she was actually an invaluable resource, where the death empire had the weakest reach. Gideon can't even blame her lack of love on the fucked up chivalry system like everyone else can because it JUST WASNT REALLY RELEVENT!?!?! This is like if i rolled up to the trauma competition and everyone else was raised in a nuclear warzone by wolves or something and i grew up in like, the suburbs and was raised by teachers and i somehow STILL WON. truly what the fuck guys.
#tlt#the locked tomb#gideon the ninth#harrow the ninth#nona the ninth#tlt gender studies#none gender with left grief#the locked tomb trilogy
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ik i've heard of penpals with cod but like getting simon as your dedicated pal for say, college or something would be terrible.
at first he's reluctant. why would he talk to some civvie that hasn't a clue about what goes on in the world he lives in? probably thinks him a recruiter or something, not a man who has removed the skin off of another just for a name of an enemy.
john tells him to suck it up, it's not like it can kill him.
simon gets the letter and it's... entertaining. you write, almost illegibly, that you really don't want to do this, that if it wasn't such a hefty percent of your grade you wouldn't even have bothered.
nothing but a poor man fighting a rich man's war. like some puppet, manipulated by a more powerful force-- not a single decision nor thought your own.
interesting. he hasn't been talked down to like this since his days as a private. granted, if you knew what he looked like you would've probably swallowed your own tongue but that's neither here nor there.
he chuckles under his breath, and picks up the envelope.
the stamp has a waterfall on it and it says harrison wright falls.
american.
he writes that you're right. he's nothing but a muppet with a hand up his arse. but what's got you so upset over the military? not like you suffer the consequences sitting pretty in your cozy home. the hardest battle you've ever fought is a school project.
the letter you send back has him rumbling with laughter. you're furious. he can see one too many holes from where the pen tore through the paper in your rage, and some words you crossed out with a singular line.
listen, asshole, you falling for the UK military propaganda is not my fault. no one made you sign up, idiot.
you continue on about him being a murderer which he gives a small hum to because you've no idea how right you are. simon vaguely wonders if you'd still write him if you knew just how many necks he's snapped with his bare hands.
you're quite abrasive, a little spitfire that holds nothing back, and it makes him achingly curious to know just who you are.
he pulls up your info on his personal laptop, and can feel his cock stirring just from your driver's license photo alone.
cute. very cute. you look soft, kind. a gentle ㅤsmile graces your lips. he almost doubts that the person on his screen is you, but the signature on your license and the letters you've sent is the exact same.
so very interesting. steel concealed beneath velvet.
he taps his fingers on the surface of his desk as he gazes at your charming, lovely countenance. pretty as a peach.
his chair creaks under him as he reaches for a pen.
simon's kept all your letters, the paper worn and almost in tatters from the amount of times he's read them-- ink smudged from him running his bare fingertips over each hateful word.
he can't wait for next leave; simon's heard that ricketts glen state park is beautiful during the fall.
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Max Verstappen x reader
Summary: Y/n has been secretly dating the formula 1 driver Max Verstappen but unfortunately their relationship is revealed by...a live stream.
You watched on the large screen, seeing your boyfriend dominate the track at the sport he loved.
You watched eagerly with your hands curling tightly at the material of your couch, not blinking afraid you would miss something.
sitting beside you were your clingy cats laying on your lap hoping to turn your attention from the screen to them.
As the minutes went by so was the race coming to an end, on the final lap was a battle between the Mclaren and Redbull. Both were neck to neck either one could win but in the end was current world champion who made it across the finish line first.
You jumped up in celebration, clapping your hands seeing your boyfriend with a look of pride.
You turned back to your cats only to be met by one of the stinkiest side eyes you have ever gotten. Sassy and Jimmy only hissed at you for a second before continuing to lay down on you.
You waited eagerly for your phone to ring hoping it was Max. And in no time their he was facetiming you in all he sweaty glory.
"I am so proud of you, baby", You spoke softly.
"I hope you were watching, Liefje", He said with a grin but he knew you always watched his race no matter the circumstances.
You blushed bashfully trying to hide your tomato face hearing his teasing laughter.
"I wish you ere here, Liefje", Max said changing the topic back to reality.
"You know I want to be there but I can't", You softly said. You want to be there truly to support Max at the sport he loves but you can't.
"I know, I'II call you later Okay", Max smiled trying to ease your worries.
"Okay", You softly said before hanging up the call turning your phone away from you in sadness.
You were a shy person who always kept towards themselves but after you met Max your life took a drastic turn to luxury. But your soft-spoken nature never change.
You were so afraid of what his fans might think of you, you decided to keep your relationship a secret. That was a year ago, Max has been supported about your decision but you could see the look on his face.
You could see how jealous he was seeing the other f1 drivers celebrating and being in love with their girlfriends and wives iin public while he can't.
You hate yourself seeing Max upset like that and you wish you get over you fear but it's just so hard...
You knew Max was going to come back tomorrow, and it was the perfect time to talk about your relationship.
As you went to sleep, you couldn't help but miss Max so much, It was these times that you wished you could go with him and be by his side.
As you woke up, you look terrible upon looking at the mirror seeing huge eye bags and your disheveled hair in disgust.
Taking a nice warm shower before getting ready for the day, putting on cute matching white outfits. As you walked towards the kitchen you saw Max..
You ran towards pulling him to a bone crushing hug.
"Hey Liefje, I missed you too", Max chuckled before embracing you equally as much before hearing the cats meow for more food.
"And I see the cats have missed you just as much", You said softly before scratching both of your cats behind the ear hearing them purr in pleasure.
"when did you get here", You said standing back up.
"While you were in the shower, you know I couldn't stay away for that long", Max smirk before putting little kisses all over your face.
"speaking of which, Max I want to talk to you", You spoke softly but no matter Max saw how serious you were.
You led him to the couch where you could both sit, Max sat next to you holding your hands in worry.
"What's wrong", Max frowned. His eyebrows creased on his forehead no matter how many times you told him not to do that.
As you took a deep breath, "I feel like...", but before you could continue Max stood up hastily interrupting you.
"No, I refused to break up, I love you so much. I see my future with you, please don't give up on us", Max desperately said before going on his knees to you.
"Max that was so sweet but that was not what I was going to say and I don't ever want to break up with you", You gently pulled his hands so he could sit next to you again.
"Baby, I want to make our relationship public, I think it's time-", before you finish your sentence Max stood up for the second time dancing in celebration.
"Huh, oh um are you sure Liefje", Max spoke out with his fake tone of worry. You nodded your head not even a second later seeing your boyfriend again danced in happiness.
You smiled seeing your boyfriend so happy, "So that means at the next race you will come with me", Max grinned ear to ear seeing you nod again.
Max was still riding high from your spectacle news, a smile plaster on his face for days. Some of the other drivers were even creeped out from Max constant smiles.
"Hmm Liefje, I gonna go stream with some of the guys", Max called out to you from the other room.
"Okay", you said softly before continuing the show you were watching.
You didn't know how the time got away from you that fast it was already 7:20 pm. And you were starving, too tired to cook you decided to ask what Max wanted to order out from.
You opened the door a little just enough to peak your head through. You signal Max waiting for him to see.
"Huh, okay guys I think that's enough live streaming for today. I will see you guys later", He smiled out before turning it off.
"Hey Liefje, don't worry the live stream is done", Max said standing up and waving you over.
You happily came over before wrapping your arms around Max pecking his lips softly.
"what do you want for dinner?, I'm thinking order in", you said softly brushing some of max hair away from his face to see his gorgeous blue eyes.
"What ever you want, Liefje", Max smiled swaying you gently.
"hmm what ab-", Before you could finish the red dot on the computer catch your eyes. "What does that red dot mean?".
Max quickly turned his head towards your direction before quickly scrambling to turn it off properly. After turning it off he sighed out in disapointment.
"Liefje, I am so sorry I didn't turn it off properly. I never meant our secret to come out like this", Max quietly said mumbling out incoherent sorry's, looking down in shame.
"It's okay, baby. We'll figure it out", you said gently rubbing his back trying to calm him down.
You and Max both turned off your phone, avoiding Max pr manager and all of social media not ready to face it yet.
"Don't worry this weekend is the race, we'll clear everything then right now let's not think about it", You gently spoke out trying to have Max understand it was not his fault and it was a simple accident. You could tell by his eyes and face how guilty he feels.
"Yeah..Okay", Max mumbles out.
Seeing Max go to sleep makes my heart burn for him..I hope everything goes well this weekend.
Liked by Username1, Redbullfan, and 304K others
F1gossip: rumors spiral around the paddock as we see a new WAG insight. It's a mystery who she is but It might be the same girl who Max accidentally revealed in the live stream. What do you think?
View all 2,427 comments
Username5: I can’t believe Max has a girlfriend
Redbullprincess: How do we even know it’s true?
Username7: Fr it could be like someone in his family or something
Maxiefan2: AWW their so cute
DuDuDuDu: I wish we knew who this girl was
Landonorris: What, WHAT! how could he not tell me
danielriccardo: HAHA, even I knew Username34: Daniel tell us what you know
Username98: She's not even pretty
Username20: Girl, just say your jealous
Liked by Maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, and 864K others
yourusername: I might be a Max Versappen fan but I am a Ferrari fan through and through 😉
View all 5,146 comments
maxverstappen1: betrayed by my own girlfriend
Yourusername: 🙄 I said what I said
Username23: OMG, its Max mystery girlfriend
alexandrasaintmleux: can't wait to see you again 🩵
Maxiefan4: Our pinterest girl
charles_leclerc: Everyone is a ferrari fan
yourusername: Omg brain freeze, huge fan maxverstappen1: Oh lord, this can't be happening charles_leclerc: Stay jealous Verstappen
Username45: Gorgeous, stunning, a princess
Username67: UM, not Max fighting with Charles
maxverstappen1: not my fault,he's trying to steal my girlfriend yourusername: Such a baby Username67: Didn't expect him to actually reply.
Maleguyusername: Your pretty
maxverstappen1: Hey back off, she's mine yourusername: What are you, a dog that needs to pee on their territiory 🐺 maxverstappen1: Acually I am a lion landonorris: CRINGE
Liked by DanielRiccardo, Redbull, and 3.5M others
maxverstappen1: Making this clear, my girlfriend is NOT a Ferrari fan and as you can see, she is wearing loud and proud redbull merch. So @charles_leclerc you suck. 🙂↕️
View all 8,387 comments
yourusername: When have I ever said that
maxverstappen1: you didn't have too charles_leclerc: You broke my heart Y/n maxverstappen1: Yeah get over it
alexandrasaintmleux: I want to do a double date but I am scared how are these two children gonna act.
yourusername: who said they're coming, it's me, you and Leo charles_leclerc: really, taking my own son yourusername: he likes me better anyway🤷
Princessusername47: WOW, max is so petty, he even tagged charles
landonorris: thank godness it wasn't me Username47: Lando norris just responded back to me I could faint.
danielriccardo: How come I don't ever get an appreciation post!!
maxverstappen1: that's because you're not my girlfriend danielriccardo: EXSQUEEZE ME, um did our relationship mean anything to you yourusername: @danielriccardo get in line
RedbullUser53: I can't wait till they get married
Username870: Stop, best couple
redbullracing: Y/N, if I see you one more time in Ferrari gear, you can say bye bye to those vip passes to your favorite concert for your birthday
yourusername: did I say I was a Ferrari fan you must be mistaken, Always a redbull fan hehe. 😇 maxverstappen1: Liessssss🐍 yourusername: shut up, or you'll be sleeping on the couch 😙
Masterlist🩷
#f1#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fic#max verstappen f1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#mad max#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x yn#max verstappen smut#f1 x female reader#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc x reader#lando norris x reader#daniel ricciardo#alexandra saint mleux#red bull racing#formula one#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#mv#mv33
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FROM ME TO YOU — yjw. ✦ TEASER
𝒾n which . . . the way everyone was absolutely terrified of you confused you; you never did anything to actually scare them. fine, maybe you had a quiet persona and rumours saying you had magical psychic powers or something, but you weren’t really that bad, were you? and then in came bounding yang jungwon into your lonely little life — the your grade’s student council president and most popular boy. why was he even talking to you? it must have been pity, he was looking to get “possessed” or both. but contrary to both yours and popular opinion, jungwon meant not a single one of those things…
OR
𝒾n which . . . jungwon can’t help but wonder why you’re so scary to the rest of the school, and he just had to do something to get you to come out of your shell and show your true self. because everyone has a voice inside that not many other people but themselves hear, and he especially wanted to hear yours.
─── ♡ 𝓅airing . . . classmate! jungwon x shy, misunderstood! 𝑓. reader >< 𝓌arnings . . . won is so so sweet (yes it deserves warning) + angst / self deprecation + . 𝓌c 0.205k ୨୧ 𝒷ased on . . . the anime from me to you/kimi ni todoke ⋆.˚ 𝑓t. yano ayane , yoshida chizuru , miura kento , kurumizawa ume , kazehaya shouta + other characters with minor roles
★
初恋 ─── in my fmty phase (it’s so cute ACK >.<) likes + reblogs are very appreciated !!
taglist ( open & send an ask/dm/comment to be added ) ─── @dreamiestay @seyoungiesleeps @adoredbyjay @mrsjohnnysuh @ilyjxdz @acciocriativity @nvrlndmylove @slvrnm @heeheeyeoiizz01 @tya0 @blindmortal @gardenwons @en-dream @nerdywitchcrown @stercul1a @lilikisuki perm. taglist ( open & send an ask/dm/comment to be added ) ─── @flufflights @liya07v @strvvy-anniee
your reputation at school wasn’t exactly… amazing. for some reason, all the students in your year made rumours that you had some sort of magical powers, you could read minds, et cetera. all because you didn’t talk to people too much.
you see, you were always a slightly awkward person. you never knew what to say or what to do when someone needed your help or comfort. so, you decided to just not talk much at all, in an attempt to get people to stop coming to you.
but now, as time went, you realised the weight of your decision. you had lost a critical part of your life, made a decision that honestly made you a bit sad to think about now.
and now — with your unapproachable and slightly scary demeanour — you had become a target of something terrible: high school gossip.
apparently, according to them, you were psychic, and had special, dark powers. their reasoning being a girl in your class named yuka got sick after sparing you a glance during the start of the first term.
and how was yuka getting sick after sparing you a glance even plausible? only the heavens knew, and they absolutely refused to tell you…
just to clarify, this is a one shot fic !!
#( 𝑚a ) 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐢𝐄 . a work of 𝑎𝑟𝑡#enhypen#jungwon#yang jungwon#enhypen jungwon#enha#jungwon yang#enhypen yang jungwon#jungwon enhypen#jungwon imagines#jungwon fluff#jungwon x reader#enhypen x fem reader#jungwon enha#engene#enhypen x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen au#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff
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Brain went brrrrrrrr
Price and the new 141 member getting into an argument. Price is all like if you don't behave ill take you over my knee girl.
She's all like I fucking dare you or you'll have to catch me first or even you don't have the balls.
🫠🫠
i’ve always wanted someone who was super by the book to clash with John “i routinely tell my superiors i’m going to maim/murder/hang them” Price. this gave me the perfect opportunity to do so.
noncon spanking. abuse of authority. power imbalance. size kink. mean, dom!Price. forced submission.
You have this way of getting under his skin.
An impossible itch. No matter how many times he picks and prods at his flesh, you worm beneath the dermis, burrowing deep. Sitting pretty against his goddamn bones. Festering.
Incurable.
He turns to vice to stem the irritation. Cigars. Whiskey. His hand shoved down his trousers like he's a fuckin' boy and not a man on the wrong side of forty.
Thinking of you—of breaking that smart mouth of yours on his cock.
It's the way you saunter around with your head held high, balancing golden eggs on your crown, that irks him something awful. The patronising drawl when you huffily remind him that what he's doing is breaking seven, no, ten, different laws, Price. You can't just do whatever you want, there are rules—
And that's the crux of it.
A difference of ideas. Experience. You still see the world in shades of black and white. Good and bad. Unwilling to acknowledge that the line between is saturated and blurred. A putrid muck that traps all. Bogish.
He knew it was a mistake when they sent him your file, asked if he needed the additional help. Hostage negotiator. He's heard of you. By the fucking book. You recite passages like it's gospel, turning printed words into a knife. A terrible fit for a team that works in the pivotal no man's land you claim doesn't exist.
Yet—
He takes you on. Brings you in. Buries his anger at your fucking gall deep in his chest where it rots. Grows. Swallows down the rage, apoplectic fury, when you undermine him at every opportunity, citing laws and regulations like it's a fucking prayer.
A calamitous decision, he knows. Terrible. But—
Despite it all, you're good at what you do. Brilliant. A budding rose germinating in fecund soil. You'll grow into something wild, won't you? Something untamed.
Under his hands, you'll bloom the prettiest. He knows this deep in his bones. But—
“You're breaking the rules, Captain—”
—pedantic little thing, aren't you?
Obediently following the wrong master.
It irks him. He's been known to step on the toes of his superior officers for less, caustic words hissing foul from between his teeth.
But unlike them, you're worth something. Even as the moral antithesis to his utilitarian dogma, he sees your potential. How you can shape this world dangling on a brittle thread if you lay down your senseless principles and follow him. Listen to him.
But of course, you don't.
And he supposes he ought to have known better. It's dripping gasoline over an open flame. The sequence of events is easily premeditated, seen, when you refuse to listen to what he says (“it's against the law, Price!”), walking away from him, his team, the mission, and take matters into your own, morally righteous hands. Bringing his underhanded methods to the desk of your superior officer, demanding he be investigated for crimes. The result is a loose warning from someone in a suit several sizes too big for them, and your fury when he pulls you back, has you assigned to another mission with the 141, with himself. Preens at your glower when you march back into his office, into his hands.
In the fallout, he has no one to blame but himself, really. Anyone could have seen this coming. But the thing about shirking his morality in favour of a better outcome—above all else—is that he doesn't have to.
And so, he doesn't.
No. He blames you.
(How perfect for him, then, that there's no one on base except you and him.)
“If you think I'm not going to report you again if you do something illegal, Price, you're wrong.”
He scoffs, shaking his head at your fucking audacity.
"Better watch that mouth of yours, Sergeant, or you won't like what happens next."
His palm itches when you look up, offering him a slow, feline blink. Leonine eyes creasing at the corners.
"And what is that, sir? I'm just doing my job—" it's whispered breathlessly, all faux professionalism even as jest leaks down your brow. They pinch, then. Drawing together in a mockery of confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"
"What is that, mm?" He mocks, arms folding over his chest. He has to breathe through his nose for a moment. Gather himself together before he does something reckless, something like—
It's the defiant little jut of your chin that does him in. That unravels this fraying knot of control until threads slip through his fingers. Falling too fast for him to clench down on them.
He's threatened his superiors for far less. His kin, teammates. You have no one to blame but yourself for this, really. No one at all when he pulls his hand from where it's tucked under his armpit, curling rough, worn fingers around your wrist. Pulls you close, wrenching you into his chest until your nose bumps the buckle of his vest.
"'m'gonna take you over my fuckin' knee, is what's going to happen."
Your swallow is a gunshot. “You—you wouldn't dare—”
He leans in close, closer still. Breath scorching over your cheek. Preening when you bare your little teeth at him. “Wanna bet on that, Sergeant?”
It's easier than he would have expected to wrangle you over his knee, pinning you down with an arm across your lower back. The height of his chair keeps your front bent, belly pressed against his thigh. Ass seated perfectly in his lap. Precious gem.
He hums low in his throat, teeth sinking into the butt of his cigar as he locks you tight against him. Grabbing your wrist, twisting it up behind your back. Holding steady. A warning.
The dangerous twinge in your bone stills you.
One wrong move and he'd snap it in half.
This has you taking a different approach, legs falling limp over the armrest. Head dropping over the other side. Malleable in his grasp—however artificial it is.
“Price—” you breathe, winded. Panic on a spindle. “What are you—what do you think you're doing—?”
He hums, mouth tense around the cigar. Words muffled, slurred. “What I should have done a long time ago.”
“What—hey!”
Your words pepper off into a choked scream when his other hand falls to the hem of your pants, grabbing the fabric in his fist. The shock fades into indignation. Anger. He tastes it in the air as your hips squirm, legs kicking at nothing. Furious little growls spilling from your lips as you thrash, unconcerned by the ache in your bone.
“Better keep still, love,” he taunts, mouth curling over his teeth as he twists his hand high, higher, up the small of your back until your fingers brush the skin between your shoulder blades. Any more and he'll break it—
“I'm going to fucking—!” It ends on a whine. A whimper. The pain makes you shiver. “Fuck, fuck—stop, stop, ow, stop—!”
“Not a fan of a little pain then, mm?”
Your breath is ragged. Paints the air in a fine mist of defeat. He has you. The only option out of this is breaking your bone, a threshold no one is willing to cross.
Price purses his lips back around the cigar, inhaling once, thrice, before he slips his fingers out of the hem of your trousers, reaching up to take hold of the cigar. It's all so matter-of-fact. So nonchalant when he places it in the ashtray. When he brings his heavy, warm hand back to your ass, curling his fingers beneath the fabric. Pulling. Tugging.
They come off easier than he'd expected. A harsh tug, and the cleft of your ass is revealed. Plush skin curving enticingly as he rips them down to mid-thigh—panties and all.
The shock fades back into indignation. You hiss something foul under your breath that makes him huff out a chuckle.
“Not really in the position for that, are you, love?”
“Shut up—”
He likes the way you sound like this. Feral. Furious. There's ash in your throat. It blots soot around each word, giving them weight. Gone is the woman who barged into his office, sniffing like you smelled something foul. Backing him into a corner. Sputtering in his face about rules. Regulation.
Now you're bare-assed, panting, in his lap. Small little fawn in the maw of a bear. But oh, do you fight back—
Teeth bared, indignation bleeding into embarrassment, blotting pink in the whites of your eyes.
The sight is hewn into his hindbrain.
“Look at you,” he purrs, petting your cheeks. “Been beggin’ to be bent over my knee since you got here, haven't you?”
“Begging? Don't be—ahh!”
He brings his hand down with a small huff, eyes glued to your flesh. Watching it shake under his hand. The width of one swallowing up an entire cheek. So big is he that you're nearly made infinitesimal in his clutch. The thought makes him groan.
You squirm more in shock than discomfort. Head craning over your shoulder, eyes misting over with tears. Glaring at him.
“What the fuck, Price!”
He strokes your skin, feeling the heat of your flesh bleed through his palm. Resilient little thing, aren't you? He huffs again, blood buzzing. Electric. There's a kindling fire in his guts. Embers sparking, catching.
He can't deny how badly he's been wanting to have you like this. Craving your tears, your agony, your submission.
“Count,” he barks out, rough. Abrasive. “You're getting ten. Count ‘em for me, and if you miss one, I'm adding two more.”
“You're crazy, you're—!”
His hand comes down again. The impact shakes the fat of your ass. The strike makes you yowl, thrashing to get away. You don't get very far, still trapped in his hold. The threat of a broken bone keeps you from lashing out too wildly, and all you can really do is sit in his lap, and take it—
The notion has him groaning low in his throat. Something wicked spooling in his veins. Wanting. The sight of you heaving, bare-assed, and begging for mercy unleashes something inside of him. Something primal. Starving.
Price takes a breath to steady himself, head buzzing. Heart pounding. It feels like the euphoria of nicotine—all bliss, sedation. Ease.
Cathartic.
“I said count,” he rasps, words cinder in his chest. Smoke. Dragged up from that burning pyre in his belly. Nocuous, hungry. “That's an order, Sergeant.”
His hand is scorching against your skin. Thoughts turning over themselves as you hiccup in his lap. So pretty, he thinks, eyes flitting over to you. Taking in the sight of your shock, your denial. It tastes like fine wine on his tongue. Heady.
“Here comes one—”
“One?”
“I told you, didn't I?” His nail rakes across your skin, cruel. Mean. Something preens when you gasp. Your pain perfuming the air. “M’addin’ two more if you don't count. Thought your speciality was listenin’?”
You scowl, twisting back to level him with an awful sneer. “Oh, fuck you—!”
His hand comes down again, harder this time. Vicious. The scream is tangled in your throat, gagged. He feels pleasure—dark and ugly—bloom in his chest, dripping, liquid, down the length of his spine. The twist of agony on your face is beatific.
“Not gonna count?” He taunts, pinching your inflamed flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “We're gonna be here all day at this rate, love.”
He leans down, broad chest curling over the small of your back, hand cupped possessively over your cheeks. “But maybe you want that, mm? Maybe all this, mhm, insubordination has just been for show. You wanted this. Wanted to be taken over my knee—”
“You're wrong. I haven't—” it tapers off into a squeak when he pinches your flesh again.
Price pulls back, breathes shallowly through his nose.
“You and that smart fuckin' mouth. Told you it was gonna get you in trouble—”
He doesn't wait. His hand rears, and comes down with a loud smack that echoes in the sparse office he has you trapped inside. Your howl races alongside it, curling up the walls. Beautiful in all its agony.
“Christ—” it's a dagger to his resolve. You sound so fucking good howling like this. Oscillating between feral anger and pain, hissing vitriol between clenched teeth. Choking on sobs.
The first few are experimental. Testing the waters. Feeling. You're combative during it all. Fighting. Screaming. Each strike is uncounted, echoed only with a plea for help. One he knows won't come—
The only person on base is his Lieutenant. Ghost knows better than to barge in on his affairs.
“No one's comin’, love,” he grunts, sweat beading along his hairline, dripping down his temple. The room heats along with the blood in his veins, stifling and oppressive. He reinforces each hit with more strength, increasing the tempo until you're screaming on his lap, begging for mercy, mercy, please, please, Price stop, stop—
Your skin raises with each new strike. Swelling. Becoming inflamed. The perfect imprint of his handprint sits on each cheek, edges intumescent. The globes shake, shuddering deliciously under each hit.
He gets to eleven before you break. Tears streaming down your face, voice a threadbare whisper. Hoarse from screaming.
His hand rains down, slaps your left cheek so hard it stings his hand. Burns. You whimper. Mewling. Squirming on his lap, and then—
“O–one—”
He grunts, feels himself thicken in his trousers. “Good girl.”
You shudder, body breaking out in goosebumps. “Price—”
“Ah, ah, love. You're not allowed to speak unless you're counting.”
He hits you again, cock throbbing when you tense up, sniffling. Grinding out a soft two between trembling lips.
You don't break the way he wants you to. There's a glare on your face despite the tears, the sniffles. A defiance that burns over the bridge of your nose.
But that's fine. He has eight more strikes to ruin you, doesn't he?
He sets to it with a low moan, your pelvis pressing taut to his tumid cock, the friction raging in his guts.
But that, he finds, isn't really the point. No. The pleasure, the arousal, is secondary to the way you fall to pieces at his hand. Flesh stinging his palm with each loud smack that rings out sharply in the room. Uneven breaths. Shuddering little ah-ah-ahs that tumble out through clenched teeth.
It's addictive, this. Therapeutic.
There's static in his head. White noise. It renders everything else mute. Moot. Molasses drips down, thick and entrenching, congealing over every churning thought in the back of his head. There's a sense of peace, ease, he hasn't felt in years. In decades.
He feels his belly knot each time your ass jiggles, skin bulging up from the trauma of being hit so harshly. Chafed under his palm. Welts forming in the shape of his hand. A tattoo you'll have for weeks when he's through with you. Aching each time you try to sit. And fuck—
You'll think of him. Of this. Being taken over his goddamn knee like the bad fucking girl you are. Broken in over his lap. Helpless. Submissive.
The whimpers fade, replaced with shallow hiccups. Your throat is torn. Raw, ruined, by your screams, yowls. Each rasping whine sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. Liquid want molten in his marrow.
“S–seven, nngh—”
The moan slips out—scorched, bleached—and drills deep into his loins.
He peels his gaze away from your blistered skin, glancing at your face, but you duck from his view. Hide. Dropping your head over the armrest. Evading him.
It's new, this. This meekness.
You were so combative, so feral before. His gaze rakes down the expanse of your spine, over the curve of your cheeks, before settling, hot and heavy, at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. You squirm in his lap, thighs sliding together. Rubbing. It's no different from before when he'd spank you, but—
He catches it.
It glints in the soft light when you move, and he feels something dark, ruinous, curl in the tar-stained fibrils of his chest. Congealing in the crevasses. Hardening.
Price flicks his tongue out, swiping over his lower lip. The bristles of his beard graze the soft flesh, prickling across it. His throat is suddenly dry. Parched.
His hand comes down again, notably softer than the other hits he subjected you to. Almost—
Tender.
This isn't meant to hurt. Not this one.
He strokes his finger over your skin, cock throbbing with the rasping gasp that spills—a twisted amalgamation of pain, skin still smarting, burning to the touch, and—
His lashes flutter. Nostrils flaring.
Your slick, wet, between your inner thighs.
He slides his hand down, down, until your ass cheek is cupped in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger. Nestled tight. A perfect fit. The sight of your skin—soft, so soft—against his bearish, hirsute paw is sickeningly addictive. He grunts, pressing his thumb into the crease between your cheek and thigh.
“P–Price—”
And then he pulls, moaning deep in his chest as he peels the fat of your ass away, unveiling your cunt to his rapacious gaze. Fuck—
“What’s this?” He taunts, breathless. Pinched. You squirm, trying to press your thighs together. Hiding your pussy from his scorching stare. He doesn't let you. “Gettin’ off on me spankin’ your arse?”
“N–no, I'm—”
He pushes his thumb up, sliding it over your skin. Gathers your slick on the tip. “Don't lie to me, mm. You're fuckin' soaked.”
The air is punched from his lungs. Spills out in a wretched grunt. In the vacuum, something grows. Knots. Festering inside his chest. Animalistic. Primal. There's an itch in the back of his head.
He lets go of your arm, knows you won't run. Won't try to escape. No.
You're a good girl, aren't you? One who does what they're told. Follows orders. It tangles in the soporific slurry of his head, pitching a bivouac of need when you bring your arm down, curling it through the gap of the armrest, holding tight.
Bracing yourself.
His hum breaks in his throat. He drags his hand away from your cunt, reaching for the snuffed cigar idling in the ashtray. There's a fever in his veins. It makes his hand tremble. Shake. He needs the blunted drag of nicotine to quench this heady anticipation blooming in his guts. A brumous storm gyring inside him, an incipient maelstrom of want thickening. Intensifying. Threatening to spill over.
He needs something to steady himself before he tears into you like a beast—
You cock your head over your shoulder, staring at him with eyes drenched in midnight ink. There's a flicker across your tear-stained expression. Something coy. Feline. Leonine.
There's nothing said. Nothing needs to be. He finds what he's looking for in the fracture of your mien, and scoffs under his breath at your sheer gall. Little fuckin' minx.
Tobacco proves to be a paltry facsimile when he draws in a bursting mouthful. The restive glow of it dulled under the adrenaline coursing through his veins, heady. Syrupy. A roaring deluge of anticipation broiling in the balmy air, crackling around him like a storm cresting over the horizon. Ozone saturates in the thickening atmosphere.
Something will break. Shatter.
He tenses, waiting for the first stormcloud to breach, and drops his hand back to your tender ass. Stroking over the raised welts just to make you gasp. Your hips flex under the shocks of pain riveting down your spine, undulating in his lap. Pitched perfectly over his cock.
His breath shudders through a needlepoint. The friction is electric.
In petty retaliation—and just to see you squirm—he trails his knuckles over your heated skin, luxuriating in the way you shiver. Head falling back down over the armrest, beautifully alluring in your vulpine submission. His fingers dip between the cleft of your cheeks, feeling the slickness sticking to your soft, sensitive skin. Soaked between your thighs. Wretched girl.
His index and middle finger slide over your slit, parting your folds. He feels the small pulses of your drenched hole against his flesh when he slides over it with the press of his fingers. Eager little thing.
He hums under his breath at the sight of his hand seated across your hand, fingers shoved between the globes of your smarting ass. Soft and tender to worn and gnarled. The cropping of dark hair over his knuckles, his hand, against your bare skin is obscene. The picture of sin with your stricken flesh and his thick veins. The contrast curdled in the back of his head, morphing into something ugly and wanting.
Idly, he thinks of making you bounce your sore ass on his lap later, your pussy swallowing up his fat cock. Taking it all the way to the root. Over and over again. Breaking you on it until you're begging for mercy, until this little attitude of yours is crushed between his teeth.
Slick gathers against the rough pads of his fingers, drenching them. The hair on his knuckles is matted down, wet with your arousal. Naughty girl. He'll make you pay for that.
And for the puddle seeping into his trousers.
You mewl when he slips, sliding over your clit. The noise spilling molten over your lips, bludgeoning into his loins.
He drags in another mouthful of smoke. Lets it rot between his teeth as he drops the cigar into the ashtray once more, attention riveting to the slip-slide of your slick thighs rubbing together for friction against your aching clit. Cunt pulsing needily against his hand.
You haven't learned a damn thing at all, have you?
Smoke funnels out of his nostrils when he growls. “Spoiled, aren't you? Need to be taught a lesson in respect.”
“I, ah, am respectful, Captain—”
He sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. This lippiness of yours grates on his nerves. He wants you begging for mercy, limp in his hold. Pretty doll. Waiting obediently for him to put you back together again. Soft and submissive at his heel.
“Got three more to go, love.” You shiver when he strokes over your ass. Petting gently with wet, tacky fingers. “If you're a good girl and take it for me, I'll play with your pretty cunt, mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”
Price brings his hand down, grunting when you moan out his name. Sharp and needy. Your plaintive posturing is a spark inside a tinderbox.
“E–eight.”
The next one is harder, sharper. The force twinges his joints. Rattles through his bone.
It's unexpected, and the pain makes you yowl, body drawing tight like a bow. There's no pleasure when it's like that. No friction against your cunt. It's just—
“Price—!” You yelp, shrill and distressed. The lead up to this has been child's play. A soft hand to tender a nervous mare.
His old man taught him to never strike with the whip first but to wean them slowly.
He waits, humming mockingly to your pettering whimpers as you heave, tremulous, into the air. Shuddering in his grasp at the aftershocks of agony rippling through your body.
Waits. Waits. And—
“Ah, ah,” he tuts, cooing low and condescending when you gasp, craning your neck to level him with an imploring, pleading stare as you stammer out a frenetic nine in a breathless rush. Tears soak your lashline, clumping them together when you blink through another deluge pooling against the rim. Your lip wobbles. The stream breaks, spilling over. Fresh tears run down your wet, sticky cheeks.
There's real panic in the whites of your eyes now. That haughty, pedant gleam buried under pyretic desperation. Gone is the coy twist to your lips. The wily little bloom of amusement in your gaze.
Aw, poor thing. But—
Too late. “You didn't count. You know what that means, love.”
That knot in his chest unfurls, and leaks acid into his lungs. This want is corrosive. A poison. The sob breaks through your chest. The first thunderclap. He relishes in it. Leans back in his chair to bask in the potency of your unmaking.
“Good girl,” he husks out, burning lungs spewing black smoke into the air. “Just ten more now, love. Know you can take it for me, can't you?”
Pretty thing. He'll have that haughty attitude snuffed out before the end of the night. Have you begging for his touch, his cock, him, before the sun draws across the horizon.
Your ruination at his hand. The thought strokes along the kindling smouldering inside of his chest. Burning away at the pyre he's been building since the day he met you. When you looked up at him, pretty in your scorn, and disobeyed his command. Undermined him. So righteous in your fury. A burgeoning flame he wanted nothing more than to snuff out under his heel, and now—
Wide, wet eyes plead with him. “Please, Price. Please, please. I'll be good—I promise I'll be good, sir—”
—ash in the palm of his hand.
He strokes over your searing flesh, humming softly under his breath. “I know you will, pretty girl—” basks in the hiccup of relief you let out, lets it glue in his ears, echoing over and over again. So sweet.
He lets your relief live for a moment. Take its first breath of air through aching lungs—
“But I told you, didn't I? That I'd take you over my knee.” Price pats his hand over your cheek, shushing you when you startle, squirming on his lap.
“Now. Be a good girl and count for me, mm?”
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As you may know, Chapter 2 of Danganronpa: Despair Time has finally concluded, after a long 3 years since the end of Chapter 1. Thank you to the staff members who made this possible and thank you to everyone who has stuck with me during this long journey! I was very nervous about a lot of things, so I hope that chapter 2 has been received well.
This is unfortunately where I have to talk about some bad news. DRDT is going on hiatus. In fact, it will probably be quite some time before I even begin work on chapter 3. I know this is probably disappointing news for many, I am terribly sorry. I will talk about some of the reasons behind why.
I felt as if there was a lot of mixed response to this chapter. Please know that I take your complaints seriously, I want to produce a work that can be enjoyed by everyone. In truth, I have no experience or education in writing or producing, and I do not even consider myself a "writer" or "producer." This is the first story I have attempted to write. I hope you can acknowledge that it is a long learning experience for me, and be lenient with the amateurish first work that is full of flaws. Even though DRDT has become a popular Fangan, it doesn't mean that in turn I have become an experienced creator. Because of my lack of experience, I have little confidence as a creator. When fans are dissatisfied with something that happened recently in DRDT, I worry about how they will respond to future episodes of DRDT. It is difficult to maintain faith in the decisions I make and I keep second-guessing myself, worrying about how something will be received. Working on chapter 3 in this state is too difficult.
I am also burnt out from working on DT. Even though it was once possible for me to draw multiple sprites in one day, now it is a struggle to even make a single sprite of a small face modification. Nearing the end it was difficult and painful to draw such things like the execution or closing argument. So it will probably be a while before I am even capable of writing or drawing for the DT main story again.
TL;DR: I don't foresee myself even beginning to work on DT Ch3 (including bonus episodes) for a very long time. I apologize for delivering this disappointing news. With this in mind, I will be working on and posting things that are not DT CH3. Some of this will relate to DRDT and some of it will not. I ask for your patience as I continue to create and gain experience as a creator. I hope that you can support these works too.
Thank you again to all those who have supported me and enjoyed my work. Please support the amazing staff who worked on DT as well, I am eternally grateful for their work. If my work was able to inspire you or move you or bring you enjoyment even a little, I would be happy.
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