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h0nkch0c0late · 8 months

Note

ahhh stop ur gen v fics are too good. Maybe could you write abt reader having some sort of like super scream powers and they’re dating Jordan

You're too nice, anon 😭😭🫶🫶 also when you said super scream powers I immediately thought of the girl from Danger Force so that's kinda funny.

Scream Queen

Jordan Lee x Reader

SUMMARY: you've always hated your powers. Sonic screaming to you wasn't as cool as being able to teleport or moving things with your mind. To Jordan, your powers were amazing.

WARNINGS: swearing, a very supportive gushy Jordan.

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You felt like out of everyone, your powers were the most boring.

Now, to the normal human eye, your powers were awesome as fuck. With just a scream you could knock someone against a wall or paralyze people by making their eardrums bleed.

Jordan, although not a normal human being, absolutely adored your powers. It was one of the many things that made you unique. Not to mention it was fun watching you throw Rufus around when duelling for one of your classes.

The only problem was that your powers absolutely fucked with your throat afterwards and you would go hours without talking just to make yourself feel better, that or Jordan would stick you in their bed and make you lay there so they could take care of you.

And today was one of those days.

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"Jordan, babe, really I'm fine." You tell her, voice scratchy, trying to lift yourself from her bed.

She gave you a knowing look before pushing you back down, "you are definitely not fine, I can hear it. Now just lay there and wait." They demanded.

You sighed before clearing your throat, flinching at the pain that shot through your body at the action.

"Where the fuck are you gonna get the tea anyway?" You ask, regretting your choice of speaking as your throat felt like sandpaper.

Jordan smirks, "I have my ways. Now just lay there, do not move or speak while I go grab it." They retorted before rushing out of their dorm door.

You huffed, crossing your arms as you waited.

And while you waited, you thought about the events that had lead you to that moment.

Rufus had been his usual, creepy dickish self, and had chosen you as the main target that day.

Unfortunately for you, Jordan wasn't at your side to save you, so you had to save yourself.

So, as Rufus continually tried to get into your pants (more so you into his), saying things such as "I'm much better than Jordan" and comments about how his dick was bigger and better, you had just about enough.

Turning to him, and screaming as loud as you could, sending waves at the boy so loud that it had began to make his eardrums bleed. He had fallen to the ground paralyzed, his eyes frozen wide.

You smirked at him being defenseless as you rubbed your now-sore throat, just in time for Jordan to find you, ans that's how you ended up in his room for the millionth time.

They were fine with taking care of you, after all it was part of the job description of being your partner, and all.

In fact they absolutely loved it, because it meant that they're attention was on you and only you. And she loved those moments where it was just the two of you.

------------------------------------

Jordan came back shortly with a mug of tea in her hand, sweetened with mostly honey to the point where you couldn't tell what flavour the tea was.

Your favourite.

It also meant endless Jordan snuggles so you weren't much of a complainer when it came to that.

It was the fact that you constantly needed care. Yes, it was only a sore throat, but Jordan continuously refused to tell you what her sore throat remedy was BECAUSE she wanted to take care of you.

"Be careful, it's hot." They warned as they handed you the mug, then climbed into the bed with you.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm careful." You reply hoarsly before taking a sip of the drink, enjoying the feeling of the tea going down.

Jordan turned their body towards you, wrapping one arm around your torso and the other to entangle their fingers in your hair, kissing your shoulder as they snuggled close to you.

"You're too nice to me." You tell them as you take another sip of your tea, one of your fingers circling the rim of the cup as an unconscious fidget.

"Please, im the perfect amount of nice. You're just not used to this much attention, which I get." She noted, resting her head on your shoulder.

You rested the mug against your legs as you leaned your head against their's.

Jordan was right, you weren't used to all the attention.

Your parents had always been distant with you, making your nanny or a made take care of you whenever you got sick or when you used your powers because they were too busy living their own lives to take care of you.

And even then, those who did take care of you were absolutely terrified of you and your powers.

So when you had met Jordan, and first got into the relationship, the immediate switch of having no one to having someone was a big step.

"I love you, Jordan." You said after a moment of comfortable silence, your cup of tea half finished as you put it on your bedside table.

"I love you too." They replied, pulling you closer to them as you wrapped your arms around their waist.

Even during the times you hated your powers, Jordan somehow managed to make you love them.

-------------------------------------------------------

BOO another Jordan fic for you thirsty gentlebitches <3

#x reader #imagine #jordan li x reader #jordan li #gen v fanfiction #gen v

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ivestas · 1 year

Note

Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant.

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group.

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you.

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.”

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!”

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally.

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease.

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?”

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that.

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission.

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc.

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm.

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds.

So you just did that: focus on them.

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough.

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms.

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”

You did just that—retreat.

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more.

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz.

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding.

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn.

You lifted the arm, examining the wound.

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise.

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications.

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together.

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view.

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?”

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face.

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak!

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly.

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.”

You expected—wanted—him to berate you.

But he didn’t. He was kind.

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.”

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood.

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost.

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?”

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly.

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.”

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!”

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.”

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.”

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed.

“Gimme your arm, kid.”

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.”

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly.

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar.

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand.

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly.

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded.

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy.

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...”

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?”

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.”

You laughed.

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?”

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you.

They really care.

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.”

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #tw s/elf harm #idk if its an unpopular opinion to assume ghost has some variation of depression #but its a personal headcanon!#john mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader

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alexfromjersey · 10 months

Text

A SCHOOL TAINTED WITH BULLET HOLES

Vada Cavell x G!P OC

Word Count: 2.0k

warnings: school shooting, mature language, gun violence

A/N: I’m trying to write as much as possible before I visit my dad for three weeks so pray that I can at least finish half this book and at least three chapters for my other book.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

Poke. Poke. Poke.

You were being awoken by the feeling of someone poking you in your side, face, and thigh. You peel one eye open and are met with wide eyes and yellow rotten teeth. You jump fully awake, frightened, and scoot to your wall.

The sickly-looking man let out a laugh at your reaction, “Oops didn’t mean to scare ya.” The man was wearing nothing a dirty stained white t-shirt, no bottoms on.

“Rip! I told you, this room is off limits” The familiar voice of your mother enters your room. She was in a red silky robe that was loosely tied and her hair was disheveled.

“My bad. I was just trying to look for the bathroom” Rip snorted and moved away from you.

“Last door on the right” Your mom answered.

Rip nodded and turned back to you. “Sorry kid” He shrugged and left your room.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Your mother comes to stand in front of you.

“I’m sorry baby but I told you to always make sure your door is locked every night so things like this can never happen” She spoke softly. She tries to push some hair out your face but you flinch away from her. A hurt look appears on her face.

“Get ready for school or you’re going to be late” She sniffled and left your room.

You sat on your bed for a good extra five minutes before getting yourself ready for the day. You got dressed in a black pullover hoodie, black t-shirt, faded blue jean shorts, and beat-up black and white Cortez. You grab your bag, skateboard, and essentials before leaving your room. You make sure to lock your room up before heading downstairs. Thankfully, Rip was still in the bathroom so you didn’t have to see him in the kitchen. You brushed your teeth and washed your face in the kitchen sink.

After you finished, you leave your house without a goodbye from your mother. As usual, you’re met with the sight of your two friends, Quinton and Devyn Hasland.

“Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken from her slumber” Devyn joked in a broken English accent.

A smile appeared on your face and you dap the brothers up. The three of you start your journey to school.

“You know Principal Adams is coming for you for missing like a whole week of school. He’s been hounding me and Q for the last week about your whereabouts” Devyn said.

“I don’t care. School is a fucking joke” You shrugged.

“School helps you get a job” Quinton commented.

“No, school helps you become a dumbass corporate zombie. It doesn’t teach you any life skills. Not how to do taxes. Not how to save money to get a house or car. Or basic life shit that you need to survive. How is a2 + b2 = c2 gonna help me in life? When am I gonna need to know that shit? Fuck school til the day I die” You smiled and stuck your middle finger up.

The three of you continue your journey to school. As you approach the school, you see a rail that you always practice on.

"Watch this" You smirked and throw your board down.

"Nice" The brothers compliment as you skate back towards them. You felt a pair of eyes on you so you turned around and they lock on to dark brown ones.

Vada Cavell.

You knew her from your Chemistry class with Mrs. Victor. The two of you never spoke but always catch each other staring. Quinton and Devyn follow your eyeline.

“Oh my god, I wish you would just let your balls drop and go talk to her. The longing gaze from across the room is so Twilight” Devyn groaned.

You pull your eyes away from her, “You watched Twilight?”

“I only watched it with Jazmine” Devyn defended.

“Lie. Mom and Pops caught you last week, without Jazmine, watching it in the basement. According to Mom, you look very engrossed in it” Quinton laughed.

“There was nothing else on TV” Devyn sighed.

You and Quinton let out a laugh as the three of you walk inside the school. The brothers make their way to their lockers while you head to breakfast. You were starving and didn’t realize it until you got inside the building. By the grace of God, you managed to get to the café before they closed.

You grab your food and head to pay for it. But when you pulled your wallet out, you realized a $5 bill you had was missing. You sighed out in frustration.

“Fucking dickhead” You mumbled. You put the food back and turned around but you ran into someone.

“Miss Vaughn, nice to know you’re alive and well. Follow me” Principal Adams demanded.

You sigh and begin to follow the principal to his office. But another body runs into you.

I can’t catch a break today.

“Sorry,” A sweet voice apologized. You looked down and saw Vada. You open your mouth to respond but Adams interrupts you.

“Ms. Cavell the bell is about to ring. Head to class now” Adams ordered.

“Sir yes sir” Vada mocked and saluted him before turning on her heels, and walking to class. You chuckled lightly and continued following Adams.

The two of you made it to his office which smelled like straight black coffee and boiled eggs. You already knew what the talk was going to be about so you just relaxed in the chair.

“Jordan Vaughn…failing every single one of your classes and racking up a whopping 37 days absent. It’s not even spring break yet” Adams read from your file.

You grab a red and black sharpie off his desk.

“What is your goal Jordan? What is it that you wanna do with your life?” Adams asked.

You continue to draw all over the underside of your board, not even paying attention to the man in front of you.

Principal Adams sighed, “Miss Vaughn.”

At the call of your name, you look up at him, "Hm?”

“Listen I get it, school sucks and you don’t have a care in the world about your diploma. But you know who does... the world out there. Jobs won't even give you a second thought if you don't graduate. You need to start taking this seriously or you will be left behind while everyone around you is making it" Adams lectured.

"My goal is to become a pro skateboarder, last time I checked you don't need a diploma for it"' You shrugged.

"But you need money. You need money for the fees. You need money for sponsors. What if your board breaks? A diploma leads to jobs that lead to money which can help you become a pro skater.” Adams explained.

He had a point but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of being right. Adams grabbed a pamphlet labeled, Summer School.

“You complete this program for one month this summer, you’ll be graduating with your friends next year,” Adams said and slid it toward you.

You reluctantly take it and leave the office before he could say another word.

The hallways were now empty due to everyone being in class now. You walk to your locker and open it. You are stunned to see an apple juice, strawberry Pop Tart, and an orange inside.

“What the fuck?” You questioned. You remembered putting this stuff back. You looked down the halls and saw you were alone. You shrugged and started chowing down on the food. After you finished you placed your board and the pamphlet inside.

SMACK!

You jumped at the noise beside you. It was then followed by laughter.

“I hate the both of you” You mumbled, mouth full of food as you looked at Quinton and Devyn. “Aren’t you two supposed to be in class?”

“Yeah, but Q saw you with Principal Adams so he texted me to come and wait for you in the hall. Why are you inhaling your food in front of your locker?” Devyn questioned.

“I was hungry. But I didn’t buy this though. It was in my locker when I opened it” You answered.

“Oh, food from Mother Theresa. I need one of those. Tell her to bring me some Burger King” Devyn joked. You rolled your eyes at the boy.

“Boys and Miss Vaughn, the three of you need to get to class before I-”

A loud bang is suddenly heard. Everything starts to go in slow motion for you as you see blood splatter against the school walls. Two more bangs are heard and a girl lets out a blood-curdling scream.

More bangs are heard, now in rapid succession. You barely process the fact Devyn is now on the ground in a pool of his own blood. You look up to see a kid from one of your classes standing there emotionless with an automatic rifle pointed toward Quinton.

“DEVYN!” You hear Quinton scream. It brought you back to reality as you looked down and saw Quinton holding his brother’s body getting blood on himself.

“Quinton! We have to go! Come on Quinton!” You shout as you pull him away from Devyn’s lifeless body. You push him to run down the hall. Another gunshot rings through the hall and you feel a searing pain in your hip area. You push through the pain, you quickly open the door to the girl’s bathroom and push Quinton inside before locking the door behind you. The two of you cram into a stall out of breath. Sweat was dripping down your face and tears were falling freely down Quinton’s.

Suddenly, the sound of metal hitting the floor made the both of you freeze.

“Who’s in there?” Quinton questioned.

No response.

“We’re not the shooter. It’s Matt Corgan, we saw him” Quinton added. As your adrenaline begins to fade, the pain comes back in full force.

More rapid gunfire outside the door makes everyone clench in fear.

“Do you know where he is now?” A fragile voice asked. You can hear another girl’s quiet cries in the stall next to you. But you were too focused on the pain.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, my brother” Quinton cried. Tears start to gather in your eyes from the pain and the current predicament.

“Come, come under” The girl ushered. You let Quinton crawl under first. You bend down to follow but a torturous pain shoots through your body.

“Ahh” You cried out. You lift up your hoodie and shirt to see a gaping wound pouring out blood.

“Jordan? What happened, you okay?” Quinton questioned.

You start to feel lightheaded and the world starts to spin and before you know it, you fall onto the tile floor with a loud thud. Quinton quickly unlocks the stall door to see you trying to keep your eyes open.

“No, no, no, no Jordan” Quinton cried and bent down to the floor. He lifted your tops and saw the wound.

“Shit, help me please” Quinton called out to the two girls. His voice was quiet enough for only the people in the bathroom to hear. He puts pressure on your wound which makes you groan and squirm. The two girls exit the stall but retreat when they see you on the ground.

“Please help me,” Quinton sobbed. The blonde-haired girl runs and grabs as many paper towels as she could. She hands some to Quinton and they put pressure on your wound to stop the bleeding.

“Hang on, Jordan” Quinton cried.

Meanwhile, your eyes start to flutter close but a warm soft hand brings you back.

“Hey, you have to keep your eyes open. Don’t close them. Don’t close your eyes” Vada’s voice echoes throughout your head.

Her eyes were bloodshot red and puffy with more tears falling freely down her face. She squeezes your hand tight to keep you from closing your eyes. The sound of police sirens and heavy footsteps can be heard.

“Oh thank God,” Quinton said.

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open but they were getting extremely difficult. They were getting heavier and heavier until your eyes closed and your hand went limp in Vada’s.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x oc #jenna marie ortega #g!p reader #jenna ortega #the fallout #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader

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moonlit-imagines · 5 months

Text

Headcanons for being Scott and Hope’s child (Hank Jr. Edition)

Scott Lang/Hope van Dyne x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Scott and Hope have a baby girl (reader). And everything seems to be fine, but somewhere from the age of five, it becomes clear that the reader is a complete copy of her grandfather Hank Pym, that is: she is incredibly smart, she loves ants (she can talk about them for hours), she also has problems controlling anger (she hit a guy in the face at school for saying that ant-man sucks), thinks that there is no one smarter than her and her grandfather, and she also transferred his sarcastic communication style and views on things and people around, for example, when she first met Tony, she said: "You can never trust Stark."”

somewhere in the distant future a special kid was born

and that special kid had special parents and special grandparents

and those parents and grandparents were two generations of superheroes who saved countless lives (and, well, the world)

so it was no surprise to them that this next generation would be just as intelligent and caring as the ones before them

*cue a toddler with crayons in class*

“and then my grandpa asked the ants nicely to fly him to a bunch of different places and do all these cool things like move stuff around and like do other stuff” -you rambling on

“do you like anything besides ants?” -your teacher

“no” -you, continuing to draw ants on your paper

hank and janet were quite proud grandparents

and scott and hope, your wonderful amazing parents…couldn’t get enough of it

“honey, what about wasps? wasps are cool, right?” -hope

“no” -you

“she’s spending too much time with my dad” -hope

“well, he’s the only babysitter we’ve got since cassie got that new job” -scott

“oh, you mean our old job? yeah, miss those days where we could go flying around getting into trouble and beating people up” -hope

“well, you promised we’d retire so y/n wouldn’t end up with a childhood like yours” -scott

“y/n’s gonna want to be a superhero when they get older, arent they?” -hope

“let’s not think too far ahead. it might kill me” -scott

scott reads you his biography every night before bed

and you always giggle at the parts where your mom and grandpa bully him

“hey, not funny!” -scott

“so funny” -you

“dont get any ideas” -scott

“daddy, are you gonna get arrested again?” -you

“if i do it’ll be grandpa hank’s fault” -scott

you continued spending time with grandpa hank and grandma janet

and they spoiled the crap out of you

hank…got you an ant farm

“now you’re just being ridiculous, hank” -janet

“what? i’m just having some bonding time with my grandchild! hope never wanted anything to do with me growing up” -hank

once you started getting older, you wanted to hang out in grandpa’s lab allll the time. day and night

your parents hated it

“hey, think this one will suck us all into the quantum realm?” -scott

“it was one time!” -cassie

cassie was at hank and janet’s a lot, too, actually. they always wanted to help her with her suits and gadgets and all that

and make sure she had plenty of pym particles

“you have enough, right? here, take some more, i have plenty” -hank

“grandpa, please, i have more than enough, thank you” -cassie

“can i have some pym particles?” -you

“we can play with them in the backyard next time youre over” -hank

you draw new suit designs for cassie all the time

some of them she actually incorporates into her suits

and as you get older, you try to start designing more tech for her

“y/n is really scaring me” -hope

“why?” -scott

“just watch her and my parents together…they’re the same” -hope

“dear god, what have we done” -scott

“dad, look at this new pym particle powered weapon, i just finished the prototype!” -you

“okay, now i’m mad because where was this when i needed it!” -scott

“fifteen to twenty years too late” -hope

“we should have gotten together sooner” -scott

“i disagree” -hope

“wow, not even a pity agreement” -scott

asking your parents if they’ll get back into crime fighting

they said no

asking if you can get into crime fighting

they said no again

so you just kinda stockpiled all your ideas

and did everything you could to further your grandpa’s work

and help your sister

and keep your parents’ minds at ease (doesn’t really work)

and maybe one day you’ll be able to ride those ants and kick some ass like you always dreamed

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

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mlmxreader · 6 months

Text

Securing Reservations | Billy Butcher x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ heyyy bud, is me Aldo on a brand new blog and I have a request :]

If you could write the prompt "Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now you fucking stupid bastard! You fucking bastard!" Whit Billy Butcher from the boys and an m!reader I would absolutely adore that!

Like maybe getting kicked out of a restaurant somehow or just him arguing whit somebody about restaurant reservations, also some soothing from the reader afterwards, anything unhinged and possibly gore-y is welcomed :]

Have a nice night too! - @slutordo ❞

: ̗̀➛ getting reservations for swank restaurants is a ball ache, but when it comes to you, Butcher is at least willing to try... however that looks.

: ̗̀➛ eyeball gore, gore, fighting, swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You and Billy had decided a while ago that Sundays would be your date nights, as usually, there wasn’t much going on those days and it tended to be a lot quieter than normal; you both took turns planning where you would go and when, and while his ideas were often relatively small and intimate, yours weren’t exactly huge and extravagant either.

The biggest thing that the two of you ever did for date night was when you had had the idea of going into the city centre to check out the holiday markets that were littered along the high street; stalls adorned with various cheeses and chocolates and beers, clothing and jewellery, different little trinkets as well as every form of media from old school vinyls to blu-ray DVDs.

Billy wasn’t huge on the big and flashy, the lavish and luxurious; a pint down the pub and a takeaway chip shop meal would do just fine and he could grin and brag about it for the next week.

Yet, he knew that you deserved better than that; he scrimped and saved and skimped whatever he could, knowing that you deserved better than a pint down the pub and some shit Chinese takeaway.

He was trying his best, for fuck’s sake.

It was Saturday night, when Billy found a fancy restaurant that was taking cash reservations, but there were only a select few left, and the queue consisted of him and some fucking Vought cunt who proudly wore the company’s name on his briefcase beside his full name - Sean Patrick Bale; Billy clenched his jaw, eyeing him up.

He was muscular in build, but the type of muscle that was lended more to starvation and constant exercise rather than actual strength; neatly styled dark brown hair that came down to his white shirt collar; hazel eyes that were full of malice and contempt.

He wore a long black coat that went down to his calves, designer black shoes, designer black blazer, designer black trousers. Designer white shirt. Designer red tie with a subtle white pattern.

Billy knew the type, shallow and all shout flaunting Daddy’s money; he knew the type, middle class White men from suburbia who got into the big business because Daddy got him a high position job.

The type of cunt who went to that type of restaurant frequently; clearing his throat, Billy dared to approach, tapping him on the shoulder as he smiled falsely.

“Sean!” He hoped he sounded friendly enough as he leaned back slightly. “What are you doing here?”

Sean looked disgusted, sneering at Billy as he scoffed. “Who are you?”

Billy grinned, licking his lips. “Y’know, Donald! From accounting!”

Sean rolled his eyes, he never much cared about those on the floors beneath his office, so he sighed, and upon realising there were other people around, forced himself to smile. “Right! How could I ever forget! I’m so sorry, Donald! What are you doing here?”

Gotcha. Billy did his best not to laugh as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, smiling. “Well, I was just gonna book a reservation for me and my… partner.”

Don’t be too obvious, Butcher. He knew what Sean was like, the contempt held for anyone different. He had to watch his fucking mouth, but Sean merely shrugged as he nodded slowly.

“What a coincidence,” Sean hummed. “So am I.”

“Tell you what,” Billy hummed, taking a quick look around. “Why don’t we got a smoke, eh? Only us two here, anyway.”

Sean was apprehensive, but shrugged as he followed Billy into the alleyway; the fucking cunt kept muttering under his breath about how much he hated to spend time with underlings, and once the two were well out of earshot and eyesight, Sean sneered at Billy once again.

“Look, man, I’m not in any position to fucking promote scum like you,” he started, “and I’m certainly not going to fucking promote someone who dresses like he hasn’t seen an iron in years… do you even summer outside of the State? No. You’re just a-”

Billy didn’t hesitate, grabbing the back of Sean’s head and slamming it against the nearest wall; the bloody imprint stayed there as Billy dragged Sean’s face up and down the harsh bricks, slowly grating away the sloughing skin right down to the muscle.

But Billy wasn’t done, putting Sean on the floor and straddling his waist; he brought his fist up, slamming it down against his face again and again and again until he could hear the crunch of teeth falling from gums. The grinding of bone.

But the cunt was still breathing, so Billy pulled the knife from his back pocket, and shoved the blade into Sean’s eye; he could feel it pop as it deflated upon the blade, blood and fluid spurting as he dragged the knife out before slamming it into the other eye. He grinned as the blood spat upon his face.

“Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now you fucking stupid bastard!” Billy howled, plunging the knife into Sean’s throat and dragging it down to his sternum. “You fucking bastard!”

Panting heavily, Billy got up, and wiped the blood from his face on the back of his leather jacket before he went back to the restaurant; the only one in the queue, he managed to get the very last one available, and relief crashed over him like wildfire as he smiled calmly.

He checked his phone, and nearly grinned when he realised that he had a text from you asking to meet at the end of the street; a slight skip in his step, he was surprised when you prevented him from hugging you, tilting his head and furrowing his brows.

“What’d I do?”

You gestured to the wet patch on his leather jacket, daring to smile a little. “Care to explain?”

Billy shrugged, lighting up a cigarette and offering one to you. “Nothin’ really, just some cunt from Vought got in me way.”

“Billy,” you gently took his hand, examining his knuckles. “Look at your hand, love.”

He did as told, his gaze dropping to his knuckles for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak; but he knew that you were already a step ahead, as usual and as always, so he just raised his brow slightly, and frowned. “What?”

“I appreciate what you did,” you said soothingly, shaking your head before pressing a kiss to his bloodied and bruised knuckles. “But you don’t have to get violent, y’know. I would’ve been okay to have gone anywhere else.”

Billy scoffed, taking a step back as he lit up the two cigarettes. “Would you, though?”

You nodded, taking a long drag as you hummed. “Bills, as long as I’m with you, I’m happy to be and do whatever the fuck. I do not give a pig’s tit, as long as I’m with you.”

“I got the reservation.”

You grinned, doing your best not to laugh as you shook your head so fondly. “Fuck’s sake… you’re a nightmare, y’know, my favourite fucking nightmare.”

At that, Billy grinned. He knew that he had done right by you, and if he was honest?

The fight had taken a lot of the frustrations of the week from him as well; he was just about ready to take you home, to spend the night doing whatever you liked, and then getting to bed quite early.

He wasn’t so tense about everything, and he wasn’t so on edge either. But then he looked into your eyes, and even more of that tension dropped as he gently reached for your hand and held it rather tightly; not enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough that you would know he was actually listening, and that he did actually want you to open your mouth.

“You’re too good for me,” he told you. “Y’know that, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes at the remark. “Billy. I’m your boyfriend. As far as I’m concerned? We’re good enough for each other as long as we’re happy.”

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changeling-fae · 6 months

Note

1, 14, & 21 (not Nemo, haha!) for the Dark Urge askmeme! also any other numbers you desperately want an excuse to share ^^

I’ll post for both my Durge’s, Nym and Casira.

And also I apologize for its length. It’s a chonker.

Nym:

1. What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their class/subclass?

Nym’s an abyssal tiefling (granddaughter to Graz’zt) and her bio-father (not Bhaal) was a divine soul sorcerer to Eilistraee, so normally she’d be a a divine soul sorcerer but I have her as a wild magic sorcerer because her abyssal blood and her spark of divinity doesn’t play nice with each other. It’s a constant war inside of her.

She’s a bhaalspawn because her abyssal cambion mother basically at one point had sex with a bhaalspawn, and I headcanon that succubi/incubi steal the essence of people they sleep with and their bodies then corrupt it with whoever they knock up/get knocked up by. I know technically cambions aren’t succubi/incubi but being the daughter of Graz’zt, I’m giving her some leeway. So she stole the sperm/essence of a bhaalspawn and for funsies, mixed it in with the child of the divine soul sorcerer man she was currently tricking/banging. So Nym has three parentages technically.

But yeah, she’s mechanically a wild magic sorcerer because her particular concoction of existence doesn’t play nice with each other.

She’s multiclass bard because she loves music and her day job when not doing stuff with the cult (which she was already trying to pull away from) is entertainment. Only time she ever feels at peace.

14. How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

Nym is an excellent liar and feels nothing when she does it. She’s not a habitual liar, she only does it when she feels she needs to to protect herself, but she has no qualms about doing so. I think if she has to do it around someone she cares about, is the only time she feels some guilt. Or at least, discomfort.

21. What are 2-3 songs that your Durge would relate to?

Paint It, Black by Ciara - Nym feels so much darkness and bitterness and she doesn’t want to.

Big God by Florence and the Machine - Definitely one of her main songs, not just for lyrics but the dancing in the music video. She secretly worships Eilistraee as her father did but she’s so conflicted and desperate for some form of salvation but also laments and despairs against the gods.

Death Wish by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - My girl has got bad depression and she’s definitely the girl in this song’s scenario. The lines “Who’s gonna save you, who’s left to pray to? What’s the difference in a breakdown and a breakthrough?” fits her like a glove.

Bonus question for her:

2. Did your Durge have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how did they feel about being single?

Ok so Nym has a very complicated and messy relationship to both sex and romance. She’s had a few romantic partners, whom she usually breaks up with because she feels she’s a danger to them and/or she feels they deserve someone without her baggage.

She was in a relationship with one of my Tav’s, Cillian Baker, and he was her last serious romantic relationship before she broke up with him.

She’s rather hyper-sexual but uses it as way of self-harm tbh. She’s a CSA survivor and her relationship with sex is rather unhealthy. She likes sex in the moment but afterward deals with extreme self-loathing. She also tends to choose dangerous or questionable men for ONS because sometimes she wants an excuse to murder someone, always a toss-up.

Right before the game, going on for several months, she actually had a relationship with Raphael at the Devil’s Den. It wasn’t sexual or romantic; she originally came to his presence because a woman she was close to and had feelings for liked to party (using it as a coping method herself) and they ended up in the DD.

Nym clocked him for a devil right away and he knew she was Durge and found her a novelty/would be a yummy soul but more an idle interest. She was worried her friend would get in trouble around him (I’m picturing him catering intimate sinful little parties for him to find souls in).

They slowly danced around each other over the course of months, and came to play lanceboard as a regular occurrence. Eventually her friend basically met someone and got clean and while Nym was happy for her, she’s just so damn lonely. I’ll probably post a separate post on her and Raphael’s relationship because it’s long but basically she comes back to the DD and resumes their game nights.

He finds her amusing and they have a weirdass connection that can’t quite be described. At some point they do get into a tiff, she got too close to his little spark of humanity on accident and it made him lash out.

She doesn’t show up for a number of weeks and he doesn’t think much of it and then oh, would you look at that, she’s one of the abducted and has some memory loss. That’s when his interest spikes immensely and then the ingame stuff. She feels a connection to him but doesn’t know why and it pisses her off, lol.

Ok, now onto my second Durge:

Casira:

1. What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their class/subclass?

Casira is a cleric of Selûne (light domain). How that happened is basically, the Bhaal cultists used the corpse of an aasimar of Selûne (one of Aylin’s sisters) in a profane ritual that used Bhaal’s blood to fill the empty vessel. Created a baby bhaalspawn but that tiny spark of Selûne remained.

She grew up conflicted, raised in the cult but never feeling right. Selûne tried to reach her a few times in her life but it was too dangerous/Sceleritas Fel was always watching and it put Casira in danger.

Her cleric powers really only came forward once Casira was abducted and no memory because Selûne took that as her chance to influence her.

14. How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

Not that good, tbh. She’s fairly honest and upfront if you ask her questions. She finds lying difficult to understand and doesn’t like doing it. It gets her into a lot of trouble.

21. What are 2-3 songs that your Durge would relate to?

Eva by Nightwish - Definitely her in both lyrics and vibes.

The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives - “I shine only with the light you gave me” is very her.

Fake Wings by Kajiura Yuki - The solemn/melancholy tone fits her.

Bonus question for her:

25. How does your Durge feel about Sceleritas Fel?

Terrified. Even without the memory loss, she was terrified of him. He was put in her life because he/Bhaal could sense Selûne on the sidelines. If she didn’t do the murders and rituals enough times or ever showed reluctance, she was severely punished and Bhaal would overtake her body and control her (where the really nasty Durge lines happen, like necrophilia, etc). So she learned that to keep her body in her control, she had to do the serial killing.

His “naughty naughty” was usually a precursor to her punishments so when she got that dream in the third act she was so terrified of falling asleep for weeks.

#bg3 #bg3 durge #ask meme #csa mention #nym is honestly like if laura palmer from twin peaks were in bg3 #oc: nym the drow'ri #oc: nym the abyssal tiefling #oc: casira #bg3 raphael

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peqchsoup · 2 years

Text

Sing To Me

This is part 2 to this request!

Tangerine x reader

CW: death, mentions of death, lots of blood, guns/gunshots, smut. Smut. SMUT.

Reader isn’t explicitly male or female. I refuse to use y/n

Enjoy!!

Prompt #37: "Because the little hums you make against my ear to send me to sleep also send warmth down my body."

This job did not go to plan at all.

How the hell did 8 assassins manage to board the same train, the majority of them after the same thing?

You knew Lemon and Tangerine were on a job, they had just saved the White Death's son from a gang and had to deliver him to his father with a case of ransom money. You had met the Twins on the train to give them a hand. You were one of the sleekest assassins in the business. Very observant but very subtle in what you did. If your gun didn't have a silencer, you didn't want it.

You ran into some guy wearing black glasses and a bucket hat. He wanted the money for God knows what. You only assumed he was doing a grab and run job because he kept mumbling about how he hated someone called 'Carter'. He wouldn't be a threat.

Then, when the case went missing and you went to search for it, you found two dead bodies in the first class bar. One of who was The Wolf, an assassin from Mexico, and the other was the Hornet who was killed by her own poison. You then realised it was the poison used to kill the son because, when you returned to your seat, the son was bleeding from his eyes and lying limp. Neither of those were a threat for obvious reasons.

What really confused you was when you caught a glimpse of a gun handle in a girl's backpack on the floor as you stalked past her. She was a potential threat.

And then there was a Japanese guy who was nearly shot dead and his lifeless body had been shoved inside a train toilet, probably not a threat, with Lemon.

Lemon.

You nearly had a heart attack yourself when you and Tangerine found him. That bloody bulletproof vest saved his life. When Tangerine had asked if he still had it, Lemon claimed it gave a false sense of security, what if he got shot in the neck? Well, he wasn't. He was shot in the chest and it saved his life. He must have been knocked unconscious by hitting his head when he fell to the ground. That was by the by.

You could see him breathing, but checked his pulse just to make sure,

"Nice and strong. He's gonna be fine."

After finding Lemon, you pushed forward with Tangerine to the Momomon car to try and find who was behind this whole mess. When you got there, the girl with the gun from earlier. Her eyes went wide and she held her hands up at the sight of Tangerine's gun.

"Oi. You. I know you." You called out and the penny dropped for Tangerine. "You're that girl, aren't ya?" You looked to Tangerine and then back to the girl, "Yeah, I never forget a face, me."

The girl started blubbering and batting her eyelashes as if she started to cry.

"I'm so happy to see you. Please help me! There's this man, and he was holding me hostage. He was wearing glasses and he killed my uncle. And he also killed this other man who, I don't know, he just kept talking about, uh, uh, t-Thomas the trains and-"

"Tank Engine." You and Tangerine said in unison.

"Uh, yeah, right. Exactly. But he killed both of them, and then he said he was going to get away with some sort of money. I don't know."

Tangerine scratched his forehead,

"I'm sorry, darling. I-I beg your pardon. I don't know who the fuck you are."

"I'm just a girl who was supposed to get off at Nagoya, and then this man, he-"

"That was fucking ages ago!"

You zoned out from their back and forth and their bickering. You didn't feel right about this one bit. She was bullshitting him, you knew it. You slowly reached for the gun you placed in the waist of your pants at your back, hiding it behind Tangerine so the girl wouldn't clock on to what you were doing.

"Get off or do what the fuck you like. You're free to go."

Was what Tangerine said when you tuned back in to the conversation. The girl started thanking him, maybe you were wrong. You watched her turn around and clocked something on her back. It was the Diesel sticker. Tangerine peeled it off,

"Diesel. The absolute fucking worst. Little shit-stirrer." His breathing became heavier as he realised this was the person that tried to kill his brother.

You looked at the sticker and back at the girl,

"Lemon was right. There's been a Diesel running up and down this train, causing all sorts of fucking havoc. And it was you the whole fucking time, you dirty little diesel!"

Tangerine lifted his gun and pointed it at the girl,

"You made Lemon bleed. And Lemon never bleeds."

You heard the door to the car slide open behind you and, low and behold, it was glasses coming in with the worst timing ever. The girls eyes widened,

"Oh, my God, mister! Please! Please help me!"

"You little shit!"

Glasses pushed past you to get to Tangerine so he could wrestle the gun away from him. You were knocked on a seat and in the wrestling, a gun shot blasted through to create silence.

Glasses and the girl checked themselves, but they were both still standing. Your head whipped left and you could see Tangerine clutching his neck. You bolted over to him and ripped off your jacket, pushing it against the wound enough to stop the blood from spurting out. You took your belt off to create a make-shift bandage and wrapped it around Tangerine's neck and over the jacket, tight enough to push the jacket against the wound to halt the bleeding, but not so tight that it was hurting Tangerine.

"You dirty little bitch!"

Without any thought, you sent three bullets flying into the girl's abdomen, taking her out pretty much straight away. Glasses stepped forward,

"What the fuck?!"

"She's the one behind all this, you fucking moron!"

"Oh, fuck."

"Yeah. Fuck. Fuck indeed!"

"Look, I'm sorry, man. She was a young girl of course I thought she was innocent."

"I don't fucking care, whatever, she's dead. That's holding enough pressure against his wound for now. I need you to come with me to see if Lemon is awake. Am I fuck leaving you with Tangerine."

"I don't even have a gun!"

"I don't care. Walk. Now"

You went off to find Lemon with Glasses. He was just about coming to in the bathroom when you returned.

"Lemon, thank God! We're getting off this fucking train at the next stop."

"Are we at Kyoto already."

"No, we're getting off early. I don't give a fuck what the White Death does, but Tangerine's injured and we need to get him to a hospital. So, come on, up and at 'em big boy."

"What happened to Tangerine?"

"I'll catch you up later. We need to get moving."

"Why is Glasses here?"

"You've met him?"

"Yeah, had a fight. Right arsehole."

Glasses scoffed, "I'm standing right here!"

"We know." You and Lemon said in unison.

You helped Lemon to his feet and he gave himself a shake.

"Alright, let's go."

You marched back to Tangerine, wanting to spend as little time away from him as possible.

When you got back to him, he was barely conscious but he was still awake for now. He smiled when he looked up and saw Lemon.

"Lemon, you're alright?"

"Yeah, man. Just a bit of a bosh. We're gonna get you some help, hold tight."

Tangerine smiled and nodded slowly, almost drunkenly with the lack of blood.

The announcement played over the speaker, announcing that you were coming in to the next station. You crouched down and took Tangerine's face in your hands.

"We're gonna get you off this train, T. You're gonna be okay."

You placed a kiss to his cheek and stood up, turning to look at Glasses.

"You can stay or you can get off, I don't give a fuck. But make sure I never, ever, see your face again. Do you hear me?"

He turned to Lemon and mumbled, "She always this fucking scary?"

You lost your temper at him avoiding your confrontation, "Do you hear me?!"

"Yes! Yes. I'm gonna go find a zen garden and chill. This is not good for my blood pressure."

You helped Lemon hold Tangerine up and called for an ambulance while stepping off the train. You ran to the main street to wait for them while Lemon hobbled with Tangerine behind you.

You flagged down the ambulance and the paramedics rushed out the stretcher. Lemon reached you just as the paramedics were ready and got Tangerine straight on the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. You both went in the back with one of the paramedics, you being the most competent in Japanese, so you could give her the details of what happened to Tangerine.

You explained it as there being a maniac on the train, a possible terrorist attack, and took away any glimpse of suspicion there may have been.

You were in the hospital within minutes and they wheeled Tangerine straight into surgery to remove the bullet and give him life-saving treatment. You and Lemon were sent to the waiting area where Lemon sat and bounced his leg and you paced back and forward for the next 3 hours.

When the surgeon came through the 'staff only' doors and caught your gaze, you knew it was about Tangerine. You practically ran over to the doctor, Lemon hot on your heels.

"How is he? Did they save him? Did you save him?"

Lemon put a hand on your arm, "let him speak, love."

The surgeon shuffled and looked down. Your heart sank.

"He's going to be fine."

You dropped to your knees, "Oh thank God."

The surgeon continued, "his carotid artery was ruptured by the bullet but we fixed it with a vascular plug and he'll make a full recovery. He has to stay rested and calm for at least 6 weeks."

You rose to your feet and Lemon shook the surgeon's hand, "when can we see him?"

"They're just wheeling him to recovery and you can see him in about 5 minutes. I'll come back to get you when he's ready."

You cried and hugged Lemon for the 5 minutes that you were waiting for the doctor to come back and then you were walking in to Tangerine's room. He was awake when you reached him, flirting with the doctors until he saw you and Lemon walk in.

Your hand came up to your mouth in shock when you saw him. You had never seen Tangerine look so weak. His pale skin and dropped eyelids made him look like a stranger. You immediately went over to him and grabbed his hand, asking how he was and fussing over him. Lemon stood at the foot of Tangerine's bed and looked at his injured brother. Tangerine always looked after Lemon, it was never the other way round.

"Honestly guys, I'm fine," Tangerine started, "I just have to rest a lot so it'll be nice for us all to have a break from jobs. We can stay at mine when I'm ready to fly."

Tangerine had the nicest flat in London. He was the proud owner of the penthouse on the 48th floor of Cathedral Lodge in central London. With three en-suite bedrooms and a hot tub on the terrace, you practically lived there yourself.

After spending an hour with Tangerine, Lemon left to go to the hotel to grab your things. Lemon paid the hospital to let you both stay with Tangerine for the duration of his stay before you could fly home.

You were sitting in the armchair next to Tangerine's bed. You were talking back and forth until his eyelids were starting to droop and you could tell he was getting tired. You stood and started to tuck Tangerine into his blankets. You were about to step away and leave him to rest when he grabbed your wrist lightly, "Will you sing to me, darling?"

You were caught slightly by surprise, shocked at how gentle he was and how scared he sounded. It dawned on you that, when he nearly died, you weren't already by his side. He was sitting against that wall alone.

"Of course, T."

You moved to sit back down in the chair but Tangerine gently called your name, moving over in his bed to invite you to lie beside him. When you lay down, you lay slightly above him so he could place his head against your chest while you started to hum to him. Singing wasn't your strong point, so humming made more sense for him to relax. The mix of your hums and your heartbeat sent Tangerine into a slumber and you followed suit not too long after.

The next two weeks ran smoothly. You fell into a routine of Lemon getting food for you all and helping Tangerine shower while his legs were still shaky while you spent all of your time at Tangerine's side, humming him to sleep every night like the first.

The end of week 2 came with Tangerine being discharged from the hospital. After close observation, the doctors were happy with the progress he was making and decided that he could continue to recover at home with weekly hospital visits.

Tangerine insisted that he have a private jet take you all home, and arrangements were soon made. The flight took around 13 hours, so you were all tired by the time you got back to Tangerine's penthouse. However, Tangerine couldn't seem to get comfortable in bed at all.

You knew he had been having nightmares while you were at the hospital and he admitted after 4 days that he was scared to sleep alone. The accident had given him severe trauma and he was scared to be alone at all, nevermind when he was asleep.

He managed to undress himself alone, having needed Lemon's help for the past couple of weeks. Sleeping in only his boxers was a help for when he was getting changed because it didn't take much effort at all. When he was in the hospital, he had to wear the pyjamas they gave him, which consisted of pants and a button-up shirt, hence the reason Lemon had to help him.

You grabbed him a glass of water while he changed and gave a quiet knock to his door. He called for you to come in and, as you stepped in and clicked the door shut behind you, he was getting himself cosy under the covers.

You placed the glass of water on his bedside table and sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

"You had me real worried there, T. I can't imagine what I would have done had you left us."

Tangerine smiled sheepishly, "you're not getting rid of me that easy, love."

You chuckled and stood up from the bed. You held a hand to his cheek, giving him a gentle smile before you started to pull away. Tangerine held onto your wrist, just like he did on the first night in the hospital, and called your name softly.

"I don't think I can sleep alone. Will you stay with me?" "Of course, T. I'll grab a chair from the dining room and stay with you all night." "No, I want you in the bed with me. But properly, not perched up like you were in hospital."

You furrowed your brow slightly,

"How come?" "Because the little hums you make against my ear to send me to sleep also send warmth down my body."

You watched as Tangerine's eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes. His head lifted from his pillow and you lowered yours, meeting him halfway.

You pressed your lips against Tangerine's, softly at first, but as he pushed his tongue past your lips and into your mouth, you moved to straddle him. His hands fell onto your hips. As the kiss deepened, you started to grind on Tangerine until you were whimpering into his mouth.

He started to grab at the bottom of your shirt, wanting to pull it over your head to reveal your chest. You pulled his hands away and smiled,

"You have to rest, Tan. Let me take care of you." You were barely whispering, keeping him calm and grounded.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this, sweetheart." "It might be nearly as long as I have."

You leaned down to kiss Tangerine again, pulling the covers down to palm him through his underwear. You pulled away from kissing him to watch his reaction. His breathing became heavy and his eyes shut while his hips started to lift so he could feel as much friction as he could.

"Please, darling."

You moved yourself down Tangerine's body, pulling his boxers down and off while you did so. Taking his length into your hand again, you gave a small kiss to the tip, watching Tangerine's face contort.

You took him into your mouth, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat as you took his full length. You bobbed your head slowly and watched as Tangerine's breath hitched.

You picked up speed and began to stroke him every time you lifted your head so he was never without feeling. Your other hand gripped his thigh while he started to thrust into your mouth. You knew he was close as his thrusts became quicker and shorter and his hand grabbed the back of your head, taking a handful of hair in his grasp until you felt him spill into your mouth.

Tangerine let your hair out of his fist and stroked it back into place while you swallowed and looked up at him through hooded eyes. You moved back up to kiss him gently, landing soft pecks against his lips.

Tangerine pulled you back against him to sleep. He wouldn't let you leave to get changed, so you undressed and lay against him in your underwear. You began to hum again until you heard Tangerine sleeping soundly and you closed your eyes, holding him tight and never wanting to let go.

AN: This was so much fun to write!!! It was one of those fics that took no time at all to write, I just started and it all came to me.

Yes the interaction between Tangerine and the Prince is directly from the script with a few tweaks to include reader, that part was particularly fun.

It was also my first time writing Tangerine smut and my first time writing smut in 4 years so honest feedback is welcome :')

As usual, my requests are open, it just takes me a lil while to do them sometimes because I work full time, too!

#tangerine and lemon #bullet train #lemon and tangerine #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #bullet train ladybug #bullet train 2022 #bullet train movie #brian tyree henry

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tzyuki · 2 years

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[ 정원 ] OBLS ꒰ Y.JW x F!READER

001. ranking low | written (770 wrds)

IN WHICH ?! — Years after filming a viral documentary in 8th grade, two former enemies get pulled back in front of cameras but for an idol reality show.

It wasn’t like Seok Y/n tried to score low on purpose, it’s just every exam she’s ever taken she’s always…ranking low. She’s studied for them, but her notes barely helped her. She hated the idea of getting a tutor. She just wanted to get it done herself plus she's saving her parents some money, right?

Y/n ranked number 231 in her grade…the whole eighth grade was 231 students. She thinks it's a miracle she got into Decelis Academy, you had to be super smart to get accepted. Her grades were better at the time and she didn't expect to go from top 20 to well— 231. She wasn’t dumb or anything like that. The other students were just way smarter than her while she was too busy with other stuff.

The other stuff being obsessed with kpop idols. She loved singing and performing and it soon became a big dream for her. Her parents said she was just too much into her head and should stop it.

“Did your rank go up, Y/n?” Ryu Ash asked. “No,” Y/n sighed. “Did yours?”

“Just a little, and are you sure you don’t wanna get a tutor?” Ash raised her eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure! I want to be able to learn by myself and plus! I’m saving my parents some money.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders.

“You say that all the time,” Ash rolled her eyes. “You should just get a job and pay for someone’s notes.” Ash suggested. “You can do that?” Y/n gasped softly.

“I don’t know, I heard someone did that.” Ash smiled downward. “You should definitely try and get your ranks up for this semester though!”

“I’m trying, where would I get a job? and whose notes would I pay for? Not everyone here is nice and sharing y’know.”

“You’re right, people are stubborn in this school.” Ash had her thinking face on. “Oh!” A sudden lightbulb lit up in her head. “Ask Yang Jungwon’s friend— w-what's his name? kim seon?”

“Kim Seonwoo?” Y/n said. “Yes! Him!” Ash clapped out of excitement. “He’s nice, but someone like Jungwon— he’s not gonna agree.” Y/n nodded her head out of disagreement.

“It’d be embarrassing to even ask.”

—

“Did you think about that offer I told you about?” Mr. Choi asked Jungwon. “If you think it’ll get in your way of your studies you can refuse.”

The offer was a documentary about the highest and lowest ranking student of Decelis Academy, Jungwon did think about it.

“Will I get paid?”

He thought about money.

“Of course you’ll be paid.” Mr. Choi nodded his head. “I’ll think about it.” Jungwon bowed before walking off back to his class.

“You’re getting paid! what do you mean “I’ll think about it”. Jihu scoffed. “I don’t know, what if I get sick of cameras being in front of me?” Jungwon shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s crap, I love cameras in front of me! If I was ranked one I would've said yes in a millisecond.” Jihu’s hands rested on his rest, seojun thought he looked like his dad. “Oh but you're not.” Seojun teased.

“Okay, you’re almost ranked last. What if it was me and you in the documentary? Imagine that. I’d probably fight you.” Jihu playfully threw his hands up like he was about to punch seojun.

“Who’s even ranked last?” Seonwoo asked. “Some girl named y/n? She’s one of the owners of that Decelis Dump account, with that pretty foreign girl Sami.” Seojun answered and seonwoo’s mouth slightly dropped, nodding his head.

“I heard she used to be in the top twenty, what happened?” Jihu asked, the four of them sitting down in their seats, all facing each other. “She got too caught up with kpop, I guess she wants to be an idol now?” Seojun’s head slightly tilted as he spoke.

“I mean cool for her, but how could she let her ranks drop that low.” Jihu was confused. “She gets distracted easily— ” Seojun got cut off.

“Are you guys talking about Y/n?” Lee Eunjin said suddenly, she was eavesdropping the whole time. Obviously she knew they were talking about her.

“Yeah.” Seojun sheepishly smiled. “Don’t talk about her ranks, she’s trying— and you, Kim Seonwoo. Get to your actual class.”

“Don’t worry, Eunjin. I wasn’t gonna stay long, have a good day.” Seonwoo bowed and then turned to his friends. “I’ll see you guys after school.” He waved bye before leaving the class and going to his floor.

“You’re such a party pooper, eunji.” Seojun sulked.

“Don’t call me that.” Eunjin blushed slightly at the nickname.

m.list — previous — next

taglist (CLOSED) . . . @iulrma @jangwonie @lvepsh @mintydayeon @inlovewsimjaeyun @yvesismywife @summercakeluvr @notdrunkbutdazed @koakyuu @shinsou-rii @luviehyck @trsrina @enhacolor @butterflyy-ningg @nctaespasworld @2bbang-hoon @hyeunfae @suk1z @love-4-keum @i-yeseo

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #jungwon smau #enhypen jungwon #jungwon fanfic #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #jungwon imagines

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cheddar-baby · 6 months

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i've made the executive decision that when i manage to get a job im gonna start saving specifically to get a really nice medium format digital camera. During covid i got a ton of money from the government and kinda blew it on useless trash i mean and important stuff but im still kicking myself that i didnt just bite the bullet and drop a chunk of it on a really nice digital camera. It keeps coming back to get me that i dont have a good digital camera and if i wanna do a decent digital shoot i gotta borrow my friends camera. Like i have countless film cameras in every format from 35mm to 4x5 but my single digital camera is one i got as a gift in high school for photo classes that was already on clearance at the time it was bought. I dont really like the look of normal digital cameras i think they're just still too crispy crunchy and the lenses are too small to get the really lovely depth of field fall off that medium format film lenses have. BUT if you jump up to medium format digital its incredibly expensive but it has incredible image quality, and the lenses are generally large enough that they are just eeking into having the look i want. So i think i'll try to start doing that and set aside money for it when i have money.

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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Mr. & Mrs.

A/N: Anon asked for a Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU, specifically the assassins/agents who don’t know the other’s professional identity. [Full disclosure I only ever saw this movie once, and I've adjusted...things.] This was a Steve Rogers request, but not gonna lie, I got heavy Lloyd Hansen vibes. Still using Steve as his name, but I think it works if you squint and say Lloyd has a cover identity. Lots of hand waving there. I have no idea how my brain twisted it into this, but here goes… Warnings: zero editing, action/violence kinda, implied smut. Word count: 1.7k

“We just have to make it to vacation,” you groan. “Please, let’s just try not to kill each other.”

Steve’s in a mood, nitpicking the nutritional value of the meal you absolutely did not slave over because you, too, work. He plunks down his wine glass and peeks through his lashes at you. “I know, honey. I know. Less than a week.” His smile is gooey with a steel edge.

Steve—what can you say?—he’s a specimen of human perfection, a personal trainer who’s so in-demand that you haven’t been on a trip away together in three and a half years, and that was your honeymoon. A workaholic by nature, Steve can’t help himself. He has to get every accolade at his gym, has to help every client, has to take every paid session. All times of day. It’s absurd, but he agreed, after weeks of you being the nagging bitch you never wanted to be, to a getaway, nice and far from here.

You need the break, too. You’ve worked yourself to the bone. Literally. You’re a seamstress by trade, fingers callused and numb to prove it.

“There’s a client event on Saturday,” Steve mutters, knowing full-well what he’s doing.

Now it’s your turn to put down your glass. “And you’re just telling me now? I thought we were going out.”

“Last minute. Very important people. I can’t miss it.”

“Well, let me check your suit. I know there’s a pulled stitch on that button-down—“

“I’m not wearing the pink one,” Steve chuckles. “Why are you always trying to get me in that thing?”

“It’s salmon,” you correct, “and you know that real men wear pink.”

“The blue will be fine. It’s not a fancy gig.” He twiddles his knife on the table, clearly done with the half-eaten food before him.

You met Steve at a self-defense class that he volunteered to teach at the Y half a decade ago. He was cute, and you were pretty distracted by his muscles. To your surprise, he offered you more lessons even though, or maybe because, you were the worst in the class. A different sort of power struggle came out of those sessions, but still there was a lot of sweating, a few bruises, and lots of screams. He’s…uh…good at his job, and it does pay well, just not ‘a week-long international trip’ well.

You’ve been working overtime, if you can call it that, for months to save up. Your—cough—job in fashion is highly specialized. You make protective ready wear for the city’s top mob bosses: bullet-proof three-button vests, blade resistant suits, and whole wardrobes. Of course, Steve doesn’t need to, or want to, know who you design and sew for; he calls it frilling about with the 1%.

Ironic. His job is to make the 1% feel like they can take on the 99% in hand-to-hand combat with lots of rules and a referee and padded gloves on. You respect what he does just as much as he respects what you do, which is to say he brings home money and so do you.

You both just have to make it to Tuesday.

Well, if he’s got to spend your date night schmoozing dudes, then you may as well get some work done. Old Bruno wants cruise wear for himself and his wife. Mr. B may be a portly sod, but at least his trophy wife offers you a fashionable challenge…and something to vaguely speak to your husband about, if he ever actually asks.

“Just the blue then,” you mutter back, pouring yourself more wine while Steve stares at your lips slowly wrapping the edge of the glass.

You two may have issues verbally communicating, but there are zero issues in the bedroom. He knows that. You know that. You’ll still make him wait until you're done sipping a lovely, juicy red.

Or not.

Steve pushes his chair out and stalks over to you, blue eyes fiery beneath those damn long lashes, and he kneels at your feet.

“The blue,” he repeats absently, knotting his fingers around your waistband. Yeah, he’s not in a waiting mood, and come to think of it, neither are you.

***

Steve hums in thought, rolling his thumb over the odd fabric the medical examiner studied from Tinker Boy Joe’s suit. The second-level goon of the city’s Family had only gone down after four agents pursued. Down to his felt—or what looked like felt—hat, Joe was untouchable. Bullets, knives, a random tranque-dart the Torres fired at him: nothing went through. It was only a somewhat lucky sniped shot from Bucky on a rooftop that had brought down the mobster. Clean through the throat.

Not exactly ideal when the whole point was to bring Tink here in alive, but Steve supposes one less criminal, one less crime at least.

“Where would he get something like this?”

“Ah,” Torres pipes in, sorting through a small stack of paperwork in his arms to hand Steve a file, “we have a CI who identified the shop they all frequent, but it’s unlikely the tailor works out of there. Most of the clientele are straight-laced anyway. Society types. It’s a decent cover for—“

“Anytime now,” Steve blurts.

The young agent snaps back to, rummaging and handing Steve a map from the pile. “Here,” he points. “CI says that’s the warehouse where it’s made. Abandoned sweatshop. Which is fitting.”

Steve sighs and tucks the info under his arm. “Let’s get a team together and hit it tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Torres squeaks.

“Yeah.” Steve flings open the door, ready to get out of the morgue-scented white room. “I have vacation coming up. I want this squared away before then.”

Thank god he already gave you an excuse for date night.

***

The warehouse is, indeed, abandoned for the most part. Thick dust everywhere. Hap-hazardously tossed furniture piled in corners.

And then Steve hears music. He tries not to laugh at how random it is to be hearing your favorite song at a moment like this, but then again, you always like quite popular artists. It was bound to happen. They are expecting a team of women working under a master tailor, and their intel was right so far. Steve had a pair of agents watch the facility all day. Several women left in the afternoon. There are no other cars around, so it’s either empty or only one or two remain.

What Steve isn’t expecting when they bust the door open is a single person dressed in a baggy work smock with a hair net and mask on. He can’t even tell if it’s a man or woman. Torres screams freeze, and as the figure turns around, hands raising, his or her arm knocks the lone work lamp out of place and plunges most of the room into darkness.

Nobody fires a shot, not without light to see they aren’t shooting each other. Steve’s team is calling out prompts in the dark to let each other know who is where and if they have the tailor. He hears thuds and stunted cries from each man, not overly swift in the takedowns but efficient.

Steve can hear Torres bang the leg of a table and shout out which corner the person is trying to escape around, and Steve dives.

He knows the move used on him. He’s taught it hundreds of times before, but the strange part is that it’s a defense move generally for women. His body-weight is used against him, flinging him off-balance and into a door to the grass outside.

He falls to the ground, and the tailor tries to run past. Steve’s grip is tight grabs the lady’s ankle, her momentum pulling harshly at his stretched out arm.

She topples, body scraping back towards him in the grass when he doesn’t yield, knocking the mask on her face loose. There’s nothing but moonlight as she scrambles towards him. He can see…you?

What the fuck?

In his tactical gear, you can’t see his face, and he’s too stunned to form any words.

You’re searching, nails—no, scissors—scraping along bits of his kevlar until you find the seam you’re looking for and hit the blades into it with your other palm.

Goddamn, yikes, that hurts.

“Honey, OW!” Steve finally manages, but he can’t lower his arm without pushing the sewing sheers diagonally into his armpit. He can’t rip it out for fear of blood loss. He’s stuck but so is your face...on him.

“Oh,” you whine, sitting back on your heels. It takes you all of one second to process before the sounds of his team coming knock you back into action. You lean down to his face and give it a little pat.

“You should always let your wife dress you--” you stand up "--and don't count on dinner being ready when you get home." Then you rush off into the night.

Well…shit.

***

A few days later, Steve sidles up to his gate at the airport, ball cap pulled taut on his forehead and sunglasses already on. He rolls his bag behind him with the arm not in a soft sling.

You knew he’d come, so you let your smile broaden across your face. He’s wearing the salmon-colored shirt, his way of apologizing for underestimating you for years.

He tilts his head down at you. “Where you headed, miss?”

It’s all you can do not to giggle. “Somewhere without extradition.”

“I’m Steve, by the way—“ he doesn’t present a hand to shake because you stabbed him and it’s in a fucking sling “—I…train people…for a living.”

“Hi.” You introduce yourself and purposefully shove your hand forward, mocking him lightly. “I make clothes with very sharp sheers.”

Steve moans gently and licks his lips. He loves a bit of a game.

"That sounds very important," he drawls. You can tell he's staring even behind the shades.

The passengers are being called to board, and Steve looks around with a cheeky smirk.

“Any chance I could sit beside you?”

You think about it, dramatically. “I’d like that, but it’s a long flight. Hope we don’t try to kill each other on the way.”

For more works, check out my masterlist!

#ro answers #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers #steve x reader #fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #drabble #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #alternate universe #writing prompt #steve rogers fic #steve x you #fluff and romance #stabbing #stabbing is romantic right?

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ah0yh0y · 10 months

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tagged by @ribcagelikepiano for the get to know you game!! thx friend !!!!!

questions: last song you listened to, currently watching, currently reading, current obsession

last song: Come Hang Out by AJR off the top of my head by my tabs say Providence by Poor Mans Poison . Come Hang Out feels so nostalgic to me even if i only listened to it recently reminds me of a graduation song (it came out 5 yrs ago so it makes sense. I just really love Poor Mans Poison's vibes generally great fuel for daydream and also matches well with the feeling of revolution (and seeing everything collapse i guess.) (ish) mentally listening to Your Love is All I Need by Sami Yusuf tho at all times lately, probs because i have been trying to wean myself off listening to music for like the 50th time. (its slow going but IM GONNA TRY inshaallah ill be able to do it) (he also took the old nasheed music video off his channel? sad its so good)

currently watching: does d20 mentopolis count? only watched one ep but its good. i havent watched anything regularly besides like school vids for a bit. tried watching the dragon prince s5 when it came out but buffering (the video player i mean) and dissatisfaction at the pacing and characterization kinda stopped me. ill back on it at the end of the yr when everything is settled. if we are talking about podcasts started relistening to wolf 359 and keeping up with the greater gatsby (the latter has SUBLIME noir vibes as it is a noir i bloody love shipwreck's work it scratches that itch in my brain so well) . i may have seen spoilers for wolf 359 so i am anxiously waiting to see if i am proved wrong but im on s4 so its soon prepare for a barrage of reblogs for it. watched s4 of malory towers it was very nice i cant wait for s5 - the pantomime hopefully we get new members for the older years next season i miss the larger cast

currently reading: not much really. fanfic alot. i guess. caught up to the end of the To Make a Legend series on ao3 (pjo) and other fics for a couple of other fandoms (in one false move by Kalidium is really good if your into murder most unladylike - spoilers for A Spoonful of Murder though) also been reading barbie 2023 fanfic? was bored and started hunting for good ones (slim picking at the moments but if you want character study and grief and some bloody good writing def read something in me in you by telm_393 i cant explain it its that good) also reread My Memories Came Back in the Form of Someone Else by Lucy_Luna yes its that really good spiderverse fanfic do check it out

BESIDES THAT THO in terms of actual books. have the audiobook saved for The Valley and The Flood so gonna listen to that later. Have to read The Hate Race for class (not my fave but i need for analysis ive read it like 3 times but I STILL DONT REMEMBER ANYTHING) .

started rereading The Ballad Of Songbirds and Snakes a couple of weeks ago ahead of the movie coming out at the end of this year but never got the chance to finish it so ill have to get on that too.

also dracula ive been reading as well but more on that the next section.

current obsession: re:dracula is the first that comes to mind im so bloody invested in jonathan's wellbeing and his relationship wiht mina and the whole story its insane . i should read more older books its good . re;dracula DOES SUCH A GOOD JOB AT SUCKING YOU INTO THE STORY THE VOICE ACTORS REALLY MADE IT FOR ME i just cant with ti it makes me so bloody happy!! Renfield's voice actor is a standout for me everytime he's there i just have to pause and stare at a wall. also jonathan's actor as well hes SO GOOD i was geniunly worried about jonathan not sending me voicemails into my phone i was THAT endeared to him

besides that PLAY IT BY EAR the musical improv show by dropout is also a obsession of mine i cannot with their talent. the MUSIC so good i want to play it all the bloody time . i am in absolute awe in the performers ability to create a story and TIE IT ALL TOGHETER SO WELL like every piece of information is used whether you expect it or not . DN THE BAND OH GOD I DONT KNOW HOW THEY SO IT THE MUSIC IS SO FUN AND CREATIVE AND FITS THE MOOD AND MADE UP ON THE SPOT???!!! HOW I DONT KNOW (if u ask me who my favourite guest star is at the moment its ross byant hes an absolute delight whenever he is on a d20 show- the improvised shakespear episode blew my mind)

anway THIS SI LONGGGGGGGG soz

no pressure tags: @filmloser04 @mistichallow @charlies-a-thief

@literallymahir @quotidian-oblivion @monochrome-anomaly @suksiili @miseria-fortes-viros and anyone else that wants to join!!!! (you dont have to do a brain dump like me i always go overboard)

#long post #ahoys thoughts #tag game #THIS IS LONG IM SORRY

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thehomebodydiaries · 29 days

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homebody diaries .002.

the amount of reading that i’ve been doing lately makes me think of when i first discovered booktube: i learned about all these popular books and i was broke for like a consistent year because i wouldn’t stop buying books, but i only made like $9/hr. even now, with a full-time job that pays me almost twice that much, i still don’t know why that worked out for me. it definitely should not have.

anyway, yesterday was “free comic book day” and a local comic store gave me a bag of like sixteen free comics, and then i turned around and spent $80 on more comics. it also reminded me that i had two comics in my favorite series that i haven’t read yet. so i’ve got volumes 10 and 11 of “saga,” and yesterday i purchased the first volumes of “deadly class” and “something is killing the children,” as well as junji ito’s manga interpretation of mary shelley’s “frankenstein,” and then “old man logan,” which is about an elderly wolverine (whose healing capabilities are faltering) who gets picked up by an old hawkeye. it’s what inspired the movie logan, which is objectively speaking the only good x-men movie (do not come for me, i watched those movies for the first time in release date order like last month ago, and i am lowkey way more into the x-men than i am the rest of the marvel heroes, save for like agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.). i also received a package in the mail containing the fifth book in one of my favorite series: the witchlands series by susan dennard. oh my god, and i started the wayward children series by seanan mcguire and it’s so good. and i’m waiting on two more books in the mail, both for my bookclub.

i am so content with it too. i am doing it because i love reading and it brings me joy. plus, who doesn’t love some easy escapism? same reason i love video games.

speaking of which, i gotta start a farm with some friends. there have been so many updates and i haven’t played the pc version of it in so long. maybe i’ll convince a few of them to let me stream it. that, and palworld. i’m just not sure when i should start streaming; it feels like i have so much left to do, but it also feels like i’m not doing anything at all. so i might have to try streaming for 3-4 hours on my days off, with or without friends. my problem when it comes to streaming is that i’m my own boss, so not following through with a schedule doesn’t really have any consequences. but i really gotta get that started, otherwise i feel like i’ll never get around to it. it certainly would be nice to eventually make some extra money off of it. thought i wanted to be a val streamer, but i shockingly haven’t even really touched the game since i moved into my new place.

izzy and i watched four movies in a day on friday: mr. and mrs. smith, bullet train, baby driver, and everything everywhere all at once. all of them were so good, although everything everywhere all at once was… interesting. like the whole overall message of it is great and everything, like we love old traditional parents learning how to accept the things they can’t control about their child, but like… the buttplugs. wow. what a scene. (and that is all i’ll say on that; if you know, you know.)

i’m working on a linktr.ee with all my currently active and soon-to-be active accounts, which includes tumblr, discord, snapchat, and twitch. i was thinking about making a patreon, but i feel like i should gather an audience before i attempt managing another account. i already hate social media as it is which is why i only have what i have… we’ll see where it goes.

anyway, it was a solid weekend. i’m still tired, but i did drink quite a bit at a party last night and now i’ve got five days of work ahead of me, and my coworkers alone make that exhausting. but i’ve got lots of reading and writing to do to keep myself relaxed in between moments of masking (totally gonna be the name of my autobiography), especially once the new bookclub pick arrives. i’ll try not to be too miserable by tuesday.

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imaginepostingonsideblogs · 7 months

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i need to hear your thoughts on casty

its. its. clasping and unclasping my hands. tyhe're. its. uh.

its the relationship between a fucked-up scientist who uses peoples words against them and high-school drop out with a childhood fixation on the fae whos specifically taught himself to Not Say Shit That Can Be Used Against Him but also the relationship between two guys who are locked in a constant game of 4d chess they're both losing at but its also a relationship between two people who agree wholeheartedly with one another about like. 80% of issues and they both hate it. its also the relationship between two brits with like. sixty miles of space between their birthplaces. theyre like. they're.

cas is still not over the loss of rex and hes still not forgiving ty for said loss but hes now stuck in a position where tys trying to manipulate him but the only context for that he has is rex's attempts to manipulate him-- so like ALL of his dialogue recounting the compound (and pretty much all the shit he says to tys face) is like 'ty tried to get me to do something today. it's ridiculous hes SO fucking sloppy at this, goddamn. my ex husband dedicates four years to that and ty thinks he can do it in twenty minutes? no fucking way dude get outta here. get some class.' but also that very quickly morphs into 'hm. is this betteridge guy.. flirting with me?' bc his contexts for love are Not Insane particularly in the context of rex. and thus begins the worst kismesistude ever bc its up to argument whether either of them are actually engaging in said kismesistude or just actually hate the other. insane really. off the charts.

cas most certainly is not tys favourite dude to torment. hes also not his least favourite. hes not even his pet project. this is probably to do with the fact that cas knows if he actually lets the afformentioned torment get to him then he techincally wont have the appeal of. you know, his cas-iness. the ability to play the afformentioned 4d chess. his survival instincts. all of that. so every time he gets tormented he just uses it as an excuse to get more silly abt shit until ty gives up on that particular line of enquiry

i mean what are you gonna do, kill the people he cares about? nice try sucker you're just saving cas a job at this point /hj

so eventually hes like okay betteridge you want me to do shit?? uhh heres a tactic rex never tried. um. pay me a living wage, asshole. i literally will do anything for $25 an hour. you didnt even need to chop my fingers off or anything. cmon. cough up.

and then he actually fucking does the jobs ty gets him to do. insane really x2. worlds worst boss/employee relationship ever. what the fuck guys.

#NUTS really. what is up with that!!#castielposting #imagine being ty and you abduct a dude being like oh this is going to be easy and then it turns out that dude?? is castiel fucking townsend #i forgot to mention the fact theyre constantly trying to out-bad-joke one another #like. ty utilzes his amazing puns and cas introduces this guy to bofa. equal exchange really #man.. au where he just sticks with this grind #anyway woe its all to do with rexcas always has been

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irish-urn · 2 years

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LWD: “Grade Point Average”

Okay, so I keep trying to give Emily the benefit of the doubt, and I know as a teenager, she would be VERY concerned about her reputation; but she’s far more concerned about her reputation (especially seeing how Casey hangs around her) than Casey’s problems, and that... bugs me.

EMILY. “It is. ...not hard at all!” EMILY. Gosh, I hope you improve. I am having vivid flashbacks to the way the girls in my MIDDLE SCHOOL treated me. We parted ways in high school; I was much happier and better off; BUT OH MY GOSH, EMILY. YOU ARE NOT SUPPORTIVE AT ALL. IT’S LIP-SERVICE; someone get her off my screen before I scream.

(I know, I know: she’s 15 and everything is about fitting in and being cool or at least flying under the radar, but come ON.)

“You speak English, don’t you?” / “Very goodly.” DEREK YOU ARE SO WITTY, I LOVE YOUR SMART MOUTH.

George’s description of Derek failing Grade One just sounds like a young boy with ADHD, honestly. And, I mean, I think it’s semi-confirmed canon that Derek’s birthday is in the late fall, right? (I HC it in early November) which means he really should haven’t started school until he was almost 6 anyways... Like. I know people whose birthdays are in September/October who didn’t start school for another year, because you are developing so so fast at that point in your life that a couple of months makes for a WORLD of difference.

Honestly, they shouldn’t make fun. I know it’s 2005 and such, but... 6 year old Derek sounds like an energetic, clever child with ADHD who is younger than everyone else in his class.

The more I see of George, the more I understand Derek.

Lizzie and Casey’s talk about being lame to change yourself, and how being a teenager is complicated is REAL TALK. Poor girls.

So, Nora is more aware than George that they are failing as parents — although she doesn’t word it that way. I feel like George thinks that as long as his kids are alive, healthy, and functioning, he’s done a good job as a parents, which... Yikes.

PAUL. I ADORE YOU.

Also: Casey is an overachiever even when it comes to underachieving. You ridiculous girl; what a nutcase (said with extreme fondness).

Them working together is going to be a disaster. I am super looking forward to it (also, also: Sam knows Derek way too well and it made me grin like a maniac.)

MARTI PURPOSELY MESSING UP THE ANIMAL SOUNDS IS THE BEST PRANK DEREK HAS EVER PULLED AND HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW IT.

Girly-girl Case suits her so much better than slacker-chic (and vice versa for Derek. I love it).

Derek, you pretend to be so cool and to not care about anything, but you’re so human with so many emotions. You are freaking out — and also rather betrayed by Casey using your slacker-tendencies to her advantage... And yet, not fighting her on this, because you know you made your own bed. So now... You harass Edwin. Poor, innocent Edwin.

THEY’RE DOING A PROJECT ON PERCY AND MARY SHELLEY???? THE MARRIED ROMANTIC WRITERS. DUDE. DUUUUUUUUDE.

(hey, didja know that Percy and Mary first did it on her mother’s gravesite? That’s pretty insane, huh. And that they ran away to France and then Switzerland together, all the while he was married to another woman? Their lives were insane.)

GEORGE. GEORGE. When your son comes to you for help — because that’s what Derek was DOING when he brought up his English class!!! — you don’t tell him that failure isn’t an option, YOU HELP HIM. HE NEEDS HELP. HELP HIM.

I HAVE EMOTIONS.

HE DEFENDED HER. THOSE JERKS WERE GONNA CALL HER A GRUB, AND DEREK SHUT THEM DOWN.

I mean, I know, I KNOW that Casey is the hero here, I know that she’s the one who saved Derek, but that’s not OOC for her. I think she wants to make nice with Derek, but Derek won’t let her. But Derek needs a 90, is honest with her, and she goes to work as a grub; and Derek could have just been quiet and smug and relieved; AND HE SPOKE UP AND SHUT THEM DOWN AND I’M SO PROUD OF HIM. I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS RIGHT NOW.

“Derek’s wrong about a lot of things.” ...you know, George. When I was in my fifth year of university, I was writing a thesis for my English degree. I had a lot of trouble with the passive tense; and my professor/supervisor snapped at me, “How can you be in your fifth year of English and not know what the passive tense is?”

And I said, in one of the bravest moments of my life, “If I don’t understand the passive tense after all this time, that’s your failing as a teacher, not mine as a student.”

She shut up. She sat back. She took five minutes to teach me the passive tense; I understand it perfectly by the time her explanation was complete (no one had ever broken it down for me; they just assumed I knew it). I took back my draft, re-did it in the active tense, and the paper got accepted with just a couple more tweaks.

And hearing George say that; say, “Derek’s wrong about a lot of things.” ...George. If Derek is wrong about a lot of things, that’s your failure as a parent, not his as a son.

#urn watches lwd #dasey #life with derek #this was def a dasey episode but i think even more for me it was insight into derek #the more i learn about him the more he makes sense to me #casey narrates the show; so we get a lot of insight into her #but derek is a puzzle; a rival; an enemy; a blight upon her life...#and he's so ridiculously human and flawed and trying

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