#fuck debeers

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Like we all know jewelers are the most disposable damn petty bourgeois capitalist pawns out there but fuck they aren't even useful for what they claim to contribute to society. My gf and I found a gold necklace the other day so we went to Brown & Co to get it appraised at and the bitch at the counter wouldn't even look at it. She acted offended that we were even there and got all up in arms about wasting her time without an appointment on a weekend.

Meanwhile I texted a picture of it to my roommate and she was like "that inscription looks like Thai" and ended up being right. Million dollar fucking jewelry company couldn't do what a single Chinese economics student could in two seconds.

#eat the rich #fuck debeers #fuck the diamond industry #fuck cecil rhodes #fuck brown & co #rhys rambles

[langernameohnebedeutung]

not mad. not even disappointed.

#her little eye roll / head-shake. The bar is in the fucking ground with him. #izombie #Liv Moore #Blaine DeBeers #fandom #Liv going back to the morgue like: 'Ravi - guess what this time'

[diabolimeservavit666]

Real Question Here

Should I create a side blog for my iZombie content or should I just add it to the clutter on my main one? I have five years of pent up ideas, fanfic concepts, headcanons, etc. all lodged in my head and, of course, by the time I was emotionally ready after that god-awful finale to start creating content, the show wasn't popular anymore. Well, I don't care if all I get is three likes as long as it gets out there. Fair warning: I am a huge shipper of Liv x Peyton and Steve x Ravi so you will be seeing a lot of that. And as someone who hated the finale, I'm just going to ignore it's existence because I have created my own in my head. Anyway, I guess I should put a poll here so...

#izombie #liv moore #peyton charles #clive babineaux #ravi chakrabarti #blaine debeers #don e #enzo lambert #vampire steve #steve needs a fucking last name #some serious injustice on the writers part #fanfiction #oneshots #izombie imagine #idk just a thought

[pavlovianfuckery]

im this close to taking a bite out of my phone

nobody can convince me that he doesn't fuck and fucks well, ok

1. he's a hedonistic little shit, and I bet my knickers he's very into the sensory aspect of it all, like what's the point if it doesn't feel good?

2. likes impressing girls nuff said🤷‍♀️

3. considering the whole slight megalomania/power tripping/general uh way he is I could totally see him being all smug in a 'tee hee made you come' kind of way

#i want to peel this fucking prat like an onion #with my teeth #blaine debeers #pavl is having blorbo thoughts again someone get the hose

[prismatica-the-strange]

The episode where Blaine narrates > every other episode

#'tHiS iSn'T hEr StOrY. iT's MiNe.“ #shut the fuck up you fucking loser man #izombie #blaine debeers

[mcbitchtits]

spotify just served me an ad for "natural diamonds only" (🙄) from the "responsible diamond council" (🙄) and then told me it couldn't play the rest of the album, so, y'know. clearly a great piece of software (🙄)

#i fucking see you‚ debeers.

[central-finite-curve]

You make like… the best playlists.. your character playlists always hit

:00000,,,,thank you so much...i am a musical genius. slash jay but if you're interested, i have a few from other fandoms too

just a couple though

#not rnm #ask #i think songs to fuck the plumbus is objectively my best and most thought out. next to the blaine debeers one #but nobody except like approximately thirty other people and i know who blaine is....ah....i cry #the bender and fry playlists are new. same with the l and light ones. used to have these very shitty l and light playlists #but then i deleted them because they sucked and i didnt know about spotify playlist folders

[careless-with-your-heart]

Seeing Red 🍸😡🧟💋

This fits perfectly for @ockissweek! So excited! Enjoy this one-shot for #ockiss24.

Seeing Red: A Blaine DeBeers x OC KissFic One-Shot

You can’t kiss her.

The thought practically eats Blaine alive—an oxymoron if he’s ever heard one.

It’s only been a week since Catherine blew in with the rain, and already she’s making herself useful. Not just in his fantasies, though there is that, but in cold, hard earnings. And for that—and all the other, carnal reasons that keep him up at night—Blaine wants to kiss Catherine-No-Middle-Name-Cohen full on her plush, tempting mouth.

“Why do you look so self-satisfied?”

Don E’s voice cuts through Blaine’s locked-eyes daydreaming, and over the glow of his laptop screen, Blaine raises a brow at his second-in-command as Don E glides into the back office of The Post, leaving the door yawning wide open behind him.

“I always look self-satisfied. I am a man intent on nothing else but satisfying himself.” To prove the point, Blaine lifts the half-full martini glass that rests on his desk and salutes the small, bald man standing in front of him before slugging down the remainder of the drink.

“Yeah, sure. But, like, right now, you just had this look on your face. Like, what’s the expression? The cat that ate the canary?”

“You got it switched, brother. The canary is the cat—Kitty, that is.”

Don E. smirks as he slides into the chair in front of Blaine’s desk. “You son of a bitch! You nailed her. Noice. Fast work. She seems a little damaged, but in that way you like. I dig it.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “Should I arrange for some flowers? A nice bottle of vino for the lady? A link to my YouTube channel?”

Blaine blanches. “Don’t be crass. I didn’t nail her. And no one watches your YouTube channel.”

It’s Don. E’s turn to protest. “Hey! I’ll have you know that my Redecorating Your Living Room When You’re No Longer Living series was very popular. Dozens of views. And if the Lady Catherine is now on Team Z, she might need some basic how-to on how to do the undead thing.”

“Mmm-hmm. Congrats on the views, champ, but she’s still human. Now, let’s get back to the subject at hand—our little stray cat has, in the past week, bumped nightly bar receipts up by thirty percent. And she breezed in here this morning with a full-on spreadsheet breaking down our liquor cost, in order of highest to lowest margins, and she’s gone to meet in person with two distributors who might cut those costs if we switch suppliers.”

Don E’s eyes widen. “Damn. Sorry bro. I mistook your money boner for a lady-inspired one. That’s some valid dreamy-eyed shit. She’s way nice, too. Did you know that Darcy loves her? Those two and Liv and Peyton, there’s a whole Clueless thing going on that is very, very heartwarming.”

“Why are you in my office, exactly?” Blaine says, closing down his laptop.

“Oh! Yes. Two items of business. One, remember that you asked Darcy to come in today to look over the delivery system and see if she can take the whole ordering process online.”

Blaine has forgotten—but now he recalls, and he nods agreeably. “That’s great. Crypto, right? Less physical cash changing hands means less chance of an extra hand in the honeypot.”

Don E rocks his chair back up on two legs, bracing his interlaced fingers behind his head. “Yeah, that’s the business part deux. We have a little prrrrrroblemo down in distribution that I wanted to talk to you about.” He grimaces slightly. “Caught one of the new delivery guys sampling the goods.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

What a way to kill the high of the morning’s financial gain.

“Nope. Hank.”

Blaine presses his lips together. “You vouched for him, Don.”

The younger man winces. “I know, bro. I was trying to help him out. He used to be my barista before, you know”—Don E’s tongue lolls out and he raises his arms in a caricature of Night of the Living Dead. Off of Blaine’s flat look, he drops his hands to his lap. “I came to you as soon as I knew. I’ll take care of it. I just didn’t want my partner out of the loop.”

“And now you want to bring Darcy in to automate the ordering? When your boy is stealing from me?” There’s no way for him to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“She’s my wife, Blaine.”

His mood souring, Blaine shrugs. “I’m not catching your point.”

“I love her. She loves me. You don’t profess your love and then ask someone to share the rest of your life unless there’s trust, right?”

“The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose,” Blaine quotes flatly.

Don E’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, yeah. This from the guy who claims he doesn’t have it bad for the new livestock in town.”

Before Blaine can protest again, Don E puts up a hand to stop his reply. “You can say it’s money all you want, but I see the way you look at her, and all the other signs. If you’re not careful, you’ll fall, too. The indestructible Blaine DeBeers.”

The word isn’t quite right. Blaine knows a few other descriptors that are apt. Ones that were drilled into him young, and often.

Unlovable

Inadequate

Worthless

Blaine lifts his chin, smirking past the intrusive thoughts. “Other signs?”

“You’re dressing her up like your personal doll, Blaine. You’ve never done that with any of the back-room girls. And, last night, your pocket square matched her dress. “

Blaine remains silent, thoughtful.

Don E presses on. “You’ve given her every night shift this week—and, I might add, you’ve come in an hour early yourself every one of those nights. To throw some wisdom from your man Willie Shakes back at you, lovers ever run before the clock, bro."

Blaine rolls his eyes at Don E. "Don't save the date, my friend."

"See? Interested but cynical. Yearning for love but settling for cheap interludes. Face it, you have commitment issues."

"I suppose you have a YouTube video for that?"

"Your sarcasm is a defense mechanism. Look at the facts. My dude, you barely let your shoes get walked in before you toss them."

"It's been my experience that a quality woman hates scuffed soles," Blaine shoots back, toying with the edge of the empty martini glass on his desk. 

"Soles or souls? Fifty-fifty chance you fail there, boss."

Blaine laughs and puts a hand over his chest, bending double in his chair as he pretends to clutch his heart. “Damn! Ouch.” Then, sitting up, still grinning, Blaine says, “I admit that our newest house human is aesthetically pleasing. And she knows how to make money. But if you think a little ‘ol steak dinner on a pair of nice stems is going to tempt me into forever, brother, you don’t know me at all.”

“I do. And you know me. And I love Darcy. So trust her because you trust me.”

Blaine nods. “Fair enough.” But he’s still more than a little annoyed. Not just by Don E’s too-keen observations about how he was beginning to feel about Kitty, but by the stress fractures he saw forming in his usually well-run businesses. The bartender that had just been caught pouring heavy for his friends last week. The delivery guy skimming brains. What did a dishonest businessman have to do to get good help in this town?

A sudden knock on the doorframe of the office yanks the attention of both men to the entryway.

Kitty stands there—and Blaine’s breath catches.

Don E swivels back around to face him, eyes wide. How long has she been standing there? he mouths.

Blaine ignores the question, but the possibility that she’d just heard their conversation makes his stomach twist. Instead of panicking outwardly, he opts for what gets him out of most situations—cocky, surface bravado, even if he’s a nervous wreck on the inside.

“Meals on Heels! Just the gal I was singing the praises of. How’d it go with the distributors?”

She shoots him an unreadable look as she makes her—brisk—way to his desk. “Really well. Two proposals, both great offers. Twenty or twenty-five percent off of current rates for your regular rotation stock. Higher discount wants a four-year contract, though.”

Don E seems to relax some.

Blaine smiles broadly. “Wow. Not bad, dollface. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad for cattle, isn’t that what you mean?” There’s a clipboard in her hand, and she slams it down on top of his closed laptop. “It’s your choice on which new supplier to go with—but maybe avoid the four-year contract if you’re commitment-shy.”

Both men gape at her.

"Anyway, guess this shows I'm good for more than a source of protein. I'll be out in the bar, trying to figure out what the hell you two are good for."

Then, she spins and marches out of his office.

Fuck.

Blaine rises from his office chair, shaking his head as he starts to follow her out onto the main bar floor. “Kitty, hold up. I didn’t mean…”

The office door slams in his face.

As Blaine goes stock-still in stunned silence, Don’s chair scrapes back as he stands. “Don’t chase her, dude. Let her go.”

Blaine rounds on him, snarling. “Shut up, Don E! I don’t need any more of your sage advice.”

But the other man is probably right. It won’t do anything except make things worse if he chases Kitty down while she’s angry. So Blaine steps back. It takes every ounce of willpower he’s able to scrape together, and probably some borrowed from whatever saint he last dined on to boot, but he does it. He leaves the door closed and paces back to his desk instead of storming out to ask her to forgive him—and to ask her who the fuck she thinks she is, slamming his own office door in his face.

“So, I’m going to retire Hank now, if that’s cool…” Don E says, shuffling in place. “Darcy should be here any minute.”

Maybe it’s his simmering annoyance at the employee messes, or the sudden, queasy unease he feels over Kitty overhearing what he’d said to his second-in-command. But whatever the cause, Blaine’s temples begin to throb, and anger suddenly swells in his chest. He’d been happy five minutes ago, head full of rainbows and unicorns and cotton-candy thoughts about the woman who’d just bitten his head off. She shouldn’t be so fucking sensitive. In fact, she should be grateful to him. He’d given her a job with very few questions asked.

Outside in the main bar, Blaine hears the sound of a door slamming. Then, muffled curses. She’s out there throwing a fit—and it makes his anger spike higher. It makes the part of him that is always simmering, spoiling for a fight, begin to boil. He pushes off of his desk, feeling the familiar red haze as the pressure of it begins to make his eyes burn.

“Dude?” Don E’s words after are a muffled mess of noise—nothing that will stop Blaine as he lets the anger rise, relishes it, embraces it as it climbs hotly through the stark, popped veins of his neck and into his head, taking over.

He is the boss here. Kitty works for him. And he’s going to show her just how much trouble her bratty little attitude has gotten her into.

Blaine doesn’t have to take his clash out to the bar. As soon as he flings open the door to his office, she’s there—so close, in fact, that he doesn’t even see her before they collide. But he hears her small, startled cry of surprise, and her softness registers against the lean, hard planes of him, and his raged-out brain indexes through a dozen reasons she’s coming back; and it settles hotly, and nearly instantly, on one reason in particular.

She’s come to insult him some more.

Unlovable

Inadequate

Worthless

And that isn’t fair, or accurate, or even related enough to be applied, but the anger doesn’t care. It siphons all the fuel it needs from the dark corners of his heart and grows, and grows…

I’ll show you exactly what I’m good for…

Blaine’s pissed enough that he rolls with the knee-jerk, Cro-Magnon urge that seizes him, gives in to the impulse, and throws out all care for the notion of what is prudent or professional or even safe—and he takes what he wants. What he’s wanted since that stormy Friday night when the city had delivered this lithe, magnetic mystery woman to his doorstep.

Kitty tries to pull back, but he reacts so quickly that she doesn’t stand a chance. He grips both of her upper arms, hauls her up, and through the blinding crest of the red haze, feeling as though his head might burst if he doesn’t, Blaine kisses her. He puts into the kiss all of the frustration he feels that has nothing at all to do with Kitty, and all of the lust that absolutely does. Just as he ducks toward her, he closes his eyes, peripherally afraid he’ll startle her with the blood-red in them.

Soft. You’re going soft, McDonough.

And that thought fans the flames of his fury higher, ensuring that the kiss is not soft. His lashes sweep her cheeks as his mouth attacks hers, and he lifts one hand from her arm to stab his fingers through her hair and fist the heavy, silky tresses to hold her still for his onslaught.

She stiffens at first. Blaine can only guess it’s in shock, but he hopes there’s a little anger of her own in the reflex. Something about his driving rage craves an answering anger in her. Maybe he wants Kitty mad to make it feel a little less like he’s the villain here. Predator, prey, hell, he isn’t sure which of them is which, anyway. Once he drops his other hand to haul her against him at the waist, she goes pliant against him, and Blaine wastes no time parting her teeth with his tongue, licking into her, withdrawing to bite and suck at her lower lip before pressing back in to steal the surprised gasp that escapes her when the last nip draws the barest taste of copper.

The blood excites him. It’s primal and elemental, and he doesn’t care if she bites him back. In fact, he’d go just about crazy if she did. He wants her to, wants to feel the sting of her canines in his lower lip, at the hollow of his neck, sinking into the meat of his shoulder through his shirt as he’s tearing off her panties. He wants a hundred little half-moon bruises left scattered over his body, despite the fact that he knows they will heal too quickly to be morning-after souvenirs.

She’s kissing him back now, pulling him urgently to her by the collar. It’s satisfying to feel that desperation, to know that he can make her so needy so fast. He feels a button on his shirt give way, feels her fingers slip over his throat, and he swallows an endless stream of her breathy moans as he turns the two of them and presses her to the doorframe, jamming a knee between her legs and leaving her lips to rake his front teeth down her neck. If the skin breaks, he’ll take it as sign from the universe that he’s meant to keep this enigma. And fuck Don E’s little H.P. Lovecrafting videos, Blaine will teach her everything she needs to know to become the undead queen of his dreams, and they can rule the gloomy, overprivileged burgs of Seattle together.

Forever, he thinks. A bride for Frankenstein’s monster.

It’s too close to sentiment for Blaine, too close to Don E’s cupid’s-arrow insights, and so Blaine simply pushes aside everything but the taste and scent and feel of Kitty against him. Every breath he draws is a tempest, his chest rising and falling with the fury of a Nor’easter. The veins on his neck stand out, dark and pronounced, as if they are bracing against the surge of anger pulsing through him. The hand he holds her close with trembles with barely contained rage, and in her hair, his fingers are still curled into a fist so tight that the knuckles whiten, nails dug into the palm, the pain a mere whisper against the roar of his baser emotions.

She’s practically climbing him, riding his thigh, a leg wrapping around his hip, the other en pointe like a ballerina to even out their heights, and he slams her back against the doorjamb with little regard for gentleness. This kiss edges on erupting into violence at any moment. It’s the rage, he knows, full-on zombie mode, but all he can think of is how he wants her begging underneath him—for pardon or pleasure, it makes no difference to him. He just wants her to submit. He just wants to conquer her.

Blaine clenches his fist against her scalp again, too tightly, and she whimpers into his open mouth.

“Blaine.”

The kiss has gone on for an eternity, or maybe it’s only been a handful of seconds. Blaine falters when the red haze begins to recede, when he registers that the pliant, pronounced curve at her waist is lower than he expects, and when he realizes that he has forced Kitty to a tiptoe with his hold in her hair.

Tiptoe?

And then, the voice saying his name…is not the husky, velvet timbre that he was listening for. Raspy, yes, the lilt of a woman well-kissed, but higher in octave. And Kitty wouldn’t need to stand on tiptoe to make their heights align. She’s only about an inch or two shorter than he is.

Blaine’s eyes fly open as he pulls away.

Staring up at him, eyes wide and pupils blown, lips bite-swollen and red, cheeks so flushed that her pale skin seems almost sunburned, is Darcy.

“Oops,” Blaine says dumbly, chest still heaving. “Wrong brat.”

“Dude. What the fuck.”

Blaine’s head swings toward Don. E, who stands facing them, frozen. His face oscillates between shock and disbelief.

Mortification swamps him, the last of the rage receding. Blaine eases the petite woman down from his thigh until her feet hit the floor, and then he lets go of the handful of Darcy’s hair that he’s still clutching, smoothing it with a few awkward pats as she sways on her feet and smiles dazedly. He takes a slow step back.

“I, uh—”

The frozen silence is broken by Kitty’s astonished voice from the bar.

“What the hell is going on?”

Blaine’s head whips to the right, where he sees her at the closest end of the bar, her eyes twice as wide as Don’s, a bottle held aloft.

Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Blaine clears his throat, straightens his suit jacket, and waves a dismissive hand at her. He tries his damnedest to put a firmness in his voice that he absolutely doesn’t feel. “Nothing to see here. Just, uh, new employee appreciation.” He turns back to Darcy, who has sagged back against the door, still looking as though she’s been hit by some unexpected natural disaster. He picks up her hand and pumps it overzealously. “Welcome to the team.”

Darcy swoons. Don E is there to catch her, and as he carries his wife to a nearby table in the bar area, Blaine takes the chance to slip backward into his office, close the door, and lock it.

As Blaine sinks down into his desk chair, a last quote comes to him—appropriate to his current faux pas. He says it to the empty room, a mirthless chuckle rolling up as he buries his head in his hands.

“Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.”

Blaine wonders how he’s ever going to show his face in his own bar again.

Find me at AO3 for more Blaine x Kitty fun in the motherfic of this one-shot (Lay You in the Ground) Here. Thank you for reading! <3

#ockiss24 #oc kiss week #blaine debeers x oc #oc otp: what the hell are you doing to me #oc otp: fight fight - kiss kiss - gtfo - now let's have kids #just that kind of vibe #fanfic #izombie #blaine debeers #catherine cohen (OC) #hey baby come here to work out your childhood trauma often?

[blowflyfag]

Tied Up

Scott Hall X Male Reader

THIS FIC IS 18+

porno music is a great help with 80's stuff i'll tell you what. Scott Hall during his AWA days is so fucking beautiful and there was this gifset here that may had inspired me sooooo. Here we are now.

Masterlist      AO3

ou had assumed a shower would’ve helped was your bad mood off after the show but. That couldn’t be further from the case. If anything, you felt more pissed off than before left to brood and think over your own mistakes during the match. You were digging through your suitcase before looking back as you heard the voice from behind you.

“Covering up so soon?” Scott asked and you could only huff. 

“I’m not in the mood.” You quickly retorted. Before you heard the bed shift and creak, and hands wrap around your waist. You grumbled under your breath before you felt his head settle near your shoulder. Pressing small kisses up your neck that'd cause a small smile to tug at your lips before you’d quickly change your face to the sour mood from before. 

“Aw… c'mon. We should enjoy our last night here.” He proposed as his hands slowly traveled down to the towel wrapped around your waist. “You’re not gonna let DeBeers ruin your last night?” You thought it over… we’re you really gonna let that bastard ruin this? No. No no the best revenge would be having a good night. You thought it over in your head. Before you felt a smirk tug on your lips. 

“Ok… fine.” You could see Scott’s eyes lit up. Before he could wrap the towel off you stopped his hands with a smile. “I have something I wanna try though.” You said as you let go of his wrists. “Trust me.”

It was a sight to see. After a decent bit of continuous, “you sure you’re ok?”’s and figuring out how to tie a proper knot you were sat on the motel bed. Cigarette in hand as you looked over your handy work with a proud feeling. 

“You know Scott, I didn’t think you could look better but… this suits you.” You took a slow drag from the cigarette and tilted your head up to blow the smoke out.

Scott Hall was already a physical specimen to gawk at. A man’s man. But you couldn’t deny how fucking hot it was to see him on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. Cock standing proud and tall. 

You tapped the last bit of ash off into the tray as you got up. Nicotine and anticipation causing your body to buzz. Humming to yourself as you began to look around in your suitcase. 

“The hell are you looking for now I thought we were all ready to go.” He said with a huff and you tsked.

“Your so impatient you know that?” You offered before coming back around with a smile. Camcorder held in your hand with a chuckle. “Say hi Scott…” you cooed as your hand went to hold his cheek for a moment before you pulled away again to place it on the nearby TV stand. “Don’t you think it’ll be nice to have something to remember me by?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Cmon Scott. You know you’re going big.” You said with an eye roll. The more you thought of it the more your stomach churned slightly. “Just… c'mon. Kept you waiting long enough Haven't I?” You asked with a smirk as your hand went back to your towel. Sliding it down just a bit before getting closer. “Don’t you wanna help me take it off?” You asked in a teasing tone before humming. The tent under the towel left little to the imagination. Yet once you pulled it off fully you sighed softly as your hand went to go your dick a few slow tentative pumps. You let out a small sigh as you did before you looked down to meet Scott’s gaze, eyes burrowing deep inside you in a way. You cooed softly. “Oh, I’m just being mean now, aren't I?” You moved closer, taking his hair in your hand as you rugged him close. “Cmon… suck me off. And make it good for the camera.” You barely finished your sentence before you felt his tongue darting to the underside of your shaft. You let out a quick huff as his lips wrapped around the head giving an experimental suck before going further down. 

You tilted your head back as you let out a throaty groan. “Oh, fuck Scotty. That’s it.” Your hands trailed to the back of his head to grab the dark curly locks. Pushing his head, a bit further down. As you felt him gag it sent a shiver up your spine before letting his head go to allow him to pull back.

“My bad Scotty.” You cooed as you went to gently twirl a strand of curls around your finger. “You’re just so good at what you do.” 

Your back arched slightly as you felt him pull back to graze his teeth gently over the underside of your cock. Fuck he knew how to push all your buttons. You pulled him off of your cock with a shaky breath as he went to chase after it for a moment. You looked down at him as your hand went to frantically pump at your cock. You weren’t ready yet. But it felt better to be prepared. “Where do you want it?” You asked with a pant and Scott smiled up at you.

“Down my throat.” He said in such a way and with such a smirk that had your eyes widening and you quickly going to thrust back into his mouth. He wanted it down his throat? You’d fucking give it to him down his throat. He met your enthusiasm with his own as he bobbed his head almost in a frantic nature around your cock. You back arched as you let out a shaky moan. It not taking much after that before you came hard down his throat. You were seeing stars practically out of the corner of your eyes. Head spinning. You nearly fell down sat for the solid support of Scott’s body. You used to keep you steady as you pulled out of his mouth. Shuddering as you looked to the string of cum and salvia connected you too. You reached down to tilt his head up. Smiling down at him as you quickly dipped down for a fervent kiss. One that had you digging your hands in his hair and ending up with the two of you as a heap on the floor… camera unable to catch the visual. However, the audio compartment captured the rest of an eventual night. To think you were in such a bad mood earlier…

You let out a shaky breath after what… your third? Fourth round? You had lost count. You laid on the floor next to Scott before your eyes widened. “Shit shit I’m sorry lets.” You stopped yourself as you sat up, helping Scott ease up as well from his laying position to a sitting one. You moved behind his back as you worked on untying the knots. You leaned your head his shoulder once you freed his hands. You reached your hands up to gently rub his shoulders. Your hands trailing down his arms to reach his wrists and gently rub irritated marks. “I wasn’t to rough right?” You asked in a concerned tone and Scott chuckled.

“I’m fine. I would’ve told you if I wasn’t.” 

You let out a small huff and placed a soft kiss against his neck. Enjoying the way you could feel the chuckle rise in his throat.

“Ok ok… c'mon. let’s get a shower Hm?” You went to get up. Helping ease Scott up as well before you looked to the camera. “Shit.” You rushed to the side to look it over. Ending the recording. “I hope I didn’t use up our last minutes. Dammit I-” you were cut off as you felt a soft kiss against your temple. 

“I’ll buy you another tape if you did. Relax.” Scott said with a warm tone that had you feeling at ease once again. 

“Ok.” You said with a smile as you set the camera down as you went to take Scott’s hand as you walked towards the shower. 

The residue from your previous shower was there as a reminder of how you were feeling earlier. But that didn’t matter now. You went to turn the shower on and looked at Scott with a smile as you pressed a small kiss on his arm. “You did great.” You whispered against his skin. Before leading him into the shower. The two of you stayed in there till the water started to run cold. Hands running across each other's skin to wipe away sweat and evidence of the night's activities. 

You laid in bed next to Scott. Hand running over the indent marks left on his wrists as you rested your head on his chest. They had calmed down a bit thanks to the shower, but it still bothered you.

“You sure it wasn't too much right?” You asked with concern, lacing your tone.

“Hey. I told you already. It’s fine. Stop worrying too much. You know what we do for work.” He said with a chuckle that had you rolling your eyes, however as his arm pulled away from your grasp and went to wrap around you instead. you couldn’t stay upset for too long. Scott just had that ability. Or maybe you were just stupid and in love. Who was to say. You curled closer against him as you trailed your hands down his chest. “Do you want me to get anything for you? I could run down to that store we saw?”

“I doubt it’d still be open.” 

“I’d brave the walk.” You offered with a hum and Scott smelt out a small chuckle. “How about you buy me breakfast in the morning. How does that sound?” 

You should’ve said yes immediately like a good boyfriend, but you thought it over. “If I got enough cash… bad match means bad pay.” You said with a frown as you reached over to your nearly crushed pack. This pack had practically lasted you nearly two trips. You lit the cigarette and took a small drag before holding it towards Scott who took it to take his own. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” You offered as you rested yourself against his shoulder once again. 

The silence that perpetrated the room besides singeing ash had become somewhat custom with the streak of bad matches you had been having. It wasn't a lack of passion. No, not at all. You’d give it your all, yet it felt every time something had gone wrong, a hit too hard, a count too quick. You furrowed your brows as you thought it over, “say. If I was a manager, could I manage you?” You offered as you tapped the butt against the ashtray. 

“You’re thinking about quitting?” Scott asked quickly. Quick enough that had you regretting even speaking.

“No no! I… I dunno.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t wanna leave the business. But I don’t know if in the ring is for me.” You laid back down. Staring at the ceiling, the occasional car driving by illuminating the room for only a moment to show a mirage of smoke. 

“I just think you should think it over more… you’re a talented wrestler.”

You were quiet. You felt a gentle touch on your hand that pulled it up towards Scott’s lips as he pressed a gentle kiss against the back of your hand. You squeezed Scott’s hand back. 

“I’ll think it over.” You whispered before going to turn on your side. Wrapping your arms around him. “Now get to bed.” You whispered against his skin. Though sleep didn’t come easy for either of you with the dread of the conversation just moments before.

#blowfly writes #awa x reader #American wrestling association x reader #scott hall x reader #scott hall x male reader #AWA x Male Reader #im really gay about scott hall can't you tell?

[gazellefamily]

BODY DOUBLE (1984) "I like DePalma. I do. But I'm not sure I get DePalma. These movies are supposed to be funny and not really make much sense, right? He's a demented Hitchcock cover band who doesn't think the whole story through (but makes it as beautiful as a DeBeers commercial). 27 minutes spent on wordlessly "following a person", and 1 minute spent on "getting cast in a porn movie". Imagine Jimmy Stewart fucking a replicant-haired dominatrix to Frankie Goes to Hollywood in front of a camera crew. Naw, for that we need a whooshed dork who is the weird merging of Bill Maher and Andrew McCarthy. MelG: never been a fan but now I see it's just bad hair timing... if DakoJo had been born sooner I'd feel the same way. This movie is where disco met New Wave, and where dog fangs and power drills met human flesh." -Sonny Gazelle

"DeP is a legend. I DEFINITIVELY get him, because he's basically like one of those sleaze ball Italian slasher guys like Fulci but with super elevated production values and access to A-List stars (though Craig Wasson is basically replacement level). He makes giallo in Hollywood blockbuster clothing, and is happily obsessed with his obsessions. Script? Man who cares. My man straight up wanted to cast porn star Annette Haven in this but the studio stepped in. When I watch DeP, I recognize a fellow creep who probably has a sketchbook full of drawings of girls with their tops ripped." -Tommy Gazelle

[langernameohnebedeutung]

Sorry to drop in unannounced. But this guy on the bus, he was so bald. I could almost see his brain. I had to take the edge off before things got weird, and you were closest.

#not to blame anyone here but. Ravi. bestie. You don't have to do this. He can walk let him walk. #giving him a brain is more than nice enough (plus it keeps him from mauling a guy on the bus) but after that? you can kick him out) #no wonder he keeps wandering in there. You keep feeding him like a stray cat. #izombie #Ravi Chakrabarti #Blaine DeBeers #fandom #lnob gifs #god this one was a pain to make. fucking picnic blanket and fucking credits #(Also I wanna joke about how the hell Blaine managed to go unmurdered his whole life. But he gets murdered on several occasions #in fact he's coming right back from being murdered)

[contac]

#sun glitter #silhouette #fuck debeers #blood diamonds #nice scene though #vhs #gif #1991

[fryologyy]

blaine debeers edit real.

#edits #not art #izombie #blaine debeers #izombie edit #doooont fucking worry theres also an angus one

[prismatica-the-strange]

I'm not crying at Blaine and Cori's wedding vows You Are

#Don't look at me! #I'm a mess #She loves him for every person who should have loved him that didn't #do you understand? #she's always loved him so much and so hard and he was so scared of it #because everyone around him made a point of telling them they hated him #he was ELEVEN when his dad admited he hated him #he beat him and made sure he knew #his nanny was abusive physically and mentally and his dad did nothing #his mom killed herself and left him alone with those people #he ONLY had cori and as soon as he could he went to her but he was so scared her love would end like everyone elses #but she kept loving him #he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop and he hurt her but she loved him anyway and she kept loving him #FUCK #bite me #blaine debeers #prisma rambles #prisma self ships #blaine mcdonough

[ahrenstripper]

I'm rewatching iZombie

RAVI. DOES. NOT. DESERVE. THE. SHIT. HES. PUT. THROUGH. IN. THIS. SHOW.

Like it breaks my heart. He's so innocent and pure and all this bullshit happens to him and it HURRTTTSSS

#iZombie #ravi chakrabarti #liv moore #peyton charles #blaine debeers #RAVI NEVER DESERVED ANY OF THIS #It fucking breaks my heart #drake holloway

[rubiatinctorum]

disappointing that looking up videos abt thrifting jewelry returns result after result of "here's what to buy and resell online!" when like. i think thrifting jewelry and what to look for is such a useful skill actually and gives a second (or longer) life to pieces made of resources that were already out of the earth potentially years ago instead of creating new demand for more to be pulled out, and is a more affordable way for one to have jewelry that will last them for years instead of the "trendy" tortoiseshell plastic stuff that's going to go thrown in the garbage in a month when it breaks or goes out of trend or is recalled for having cadmium in it but. sure susan tell me how to scalp prices on poshmark :/

#rubia speaks #jewelry #fashion #thrifting #dont get me wrong i love a good trip to the jewelry store #but i dont want to be creating demand for new mineral extraction and the associated labour all the time yknow #especially when perfectly good jewelry can have a second or longer life from being thrifted #and i think price-wise it is a lot more accessible to a lot more people #so you dont have to spend large amounts of money and you still have something better than painted over lead or smth to shove through #the holes in ur ears yknow #but instead of giving people advice on how to find good jewelry at a thrift store most results are just #'heres how to mark up prices on ebay!' which is. fucking terrible #'okay but rubia you could make the content yourself...' consider: i do not want to be a youtuber. #p.s. why buy new diamonds if u can get them from a thrift store or pawn shop <3 #im not even much of a diamond person but i do love finding earrings that wont make my ears blister (nickel allergy) secondhand #and it feels good knowing that the diamond companies like debeers are never going to see a single cent of it <3