#I feel bad that all of the fucking tags are shown so I'm typing this so it hopefully doesn't show them

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.” 

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister. 

That made you blush. 

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you. 

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-” 

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard. 

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #toji smut #gojo x you #smut

[watercolor-hearts]

Racing Heart and Collapsing Lungs

“‘I didn’t want it to end like this,’ sighed Daniel, poking his hand so he didn’t have to look at Michael. All he wanted was just to disappear, so then people wouldn’t have to see him like this, useless, broken.”

So it seems like this will be my first ever English one shot. Big thing for me. I hope I can finish it tomorrow and then post it later when I'm done with all the editing. 🤞 I'm really excited about it, because writing it makes me so happy. ❤

[It will contain panic attack, hurt comfort with a lot of comfort, crying and a sad and broken Daniel with his emotional support performance coah. Also a long hug which will become some sort of cuddling, and there will be a bit of hand holding too so Daniel won't feel alone. Yeah, it's all about him and the panic attack that happens after his last F1 race. Also the realtionship between them can be platonic or romantic, it's up to you.]

#so I'm writing this story in an exercise book because it adds to the comfort #and today I finished typing it to a word document #and I was amazed how fucking limited my English vocabulary #in my head this story is so good and sweet #but I realized it's because my brain puts some Hungarian words to it when I think about it #so with the Hungarian expressions and my imagination it's a good something but when I actually read the document I feel like it's trash #like guys Grammarly says it has like 66 mistakes in it above those that I could correct #because correction for that 66 one are only shown if I payed for premium #which I won't so yeah I will continue with those mistakes #because I'm fucking stupid and I'm afraid to ask for a beta because I've had some bad experiences #I don't want writing to become something that I don't like because there's someone I ask to point out my mistakes and it causes me panic #because writing is what gives me comfort #and I don't want to think about it as something that I do so fucking bad I need someone to correct all of the stupidity in it #but I also want to write good #which is difficult because it's not my first language #and the tenses fuck me up #I've never really understood them #and now I see how bad I am 😂 #I guess there are atleast two tense related mistakes in this quote #and I fucked up some words in the tags too as usual #like I want to do it well #and not good #but I don't think before I hit send... #yeah that's me #anyway #racing heart and collapsing lungs #daniel ricciardo #michael italiano #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

#john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price #mw2 smut #captain john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic

[virgobingo]

Hi! I have a question, I hope I can explain myself: how would you describe Gojo on a moral level? I see the majority of the fandom (jjk in general, not just the shipping ones) considers him a good person, but I'd argue he's more on the grey side...and not a light grey. See, I can't really wrap my head around the way he blatantly ignores the fact the Suguru was completely fucked up, to the point that in chap 236 he wishes Suguru was with him before fighting Sukuna and imagining him (adult Suguro, the fucked up one) together with the same students he tried to kill in jjk0. How on earth? If I'm not mistaken Gojo never really says "yeah, Suguru was my friend but he used to be completely different, this is not the Suguru I used to be friends with". He never says Suguru was wrong. He just misses him, even though he was surrounded by people who liked him. At least Shoko clearly doesn't feel any affection towards Suguru. And let's not talk about the way he doesn't really seem concerned about the future of his students in chap 236. What do you think? Just to clarify: I do like Gojo. But I don't share the sentiment of the rest of the fandom: he's not a good person. I guess Nanami was right

i sort of explained how i think gojo sees the matter of suguru before but it's buried in my blog since i don't tag properly so to any one else reading this i might be repeating myself.

to gojo the "suguru he knew in hs" and the "suguru he killed" are one and the same. i don't believe gojo is the type to draw hard lines like the average person since he is "enlightened"— as his name (satoru) suggests. "past" suguru is at his core the same as "future" suguru. to him the person suguru becomes doesn't exist in a vacuum (his path is ultimately a product of their society). in other words, to gojo the distinction lies not in what suguru did, but who suguru is (gojo doesn't conflate actions with the "self"). i think this is how gege, who seems to be an overthinker, looks at the whole thing anyways. the matter doesn't boil down to "good" or "bad".

and the thing is gojo loves suguru at his core (or i choose to interpret it that way anyways). gege frames him as gojo's "one and only friend" for a reason. i think he's the only person who ever really made gojo feel that he was "just like everyone else."

being "liked" by others (and even reciprocating those feelings) doesn't help fill the gap gojo felt from losing suguru. gojo's simply been growing around the loss. i think this diagram explains gojo's sentiments best:

i also don't think that gojo's unconcerned for his students so much as choosing to be an optimist (once more, which aligns with his progressive ideals too),

honestly, there's not much left for gojo to do beyond the grave either.+he really went all out. he didn't exactly roll over and die haha there was a possibility his own hollow purple might kill him but that was a sacrifice he was willing to take to beat sukuna, for his students sake... but also because he was feeling experimental

in any case, if you look at his desires, sukuna wasn't even his priority,

in conclusion: i don't think gojo's a bad person or that nanami even implies that in ch 236 haha i think he's shown to be human (he loves to fight despite everything and he fails to connect with others).

sukuna even calls gojo greedy two chapters later. that's a very human trait. the thing is sukuna is technically right too because despite all gojo's power, wealth, success, and the people who like him— there's only one thing he wanted (geto by his side),

tldr: it's complicated. gojo's doing his best lol hope that makes sense?

#i will notice some horrific typo later #i need to go back and tag things so i can find them ahshsj #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk 236 #asks #satosugu #i guess

[g-on-ef]

@linestalker I screenshot this and tagging you because Imma write a long post and comment section let's me type certain characters

The whole it's Hell logic has always been annoying to me because by this logic EVERY character from Angel Dust to Moxxie shouldn't whine or complain for the treatment they receive from Valentino and Blitz and anyone else that mistreats them since you know it's Hell and Hell is full of bad people who do bad things that the abuse they get is okay that Striker {my favorite character} was right beat up Moxxie and Millie since you know it's Hell where abusers live and Blitz being an asshole is okay since you know it's Hell I mean if by your logic cheating is okay than so is everything that both Valentino and Blitz do to Angel Dust and Moxxie

Yes the show is set in Hell but news flash not all characters have to be grade A assholes look at Moxxie and Charlie both are hellborn and still are nice Angel Dust maybe a sinner but he still has qualities that are redeemable

Stolas has been shown to be manipulative and taking advantage of Blitz as well as harassing him but he's shown to be a poor bird that suffered and we should feel sorry for him

The same for Blitz both these characters were giving background stories as to why they were grade A assholes {poorly handle might I add} so if these two can get this why can't I expect Stella to have decent writing and character development instead of being handle poorly.

Also the Octavia bit episode two never stated a divorce hell the first time we hear about the divorce is literally in the new episode also please for the love of all that is fucked up in this world of ours read exactly what i said I stated that I'll play along and feed into the idea that Octavia was sheltered from not knowing about the abuse you know despite episode two contradicts that statement or Octavias line

I just wanna go home but home doesn't even feel like home anymore you ruined it

Not to mention Stolas was admitting that it's both his and Stella's fault meaning both parties are to blame

Also I'm not purposely ignoring canon i just don't get easily distracted by pretty pictures and ignore the problems and aren't afraid to call it out

#reply post #anti helluva boss #anti stolas

[lyman-garfiel]

Prohibited wish haters unite

i don't know who you are............but you're so right, hold on i have things to say on this i want to say my personal discomfort stems from my..bordering unhealthy attatchment to scarab as my f/o [as i type this the body pillow is LOOKING at me] hence why i don't and never really liked..interacting with the ship, but to each their own yaknow? if you like the pair i won't come at you. [and this still goes, pwish shipping mutuals i don't hate yall] ive just had people take my scarab yearning posts before tag it as "haha prismo coded" and its upset me before It was only when the the whole reveal in episode 10 with scarab to me shown stuck in the time room now that the ship got very saturated which i get, But the more attention drawn to the ship the more it drew in........a really bad crowd. a lot and i mean a LOT of proshippers. I want to say its died down now as i don't see much gross scarab content nowadays [then again i stick to tumblr.] but it really bothered me how scarab was treated. i enjoy prismo very much as a charecter i think he's a silly guy but he has not burrowed a nest into my skull like scarab has so i want to say i'm only qualified to talk about scarab in this regard. The community [i want to state casual shippers this is not you. this is very specific people] had a habit of ......putting scarab in compromising positions teetering on s/a [most of the time this was done using nightmo as prismo's "evil mode?"] and in a lot of comics and fics they water scarab down to this "NOT LIKE I LIKE YOU OR ANYTHING GRR" type of charecter..ignoring....evreything interesting about him. [i want to say good pwish fics likley exist..i just don't read them as for personal reasons the ship makes me uncomfortale.] also.....orbo got caught in the crossfire and he god DEMONIZED over a headcanon. [i like the headcanon but holy scales guys..chill on the ball dude a bit?] I think the ships main problem is it caught on so fast that it attracted some really bad crowds and since scarab is a very new charecter to the adventure time universe, any solo enjoyment of him was swept away in favor of shipping him with prismo.,,,,,,,speaking of prismo...so many artists in this community will WHITEWASH his ass also this....community has a problem with exposing nsfw content to minors. granted this is an issue ive only seen on twitter but in the begining of pwish getting popular i'd check the scarab tag like evrey few hours [yeah i....i love this man.] and withought FAIL i'd get what i dub "scarab pussy jumpscared" because artists would not know how to tag their porn. Eventually the pwish commuity came up with a seperate tag for their nsfw BUT THEY'D STILL TAG THE CHARECTER'S NAMES EXPOSING ANYONE LOOKING FOR JUST PRISMO OR JUST SCARAB CONTENT TO BUG VAGINA. its a lot more laxed here on tumblr ive noticed but hough was it BAAD on twitter. It just makes me sad scarab really lacks the attention he deserves, instead being cast aside to be ship fodder....... anyways before i end this LONG rant i would like to enter into the PERSONAL INTERPRETATION ZONE!!!

[disclaimer this is all my personal viewing of prismo ad scarab as charecters, if somebody reading this views them in a different way that is fine by me !!] Ok...so personally i don't...... see pwish working even if it did happen, i like the idea of them being exes and even qpps in the future [in...in lymanlore they become close friends i just don't like mentioning it in fear of my thoughts being taken as me shipping them when i DON'T scarab is married to lyman in this universe get out of my HEAD.] i just see these two ending up very bad for eachother with prismo being very depressed after jake's death i don't...think dating a man with no idea how to show sympathy as a rebound is healthy. scarab is his own bundle of issues and despite me being his husband i don't think kiss kiss will fix it </3 ALSO WHOEVER YOU ARE..WHOEVER THE FUCK YOU ARE ANON FEEL FREE TO DM ME ABOUT THIS I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY DISDAIN FOR PWISH.

#i am.....SO SORRY FOR THIS RANT HOLY SHIT ITYPED A WHILE. #rant #TY FOR THE ASK IT MADE MY DAY!!

[running-in-the-dark]

I've got more to say on that post (tw I'm insane I don't know what to tag this as its just. mental illness man idk.)

I'm really, really glad that other people apparently really don't know what it's like to feel like that. like you're not allowed to think certain things or that thinking them makes you bad.

because fuck I wish that was me.

I find it almost impossible to talk about this but I'm trying because I've found it's really the only thing that helps a little bit - and it feels like literal torture, like. I am having to actively fight every instinct in my head to be able to type any of it.

but. just. man I just can't. sometimes I can do it, but sometimes it's like now and I get so panicked about it that all the words just fucking disappear. literally can't talk about it.

okay, I'll try a different way. so. I get extremely obsessed with fictional characters (which you know if you've ever looked at this blog because duh). obviously that means I think about them. a lot. all the time really. and it's. it is really really hard, honestly. just like. imagine having to basically check every. little. thought. to see if there's anything there that could make you a bad person.

again, can't go into any more detail because My Brain (probably should stop saying that, I guess it's like, part of the ocd tendencies I have or whatever) won't fucking let me.

so, I'm trying to work on that, and for some reason I'm doing that by writing it down instead. because then I have like, the option to go back and look at it and be like actually this is probably fine. not horrible, not the worst thing anyone has ever thought, and even if it was - no one but me is ever going to see this, so why should it even matter?

but more than anything it's like. shown me how fucking insane that is. I literally can't even write so much as like. a hug. without feeling like I'm the most disgusting piece of shit ever (lots of complicated reasons but it boils down to basically. well you're thinking about his body. and that his body would feel nice. and that is absolutely not allowed in any way). when I've said that I'm writing some insane shit I don't mean like haha, this is sooo dirty hehe :3 no guys I mean it is literally insane and mostly me literally having to write paragraphs of dialogue in which the character assures me that it's okay and I'm not horrible for thinking that and. like I'm literally writing him as if he's my fucking therapist because that's the only way I can justify it in my own head.

like, I am not exaggerating when I say that I've made myself feel like I'm physically ill from overthinking this so much. I literally felt like I had a fever because I got so extremely stressed out about it. I think that was about like. holding hands or some shit. I'm 32 fucking years old. I'm literally married (won't even get into that but fuck dude just imagine being like this and. yeah).

and the funniest part about all of that is that I feel so unbelievably ashamed about all of it that I don't think I could even mention it to a therapist or whatever. like the thought alone is so absolutely horrifying that it makes me feel like I need to be punished for it. so I just convince myself that well it can't really be OCD anyway because I don't even have compulsions anymore (even though I did, and they affected my life so much for like, 15 years at least), and well even if it could still be that even without the compulsions well it's not that bad really. I mean I don't have the issues that people with actual OCD have, it doesn't really affect me, so what if I can't think about fucking that fictional guy, imagine how much a therapist would laugh at you for thinking you should get help with that, nope your brain is just fundamentally broken (it's always been that way after all, so it can't be something like that, no you're just broken and wrong and that's why all your thoughts are bad, you're just the worst person on Earth).

I can't explain how hard it is to even like. just talk about the most mundane shit. like let's say there's a picture of The Guy and I think he looks good. it's such a struggle to let myself say that. like literally, something as fucking basic as that. literally anything that is an admission of 'hi I've thought about his face and his body and I think they look kind of nice' makes me feel like I should literally die. that's why I've been trying to say that shit as much as I can lately, with the reasoning being well if I just keep doing it and nothing horrible happens it'll get easier right? (nope it doesn't, not really)

and like, there's so much more to it than social media, obviously. like it's probably 99% my upbringing (didn't even fucking realise until very recently that a lot of it is based on religious stuff because I didn't understand that my family was even that religious. yeah I don't get it either. but there's way more than the religion aspect, just pretty much everything about my childhood and my parents and. everything). but it does play a huge part in it for me and. I don't know what to do about that and I'll probably do nothing because doing anything is hard and I'm already completely overwhelmed by everything.

yeah idk all of that came from thinking about that video too much, idk, I'm shutting up now

#literally I've talked about this with. I think exactly two people. and one is just the very basics and even that is. hard. (the other one #is - well hi you probably know I mean you.) #anyway I'm gonna go dig a hole that I can live in now because that's what I deserve for having thoughts. bye. #personal

[nyxzee]

i debated putting this on my art blog but as a point i've been vocal about this shit since it happened and i'm still fucking livid about it all despite how fucking long ago it was. this is going to be linked in my pinned posts so as a heads up, warning for all types of abuse, self harm (including a detailed description), suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, overdose mentions, intense mental health shit, ableist narratives and gore along with mistreatment from the fandom

hi, i'm nyx, this blog used to be called emeridan and my old main was bardofmotherfuck - i was one of the gamzee fans who was sent gore, the wish i kill myself, and other abuse for identifying with gamzee. this wasn't a "oh lol funny clown he's goofy like me" i identify with him due to abuse trauma, due to being an addict and mentally ill. because i was hurt deeply by religion and losing my faith caused me to fall into bad fucking shit. to slightly minor extents i identify due to the friendship and romantic issues he had, fuck gamzee makara even had me, a then 20something realize i was bisexual and nonbinary! to a more intense one i identify with him because his agency was taken away and he was made a slave to other peoples horrific intentions - which isn't fun as i hope you'd imagine. i used to have a tag for the vent art i did involving the makara line (blood, gore, abuse all in this tag as you'd expect someone with severe trauma to have in vent art)

i'm not unique in this. there are a lot of gamzee fans who dealt with this. it was a huge fucking issue, it happened on msparp too, to the extent they posted about it happening because it was so fucking frequent. there are multiple gamzee fans i used to follow on tumblr who were sent the same and worse shit. i'm not mentioning them because even to the ones still into homestuck content, this shit was traumatic. i'm a petty bitch so as a protest i only drew gamzee for a while! (just in case these are the real time posts from my main: 1, 2), i have this account from 2015 here, i have this mentioned again here. this fandom abuse has been established well for me, it started 9 months into my homestuck art centric blog after all!

i'm still here in spite of people wanting me to kill myself. honestly despite being petty and boastful in still being here about it when it happened i wasn't actually feeling like that in real life. shocking i know. i had an intense cutting period due to it, i'm still scared of having my submit open, i still want to vomit whenever i get an email that anyone's sent me anything. i've seriously considered suicide a lotta times because i was so frequently told i was in the wrong, i've still got methods in mind and whenever i take my regular medication for the chronic pain shit i think things would be better if i flat out just took everything and didn't wake up ever again. a lotta it is real life trauma, but i used and still use homestuck (and especially gamzee) to help with that.

i talk about it whenever i see a brief chance to, i just haven't screamed loudly in a while that this abuse happened. i find screaming that i'm hurt exhausting and i'm still pretty sure someone will end up giving me shit - and for what i'm doing in this fucking post i'm damn fucking sure i've painted a target on myself again. but i don't care. i am who i am, i've been through all the shit life has thrown (and continues to throw) at me.

@ardenttheories posted a thing that includes a message i sent on twitter (on anon of course because i was scared) in this post here. blog's inactive, i dunno anything about ardent and that isn't the point of this. i'm just proving i've been here for a long fucking time and i've seen some fucking horrors. the message was one i sent on twitter and it looks like the op has deleted their account so i can't prove this but i think i've shown that this isn't a thing i've pulled outta my ass because i'm one of the bitter old fans who hates the current team and wants to lie to hurt them.

i actually don't know anyone aside from james roach being involved and the fact kate was asked to rejoin the team. this is mentioned here by sarah who, was in fact part of this problem but of course that doesn't matter because gamzee fans are pigshit (no tag because i don't wanna waste anything on that drivel!). here's a casual reminder of what exactly the pigshit comment is referring to.

i don't think the trauma of gamzee fans trumps the trauma the team got. trauma and fandom abuse is bad all round. it's not fun, it's gross and painful and people who send abuse are fucking monsters. however, the team was a big part in sending a giant fuck you to the trauma gamzee fans have gotten. that's what the problem is here, that's what this whole post has been leading to. i'm not writing this as a call to cancel homestuck^2 - i'm writing this because i want some acknowledgement on what happened to us. as i said, i'm still here despite the abuse, hopes i'd kill myself and the want to kill myself so i'm making a point of saying something.

the issues in the fandom of team members didn't start with the hs^2 team, it had a nice jumpstart from shelby cragg. i refuse to link any of the accounts who have posted accounts of this as i don't want to get people who dealt with her more stress and the only other person who mentions it isn't someone i want to link any traffic towards. google 'shelby cragg gamzee hate' and you'll find it. she used to tag horrific shit on gamzee fans artwork. fans who had in fact, been sent gore and harassment. she used to post about how great abusive ships were, how actual abuse victims (specifically the gamzee fan ones!) should feel about gam/rezi, how stupid gamzee fans were and directly bait and switch gamzee fans who she'd directly told to call her out if she fucked up by telling them they were random people who had no right to call her out. she had an abuse survivor friend so of course, the wrong abuse survivors didn't matter.

her co-authoring the serendipity gospels which while not official canon had become fandom canon. purples and teals of course work together on alternia after they grow up! gamzee was a total abusive nut case whose personality was either lol druggie or abusive monster and terezi was his victim, gamzee was a bunch of things in this fanfic and it's still looked to as the greatest fanfic in fandom history. as anything shelby touched involving gamzee his portrayal in it was racist, ableist and was always abusive in some way to any character he was placed with. i'm not here to talk about the person who wrote it with her or whatever work she's doing now with her non homestuck content. my point is the fanfiction was bad and it became fanon legend.

gamzee fans have been out crying that we have endured severe trauma that made us relate to gamzee. we weren't there for the ableist shit shelby made out of his character. there are different types of fans for his character, but i hope i've made a point that i'm referring to the people like me. the ones who were directly targeted because of our mental illnesses and abuse history. the ones who monsters wanted to kill.

homestuck proper ended on a bad note for gamzee fans. we had no conclusion, we had nothing. in the end after everything we were left with absolutely nothing but people filling in the blanks to say we likely deserved it because we liked this fucking awful clown. we got nothing for what happened to us. we just had to blindly accept we were hated and people wanted us dead for identifying with a fictional character.

then the epilogue's happened. then homestuck^2. then pesterquest. it bought this hate for us back front and center. the team hated us, hated a character who helped us get through shit no one should have had to endure.

like shelby did, they brutalized his character, and i'm damn fucking sure those cunts know what happened to us. we screamed, and screamed and SCREAMED that we were suffering but they boiled it down to "oh they just like that abusive man! let me make him more abusive" - the portrayal of gamzee in the new work is nothing but someone constantly spitting in our faces. the album of the team's string of bullshit should give you an idea on how the rest of this is gonna go.

the epilogue portrayal of gamzee went into the shit we'd had enough already, it turned a character who helped people cope become a gross dystopian version of our fucking abusers!!! the shit we'd endured from the fandom and our real life trauma was the butt of every fucking joke. there was no conclusion to his actual arc in it, there was no happy resolution for us, but there was a shout out to us. we got our moment of acknowledgment! they turned something that had helped real life abuse survivors, mentally ill people, addicts and victims of religious trauma - a fictional character who people wanted us dead over - into our abusers, into the worst things we'd dealt with, into a fucking mockery of our abuse. ALL of our abuse. all of our trauma. all we'd been through.

homestuck^2 did this further. they were parading the mockery of our abuse to the fullest extent they could think to do. i couldn't get past gamzee's death. but i know they've continued to hate us. i know they can't wait for us to end up killing ourselves so they can piss on our graves.

i have a review of pesterquest here, it's not complete. i couldn't finish the game fully. rose's story caused a self harm relapse and a huge hope i'd be brave enough to take the fucking overdose and end it all. i didn't go into how much gamzee's route broke me. i couldn't. i gained something outta it though! my left pinky and index fingers often lose feeling and i'm unable to use them unless i rigorously shake my hand for five minutes because i burnt my arm as badly as i could. i have cigarette burns all over my wrist, it looks like an octopus scarred me with every arm of its on one side and like someone made an attempt to burn down to my bone with something far bigger than a cigarette on the other. it wasn't something other than a cigarette, but it was a few cigarettes in the same spot. it was burning until i snuffed it out, relighting and burning down again until i'd finished the cigarette, lighting another and repeating. i did this until i felt like i'd earned my right to be alive again.

i need you to understand i'm disabled due to severe pain. i have fibromyalgia that was undiagnosed and untreated since i was 15. i'm 30 now. i've been suffering chronic headaches since i was 11. i've had my lip ripped open. i have ganglion cysts that make bending my wrist in the slightest hurt. i tore both rotator cuffs severely 10 years ago, my wrists are hypermobile and hurt constantly. my dominant arm sufferers from tendonitis. my jaw is so fucked i can't open it fully some days and it always makes a horrific pop outta alignment when i yawn. i've spent at least 10 years sleeping on a couch instead of on a bed as i either didn't have a bed or the one i had was so busted it made sleep impossible, as such my back and neck are a fucking nightmare stream of nonstop pain. i have back trauma from a car accident as a kid. i've strangled myself a few times with cords to try numb the pain out, i've been physically abused to the point i nearly died, i've been sexually assaulted multiple times, i've been violently ill from attempted overdoses or allergies. my point is, i know pain. it's the oldest companion i have and i'm tired of having it.

the continued burning i did to myself from that night however, surpassed any of those individual incidents. it eclipsed the regular intense agony i'm in daily for a solid month. the emotional turmoil of a life like mine had led to this. i'd found fiction to hide in, i'd found a character who so perfectly captured all of this trauma, all of this pain, all of this shit i've had to fucking deal with. i've had people try and take him away, i've had monsters try and get me to take the plunge and kill myself. i thought i was largely numb to bad gamzee interpretation and could move past all this hurt. it turns out i wasn't numb and this shit would continue to hurt. but it wasn't just a random ignorant idiot this time round, it was official. it was the team digging my grave and getting ready to throw shit on top of my corpse. that hurts in a unique way.

i don't do homestuck^2 now or ever. i refuse to finish pesterquest. i do my best to ignore the additional trauma the original team was aiming for. i viciously ignore and deny the shit they pull now. i quietly hiss to friends that some disgusting and ignorant cunt said the dumbest fucking shit that makes me want to scream until my vocal cords snap. i see the odd snapshot of what mutilation is happening to a comic that frankly saved my life in so many ways. i don't look in the gamzee tag as someone will have tagged the mutilated hs^2 version in there and that will do nothing but hurt. i don't enjoy being irritated by the snapshots i've seen. i want noting more than a fucking retcon where hs^2 and pesterquest are removed and we were left with the snapchat panels as the finale of homestuck.

in a more petty sense i want a personalized apology from everyone involved in the project, tattoo "i'm a dumb cunt" to their forehead, write an essay as long as homestuck's entire transcript about why they're sorry for what they did. i want the fans who rejoice in the mangled mess that gamzee is in hs^2 to shut the fuck up and delete their blogs. i want the amount of money the kickstarter for hiveswap raised deposited into my paypal account weekly. i want my therapy sessions paid for until i die. i want them to pay for private health care so i can stop physically hurting. what i want is illogical and those are frivolous things off the top of my head. they're stupid and petty and a complete fantasy.

what i really want though, is something that seems like it's a million times more impossible than a weekly deposit of $2485506. i want some fucking acknowledgment of this shit having happened. i've laid out my personal history with this shit, but it's not a personal "here's the essay nyx wrote about how much gamzee hate has fucked them up - it's totally worse than what the homestuck^2 team went through - gamzee hate is a bannable offense as such on every site due to it" that i want. i've burnt down to my bones on how much this shit has hurt me and in truth, i think i'm largely writing this for myself so i can at least say i said something. i wasn't a coward. i stood up and shouted at the void that gamzee fans have been badly abused.

the truth is: i want the abuse gamzee fans went through, the harassment, the gore, the threats and the physical abuse some of us have endured recognized. i'm not trying to overshadow the harassment the team got. but i'm saying the personalized attacks on us were unjustified. the mockery of the abuse we received from real life abusers and the abuse we were sent online for liking gamzee makara. they knew what they were doing. they did it to mock us. they did it to hurt us because we were the wrong kinda victim. we weren't their warped view of the canon and we interpreted, saw, identified, found comfort and loved a character who they disliked. our real life trauma and circumstance wasn't what they saw in gamzee and we had the fucking nerve to see ourselves in a character who can't be replicated in any other media. we were the ones in the wrong. we're the wrong victims. the wrong fans. the pigshit.

i've been writing this for over four hours now and i think i've exhausted how much i can say this stuff. it's been painful and i've ripped myself open to say this all but i think i'm doing the right thing. i'll second guess my way for the rest of my life, i'll overthink everything i do every time because i'm the wrong sorta victim. overall, in a sense i don't care anymore. i'm not numb by any means, i'm not saying i don't care as a bravado this time. i'm saying that i'm not letting you motherfucking cunts put me in the darkest place i've ever fucking been again. i'm not relapsing and losing more use of my hand. i know what kind of people the team are, i know the ignorance and venomous victim blaming and hate in people who hate gamzee fans. over all my final point is this:

it's unfair. why was this shit justifiable. why do we get ignored when we're hurt severely. why don't we matter. why can't our method of coping with homestuck be accepted like everyone else's. why are we the wrong ones. why did we deserve this. why was the fandom abuse towards us a good funny thing.

why the fuck do you hate us so much?

#gamzee #gamzee makara #homestuck #homestuck^2 #homestuck^2 beyond canon #homestuck writing team #abuse #self harm #suicide #gore #ableism #fandom harasment #hs^2 #hs2 #hs^2bc #homestuck beyond canon #upd8 #hom3stuck #hsbc #homestuck 2

[ashes-writing]

hot for teacher pt two | friday night lights series ; t.riggins

tag list babes | req rules / fandoms + characters | send me asks | masterlist

CHAPTERS ; 

one can be found by clicking. friday night lights masterlist can be found here.

AUTHORS NOTES;

This chapter finally fucking clicked. Finally. It's short, to the point and honestly I enjoyed writing parts of it out because this guy just.. I love him and there's not a lot out there for him? So, I'm happy to be doing this, tbh.

This chapter omg.. it was the brainchild of @adampage and I and I just really hope you like the way it came together despite it being short as hell!

SUMMARY;

-- is the bickering and back and forth between teacher and coach a clear indication of attraction or do they just enjoy pushing each other's buttons?

PAIRING;

Tim Riggins x Teacher!Fem reader (beyond having female parts and personality/ outfit descriptions this reader is a blank slate.. Mostly. I'm still adjusting to writing reader inserts instead of oc types.)

WARNINGS;

Enemies to lovers trope. Mentions of alcohol and drinking. Swearing.

TAGLIST;

@adampage this one is for you ! Feel free to ignore if you're not up to seeing it. If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this, please click the link uptop.

OTHER STUFF;

This is set way way after the series. Tim Riggins is the head coach of the Dillon Panthers here. Liberties have been taken with canon characters lives beyond what was shown on the series (ie, Tyra goes on to become a guidance counselor for a neighboring school it's just not mentioned here. Lyla is a Sunday School teacher and married a pastor. Again, not mentioned here. She also works social services and works closely with area schools.)

“I do not have a thing for her, Tara.” Tim insists. The blonde just smirks at him and takes a long pull from the amber colored bottle in front of her. “Wanna try that again with a lil more conviction, Riggins? You’re forgetting I know you. I know your type.”

From the opposite side of him, Lyla speaks up. “She’s not wrong.”

Tim scoffs. “I don’t have a type.”

“You do.” they share a look as they say it and Tim glares at the football game recap. Fuming because no thanks to you, the kid hadn’t gotten a chance. Luckily, he’d been able to reschedule with that scout and he’d be back for the next game.

So you may well have gotten your small victory, but Tim feels like he’s won just a little more. After the game, he took the kid home and they had a really long talk. Tim told him if he didn’t start applying himself, he was going to start thinking that all the crap the kid told him last year about leaving the bad side of town behind and doing something with his life was pure bullshit.

The kid agreed to do better.

“You do.” Lyla insists.

“I do not!” Tim argues back. When he watches the ref let a flag pass for the second time in a night, he’s on his feet, shouting. Until the old man who owns the place is giving him the stinkeye. Tim sits down and grumbles about the ref being blind and Tara laughs, shaking her head. “You won the game tonight, Tim. Why so worked up anyway? Does it have to do with the teacher you just finished ranting about?”

Tim gives her a warning glare and takes a long sip from his bottle, refusing to answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lyla smirks when she says it. Tim grumbles, mimicking her and laughing. “Wouldn’t be so damn bad if she would’ve at least let the kid play tonight. She’s lucky I got that scout to come back next week.”

“Next week is better anyway. And you know she wasn’t wrong to go to the principal, Tim.”

“I know, it’s just..”

“You look at him and you see yourself.”

“Tara, if you don’t stop shrinkin’ me, woman.” Tim grumbles, staring down at a battle scarred bartop. He knows she’s right when she says it, but he’s not going to say it aloud because she’s got this annoying little habit when she’s right about something. - kind of like you, he thinks to himself, laughing at the thought.

“Maybe I do have a type.” he muses, mostly to himself.

Tara and Lyla share a look over his head and both of them nearly die laughing.

“I’m gonna check his forehead, you make sure nobody put anything in his drink, L.” Tara teased her former boyfriend.

“Ha fucking ha, both of y’.”

Almost the instant you wander into the local watering hole for your usual drink after work and you see Tim sitting with Lyla Garrity, a friend of yours, you are beyond tempted to turn and walk right back out. But you’re spotted by her before you can. You bite your tongue and you make your way over, taking a seat on the empty stool on the other side of Lyla. The bartender approaches you and you order your usual.

And this prompts Tim to fix an intent gaze on you, brows knit.

“Tequila’s a little strong, darlin.”

“I know, Coach Riggins. I am well aware of this.” you don’t even look over at him when you say it. Lyla and Tyra are exchanging looks over Tim’s shoulders and Lyla mouths to her that you rant about Tim just as much as he rants about you.

“Ly?”

“Yes, Tyra?”

“Come to the little girls room with me, alrighty?” Tyra’s coaxing Lyla off of the stool and this leaves you and Tim to sit at the bar. The silence is charged, it feels like you’re full of electricity and you’re very uncomfortable with this. The bartender places your tequila sunrise in front of you and Tim gazes at the drink. “Thought you were straight as an arrow.”

“You drove me to this, Riggins.” you retort. Tim snorts in disbelief and points a finger at his muscular chest, gaping. “Me? What’d I d-do, huh? Y-yer th’ one w-who l-likes to play with people’s futures, woman.”

“It was just a football game.” you take a sip and answer calmly.

“That a major scout was comin out t’. Y’know, yer lucky I could talk the guy into comin next week.”

“Oh?” you give him a humorless look. You’re torn between laughter because it’s almost absurd the way he’s making a big deal out of this one stupid game that wasn’t even a championship and you’re also torn between being downright hypnotized by the way his current state of irritation seems to make golden brown eyes dance and gleam and the way he’s coming to life right now.

As soon as that particular thought hits, you take a long pull from the mixed drink, grimacing. Tim sees the grimace and snickers quietly. You glare at him in annoyance. “What? What’s so funny about me taking a drink, huh?”

“You just don’t look like the kinda woman who drinks tequila.” Tim shrugs as he says it. You shrug too and smirk. “Like I said, Riggins. You drove me to it.”

And he has no clue that when you say this, you mean it in more ways than just the one.

#tim riggins #tim riggins imagine #tim riggins fanfiction #tim riggins x reader #tim riggins x fem!reader

[tojikai]

*Tojikai has an update

Me:  I          AM          SPEED

I read it all in a span of 15 to 30 minutes and I'm regretting it now bc I want more. This chapter is like the calmness before the storm and because of that, us reader defenseless ass (and (Y/N)) is about to be caught off in it once again. Truly, another "sike" moment from Kai.

First of all, if PM!Gojo is a frog, I would like to put him on the operation and dissect him on it just to see what's going on with this man. I know PM!Satoru is very egotistical and selffish but this chapter really shows it.

"He wanted you to open your eyes just to see you look so lovingly at him for the very last time before he runs away with someone else." This part makes me want to reach through the screen and slap this hoe silly bc while I understand that is just his wishful thinking, it shows that a part of him still wants to have his cake and eat it too. He still can't make up his mind about his feeling for her but he still wants her love despite being the one betraying her and still wanting to return to his side hoe. Pray to god that those thoughts are just thoughts bc I might gone apeshit if it happens otherwise.

“After all, you’ve always wanted her, right?”  THIS GODDAMN LINE, FOR SOME REASONS, GIVES ME SO MUCH WHIPLASH I ALMOST DISMISSED IT AS A THROWAWAY LINE FROM SATORU UNTIL I WAS LIKE "HOLD ON". Is this a confirmation from our beloved Kai? That Suguru still has a part in the competition? I know some readers want Y/N to heal first and maybe, just be happy by herself at the end of this fic. But I can't help it. Suguru has shown how much of a chad he is in this chapter for truly caring for Y/N as a friend first and putting his personal feelings aside for the sake of it. He's not like you, Satoru so maybe, keep your advice to yourself?

Y/N... Girl... Oh man, seeing her just struggling around with her wrecked mental health is just so heartbreaking. She's still yearning for Satoru and I'm pretty sure if the asshole suddenly pulled up, she would go back to him right away. She's still too weak against him. Y/N is definitely the type to get herself easily into a toxic and abusive relationship, and this is just Satoru we're talking about here. But I was glad to see that she has learned (or at least tried to) to accept that Satoru is no longer hers and tried to get used to it, and maybe move on... until the very last part which gave me so much dread bc it could regress all the deveplopment she has gone through. Satoru is going to fuck it all up and I just know it in my heart bc the bar for Hoejo is in hell. It always a party whenever you're around, Hoejo.

I never expected to be free from the hoe Rie and this entire chap gave me that false sense of security before you popped it off with the Satan herself showing up right at her stolen man's best friend's house???? Like what tf is she doing here? Okay, but I think there are two possible reasons for it.

1. Rie, being a clingy bitch herself, wants tag along and be with her boyfriend 24/7 for some reasons and maybe uses this chance to befriend and win over Suguru, his best friend, and to make up for the bad impression she has made.

2. Hoejo is just that brazen and insensitive and as far as I remembered, he, Suguru and Y/N used to have their own bonding moment which is playing billiards? And Hoejo wants to visit him to have their bonding too but with Rie this time.

....Or maybe, and I really hate for this to be true, since you have incorporated the underboob tattoo from an anon, you have also decided to give either HoeRie or Hoejo the idea of getting matching tattoos or some shit. I lean towards Rie more (I'm not biased here bc this couple can always do so much worse together) bc she's probably so insecure that she wants a physical mark, a reminder that Satoru will always be hers, and she wants to push their relationship to the stage. Also, getting matching couple tattoos feel too much of an intimacy and a level of commitment for the current Satoru to be able to handle. I mean, look at his discarded 5 years relationship with Y/N. Do you think this hoe feel comfortable enough with that towards his nearly 2-month infatuation? But he will probably go along with it anyway bc of Rie's insistence and reassure her.

I hate Rie and I know I sound like I'm being biased against her bc of that, but from what I've seen of her so far, the above feels like it can become a reality. Maybe I'm just being paranoid and thinking it up like conspiracy theories, but we will never know when it comes to you here, Kai :).

Finally, Hoejo's reaction in the last part. His seemmingly outrageous reaction... Very curious, indeed. He's shocked and mad probably bc he has misunderstood the situation (again), and it's either bc: 

1. He warned Suguru not to take advantage of Y/N in her vulnerable moments and this scene is his worries and fears becoming true.

2. Combined with the first reason, he's also jealous of Suguru. I have noticed that Satoru always emotional when it comes to Y/N and Rie, but it's even clearer in the former's case. And his ego and pride took a massive hit from seeing this.

All in all, shove its up your ass, asshole. You have no rights to be mad. You literally came to Suguru's front door with your side hoe next to you when he hasn't shown any sign of being comfortable with her yet. Do you even know shame? And although it's just a misunderstanding, you are going to take it and suck it up if you just so happen to walk into Suguru and Y/N getting it on for real.

Okay, but... OMG! NOT CLICKBAIT! SUGURU VS SATORU BRAWL IS REAL!??! Are we getting it in the next chapter??? I know it's too god to be true but with how the last part is, it's a perfect set up for that sfadghkjjljljljljljkjeas. THIS CHANCE IS HARD TO COME BY SFSDSOJPKPKPKK

There are too many possibilities for what about to happen so I will refrain from saying it in this ask bc it will be very long and it's all speculation anyway. But I know for sure how Satoru will deal with this will be incredibly important. His irrational anger was what caused Y/N to be sent to the hospital after all. And it might affect his relationship with both Suguru and Rie if he does jump into conclusion this time. I really want Y/N to stand her ground and calmly explain the situation to him but the sight of him with Rie combined with his impulsiveness probably won't allow that to happen :((. He better not getting mad at Y/N 😠. She and Suguru are innocent. Kai, when will my girl get to have her own peace? This just can't keep happening to her. She won't be able to move on if the thorns named Gojo Satoru is not getting rid of. LET HER FIGHT BACK.

Anyways, thank you for another exciting chapter and preparing us for the next ;). Also, please don't let yourself feel pressured about updating. Everyone on here has been nice so far but I know some people are more impatient than another, but they should use this chance to learn how to wait. Write at your own pace and you won't feel burn out that way. Have a good day and good week, Kai 😘😊

ooooh im loooooving thisss :> your analyses are always on point !! 👀 about yn's healing process, she has progressed a lot, albeit not even in the half, considering what happened to her, she's a lot better now. she's more carefree and her acceptance of what happened between her and satoru helped a lot with leaving her vices behind and instead focusing on whatever she has beside her, like shoko and sugu !! and yeah, the couple tattoos for rie and satoru is not impossible 👁️ and if that happens, that would definitely break yn, bc in 5 years that satoru and her were together, he never got something like that w her :(( it might take her a few steps back. and yes, how Satoru will deal with that situation can really change a lot but how yn deals with it can affect things a LOT too !! :> this is such an interesting read, you never miss!!

thank you so much for the kind words, bb~🥺♥️ much appreciated !! please, take care of yourself as well and i hope you're having an amazing week !! <33

#🍭—kaitalks #f: permanent mark

[savoies]

drawings of you - braden schneider.

summary: finding braden's drawings of you that he did before you guys started dating.

word count: 1k.

warnings: will make you want artist braden to be a real thing, maybe one bad word.

a/n: credit for the idea goes to @three-headed-monster and yes this is also based on this moodboard. this is like a past present type of fic where it goes back and forth so italicized + bolded is past. lastly this is a highschool au where all the boys mentioned are as they are in q's moodboards so take a look at those!

taglist: ​( send in ask if you want to be added) ​@hartsyhart @nhlpetey @mitch-slap ​ @frostythegoalman @kirbysdch  @aria253264 ​  @josty ​ ​ @kaitieskidmore1 ​ ​ @kiedhara @laurenairay ​ @teenagekook ​ ​ @alxvlasic ​ ​ ​ @hockeyallthetime @barzy-baby ​ ​ ​ @bowenbyram ​ @martynecass ​ @joshsandersons ​  @connormcdavo ​ @maattamatthews ​ ​ @pierreslucdubois ​ ​ @selenophileangel ​ @boqvistsbabe @ana-maa @stars-canucks @quinnhughxs @sidscrosbyy @2manytabsopen @wh0r3forpatrick

​tagging some buds: @npatrickz @beauvibaby @heybarzy @tkachuk-yeah @cozycozzy

Braden was the artistic friend. That was just what he was known as. So he was always sketching whatever he could. Whatever was in his peripheral view of vision.

You were currently helping Braden clean out his drawings since for his art class he had to gather his three best works for a showcasing.

Both of you sat criss-crossed on the ground with a bunch of different drawings sprawled out around you. Ranging from his surroundings, your friends, and finally some of you.

Braden dated all his work, his way of being organized he would say. So as your eyes fell on the date a small smile appeared on your face since they were dated a few months before you actually started dating.

"B, why have you never shown me these?" You faced your boyfriend as he quickly snatched them from you and put them behind his back.

"You weren't supposed to see those." He said as he let out an awkward laugh.

"But i love them." You said as you reached over and placed a soft kiss on his lips as he let the drawings go and you grabbed them.

"Hey not fair." He said as you grabbed them.

"Why don't you want me to see them? I think they're amazing."

"Isn't it kind of weird that i drew them before we were dating?" He asked.

"I don't think so, " you said as you continued to look through them.

~~~

Braden sat in history class as you sat a few rows in front of him. Him sketching the way you had your baby hairs tucked behind your ears or the way or the way your hand rested on your face as you copied the notes on the board.

Now from anyone's else point of view this might seem odd but something about you brought a smile to his face and after many years of going to school together he fell for you. It was as simple as that. Well as simple as it could be since it seemed that you never actually paid any attention to him or so he thought.

~

"Dude your fucking whipped." Dylan spoke up as he put his skateboard in his backpack.

"Yeah dude not even i do that." Kirby said as he put his camera away before any of them could spill anything on it.

"I think it's kind of cute." Bowen said as he looked over his friend's shoulder.

"Of course you'd say that." Jamie said as he pulled the strings of his sweatshirt.

"Huh what." Braden looked up at his four friends. "Did you guys say something?"

"Oh just stating how we talked to Y/N today. Turns out they actually know you exist." Dylan spoke up as he faced Braden and saw his eyes widen.

"What did they say?" Braden asked as his full attention was now on his friend.

"you're such a jerk." Jamie said as he slapped Dylan on the shoulder. "He's just fucking with you, why don't you just ask them out dude."

"It's not that easy." Braden said as he put his sketchbook away and he turned to face you and you were already looking up, both smiling shyly as you made eye contact.

~~~

 Bringing you back to present day. You and Braden dating for about six months now after his friends finally made him ask you out after pinning against you for so long.

"Are we studying for history today?" After so many drawings of you instead of paying attention in class Braden was falling behind so you guys would study after school some days when both of you were free.

"Depends. Kirby wants help with getting some prints he took. But I think i can make it home before five." He said as both of you walked hand in hand to the lunch table.

"Stop the lovey dovey crap we get that you're in love." Dylan said as he skated around the lunch table.

"And this is where Bowen says I think it's cute." Jamie said.

"I was gonna say that." Bowen rolled his eyes and bumped Jamie's shoulder.

"You guys are so weird." You said as you let shook your head at their antics.

"Y/N remember when you used to sit over there." Dylan said. "That table is still open if you want to escape us now." Dylan added to his previous sentence.

"Honestly i'm not sure why it took you guys so long to get together, it was literally like oh y/n i love you so much but im scared to tell you so im just gonna draw you." Kirby said.

"And then y/n would look over and be like oh Braden i'm just gonna throw longing glares at you and hope you notice i feel the same way." Dylan added fluttering his eyelashes for effect.

"It was not like that. You guys exaggerate." You said.

"No yeah it was exactly like that." Bowen said.

"See and Bowen never lies." Jamie said.

You looked over at your boyfriend who had his sketchbook open, sketching away from you.

"Oh can i see what you are drawing." You said as you scooted closer to him.

"If I showed you it wouldn't be a surprise." He said.

Him handing it to you once he was finished with it. All of the guys crowding around you to see the newest creation their friend had made.

"You know Braden if you sold these you could get a lot of money." Coz said.

"I'm not gonna sell a portrait to my girlfriend." He rolled his eyes at Dylan.

"No, I mean to other people." 

"So you're saying if i sold one to you you'd buy it?" Braden raised his eyebrow at his friend.

"Well i mean no since i am your friend and i can just ask you nicely."

"Yeah sure." Braden said as all of you guys just laughed at how fast Dylan's idea fell and continued to enjoy each other's company before the school bell rang.

#ari speaks #hockey boys #hockey #braden schneider x reader #braden schneider #new york rangers #team canada x reader #team canada #ari writes #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey blurbs #hockey blurb #this one makes me happy #am i the only one who kinda finds it hard to read italizised. #.. #im gonna cry cause it wasnt supposed to post until tmrw morning... and like its too much work to erase it now #anyways i guess enjoy now #time to go to bed #sigh #im going to sleep now

[smilingperformer]

Discussing the good and bad of Pokémon Journeys: Part “Goh”

Oh boi... this part is gonna be a doozy. Because I have a lot to talk about Goh, or as I tend to call him, Gou.

TLDR; I like Gou as a character but I very, very much have issues with the way he's currently written in the show. And that frustrates me deeply as I'd love to feel more positively about him. More under the cut, with Journeys abverted as JN.

Where do I even begin... Maybe by how I first became a fan of Gou's character, by after some time started to go back to neutral ground.

Like, ever since the very first episode, we've got a very clear picture of what kind of character Gou is: a bookworm, loves Pokémon, loves to show his knowledge and isn't exactly good at making friends. His only friend before Satoshi (and before learning about Tokio/Horace's reasonings for not showing up to their meeting place) was Chloe/Koharu, and we still don't know how the two met. Thou my guess is that their childhood friendship bonded over their parents meeting during some job or by Koharu feeling the need to be Gou's friend. Who knows, it's something I want to learn about. But that's besides the point, cough.

But like, from the very first episode on, it became clear that this show wants to focus on Gou, and telling his journey on becoming a Pokémon Trainer who wants to catch all of the Pokémon in the World, in order to get closer to catching Mew, the mythical Pokémon who's said to contain DNA of all existing Pokémon. He had a very strong introduction arc, with showing his dynamic with Koharu, having him meet Satoshi on top of Lugia, first getting to know Satoshi (and Rockets) and then catching his first partner Pokémon in Hibunny. However, as time went on and episodes started piling up, I started feeling like something about him was... off.

I feel like the first time I had an issue with the writing involving him was in JN006, where he went on his first catching spree. Where he kept catching Pokémon with ease. Small struggle at the start when trying to work together his dynamic with Hibunny, but the rest of the ep felt way too easy. Then again, Gou IS flat out Pokémon GO promotion. No one can deny that. His purpose is to promote GO's capture mechanic. It is the most successful Pokémon Mobile game of all time.

Anyway, the easy captures piled up on and on til JN010 when he finally had to use dozens of pokeballs to catch one. single. Dewgong. I loved this so much. It made me feel more at ease with his goal mechanic and I felt like I'd be fine with him from there on out. And I was. Til I started having new issues with him. All thanks to Satoshi's new goal in PWC finally having been established.

As time went on, it became clearer and clearer, that Gou was more focused on when it came to his goal progression, development in character level, and in what kind of quality his episodes would be.

Everyone knows how much I love JN032. Everyone does. It's one of my absolute fav episodes in the series. However, it also kinda is what first prompted me starting my worry that hasn't gone away since then: That Gou feels more like the protagonist than Satoshi does in this series, and not really an equal dual protag he was advertised to be.

Before the pitchforks are getting aimed at me, hear me out. I know, that based on some statistics, the focus is equal, with sliiiightly more inclinded towards Gou. However, that's where the issue is: Gou has, so far for me, had way better focus and way better episodes in this series, than Satoshi has, while also getting progress on his goal on other character's focus episodes. When Satoshi's episodes have been about PWC and training his Pokémon, Gou's had the kind of episodes that are more character exploring, developing him, evolving him in some way. And it, frustrates me. Because despite my better judgement, it gives me this feeling that Gou is stealing Satoshi's thunder, even when some type of statistics would suggest otherwise. It gives me this feeling that Gou is here to write Satoshi out. I do not like that I feel this way, I don't know how to get rid of this feeling and I hate it here.

Again, I like Gou's character, he's sweet, well developed, and I do enjoy seeing him in his own episodes. But I have come to noticed, than whenever he gets goal progression in an episode that's supposed to focus on Koharu or Satoshi, I feel so.... angry? And I've never, ever felt like this while watching other characters progress. And I know it's irrational.

Like, his main partner's already fully evolved, his secondary partner Sobble is already evolving soon despite only having one focus episode for itself before it, and he's caught all three of the Galar starters now, with some of his other not-that-important Pokémon making appearances every now and then with possible evolution showcases. And it's all done so fast. Same issue was with Satoshi's poketeam evolving in fast arcs, but I forgot to mention about it? But then again, I am somewhat fine with it as I get the writing style is to focus on one 'mon and then move on to another. Which is not to my taste completely but I digress. ANYWAY, back to Gou.

After seeing discussions and joining in on some on tumblr and twitter and elsewhere, it does appear that Gou's development speed and progression speed is incredibly fast. Like, seriously fast. He's caught a lot of Pokémon by now, and the show's already shown about 50% percent of all existing Pokémon in a bit over a year. About 30% being caught by Gou. (Statistics borrowed from EntityMays' Living Dex trackers, links in posts will disrupt showing in tag search so, google EntityMays's Living Dex, and you'll find the statistics there).

This is also very apparent when you think about how fast Gou suddenly became a good battler, when at the beginning he sucked. A lot. I get Satoshi could be a great example on learning how to battle with good strategy in mind, but we barely saw Gou struggle. We Satoshi struggle in OS, so I would have prefered more struggling by Gou. His first battle against a legendary ended up in Zapdos almost getting caught and uuuuuggh, while it's a pretty good episode it really should have been at later point, same with Suicune episode. Thou with the latter I have WAY more issues than just the placement but, I'm not gonna rant about that today.

And what should I say about his dynamics with other characters... They're good, I am a huge fan of how the dynamic between Koharu and Gou works, as their childhood friend dynamic is shown so, so well, and you can just tell the two have mutual respect as Gou gives Koharu the space she needed when she wasn't into Pokémon for a while, and when she then became partners with Eevee, Gou was so so SO darn supportive just, AGH. Love how these two work.

And everyone knows I fell for Gou x Tokio dynamic straight away. Like they had a friendship built up right away when they first met as little kids and Tokio missing out on their promised meeting due to being sick and not having any means of contacting him yes still considered Gou his friend after these years when Gou considered him a traitor of trust and Gou then forgives him for it and just aaaaaahhh-. KRHM. Excuse me.

Then there's Gou and Satoshi's dynamic and I already said in my post about Satoshi how I feel intimidated by the fans of their shipping and how it makes me feel.... kinda sad about not being able to like their dynamic for what it is. I LOVE it a ton. I have said it a countless times, they're a broTP to me. They're dynamic was very enjoyable for me to watch, and even Gou was. But like, on TOP of these issues I mentioned before this part, I also have another issue with Gou: his fanbase, or the crazier part of it.

Often times I feel like I'm unable to enjoy Gou's character without being reminded of the fans who constantly think of him as shipping fuel, or think he's flawless and anyone disagreering is in some form a negative trait filled human being, etc etc etc. In a way, I feel like I'd enjoy Gou and his dynamic with Satoshi way, way more, if I had never learned about this side of the fandom. Let people like their dynamic the way they want. Be it romantic or platonic. Neither is wrong, but pushing one side to push their own headcanon to other people's head is just, bad act. Having this feeling in me has actually made me wonder, whether I would have liked other characters I am such a huge fan of, if I had been watching their shows during their airing times (for example Serena).

Now what would I have done differently with Gou? Firstly, slow the fuck down. I would have prefered to see Hibunny way more. I would have prefered to have one Galar Starter, namely Grookey, go to Satoshi, as it would help me feel less like Gou's stealing his thunder. I would have prefered if Gou and Satoshi's goals were established around same time. I would have very much liked it, if Gou wouldn't be catching Pokémon each episode.

Now what COULD help me like him better from what we have by now? Well. Slow it down. Have him interact with Koharu more. Give him a rival to further make him shine on his own instead of seemingly relying on Satoshi to shine through. Hell, maybe make Tokio his friendly rival. And on top of that, please let him not catch Pokémon almost every single episode. I'd love an episode where he captures some Pokémon that prefers to be free, and he then would let it go. I think that would make his character be good on his own, and make me feel better about him once again.

Cough. I think I've got my point clear. As said, I like Gou, but very much dislike the way he's written in such fast pacing and in a way that, despite statistics stating otherwise, making him feel like he's the sole protag and not sharing spotlight as dual protag. And I hope to god I can get rid of this feeling as the series goes on. Because right now, I don't have high hopes :(

If you've read this far, thank you for reading, and I am so, so sorry this became a long long rant about the issues I have with Gou, but I hope I managed to bring out what I like about him as well. Hopefully next time's gonna be a more positive post, as I'll try writing about my full on feelings about the handling of Koharu, or as dub audience knows her, Chloe.

Once again, thanks for reading, have a good evening or morning or whatever time it is by the time you've read this, and I hope you'll have a fantastic time ♥ And as a reminder, these are just my opinions, and if you disagree, you are totally valid.

Til next time! This was Smiling Performer aka Aleira, signing out!

#pokemon #pokeani #anipoke #pokemon jn #pokemon journeys #discussions #goh #gou #character discussions

[hoefette]

All the petty things I hate about fate!winx and their shitty universe/world building because

I'd added most if these in tags of other posts but I'm still so mad lmao

The way characters, Aisha and Mrs Dowling specifically make references to explicitly human or American things like instagram and Harry Potter

These people are from a different dimension for ffs why are they concerned with or are even aware of this very earth-specific shit? Do they teach earth classes at school over there?

I understand not wanting to have them be oblivious so Bloom wouldn't have to explain it to them, but it simply could be ✨omitted✨

Why would you go out of your way to date your work like this lmao ew

Ms. Dowling calling Tinkerbell an air fairy.. I cannot breeve with the stupidity why did they keep that in there

Why is Ms. Dowling.. the headmistress.. teaching classes? Where are the other teachers?

We ended up with a trio of antagonists (I guess you could call them that?) by the end of the season anyway so why not give us the trix, why have the characters play double roles as friends of our protagonists and also the villains/bullies? They clearly wanted a delinquent trio, in which case they could've gender bent the trix if they wanted to keep all the unnecessary sexual tension.

It just feels like the production team was lazy, they didn't want to hire more actors, they didn't want to bother with making the world immersive or lived in or believable at best, they just didn't give enough of a fuck

They wanted to make this show and attatch Winx to it for.. what? Like did you even google the main plot points? The abridged version or sparknotes to get details on the very literal, basic characteristics of our main characters or their roles or the world they inhabit????

It lacks wonder and intrigue.. I mean Bloom moves to another dimension, a school for fairies and we don't see her marvel once at anything.. and that's because she might as well have been in Switzerland because she's in exactly the same environment she would've been in over there anyway.

They could've said Alfea was in Europe and I'd believe it because nothing about the setting makes it feel otherworldly. I'm sorry but I'm not impressed.

Why do the teachers and graduated specialists communicate via facetime ?? In the magic dimension. ??? Why do they text each other and those texts then appear on screen like .. oh look, like a bad netflix teen movie ????? HELLO ??? it's the way technology and magic could've blended in so seamless into the world THE WAY IT WAS ALREADY DONE/SHOWN. Missed opportunity. it just takes you out of it imo every time you see the ugly, bland, gray text bar. Some fucking flavour pls I'm begging

How stupid the specialist must feel clonking around with the skinniest shreds of armor, plastic swords on their backs and battery powered flashlights and cellphones in their bags. R we larping?? I know I'd be laughing and asking why we hadn't already come up with something more effective .. idk like guns. I'm surprised I ain't see one gun in there.

In the beginning Ms. Dowling says some nonsense about fairies having lost the ability to transform to explain why there are no wings, which means they could've transformed before. So are we to assume that this supposed to be set in the time proceeding the original then?? Because something is not adding up with where they should be as a magical society technologically if that's the case

How does the production team want to keep the dark academia vibes with torches lining the walls and also want them to be face timing each other, presumably from miles and miles away in the dark forest???

Pls pick an aesthetic and stick to it everything was so unnecessarily dark. Where do they charge their phones since it's the only device we see that is the slightest bit modern and dont fucking tell me they charge it with magic I will punch you in the face

Why is there only one major monarchy that we are shown? Why are Solaria the only ones contributing to the efforts to defend the school and where is this mysterious battalion we never see lmaoo it's all so bad its laughable.

Is this set in the kingdom of Solaria? And why does the queen of an alleged interdimensional superpower monarchy pull up in black SUVs??????????? Why does she pull up with Andreas?? Is he not the king of Erakleon?? Where are his soldiers and his battalion and just?? Huh!? The world just feels empty like nobody lives here fr

Are we supposed to believe that the specialists get paired up with fairies just as a normal occurence and that they have to 'trust each other' and not because the plot demands it suddenly half way through when all we've seen so far are the fairies doing normalish school and homework, and the specialists outside, being physical everyday all day. This was never even implied that they'd have to work together apart from when we see the faculty as youngins with Rosalind. But even then.. it's like well why are they even together lmao? Is this a special team formed from Rosalind’s protégées? Were they formed after graduating from Alfea or what is this?? Are they the ONLY team of specialist/fairies hunting every single burned one?? What?

Are we now supposed to buy that Musa is being switched to 'support' because that's where her strengths lie and not in combat?? Are we supposed to believe that these girls know hand to hand combat?? When was this established? We see Terra wrapping some baby vines around a dude and I'm sorry is that the practical application of her power? Is this what the fairies are supposed to do once they graduate? Or is it just a switch in curriculum because of the threats outside the barrier?? This is never made clear.

Because if not then what's the point of this?? Why do they suddenly have endless classes together when the expectation was never set for the fairies to be like soldiers or out in the field fighting ?

Where exactly are they supposed to be what was the purpose of including Aster Dell and why is it a joy ride away from Alfea lmao?? Where Bloom is from and also not from?? Plot pls make it make sense

Why are fairies from another dimension vaping or smoking weed?? They are not human so why are they engaging in specifically human vices, yol couldn't come up with anything else to characterize 'delinquents'?? Very lazy very como se dices.. no effort. Nothing a little more spicy yol could invent, at least change the name and some properties holy shit did yol even try ??

So its fairies everywhere, having a lil party in the east wing of a phat castle.. and they are playing beer pong and dressed in t shirts and jeans..

Can you hear me screaming? Can you hear me vibrating with rage?

Not one floating decoration or magical anything in sight. Just purple lights and subpar vibes

Stella's costume design: tragic. I won't discuss further because we don't have the space or time but just know that it was absolutely atrocious and I hated it. Giving very debutante vibes

The entire budget going to that lame transformation sequence that was not a transformation sequence and those horrible, barely-there fire wings

Edgelord bloom and all her fucking leather jackets. Why do 30 yo, white cis men think girls exist in a binary? They could keep her earlier characterization and make her a hothead.. Bloom literally screamed herself into a couple power upgrades in the original come ooonnnn

Let girls be feminine without it being a character flaw what is wrong with yol its 2021. They could make her more mature, more angsty or whatever the hell else and not style her like that

The way Aisha's abilities flipflop between episodes and scenes. Very inconsistent. One minute she's struggling with a drop of water and the next she is moving an entire body of water for her bestie Bloom to fake transform because the plot demands it. Why even add in her struggles at all if you're just going to ignore it?

Why was Stella with them in that scene? She didn't do anything literally.. Aisha pulled the water and she did .. nothing.

Who the fuck is Rosalind? Why would they add her in,, to add nothing to story? The company of light was a thing, they could've plucked one of them hoes to be the antagonist. Why did the winx club need their own Delores Umbridge? Valtor was right there if you wanted an evil educator type character.

The camera work was so bland during the down beats, stagnant and fixed during a fairy party and erratic and ugly and disorienting during the fight scenes

I'm not getting over the fairy party because it was a good opportunity for the production and everyone else to show the differences between where Bloom was and where she is now but instead it just looks like a regular teen high school party?? This could have been set in Switzerland fr.

Everyone's just kind of standing?? You mean to tell me these people are from all different places in the magical dimension and their customs are all the same? They all throw parties like this ??

White and flavorless I am very bored

I guess the main question or takeaway I have is just.. who is this for? Because everyone, including the showrunners keep saying that it's for us, the fans of the original. But apart from the characters sharing some names, there are really no other similarities. So again, who was this supposed to appease or placate or satisfy? Because it sure as hell wasn't the winx club fans.

Overall, this feels very much like something I wrote and probably published on ff.net when I was 13 because I thought girls couldn't be taken seriously if they liked pink, and injected angst into everything that didn't need it and had no idea how to structure scenes or dialogue. It's just bad, objectively and N*tflix will keep making shit like this because apparently some people have bad taste??? Idk yol, be easy

#im never gonna stop i dont care i dont care #and i dont even usually make my own posts i just be reblogging and vibing #but im passionate abt this because he originak was the reason i wanted to learn how to draw #it was the reason i wanted to learn how to write and tell stories #it shaped a lot of shit for me because it was the very first one of its kind id ever seen #i ran home from school to watch it and argued with my friends about who got to be flora #i forced them to make cardboard wings with me and to perform the opening song during a school talent show #thank god we didnt get to perform otherwise we would all have died of embarrassment in hindsight #but ye i just hate to see things that obviously are very dear to a lot of people be treated with such casual indignity and its a disservice #a disservice to the fans and to the people who had probably want to create it as a passion project #to the people who spent hours and hours in rewrites and fanart amazing fanart and post series continuations #no one is saying the original is sacred and cannot be touch #this fandom actively calls out the bullshit rainbow has done and continues to do to the characters we love.. i havent spoken to one fan who #doesnt have an alter dedicated to their downfall. we found a piece of ourselves in these gorls and they were stripped and caricatured and #played for laughs so netfilx can make money and its just very upsetting to see. #so again fuck you brian young fuck you ignio and rainbow and fuck whoever the costume designer was #mine #text #fate winx club #fate: the winx saga #f:tws #winx club

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotted Memory

Somewhere out there

Beneath the pale moonlight

Someone's thinking of me

And loving me tonight…

Chapter 14 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex and Augustus

Meet Me Halfway

John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Location Unknown

18 hours ago

He thought he was dead. He thought they were going to kill him. He wished they would, just to end the suffering. But he also wished they wouldn't. He had greater plans, he still wanted to enjoy his life. And it looked like Nero granted half his wish, while depriving him of the other half. He's going to live the rest of his years in hell.

He couldn't stop thinking about that song, he lay flat on the ground, feeling weak, powerless and defeated.

If I lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

He couldn't feel a thing but he knew he was being transported somewhere. Red flashes filled his eyes as he slowly slipped away from the conscious world.

~

2 Seconds.

A single drop of water plopped on the cold floor where he laid every 2 seconds. It was getting annoying, but he thanked it for actually waking him up.

Soap struggled to get up and forced himself to do so, grunting in pain as the muscles and bones of his body reacted to his sudden movements. Enduring all the pain, he gasped and got up, moving to the direction of the only ray of light from a crack in the ceiling.

He limped but he had hope, exhaling with excitement as the light got closer every step he took. Then clang! He hit his head on an iron bar. He's in a prison cell, deep underground.

"Shite." he cursed, dropping his knees on the ground, his energy already ran out and he felt thirsty.

"That's freshwater dripping down there." An unknown voice emerged from the darkness, Soap wanted to believe he's hallucinating, but an old figure emerged from the shadows. His hair mostly greyed out and it was long enough that Soap believed he'd been here for far too long.

"The name's Jack. And I suggest you rehydrate. I've been here long enough that you could trust that it's safe." he suggested. His tone was strict but helpful and Soap knew he's trustworthy. They're both prisoners and as the saying goes: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend"

"So… uh Jake. What brings you to this dark and gloomy place?" Soap asked, his voice was barely audible but he was heading straight to the dripping freshwater.

"Turns out our friend Nero doesn't want me dead yet. He couldn't pry any information from me. I'm CIA, literally trained half my life to keep information away. He should've just killed me when he got the chance." He replied.

"So, that means he's going to get something out of you too…" he added, Soap looked worried, he didn't undergo some torture training and hes afraid of what Nero wants from him.

"Look kid, I know you're worried. That's why we won't let that happen. Okay? I have a plan." Jake patted Soap's shoulder, it still hurts from all the stomping and the tossing around but he knew he didn't mean it.

"So… CIA. Guess you crossed paths with Alex." Soap asked, his low accent echoed across the dark cage.

"Yeah. Alex. He was like my son, trained him and assisted him all throughout his CIA Career."

"He kinda disobeyed orders by joining the good side which looked bad in the eyes of the higher ups." Soap reported.

"Hm… It's very unusual of him to not follow orders, unless he believes it's for a better cause." Jack supplied to which Soap nodded, agreeing Jack's assumption.

"It was a good cause. Sacrificed himself for the greater good. Miraculously made it out, but lost his leg in the process." Soap continued, updating the old man about his protege, he's actually glad he did as he could feel the man's mood rising from grumpy prisoner to someone a little less grumpy.

"He had good morals, that kid. He could go far with that attitude… I just hoped that falling in love would not be his downfall… just like what happened to me…" he muttered. Soap didn't make out the last sentence so he assumed it was his own thoughts leaking out of his head. He didn't bother asking again.

The iron doors opened and a new patch of light opened. Jack looked at Soap with determination and nodded.

"Looks like it's showtime, sharkbait." Soap nodded noting the Finding Nemo reference at these trying times.

Jack was right. They had a practice of how to handle prisoners for interrogation. A few stomps, handcuffs, sack on the head and push you if you don't cooperate. Soap had to go through the whole thing, and as far as he knows, Jack must have gotten the key.

He limped his way to the interrogation room, buying enough time for Jack to blindly find the keyhole from the cell. He tried fighting back but the taser sticks were already giving him a bad time.

Just as Jack described, the interrogation room consisted of a dentist chair and a television, his captors were beside him preparing orders from Nero on the screen.

Soap squirmed his way out of the chair, trying to be convincing that he had no idea what's going on.

"Stop squirming! Tell us where the girl is… or I'll take a wild guess and destroy your base instead." Nero yelled. His voice was low, like it ran through a voice changer.

"Sod off…" Soap spat and squirmed again, receiving a shock from the taser. He groaned as tendrils of electricity ran through his body shaking him almost unconscious.

"Lower the voltage or he won't respond! Dumbasses! We need something from him!" Nero yelled at his henchmen.

"So… MacTavish…22nd Parachute Regiment, S.A.S., Now Task Force 141… Skilled in combat, Sniper and Demolitions… You know a proper brainwash would help me get the code from you right?" he mused.

"FOUR!" Soap roared from the top of his lungs, panting after he yelled.

"Four? What the fuck are you talking about?" Nero asked, looking confused. Addition to that, the ground shook and made everyone else in the room wonder.

"What's going on?" Nero asked.

"What? we're under attack? By who? How?" Soap's ears could hear the distress from their leader and from the looks of it, 141 already found him making it easier for him and Jack to get out of this hell hole.

"Augustus is gone? They're going to pay! Okay boys kill this man now. We have to send them a message!" Nero yelled angrily and the tv turned to static.

Meet me Halfway

Francine "France" Winters

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Briefing Room

"We're being pressured to capture Nero. With our base compromised, the Board would now decide for our force's future. Simon Riley is now researching Augustus' burner phone, if we're lucky enough, it could lead us to our next clue." Shepherd calmly informed the force about the status. He looked in distress but he had to keep pushing forward, to end this warfare.

"Some of Nero's forces are already in New York. It turns out he could command the brainwashed civilians to deploy EMP blasts but recon noticed that he could only command a few at a time. This means without the IP address, he is still powerless and trying hard." Shepherd added.

"I want you all to always be ready for an all out attack on Nero. Let's prove to the board that we're the best one for the job." He muttered and dismissed everyone. France decided to stay in the briefing room and let the quiet consume her thoughts.

"You okay?" A reassuring hand held her shoulder. She knew it was Gary and tears started to fall from her eyes.

"I… I can't stop worrying about him, Roach." She croaked and gave Roach a very pained stare. She actually missed John's presence even after being together for a short while, she felt that they shared a lot of common things together, the strive to become better, the response to danger even off duty and the determination to achieve a goal. Those were her traits that he also had, these same traits that made him like her despite his cocky first impression.

"Let's help out Ghost track that son of a bitch Nero down. And maybe it'll lead us to him." Roach assured them as they both stood up and went to Research.

"How… how can you still be so sure that he's okay?" she sobbed.

"The dogtags." Ghost interjected while typing furiously on the computer.

"If Soap was dead, he should've shown us his tag. That would cripple some of our Force's focus and would lead to his success in invading and capturing Samantha." Ghost continued, he made sense and France almost smiled with the two's support. Instead, she just breathed out and helped Ghost.

"So, have you traced each source?" France asked Ghost as she also started furiously typing codes and strings of data input.

"Yes, they're really sneaky with the encryption, but I keep on getting pings at one location before it spreads in different places." he explained.

"The nearest signal tower. Every packet almost goes through there. You see that?" France pointed at the screen.

"Yeah I do. Let's start tracing that source." Ghost muttered and the map already pinged the tower's location.

"Bingo." they both whispered and cheered, hugging each other as a sign of success. France felt Ghost's tight hug and felt something off about the guy, then he actually removes half of his mask and pouts his cheek close to hers.

"I…. uh… I'm sorry" Ghost shyly said as France pushed him away and felt awkward at the situation. Gary just stood there in shock as Price entered the room.

"What's the news?" he asked, looking at the three.

"We found him, Sir." Ghost cleared his throat and put back his mask.

"Well, bloody hell. Let's go then!" he said as they all ran towards the exit and prepared themselves. France didn't have the time to think about the events earlier as she was still worried about Soap's safety. She hopes that whatever lies in that place would give her an answer.

~

"FIRE!" Captain Price yelled as snipers quickly shot the guards surrounding the icy fortress. The gulag housed people that the world didn't want but couldn't kill, and she hoped that John MacTavish was on that list.

Danger close explosions crippled both attacking and defending forces as Price roared at Shepherd to be careful. France gulped as she saw a very open field that they're dropping in on and knew for a fact that she's very open and weak at these positions.

Her mind raced, looking at every angle. Tangos were everywhere carrying different kinds of weapons. With minimal angles to hide on, the force, led by Roach aggressively advanced to the Gulag, dodging heavy fire, grenades and RPG Rockets. As soon as they found the tunnel leading deep into the Gulag, France already felt comfortable. This was her playing zone and no one's going to stop her from getting into Nero.

The way in was almost clear, no enemies were against them but instead they ran further into the Gulag. Something was off.

Gunfire was heard deep into the Gulag and as soon as the team reached the control room, Ghost already did his magic. Opening gates, looking at the cameras and defending their six. The masked man helped them further advance into the Gulag.

"Nero's not here…" Ghost said.

"How so?" Price angrily muttered.

"He never set foot in this place. He only uses a television to communicate."

"Bloody hell. Now what?"

" I see two heat signatures behind that wall."

Roach quickly planted a c4 breach and as soon as it exploded Francine pounced at the closest person, raising her fist and looking at its eyes to see the punch go through.

Blue eyes. Those shades of blue. France stopped his fist as tears started to well from her eyes, dropping some on his bare chest.

"John…" she whimpered and smiled.

"Fra.." she didn't let him finish, she kissed him. She didn't care what everyone else thought. The gunfire and explosions suddenly felt nothing to her. She didn't care how John's lips tasted, all she cared about was that he's alive and she's on his arms.

Extraction quickly followed as Shepherd's forces already did a lot of damage on the old fortress. They barely got out just in time for the building's inevitable collapse but they're safe.

Next Chapter : Secret Alliances

Notification Squad my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

#horRAYfic #whateverittakes #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1

[connorandersons-blog]

The Perfect Interview

Connor is offered an interview with an elusive CEO of an upcoming company. He expected many things but not for the man to be absolutely gorgeous and the company to be perfect for him. Hopefully he can keep himself in check for the interview.

Or: You’re interviewing me for a job at your company, but you’re distractingly attractive and all I can picture is us making out on your desk.

(A RK1K fic!)

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

Connor straightens his tie for the fifth time since he had gotten dressed. Which was an hour and a half ago but he still felt his outfit was a bad decision. It wasn't like he even had that much to pick from, but still. A white button-down, nice slacks, and a tie seemed a bit too plain now.

But he couldn't go back now or he'd be late for his interview. His interview with a very prestigious CEO of a major upcoming company. Connor had heard so many things about the man but never had actually seen him. No one had, it was actually a pretty big mystery.

Connor assumed he'd be an old white man like every other CEO, but he wasn't going to judge. Hell, he was being offered the job interview, no way he was turning this opportunity down. To be head of security and even a possible bodyguard for said CEO was a massive opportunity. He knew he wasn't the only one to have gotten the offer but he had to make a good first impression.

Yet his hands shook as he stared up at the tall building he had arrived at. Connor actually adored the city, he loved having so many places he could go and most within walking distance. He had passed this very building plenty of times but never thought he'd work there.

The skyscraper towered above him as great monoliths of concrete and glass. But there was something rather unique about this one. It has balconies with plants and solar panels, but on the ground held even more green. It had an abundance of flowers meant to attract bees and Connor smiled.

The CEO may be allusive but he certainly cared about the planet, his customers, and his workers. That's what made this so incredible, it was a perfect company to work for. It has gotten threats because of its strong views, hence the need for more (new and improved) security for the company as a whole but also for the CEO.

He took in a slow deep breath before walking into the building. His breath was caught at the enormous tree growing in the middle of the large room. He hasn't expected that, but the tree was definitely real and looked rather healthy too. Comfortable benches with cushions let those sit and relax around the tree. Connor noted a coffee and tea stand that many stopped by. Most also handed over an identical card, while others used cash or something else

Many people roamed around and he was pleasantly shocked at the diversity. He even saw several people with mobility aids moving around as well. He felt his heart stutter at the very visible rainbow flag that said 'Love is Love'. Damn, he really wanted to work here.

Now to meet the CEO, well the receptionist who would send him up to the CEO's secretary who would then let him see the CEO. So, two people, he was guaranteed to meet first.

He walked up to the counter with a confident and friendly smile on his face. Though, his father had said he had a 'derpy smile and should stick with a indifferent face'. "Hello, my name is Connor Anderson and I'm here for an interview." His voice didn't even shake!

The woman looks up and smiles gently at him. That's something odd about her. No, not odd, different, and inquisitive. It's almost like she can see into his soul, it kind of makes him want to turn tail and run.

"Hello, it's wonderful to meet you. You will do well, Markus is on the top floor, you're free to go up now." She nodded towards the elevators and Connor couldn't help but give her an awkward smile.

That was a bit ominous but he shrugs it off as he makes his way to the elevators. There aren't many people in there but none seem too shocked he's going to the top, instead, they seem curious. Not in the cruel way some older adults are, but simply wondering who he was. He was a new face and it seemed plenty of people knew each other as they talked softly.

The elevator ride isn't long but it still feels like an eternity before he reaches the top. The top floor doesn't even have that much in it, not that Connor can see. There is a meeting room, which Connor assumes holds the most crucial meetings. There is the room where assumes the CEO will be behind, and three others that he can see.

There is also the secretary's area which is as large as a room but without a door. He walks up, and the woman sitting there looks up. Her face is fierce and almost stern as she looks him over. If he didn't know any better it would look like he was meat and she was deciding if he was good enough to eat or not. Not in the sexual way, though, he got massive lesbian vibes off her.

Her name tag said North, that was a unique name but oddly fitting and rather pretty too.

She is stunning, frown and all. Her strawberry blonde hair drapes over her shoulder in a loose braid, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "Anderson. Connor Anderson, right?" She asks.

"Yes, that's me. I'm supposed to have an interview at 2?" He didn't lean on the counter, simply stood with his arms by his side, trying to appear open.

She nods and types something on her computer. "Alright, you can go in." She nodded to the door and Connor beamed at her.

"Thank you." She gave a small nod, watching him attentively. Damn, she could be security with the intensity of her stare. He definitely wouldn't fuck with anyone behind that door.

He knocked before entering, closing the door behind him. Oh shit. He would gladly fuck the man sitting there, though. His skin was a beautiful color, making his two-colored eyes stand out even more. He wore a wine red, slim-fit, three-piece suit. He had a black button-down making him look even sharper. He sat there in the aristocratic cutting lines of a great tailor, showing off the best parts of him.

The man had shoulders for days and when he stood up with a smile Connor was ready to melt. Or even drop to his knees. He was most definitely not a white old man.

Hot CEO who cared about people? Yeah, Connor was swooning. He also had a small scar over one of his eyes that had Connor transfixed. "H-hi, my name is Connor. I'm here for an interview." God, he was gay. So very, very gay. He was actually bi, but right now he only had eyes for the man in front of him.

"Markus Manfred, it's wonderful to meet you, Connor." He offered a hand that Connor readily took. It was so warm and a bit thicker than Connor's own. He didn't want to let go, but holding on too long could be a red flag. "Please sit."

Connor nodded and sat down, feeling spectacularly undressed. Though, he'd love for Markus to undress him even more. "Thank you for having me. I must say, I was a bit surprised at the offer and the fact my interview would be with you personally."

He expected a manager or someone for HR at least. Not that he wasn't absolutely thrilled at this, he'd gladly meet Markus again and again.

Markus's laugh was what he assumed angels sounded like. "It is a bit different, but I think that's how most see the whole company. Since we would be working so close, I prefer to get a feel for you myself."

'Please feel me up,' Connor thought, his face flushing at the thought. He needed a cold shower and a slap to the face. "I think what you've done is admirable, it's far more than most would do."

"Far more? You believe there is more I could do?" Markus leaned forward on his desk, a small upturn to his lips. Those lips probably would feel so good on his own, or kissing down his neck.

Right, he needed to focus. Connor wasn't one to stay too quiet about his opinions even in the face of very powerful men. "Yes, you are very secretive, which I can understand. But there aren't nearly enough men of color in power that is shown. I believe you could do a lot of good as a role model for youth of color."

He himself was white, but he tried to stay up to date on the world and attempted to use his voice to amplify those who were silenced.

Markus's eyes widen at Connor's words. "I'm… I have thought of that. Thank you for your honesty, it's definitely refreshing."

Connor smiled and gave a humble nod. "Of course. If anything, I pride myself on my integrity." So being blunt played off, thank god.

Markus gave a deep hum. What would he sound like getting sucked off? Was he the loud type or was he silent? This was so inappropriate, but Connor couldn't seem to stop. "I can see that. Now, I've read over your resume, your qualifications are… impressive. May I ask why you quit your last job?"

And there it was. Luckily he doubted this would actually be too much of a problem. "My boss was manipulative and was known for sexually harassing female workers. I confronted him about it and he denied it, of course. The women are currently in the process of filing reports with the police." He was still in contact with multiple of them. Echo and Ripple were sweet girls and didn't deserve what happened to them.

Markus frowns and leans back into his chair. "I see. I can promise that will not happen here. If it does it will be handled and sent to the police as well. We have a zero-tolerance policy." He smoothed his hands over the desk and Connor followed his hands. They'd feel so excellent holding Connor, maybe even have Connor sit on the desk.

Still, they went through the normal interview questions. Before each question Connor paused, head tilted to one side just a smidge, and then he delivered an articulate answer. He honestly thought it was one of the best interviews he's been in. Other than the whole fantasizing thing. It was almost natural, their back and forth.

Connor ended up learning a lot about Markus, including that he didn't like being called Mr. Manfred, and he really wanted to get a pet at some point. Connor talked about himself, saying how he had a dog he snagged from his father every other week. It was almost like a date, and a really good one too.

Still, the urge to lean across the desk and kiss the man senseless was powerful. So strong he couldn't stop biting and licking his lips. He knew he was being obvious, but Markus hadn't called him out on it.

There were pictures on his desk too. A few caught his eye. The first was a picture of Markus in plain clothes with North and two other people. They were all grinning widely and leaning into each other.

Another was of Markus and one of the men in the pictures, he was pale with blonde hair, he was leaning into Markus and placing a kiss on his cheek. Markus was laughing in the picture and someone with dark skin, Connor assumed the other man from the first picture, held up bunny ears behind both of their heads.

It was oddly adorable, seeing Markus so relaxed with his friends. Connor hoped to see that side of him too one day, even if he didn't get the job.

"I will say," Markus grinned, cocking his head to the side, "you are the best I've spoken to so far." Connor didn't think he was lying either. That bode well for the job, which could lead to a friendship then maybe even more. "It has been absolutely wonderful meeting you," he handed over his card, "I'll give you a call when we've made a decision."

Connor took it as he stood, looking it over. It was a simple card, it wasn't one you'd give out to everyone. If Connor's instincts were right, then the number printed on it would be Markus' personal cell. "Then why are you giving me your number?"

"In case you want to call me." Markus tipped his head, his eyes seemingly sparkling.

"Oh." Connor bit his lip, flushing a deep red. Perhaps Markus was interested too, in more than Connor getting the job. It would be far from professional, but Connor knew how to keep the two separate. Hopefully, Markus did too. "Ok, thank you."

Markus offered his hand again and this time they both lingered, staring at each other. Connor broke away first, chuckling. "I, yeah, ok. I guess I'll hear from you or you'll hear from me." Either way, they would talk again.

He couldn't help the smile that was covered his face as he left the office. He glanced at North who raised an eyebrow at him again before snorting. "Oh thank god, he needs to get laid," North muttered but Connor still heard. He hid his smile before walking back to the elevator. Best interview ever.

#dbh rk1k #rk1k fic #rk1k dbh #rk1k #dbh rk1000 #rk1000 fic #rk1000 #RK200 #markus rk200 #dbh rk200 #rk200 x rk800 #rk800 x rk200 #connor rk800 #rk800 #RK800 Connor #detroit become human rk800 #rk800connor #dbh markus #detroit markus #markus x connor #connor x markus #markus #markus manfred #detroit become human markus #Connor Anderson #connor army #Connor #dbh fanfic #dbh fandom #dbh fic

[visforvengeance]

Exit music (for a film)

Ｂｉｌｌｙ Ｈａｒｇｒｏｖｅ

Requested by: no one ;)

Notes: hello. here is something i’ve been working on since s3. it was originally called we hope that you choke. but i changed it literally 3 minutes ago. it’s going to be in chapters bc i couldn’t figure out how to write everything without making it an 8,000 word fic😬. the upside down doesn’t exist in this. el doesn’t have powers. ahem hopper and billie don’t die. i thought this song would fit perfectly with billy considering his dad is pretty shit. i’m procrastinating on wdywmts. i’m so sorry. i have a justin foley fic. do y’all want that shit?

Warnings: none in this chapter. i mean cursing? and vulgar language. steve being a dick. billy is maybe out of character. slight mentions of death and daddy issues.

word count: 2,072

Y/n’s POV

“Have you seen the new kid? He’s so hot! Ugh! Look at that hair!” My friend, Genesis, gushed as he walked by. He was hot, but he looked like trouble. And it was annoying how every girl swooned over him. Looks like Steve Harrington has some competition this year. “Gen, don’t you have a boyfriend?” I questioned. She rolled her green eyes and scoffed. “Alex and I are on a break, thank you very much.” I laughed at her faux annoyance.

I closed my locker door and leaned against it. “He isn’t even that hot. He’s already flirting with girls and it’s literally his first day.” Genesis hit my arm. “Can you blame him? Look at him. God, his chest is so mint! I’d give anything to get a piece of that.” I shook my head at how much my friend was thirsting over him. “Jesus, Gen. Can you keep it in your pants? You don’t even know his name.” She smirked and looked at me. “Billy Hargrove.” God, even his name sounded like he’d be a womanizer.

“I’m not even going to ask how you know that. And keep your dirty comments to yourself, Genesis.” The red-haired girl slammed her locker shut. And we began walking to first period. “Oh, don’t be such a prude, Y/N! Ever since you broke up with Steve, you’ve been a complete betty!” I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “No, I haven’t! I just don’t care for boys anymore. They’re stupid and gross.”

“Yeah, since you got your heart broken. Come on! It’s time to show him what he’s missing. Have you seen your body recently? Boys have been tripping over their feet staring at you. You just won’t give them the time of day.” Blah blah blah. She just had to bring up repressed memories of a certain tragedy.

Steve had called me over to attend the end of the year party he was having. His parents weren’t home, so he had a shit ton of alcohol for everyone. When I entered the door, I was greeted by loud music and drunken teens. I wove my way through the crowd and stood by Steve. He’d noticed me and pecked my cheek, “Hey, babe. You made it.” He sounded surprised. “I mean, yeah? Why do you sound so surprised?” He was a little drunk, so he tripped over his words a bit.

“U-usually you never come. Too busy doing your homework or whatever excuse you tell me.” Tommy H. appeared and forced his way into the conversation. “Nah, she’s too busy being a prude. Are you a virgin, Y/N? Steve usually tells me about all the girls he’s fucked, but you? He’s never even mentioned.” Before I had a chance to defend myself, Carol butted in.

“No way she’s a virgin. I heard she had a thing going on with that creep, Johnathan Byers. How’d you take it, Y/N? In the ass? Or did he pop your sweet cherry?” Steve laughed as Tommy and Carol taunted me. I scoffed. “None of your business, dipshits. And seriously, Steve? I’ve been to every one of your stupid parties. You just choose to ignore me. Like you do in school, you cast me aside. Am I not popular enough for you? Is that it? Or are you too busy ogling Nancy Wheeler?” His face scrunched in confusion. “Woah, woah, woah. Are you okay? You’re going a bit psycho. It’s not my fault no one likes you.” I scoffed at Steve’s drunken words. Of course, he’d say something like this.

The next day, Steve found out about what he had said. He tried to explain why he said what he said, but never said he was sorry and that it wasn’t true. I broke it off with him.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts out of my mind. “I’d rather not. And what makes you think he’d go for me anyway? I don’t seem like his type.” Genesis filled the halls with laughter. “He’s been staring at you since he walked into the classroom. And not to mention, he’s coming over to you now!” What? I turned to his direction and followed until he was standing next to the desk beside me.

“Is this seat taken?” I think I underestimated his attractiveness. He was insanely hot. “U-uh no.” I stuttered out an answer. He nodded and smirked. It was science class and my partner had moved to another state. You know what that means? He’ll most likely be my partner. I don’t think I'm stable enough to handle this.

The next 60 minutes were filled with uninterested and forced conversations about physics and whether I was single or not. Thank god for the bell. Before Billy could say another thing, I rushed out of the classroom and stood by my locker, waiting for Genesis. She looked annoyed as she approached me. “Why the hell did you run off? He was obviously into you.”

I rolled my eyes as she lectured me about the blue-eyed boy’s interest in me. “I don’t want to be the first of girls who he has fucked over. I’ve had enough of that with Steve.” She frowned at my tragic outburst. “You never know! He might be different. Looks CAN be deceiving, Y/N. You have to give him a chance. It’s my dying wish!” Genesis dramatically placed her hands on her heart and head. When I deadpanned, she straightened her posture. “Come on. You don’t even have to go all the way. Just be nice to him.”

I sighed an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Fine! I’ll be nice to him. But as soon as he shows signs that he’s up to no good, I am dropping it.” Genesis excitedly jumped up and down, trapping me in a hug. “Yes! That’s all I’m asking. I just know you won’t regret it.” She declared as she wiggled her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Billy had shown up in my next class, and also decided to take a seat next to me. Causing a student to angrily walk to the back of the class, while she shot daggers at me as we talked. He looked at me and smiled. While the teacher taught, he started talking to me. “Hey.” Remembering what Genesis said, I turned and smiled at him. “Hi.” His eyes displayed shock, but his body remained cool. “So, you’re talking to me now?” I laughed and nodded. “I’m glad I didn’t give up on you, then.” “Hm, I’m glad too.”

We talked for majority of second period. He was quite interesting and he had a gorgeous smile. I learned that he came from California and had a sister. He made it his job to walk me to my locker and carry on the conversation we had for three periods now. As we were walking, Genesis’ ginger curls came into view as did my locker. She saw us and her eyes went wide with surprise.

I introduced the two people as I opened my locker. “Billy, this is my best friend, Genesis. Genesis, this is my new friend, Billy.” He turned to Gen and greeted her by taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it. “Pleasure to meet you, Genesis.” My friend was astonished, as she bowed. “The pleasure is all mine.” I rolled my eyes in annoyment as Genesis continued to be dramatic.

It was now time for lunch and Billy joined us at our table. While we walked, I felt Steve’s eyes on us. Jealousy painted the features that I once adored. I returned my attention back to the two people who were happily chatting about god knows what. “So, Billy. Are you dating anyone?’ Genesis stated as she nudged my knee with her own. I nearly choked at the question as I looked at her. Thank god he didn’t notice my slight panic and carried on with his answer.

“No, not at the moment.” He chuckled at the question. “Interesting. Neither is Y/N.” I felt hot all over as Genesis exposed my relationship status to a person I barely knew. Now, Billy was full-on laughing while I sat in complete embarrassment. “Yes, and it’ll stay that way until further notice,” I said while I kicked the girl’s knee. She winced in pain and decided to back down, for now. Billy’s face faltered in disappointment. But he quickly replaced it with amusement.

“What a bummer, then.” He smiles almost sadly. “Yes. A complete bummer. I’ve been trying to get her to come out of her shell, but Steve really fucked it up for her.” Genesis said, angrily. He pulled a confused look. “Steve Harrington?” He asked. Genesis and I exchanged a look. “Yeah, you know him?” He nodded while taking a sip of his chocolate milk.

“He’s in my gym class. Real asshat, that guy. What happened between you two?” He asked, curiously. Genesis looked at me, expectantly. I sighed and rolled my eyes. “He was just a dick. He always placed his popularity and shithead friends above me.” Billy shook his head in disbelief and slight anger. “He didn’t deserve you.” Genesis perked up at that. “I’ve been saying that for centuries.” I zoned out as they both shared a common ground on how I deserved better.

Lunch was over and we had to go to fourth period. Genesis and I had gym, so Billy didn’t tag along with us. “So, he seems like absolute boyfriend material.” I shook my head. “You’re really pushing for us to date, huh?” Genesis turned to me after stretching her legs. “Uh, yes? You guys would make the perfect couple. He gives me bad boy/protective boyfriend vibes. Potential daddy issues with unconditional love for his girlfriend? Ah-mazing!”

He seemed really sweet and he was definitely the cutest. His hair seems so soft, and don’t even get me started on his smile. It makes hearts generate above my head! And his body, dear god. It seems so perfect. I’d give anything to feel his abs against my-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Genesis nearly screamed at me. “What? No, I’m not.” She squinted at me, not believing a word I said. ‘Date. Him.’ She mouthed at me. I shook my head and turned to pay attention to my teacher’s directions.

The school day was over and I was so relieved. Gen’s dad picked her up early, so I was alone for the rest of class. I was putting my things in my locker when Billy approached me. “Did you miss me?” He asked, jokingly. I laughed and closed my locker. “I just about died without you.” I said as I placed my hand on my chest, dramatically. A slight blush creeped up on his cheeks.

He cleared his throat and regained his composure. “Are you doing anything after school?” He asked. I thought about it for a second and shook my head. “Nope. I planned I’m going straight home. Why?” He held the door open for me as we walked outside. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hangout?”

I giggled at his uncertainty. “Yeah, i'd like that. We could probably go to the park? And just sit in your car and talk.” He seemed so happy that I agreed. “Ok. Sounds like a plan.”

We arrived at the park and he turned his car off. I turned so I was facing him. “So. Tell me about yourself. How old is your sister?” “She’s actually my stepsister. But she’s 14. My mom died when I was 8.” I grabbed his hand and apologized. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry. That must’ve been hard to deal with.” He looked at our hands and then up at me. I released his hand and placed mine back in my lap. “It was. My dad...he’s really shitty.” Daddy issues? Wow, is my best friend God?

“Sounds fucked up. I’m sorry, again. Do you miss California?” He nodded. “A lot. But I think I’ll like it better here.” He smirked. My eyes went wide for a second and then back to normal. This boy is going to kill me.

“You know. You’re actually not so bad. I think I might take a chance on you.” He leaned back in his seat. “God, I sure hope so. You seem like a doll.” I laughed at his confidence. “Thanks, I guess.”

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