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#even though i have caught the train
deus-ex-mona · 9 months
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man.
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something midosena never prepared me for was just how comfortable the train seats are
#like. no joke. most (if not all) of them are soft!!!! carpeted!!!!! and comfy!!!!!!!!#and that’s just the regular seats!!!!! the special reserved seats are forward facing and!!!! they even have those little seat tray tables!!!#[insert home country]’s train seats are ruined for me now wtf i used to think that the wide new plastic seats were the best seats ever and—#and the structure of the train is p. great too ngl~~~~ like the seats are positioned a little ways back from the side divider thing#so there’s tons of standing space if you’re unlucky enough to not get a seat#but maybe that’s just my perspective bc the train cabins seem wider than [insert country]’s so maybe i’m too used to the cramped cabins idk#but g o d yes i understand you now midori the seat at the extreme end is the best most comfy seat ever fr#though!!!! another thing that made me 👁️👄👁️ about these trains is that!!!! eating and drinking (on trains) is not prohibited?????#like man. you’d get fined and get photographed + tabloidified in [insert country] if you did that here..#(if you get caught by some weird nitpicker who can’t mind their own business that is.)#but train exchanges are kinda complicated. ye a h. ig that’s one thing i miss about [insert country]’s trains. aside from the train fares.#m a n. train fares are so high here. bus fares too tbh. 170 yen for just two stops and all that..#but!!!! the seats are comfy so they get a pass from me~~~~~~~~~#the buses are tiny and cute thoughhhhh. but the boarding/alighting/fare system caught me off guard. ig i’m too spoiled by [insert country]#all things considered…. it was a really fun trip~~~~~ would’ve been better if i didn’t fall sick right off the bat though lmao#anyways!!!!!! happy kinyoubi my dudes~~~~~~~#inedible blubbering
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i-bring-crack · 7 months
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Bitches be coming out unscathed of supposedly certain death scenarios simply because they were very very dumb.
I'm bitches.
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perenlop · 1 year
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very funny out of context fun fact about my ocs is that dr footstep caused castor’s parents’ divorce
#so explanation. dr footsteps level 5 dialogue implies that there's a social gap between wild and caught pokemon#wild pokemon tend to seek out trainers to join their teams so that they can get stronger and certain types (tough iirc) brag about it#while other types tend to wonder if their friends from the wild would even recognize them if they were to meet again#meanwhile wild pokemon who dont want a trainer are implied to be either prideful of not having a human or resentful that theyre weaker#so. that dialogue inspired me to create the story between castor's parents which i can say bc it has no bearing on the real story lmao#basically dusk was specifically bred to have perfect IVs and a hidden ability and bought by a trainer who didnt exactly neglect her#but didnt give her much of an emotional connection and only cared abt what she brought to the table with battling#so she didnt exactly have a choice in being caught at all nor did she have any choice in her specific trainer.#regardless though. shes in a place where it's supported that wild pokemon are missing out and shes in the best possible position#so she boasts about it and kinda looks down on wild pokemon#bruno meanwhile was an alpha pokemon who was practically pushed and trained into a leadership role since he hatched#he was born in a group of skorupis and its been an unspoken expectation that they are his responsibility#being an alpha also means that he didnt actually need a trainer to become as powerful as he became (reaching around level 75 just being wild#so he also looks down on trained pokemon because he did not have that experience and finds solace in his community#yet at the same time he resents his position bc he never chose to be a leader and he has to pretend to be vicious#when in actuality hes extremely tame for a drapion and wants nothing more than to settle down#so dusk deep down secretly kinda yearns for the wild bc she wants to know what its like and bruno secretly wants a chill trainer#that probably just feeds him and lets him sleep in their yard#meaning that the two of them are Inherently incompatible despite what they believe#bc like no matter what. if they tried to stay together someone would have been miserable#because dusk has no experience in the wild at all and likely would have perished sooner than anticipated#and also doesnt get the rigorous training she desires#while if bruno joined her trainers team then he would be leaving the skorupi to be vulnerable in the great marsh#and joining a team where only his mate would have had an emotional connection to him when community was so important before#and so they both have to stay in their positions and theyre both kinda looking down on one another AND being very jealous of them#so like. they can talk abt how their romance was escapism all they want but it NEVERwas gonna work out. sorry castor#you were always destined to be a child of divorce#id like to think that dusk at least gets a different trainer that still uses her competitively as she loves#but also gives her the affection and friendship and connection that shes always yearned for#but like. way way later on bc when she gives up castor she is extremely deep in the fog and terrified of losing her trainer
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oh lmfao edited to add. the thirty tags are maxed out but i have to work in the wordplay of: call this post-it notes
speaking of [happening to think about, then for a separate reason talk about, the film “stand by me,” an adaptation of the stephen king short story “the body”] last night, & tumblr ads reminding me, i did turn around after listening to the podcast ep extensive, research enhanced analysis / discussion of specifically the book like hey yeah yknow what. i’ll watch the It films; not the miniseries / the one with tim curry, which i saw the first half of but wasn’t really inspired to commit to the latter half. and you Know like yeah i’m truly interested in the choice to build on [stephen king kicking his legs like “whaaat are some Problems kids could have.....um being a girl.....being jewish.....having a stutter.....”] with “what if someone was gay or some shit” like yeah right on, which idk that steve ever wrote into any vaguely primary characters even though it’s markedly made textually relevant. and the cultural alignment for kleinsen enjoyers is still very funny. i forgot about even the arm cast business till halfway through. even the [break it again] joke kind of manifested lmao
anyways the point is i’m like, my two primary modes of [this experience] being expressed via [mad men meme In The Cinema seriously considering the material] and [the shot of that guy in the alternate titanic ending where he’s like ahahahaha throwing his head back and the camera is overhead zooming out a little bit] and the like Oh Hey. This Is All Coming Together? kind of [that madman cinema meme] moment hit in The Second Part because it’s like, it’s Remarkable for a stephen king story to have Adults Who Are Friends. which is where it can be cross referenced with Stand By Me, which is about kids who are friends, but Framed by like, this story is written in the future by the main kid, who wanted to be a writer & now is, mostly about his friendship with this one other kid who was like “hey man you can & should be a writer. believe” and that classic [stephen king High Concept stories] central plot impetus / definition which is “the one where some kids go on a trek to find/see a dead body” and then ending with Adult Main Kid with that classic / standout remark “i never had any friends like the ones i had when i was twelve. god, does anyone?” which is included even in the film via seeing him type it out on bulkier ye old computer terminals while his kid is now twelvish i guess and talking to a friend. after also musing on like, yeah that bestie who hyped me up the most and who i saved in turn, with a gun, tragically died. iunno where those other two kids in the group are, living kind of underwhelming lives out there probably but whatever. lmfao like man i dunno write them a letter, call them, you could do a little digging here and get in touch. but yeah it’s not gonna be Exactly The Same as when you were kids, nor exactly the same as it was when things aligned to have a brief but dramatic adventure, nor when you Could just all spontaneously decide you wanna go walking & camping to find a body & then just up & do that. but like, you can consciously make & maintain friendships i prommy my man lol. like “it’s great when things align so you Happen to have these friends when you’re twelve and you all like offer each other emotional support and can understand each other like nobody else can. but then you Will all just drift apart” like, i mean, will you. you can have friendships beyond what you just Happen to have / hope that the magic alignments will just continue falling into place for you so that those friendships still exist
and probably part of it is that it’s really mostly About the two kids who are friends even though there’s four of them, i.e. the protagonist & the moral support bestie, as well as the fact that this is a short story so there’s presumably only so much time to focus on characters at all really or delve into any setup and bg lore and whatever all else, i dunno. but thinking how it’s like, oh hey, in It it’s kind of its own serendipitous alignment of elements there to be like, here’s a group of adults where it’s peak relevant that they’re friends, for once. because afaik that really just doesn’t happen in sking stories, like, yeah adults kind of have friends but it’s Not Very Deep / it’s just kind of convenience about working together moving plots along & it’s like yeah uh i don’t fucking know i guess we see each other / hang out for dinners or post dinner drinks together or join forces about whatever fucked up shit and just talk about that, mostly....and probably people are just dropping off like flies eventually, the protagonist man of that [sooo many protags who are just some fuckin middle aged guy who’s a writer] type, and it’s also in part just because like, characters don’t really matter that much / have to be particularly distinct / Are Disposable when plenty of the point is to go “was that fucked up or what?” about whatever’s happening, so yknow you go “there was once just some fuckin guy, i dunno, he probably has a wife he’s paternalistically protective of but maybe also resents and maybe a kid or two or something, whatever....” like, being the main character doesn’t really matter, it’s just this avatar through which we are told a story of some fucked up shit and to whomst any fucked up shit can even happen, being other characters also really doesn’t matter
so it’s like huh, stand by me / the body as obviously this Ode To Twelve Year Olds’ Friendship And How Your Emotional Support Of Each Other Defines The Entire Path Of Your Life Though Mostly For The Main Character, Everyone Else Fucked Off Or Whatever like right yeah, but with that difference of how like clearly as an adult this isn’t gonna be about this guy going like “hey yeah where are those still living scamps today,” he’s reminiscing only, he’s talking about how he now doesn’t have any friends like the ones he had when he was twelve....then what changes in It is like, hmm how are these adults where the fact they’re friends actually is peak relevant? how does one remain friends with even Any childhood friends there huh. and then the fact it works out like that is like aha, well it’s because they don’t lmfao. that everyone happens to scatter to the winds at some point when it maybe will eventually rear its head amongst even their own adult guardians like hey, yknow, maybe let’s not live in murderville. or coincidence. whatever. where the point is that like oh also, everyone just magically forgets the goings on as kids including the existence of their friends, but is about to be reminded of them / remember all that, for a specific external reason rather than [adults are like hey let me try getting in touch with that mf] and already plot and magic is relevant to all of this. they’re not going to have gotten together for the shittiest high school reunion if not for the connection of Friendship, this is about adults but it’s about that childhood plotline still, so Twelve Year Olds’ Friendships still stands / is relevant, so we can even fathom these adults having a connection, b/c yes they Didn’t have it as they got older there, but now they’re jumping back into it actually, b/c magic, and because also this is Directly About (Childhood) Trauma which was also like, hey damn, even outside the stephen king oeuvre & its tendencies (solid & wretched), this is also transcending grievances i so often have with Horror, as someone who likes horror and doesn’t like horror but likes horror but doesn’t like it, and just like. questionable employment of [you Are bothering to focus on Character, and their emotional arcs being entirely relevant to the story here] when sometimes it’s like, do you need a story? the strength of horror shorts to just go “was that fucked up or what.” do you need the characters with the emotional arc relevance at all, or is it just a little avatar walking around with enough vague motivation to have / see / make fucked up shit happen? are they particularly characterized to play into some Metaphor, what’s that metaphor, is it shit, is the execution of it shit. and oftentimes Trauma is just like, idk, it’s like well here’s this person’s Weakness, and it being horror that’s more likely to make it into a Fatal Flaw, like way to have trauma you dumbass, if you were so weak as to fail to just get over it already / Overcome it, you just might be killed for it
annoying, shallow and hackneyed, insulting, etc, and it’s also like, the Individual Focused emotional journey like and here this character who’s been weakly propped up by the Stronger people supporting them will have to go through the crucible of being alone, facing down their Issue like their trauma, and getting through it in this big dramatic one and done way so they can finally stop being a pussy and an obstacle to others. or else fuck it up & die. and it’s like do you know how this works lmfao (no) why shouldn’t the support help. why should it Have to go away. why shouldn’t everyone be crowdsourcing their emotional support amongst their group lmao and never needing to “overcome” it Forever, alone. and that’s at least mostly what gets to go on in It lmfao, like, so obviously this is About Childhood Trauma. whereas It = any of the forces that make people act in ways that create, facilitate, or simply passively allow trauma. (or just some shit that really fucks shit up sometimes i guess.) and you have kids who get caught Alone getting got. but then you have a larger group of some twelvish year olds who are like alright fuck this then, and that’s enough to get through it, the same way that naturally in the less magical / more literal realm of their lives, that friend group & joining forces & providing this like actually (relatively) safe and supportive environment amongst themselves is what protects them & makes everyone a lot more of a force to be reckoned with than they are when out / caught on their own. and it just doesn’t happen to be about choosing to write about like, and then all these kids got picked off one by one anyways, despite their efforts, f. which like i guess it could be, but when the Point is so Directly about the emotional support some kids get from each other / that they Are crowdsourcing protection re: their individual vulnerabilities, that wouldn’t really emphasize that Point so much if regardless of the [having a friend group] everyone was fucked anyways. or the fact that like, again, this is About trauma and what can create it and how that can persist and all, the Magic Rules are about the emotional component of it all, when it’s like, oh this just so happens to be a magic murder entity that’s picking off kids but also prefers to torment them and/or like idk takes the route of going “oh you’re gonna hate this” and hooks up their consciousness via usb cable to the zillionth dimension void & then sips their life force through a crazy straw, or, as it would be to clown entities, a normal straw, and i dunno, that if the usb is unplugged vs eternal living death then the torment juice can give people the interdimensional premonition / telepathy across space & probably time shine(tm) like good for them i guess. call that hypervigilance?
and then that like, into the Adults timeline, not only is there this cheat like woops a stephen king story where adults are friends b/c they’ve reconnected the usb cables where the [friends like the ones i had when i was twelve] has now become immediately relevant and active again, i was like, mad man cinema contemplation meme a bit confused going into the second half until i realized some particular fact of the plot And it was slowly like....we’re kind of goofin huh, is this Being Funnier? b/c i mean, the first one wasn’t not ever funny or like otherwise not super solemn & heavy, and also i’m just Used to horror to the point it’s not gonna like bother me probably, i was watching alone and turned off the lights b/c i couldn’t adjust my screen’s lighting levels & the overhead light in here was gonna create glare via the mirror behind me, and i didn’t think anything of it at any point, i had to also be like “@ me, okay stop saying ‘me’ the moment you realize anything [A Scary Moment] is transpiring for no especial reason,” and yknow, it’s like a roller coaster to me, or i’d say like being tickled except actually i hate that one & will start physically fighting lol, where it’s like yeah aaaaaa but it’s fun & i’m Humored really, i’m experiencing the [horror & comedy are two sides of the same coin], when i’m startled or going like oooh that was, to be sure, creepy, it’s still like, ahaha, i’m figuratively tickled, going :] at the screen, i especially liked the same [ooh hehe yeah that’s eerie] type of moments in both halves like yeah very [your standard marble hornets enjoyer] of me....but anyways so then it did take me an extra few moments maybe in the second half like oh is this Markedly More Humorous? oh it is, then....sort of unexpected but then it immediately makes sense and was Fascinating like, oh, this is so In Conversation With the first movie and with the Overall Story here lmao. like, we are illustrating the Perspective Shift, the [kids timeline] is still relevant and defines everything that’s going on, but they Are adults now and That itself is relevant. b/c otherwise it’s like, it Is just the same situation played over again lmfao like damn we were the [kids fight & defeat a murder sewer clown monster] and now we’re the [adults fight & defeat a murder sewer clown monster]. and Of Course It Makes Sense for there to be overall more Drama for the kids, who are more so just living & immersed in their normal lives in that storyline, and of course, Are Kids, where like anything “was that fucked up or what” that’d happen would be more intense & threatening, and sure applying that perspective like, not only “yeah i’m just experiencing some media, but if that was really happening in life that’d be fucked up, if it was happening for real to me, i’d be like, whoa uh oh holy shit aaaa” lmao, and then an Additional layer of “and if i was twelve” like “yeah aaaa oh shit” way compounded by that, naturally. 
but then i’m Also like, listen, i’d be more like halfway through my 27 yr time jump but i’m the adult with cptsd lmao and so i’m Madmen In The Theatreing because of this angle as well, and intrigued, positively, by the uptick in levity about everything. wherein it’s like okay, it’s sure Also true that like, undo the [and if you were twelve] angle, but The Same kind of fucked up shit happening would of course still be like well this sucks, and is startling, to Anyone who’s an adult, right. But Also like, again the way it’s relevant to touch base with the [kids] timeline, because that’s Defining Everything, this isn’t just “and they’re adults which means everyone’s just tougher than they were when they were kids” and That’s That, it’s like, these are adults who were these specific kids with specific experiences vulnerable to and exposed to bonus trauma, and now this is a “time to jump back in to a head on confrontation with that” plotline but As A Group again rather than this being just the story of like any individuals, or just the main kid/guy, who is now to be sure the [the middle aged writer guy of a stephen king story] lmfao, congrats....and you had [repressed memories but like, magically extensively encompassing] as the device here to as what allows for this outlier scenario of like “but how can adults possibly maintain friendships formed organically in their youth? well, they didn’t lol. but now they’re back.” and the past Has to be relevant and freshly Active because again, this Is directly about trauma lol, not just about whatever broader thing and anyone might secretly have this Hangup or two that’ll get them got. and they all Know this lol, this may be some exclusive knowledge more broadly, but this is Not a secret amongst this group of adults like ah yes my marinating issues that nobody suspects i have....which is a bonus to [even though they’re adults in a stephen king story they don’t all or even mostly have to die] and then like, as i am trying to get around to, that it’d be Different being just any adult approaching this as a new situation to them vs being an adult With Trauma(tm) lol like. the way that one might go “well, this would suck for anyone, but i have a different vulnerability b/c [cptsd involving this shit]” but Then Also the resilience that nobody should have to have and it’s technically a “strength” even though then actually people interpret their [lack of honed ability through direct life experience to cope indefinitely with traumatic experiences] as the strength, a la “wow why’s that person put up with that, i wouldn’t stand for it b/c isn’t it So Clearly Bad & Unpleasant?” victim blaming mentality and people “used” to that shit “putting up with” said shit, which other people would throw up their hands like Wow Just No and walk away from. which in turn isn’t a “weakness” lmao like, there’s no moral judgments to being someone w/trauma or someone without it. that people shouldn’t Have to have cptsd or Resilience, of course, but then that they do. i’m certainly relating to like, yeah it’s Magic Rules / Exaggeration the way that only people young enough can detect & deal with this shit directly, the first time around, and then that they still have access to it as adults presumably b/c of that exposure as kids and because [the childhood trauma doesn’t just Go Away b/c you grew up, even though Also people just think that it ought to or like wow so immature or wow you’re Letting it affect you too strongly still, huh] etc. and anyways, relating to like, yeah enjoyed the way some adults would just be cool & generally supportive, but i also only had so much access to such adults, all Through parents or via school where it’s like, yeah but all the adults there have to Make Sure You’re Behaving Properly in various ways that lead to [punitive] ends and if anyone’s being like particularly supportive / understanding that’s a personal individual choice & they’re probably going Above & Beyond. kind of impressed how useless, and actively unhelpful / counterproductive, any adults were later on when i was dealing with it all the more / had it coming to a head in ways lol, didn’t have an epic friend group i hung out with at twelve or ever who Knew Me that well or i shared anything with or got lifechanging emotional support from, but there Were occasions of like, yeah these peers get it, huh. and now with the perspex of [cptsd having adult] it’s like, yeah, i’d have repeated dreams of parents showing up & i start physically fighting them off with like a shovel and shit lmfao. even now when i rarely have dreams ft. like a more general monster / menacing figure, like i did last night, go figure, Dream Me is always like Oh Okay and immediately physically charges them unarmed lmfao. (also had a dream cameo where some guy on a home computer who was making up like building / engineering schematics? was a Wrole like omg hey buddy. unfortunately a limited interaction, that plot got quickly waylaid by the one where i launch myself at some entity. booo) i can be like “ah, here goes the adrenal response” mostly only noticing sometimes when it’s like, my physical tension has gone to the point of [i can notice my legs/knees shaking], i can also Not Notice It / not think of it b/c you know, it’s like this is truly mundane / everyday shit, in the Relative / Comparative way that it can be. it can be stealth mission time to do some ordinary shit like you live in a survival horror game. it can also go “yeah i could very easily see how if, say, there was this manifestation of trauma / the shit that causes/facilitates/sustains/allows it, i’d go sicko mode on that shit just immediate physical attack” lmao. i know if i’m startled it’s like, that can be a) ordinary, and/or b) unpleasant, and probably c) immediately followed by my being ready to go sicko mode, possibly being a bit pissed off lol. like i can’t even be worried like oh no it’s nighttime what if something was menacing. like yeah that’d be scary and suck, i might get got, i’d also immediately be pissed off like fucking try me you asshole. and it’s like, again the way comedy is A Framework, it’s not what happens when a situation is Lighthearted, Unserious, Frivolous, etc. the like, obvious fact like wow people who are funny can be sad? can have had some fucked up, Serious experiences? can even joke about that? like yeah of course humor can be Deliberately Employed To Cope, including to even communicate about shit, where you’re cueing hard like, i’m not necessarily collapsing under the weight of this right now but it’s a reality and when i’m telling you about it with Humor it’s not in turn asking for you to fix it or even do anything about it at all except be listening to / comprehending the info i’m giving you. and that even looking back on shit can be funny To You because it’s just like, sure Elevated and can be a bit absurd. so it’s like oh yeah of course it’d be funnier, in a way characters are aware of & actively interacting with lmfao. like of course any adult would be like “jesus christ. yikes. aaaa” lol while also being more inclined and able to tackle bullshit right off, but Also being specifically an adult with the [this is your childhood trauma] can be like, yes i’m both still affected by and vulnerable to this shit, but i’m Also less vulnerable than some rando might be, actually, and prepared to / more used to this, and able to go “jesus christ yikes aaaa lmfaooo ahaha” about it. like, i feel that lol. 
paragraph break just because that one was getting Extra long: oh and also the matter of Genre Awareness, that this isn’t just some fucked up shit that happens to be scary and fuck your shit up, but this is expressly an antagonist coming after you with the intention to be scary to you, and you Know that, you are aware you’re in a Horror Genre situation lmao, so meta, surely helpful. and sure sometimes i felt the like comedy vs horror; comedy vs drama sometimes didn’t transition perfectly like, my kind of feeling ambivalent at this one point like uhhh is this scene more straightforwardly dramatic? hmm i guess it was. well anyways. but that’s fine, meanwhile continually delighted even to realize like, here we are going over this all again but with this Shifted Perspective / Framework, we’re clearly goofin a bit. and like how i can clap & cheer like ooh yeah that was creepy lmfao, i got Got comedically like idfk dozen times or what all. ahehe....not to mention the [i Am going insane. society] experience of scrungy expression spit take coughing laughter when overlaying [titanic guy going HaHaHaHaHaHaHa XD as the camera lifts away from overhead] upon [mad man serious contemplation of cinema png] while experiencing like wow the gay Text is more textual than i though, more extensive, turns out i had some things to go into entirely afresh without going “oh yeah, i remember what i osmosis’d about this” to then go :0 =0 about, or that i didn’t quite get Everything through osmosising that i did recall, to then spit take about and become titanic guy fifty times over. i Am a bit joker mode, you really just have to be. and laughing about [when stephen king and PPL go “you know this type of guy” and we all go “yeah i guess. i know Of them [possible knowing looks amongst ourselves, or to the camera]” and then they go “you know how they’re—” and then our answers of “maybe like gay or some shit” overlaps with their “just another heterosexual amongst all the rest of us, unless we’re gay, but we’re talking about how all the protagonists we write are cishet i guess?” like. haha. what an alignment, good for everyone in the overlap....oh and i was like ahahaha when the podcast discussion of The Book Specifically nevertheless had one guy knowing the lore already that the stephen king cameo here as Some Secondhand / Pawn Shop Type Place Owner Guy was someone who, in stephe’s (not a typo, making stephe as = steven happen, with particular enunciation of the ph vs v) own written text as the description of That Guy in the book, is like, this gay caricature who is like wearing some mesh or i think they said it said “fishnet” shirt and like clearly reading this gay porn mag. because how else would someone be gay lmfao? how else would you Know you’ve encountered one of them?? lmfao like, a) i also agree with the podcasters who are like, stephe’s a coward for not staying true to that specific description he wrote when cameo’ing as that person, and b) like, people are gay, stephe....but classic matters of [running down a hallway going Noooo and knocking shit down behind you while being chased by [the way stephen king writes about [take your pick] and/or just like, what do you think is going on in life re: [take your pick] exactly, stephen king, i swear] lol)
anyways This has turned into [gif of the guy emphatically pointing at a laptop and also at some unseen listener to this Serious Monologue] because i have endless things to say about anything. the point it it’s like, well hey i think that was remarkably successful re: choosing to have Characters with Emotional Arcs tied to a Metaphor in this horror media, when usually i’m like, the execution of this is so shit that it’s like, just don’t have characters lol, don’t try to make it a metaphor (although you know, difficult for it not to be tied to anything irl, so don’t be unaware of how it Could be), if it’s gonna be this kind of a mess. the fact that like, you can’t have [trauma] be a character weakness fatal flaw that gets them got b/c they weren’t individually Strong Enough, b/c this is All About a) having & interacting with that [trauma] first and foremost and b) how having a group of relationships affects that (helpfully). my pleasant surprise about how like yeah of course you can’t just make the exact same movie again but i wasn’t necessarily expecting a noticeably more outright comedic angle for round two, but duly kinda delighted by it, and that felt very Appropriate and Verisimilitudinous for the new angle of And You’re Completely Grown. that stephen king Rarely writes about relevant friendships and all the more rarely to never writes about relevant friendships between Adults but whoops, that happened here, b/c there was a magical workaround where “drifting apart” was not entirely congruous to the real life literal actual way that’d happen, and b/c the way this is about childhood trauma means that the Rest of that childhood is relevant to adulthood / adult identities, and he ends up with “god, does anyone?” being answered by “yeah, sometimes” lol. and yeah being a deh enjoyer / being haunted byer / analyzer means anytime something is About the connections someone, say a young person for one, might make and how that can be relevant to All Their Issues, i’m sitting up & taking notes like oh ya don’t say. that stephen king shit overall is like, well this is Interesting and i could talk all day but i’m also like, personally more ambivalent and bound to run over like hey stephe i’m shoving you around, bitch. until we form an unlikely, begrudging alliance to instead go after stanley kubrick, then boo the the shining movie, but whatever. the the shining book ending, one of the few things i particularly remember from actually reading that one, is true like, stephen king endings tending to be a hot mess that maybe aren’t super successful but here we are and it was like, why’d it get so goofy all of a sudden lmfao like i’m telling you with the schrodinger’s boiler that’s old and temperamental and if you don’t maintain it it’ll blow up probably, and that the way things end in the book is the [middle aged dime a dozen writer man protag] being possessed by a hotel is like oh fuck me lmfao, not the boiler i can’t maintain myself even though i’m possessing a hotel, it hasn’t been maintained, and then as always in any of these stories things go off the rails and yakety sax starts to play while after hanna barbera cartoon scrambling in place for a second, your haunted hotel avatar starts sprinting to the basement or wherever it was but Too Late, it blows up and the hotel dies kind of. and that’s kinda fun and funny lol but yknow, put it back in. beating up kubrick aside, i’ve seen all of? nigh all of? wasn’t paying much attention. the movie and it’s like oh okay whatever. but as with like [anything stephen king] and my not even being born till the 90s, it’s like, i can’t possibly experience this afresh, we can all agree that surely this is the best known stephen king work b/w book & film adaptation, even among biggies that really just permeate pop culture overall, who can know what i’d think if these things were New and pre [own significant influence on relevant genres / mediums] or also i was a younger reader/viewer at the times as people could often be. but i was like....expression where you scrunch your face up and look to the side like “are you seeing this” bemusement like...this is. fine i guess? it’s not really scary lmfao. and regardless, resurrecting kubrick to beat him up. but on that note it’s also funny that god knows why i ever mentioned the hypothetical of watching the shining once in passing to my mom, it would’ve been humorous / not in earnest b/c no way would i have been suggesting we watch that or even that i had watched it necessarily, so i Think i must’ve just been informing her of some things that were on tv at that moment with some goofy but technically accurate suggestions like that one, and she is a bit indignant like clearly disapproving of the general idea because, as she says, she doesn’t think it’s Right to tell kids they should ever be afraid of their parents. but between “but like. they go axe murder possessed by a hotel mode here, wherein i think it’s very appropriate?” and [someone who watches It and keeps looking into the camera one zillion times / is fascinated by the fact it’s like oh wow, any horror talking about What If You Had Trauma that isn’t like fundamentally misguided throughout and probably egregiously insulting about it] i take a perfectly comedically timed pause and then we freeze frame on my doing a spit take Laugh into my own drink. not actually in the real moment lol, i just Say Nothing and file that one away lmfao
oh and as a little postscript here i want to shoutout my going “just like Watch Your Step in goosebumps the musical the phantom of the auditorium” where it’s like, schrodinger’s warning about how a kid could just up and accidentally die via this trapdoor or like anywhere anytime, but you don’t really realize that b/c you’re kids, but I’m Telling You. and like, he’s right in general to be sure, you can just die, as well as unknowingly right of course like oops yeah some kid did just up and suddenly die via this trapdoor, grimly. and that’s Stand By Me / The Body handshake emoji It, like of course that mortality is ever relevant particularly in horror, but that also it’s like, kids realizing the reality and Proximity of that, like You Can Die, this could be you or could’ve been you. [horror, and it’s middle schoolers] wins again
#how long is this. and i could've gone on lol. if i have anything to say i Can [never shut up]#it#like what even addendums could there be for the tags....like don't even start b/c of course i could max shit out#i guess the Interesting Fun Fact that in doing research the podcasters were able to be like#''well i'm not Sure abt this; the source was maybe vague & it Would be vague; but that naturally ofc plenty of story elements in#stephen king stuff can be things where he's like yeah [xyz] was directly inspired by some real life shit [abc]'' and that like there was#Maybe this childhood event where he saw a friend / some other kid get hit by a train but then right off fully blacked out on that memory#which obviously would be pertinent here re: Remembering Litchrelly Nothing abt childhood till it all suddenly is brought back into play#but also like the part of stand by me included a scene like woops Almost getting hit by a train. dunno if that's in the short story though#but i'm gonna say Probably Yeah. plus learning again via the podcast like oh stephe got mega hit by like a minivan in '99? i was 5 lol#so i would not have been aware of that news. and i have not since Caught Up on the man's life history. nice not dying there#there was probably some other sidebar i wanted to throw in here but i forget and quick let's post this before I Keep Going On & On#scrolling up ''oh this isn't That long'' scrolling back down ''oh wait maybe it is kinda long''#it's all relative. i like horror i dislike horror. i said a lot i was so concise.#for one thing lmfao like sure is Interesting how; say; i was always Intrigued by horror as a kid even#like i think that's true for plenty of people & there's more than one way to enjoy a genre & s/o to Horror Expressly For Kids or anything#expressly for kids when it's like good & genuine & apropos it's Not just necessarily abt diluted or lesser versions of that For Adults#but anyways like i Also though def experienced like; this does freak me out & in an [i'm not having fun] way. But I Also persisted lol#like me thinking ''but i have to power through & build up a tolerance here'' when like; of course i really Didn't. why would i.#did that re: like thrill rides too sometimes; kinda liking them & the suspense; kinda really not; at least for a good while#i Did build up a tolerance &/or just how i got older & now i think all thrill rides are entirely Fun. except just straight drop towers maybe#haven't tried one lol but i've tried like roller coasters that are supposed to be Especially intense & i didn't even realize like oh. huh.#like it was fine actually lol we have fun...and same with horror; again how like yeah i'm not expecting Especially Intense but yeah ofc i'm#gonna fire this shit up alone in the dark & never think anything of that. munch crunch#like hmmmmm re: my being a little kid who Was bothered more by such shit sometimes while also intrigued / having fun#but who regardless was like Well I Have To Try To Be Okay With It / seek it out & power through. vs ppl who are just like well no i don't#enjoy or like horror stuff particularly and/or roller coasters lol. compare & contrast & contextualize w/me also being a little kid who is#experiencing trauma & trauma responses as what is for me some mundane / everyday / par for the course / Anytime shit lol and of course i do#not have the info / context / perspective / framework to realize this. so i get distressed by ''that Would be fucked up'' but what else is#new or what have you? why shouldn't i also go ''well i guess i have to Get Good at tolerating this / Enduring it'' lmao
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ornithic · 4 months
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i took a little break to draw + general wrist break afterwards so i haven't gotten to play this week but!!!!!!!!
another oras theme that's been stuck in my head is This one
youtube
(+ flying latios song i said in the tags)
youtube
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valeskafics · 17 days
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"The One" - Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader
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a/n: so this is kinda me combining an idea i had with two anon requests oop-
Summary: Centuries of the Bene Gesserit's machinations lead to the union of Feyd Rautha and yourself, the daughter of Lady Jessica and Duke Leto.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, breeding kink, semi public sex, fingering, size kink, tummy bulge, creampie, p in v sex, unprotected sex, feyd rautha has black cum pass it on, overstim
Word Count: 2,500
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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From the moment you walk off of your father’s ship, arm in arm with your brother, Feyd Rautha cannot tear his eyes from you. You seem hesitant, unsure as you set foot on Giedi Prime, looking around as if you expect something horrible to happen. You cling to your brother, who seems to be assuring you that everything is alright. It’s equal parts amusing and adorable, Feyd thinks. As his uncle shakes hands, albeit reluctantly, with your father, you meet his gaze for a brief moment. You look almost like a little bunny caught in a snare. You seem as though you wish to look away, look at anything but him, but his gaze holds you captive. You move closer to Paul, brows pinched together. Feyd’s eyes travel up and down your figure without shame, lingering on the hint of cleavage visible in the gown you’ve arrived in. He smirks slightly, tongue moving over his teeth like a wolf getting ready to launch itself at its prey. 
Before long, Baron Harkonnen and your father declare that they need to discuss important matters, leaving Feyd alone with you and Paul for the moment. You turn to your brother, about to speak, but Duke Leto summons him as well. Feyd watches as the two of you exchange a look, watches you staring after your brother as he leaves, seeming like such a helpless little thing. He walks close to you, his gait slow and purposeful, before standing immediately before you, his form dwarfing yours.
Then you speak, a sweet, gentle voice. One that shouldn’t surprise him, coming from an adorable thing like you.
“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” you say hesitantly, attempting to make conversation, “They say you’re a great warrior.”
Feyd nods, stepping even closer, biting back a chuckle at the way you hold your head high and show no fear despite your hands trembling. He circles around you like a predator, and it amuses him that you take care not to leave yourself exposed, never having your back to him, always having your gaze trained on him. Your parents have taught you well, it would seem.
“Are you scared of me, Lady Atreides?” He questions, his voice a low rasp.
‘No.”
“No? You seem terrified. Your hands are trembling, my lady.”
You inhale sharply, and Feyd admires the rise and fall of your chest as you do before you change the subject, “Giedi Prime is lovely. You must have fond memories here.”
“My memories of this place are quite pleasant. Though I spent more time on Arrakis,” his lips curl into a smile, “Perhaps you will help give me some memories that I can hold onto.”
The way you purse your lips slightly as you attempt to hide your displeasure, mumbling, “Indeed,” nearly has the man laughing aloud.
“I have a question for you, my lady,” Feyd says, his hand moving to your chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger, “Do you know what it is your father is discussing with my uncle?”
You frown slightly before admitting, “No. I do not. Do you?”
“I know everything that goes on here…” He trails off, giving you a knowing smile, one that borders on condescending, “It’s a very, very important matter.”
Before you can say anything, Feyd hears Lady Jessica calling out to you, watches as you excuse yourself, unable to help from casting a glance at him over your shoulder as you leave. All Feyd can think about is dragging you behind the nearest pillar, ripping that gown from your body, and seeing you completely bare before him.
All in good time.
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Feyd’s gaze remains trained on you all through dinner. He watches as you sip at your wine, speaking to your brother. Duke Leto, Lady Jessica, and Baron Harkonnen talk to each other in low, hushed tones. You do your best to keep from looking at Feyd, but it amuses him to no end when you glance at him for a moment, only to see him already staring at you. You quickly avert your gaze, and he relishes in the fact that he’s put you ill at ease. Feyd continues watching you, admiring you unabashedly as he sips at his own drink, waiting for the inevitable announcement.
He knows it’s time when your father stands up, alongside Baron Harkonnen, declaring that the houses of Atreides and Harkonnen, long separated by animosity, will be joined in marriage. Feyd stares at you, watching your entire body stiffen as you realize what is going on. He sees you grip Paul’s hand so tight that he wonders if the younger man’s circulation has yet been cut off.
“I am honored that you have deemed me a suitable prospect to marry your beautiful daughter, Duke Leto.”
“Father…” You turn to Duke Leto, “You cannot be serious. An arranged marriage? This is archaic!”
“I don’t see a problem with arranged marriages.”
Feyd can barely hide the grin on his face when you give him a withering glare, “Forgive me, my lord, but I don’t believe I was addressing you.”
Oh, so you have a bit of bite to you. Feyd likes that. He likes that very much. If he was interested in you before, it has certainly grown to the point of obsession now.
“No, you weren’t addressing me, but I do believe that your soon to be husband has a say in this matter.”
Before you can say anything, Lady Jessica begins to speak, explaining that the Bene Gesserit have been weaving bloodlines for centuries in the hopes of producing the Kwisatz Haderach, that the final piece to the puzzle is your union with Feyd. 
That your child will be the one.
You stare at her incredulously, “So I’m meant to be some kind of broodmare? Sold off to our house’s greatest enemy? This is ridiculous. I refuse.”
Feyd takes another sip of his drink, watching as you storm out of the hall before following after you, despite Lady Jessica suggesting he give you time to absorb this no doubt shocking news. It takes Feyd little time to find you, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you flush up against him. You glare up at him, eyes narrowed.
“Let go.”
“Why should I? I’m your future husband, after all.”
“Future husband? Over my dead body. Let me be perfectly clear,” Feyd’s amusement only grows as you glower up at him, declaring boldly, your chin jutting out in defiance, “I don’t care that our child is meant to be the Kwisatz Haderach. I don’t care that this is the endgame of some Bene Gesserit scheme. I will not marry you.”
You wrench yourself away from him and Feyd’s gaze follows you, never once letting you out of his sights.
A spark has been ignited between the two of you, and he’ll see to it that it grows into a burning flame.
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You do your best to avoid Feyd in the days leading up to the wedding. He catches glimpses of you here and there, and each time you seem to dislike him more than the last. It gives him a thrill he cannot describe, and he knows that when he finally breaks you, gets you to admit your desire for him, it will be all the sweeter. He finds it difficult to concentrate, even while training, on anything other than the fact that knowing he will soon have you in his bed, waiting for him night after night.
The day of the wedding, you say your vows through gritted teeth, refusing to meet his gaze. It’s adorable, really, the way you think you can continue to resist. The kiss the two of you share is relatively chaste, but something about the way Feyd’s gaze lingers on your lips makes you think that there are darker intentions behind his actions. You pull away from him as quickly as possible, the two of you making your way to your seats at the head of the banquet table, the wedding reception beginning.
“You know, you might as well not try to resist the pull you feel towards me. You’ll soon be carrying my child, after all.” You stiffen with anger at his words, your hands clenched into fists. Feyd decides to speak again, leaning in close, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Just imagine how it will be once the ceremony is over and we retire to our room where I’ll spend the entire night claiming you as my wife.” You gasp slightly as he grabs your jaw, turning you to face him, a dirty smirk spreading across his lips, “Such a beauty my little wife is.”
You shiver slightly as his thumb traces your lower lip, pressing down slightly before allowing it to puff out again. Feyd looks into your eyes, leaning close. Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his lips for a brief moment. And he knows. 
Feyd knows you want him.
Before you can utter a single word, he crushes his lips to yours, surprising you with his intensity. But you make no move to pull away. Feyd can’t help but feel vindicated as he kisses you, a hungry kiss that borders almost on violence with its intensity. When he finally breaks apart from you for air, your lips are swollen and you have a look in your eyes that he hasn’t quite seen from you before.
A look of desire.
Feyd grabs your hand, marching the two of you over to a nearby pillar, just out of sight of the wedding feast. And he’s pleasantly taken by surprise when he kisses you and you match his intensity, his hunger with your own. Feyd lifts you up slightly, pinning you against the wall, hands hooking under your thighs to hold you up while your arms wrap around his neck. His tongue snakes its way between your lips, massaging your own as he squeezes at your flesh, stroking you over the fabric of your underwear. He chuckles to himself, feeling how quickly your body responds to his touch, the way your arousal soaks his fingers as he pumps them steadily in and out of your needy cunt.
“For someone who seemed to despise me so much, you seem to enjoy my touch.”
You ignore the snide remark, pulling him into another kiss, moaning against his lips as he continues moving his fingers in and out of you, your walls squeezing around the digits, oversensitized from your last climax and yet longing for more. You lose track of how many times Feyd makes you come around his fingers, and you realize, when he undoes his pants to free his cock, why he was doing so. He was preparing you. Your eyes grow wide at the sight of his sheer size, long and thick, weeping at the tip. Though you feel that throbbing between your thighs at the sight of it, you absently wonder to yourself how it’s going to fit inside you.
You realize you’ve voiced your thoughts aloud when Feyd’s fingers thread through your hair, tugging just enough to make you whine as he hisses, “Don’t worry, wife. I’ll make it fit.”
He sheathes himself inside you with one thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden intrusion makes you let out a choked gasp, but it isn’t one of pain. You cling to Feyd as he pins you to the pillar, his body holding you up as he ruts against you. You can hardly catch your breath, helpless to do anything but let your head loll back against the stone behind you and let Feyd continue his onslaught of pleasure. He fucks into you like a crazed man, the intensity in his eyes being almost unbearable to meet. But the moment you try to turn away, he jerks your head back toward him, a silent demand for you to look him in the eyes as he fucks you.
Your cunt spasms around him, and he feels you soak his cock with the evidence of your arousal. But he isn’t anywhere near done with you. Overstimulated, you let out a whine as he pulls out of you and sets you on the ground, only to spin you around, his front to your back, lifting your wedding dress as he continues pounding into you, his balls slapping against your ass, the noise echoing so loud that you’re sure someone is bound to hear. 
Feyd growls into your ear, “You feel so fucking perfect around me. So tight. Going to fill you up with my cum. Drag you back to the feast with it dripping from that pretty little cunt. And when your belly starts to grow, everyone will know it was Feyd Rautha who fucked his heir into you. The One.”
One of his hands holds your wrists together while the other presses down against your stomach, over the fabric of your dress. You let out a mewl of satisfaction, glancing downward and seeing how he’s pressing against the bulge of his cock in your lower abdomen. You can feel his thrusts begin to slow, his hand moving to circle your clit, pinching slightly at the sensitive bundle of nerves as he spills himself inside you. You reach your own peak moments later, milking his cock for every bit of his seed with a cry of his name.
Feyd catches you as you fall back against him, smirking at something you can’t quite see. Though when he takes your arm, there’s a tender edge to his actions. One that you hope you’ll get to see more often as his wife.
When you return to the wedding feast, you’re greeted by whispers and knowing looks. Unsure of what’s going on, you turn to your family. Your father looks abjectly horrified while your mother looks quite pleased. Paul looks like he’s on the verge of bursting into laughter. You shoot your brother a questioning look. He leans in, barely able to hold himself back from snickering.
“Did you know, little sister… The Harkonnen are known for certain… Things of theirs to be black?”
“Their clothes?”
Paul now dissolves into full-bodied laughter at your clueless response, “No. But, your dress is certainly black now.”
The implication of what he’s said hits you. And you realize that when Feyd declared you’d return to feast with his cum dripping from you and that everyone would know that he had claimed you, he meant it.
Harkonnen seed is black.
You turn to look at him, seeing him biting back a smirk as he sips his wine, his hand resting on your thigh, moving dangerously close to your core. You look around, seeing the pitying gazes of some of the ladies present at the feast.
But why should they pity you?
You’re quite pleased with your current situation. You have a husband who knows how to make your body sing with pleasure and it will be your womb that brings forth the Kwisatz Haderach.
Truly, these women ought to envy you.
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aethelwyneleigh27 · 5 months
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Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley Imagines List
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Before you ask, yes I been meaning to use @ave661 renders ever since she posted the Dad!Ghost part 2. Did I use most of them in this post? You know damn well I did.
Did I put in so much work into this one post? Yes. Am I going to be upset if it doesn't do as well as the ones I didn't put much effort in (Ahem the quokka Price imagine)? Also yes.
Tagging people who I think would like this: @puff0o0, @blingblong55. Honestly that was it but if y'all wanna be tagged in the next post then tell me in the replies :)
Parings: Ghost x Wife!Reader
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❥ Dad!Simon who values nothing else over spending time with you and your child, even if it's something as simple as him and your little one laying down on your lap while you watch tv together. (Top left pic 🥺)
❥ Dad!Simon who gives the baby a bath for the first time, doing his best not to get soap in their eyes. Him rubbing the baby's head gently with his thumb to wash the suds off the little one's head and hair while they look up at him and coo.
❥ Dad!Simon who had a heart attack the moment he heard the baby cough while they're still in the baby bath net. He just turned away for a second to grab the towel behind him, the one moment he took his eyes off them, the little rascal tried to drink the bath water.
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❥ Dad!Simon who's ever so gentle with dressing the baby, they're too little and too fragile in his eyes. Watching the baby try to chew on their own fist while he puts their little socks on. (Matching skeleton mittens for the little baby 🥺)
❥ Dad!Simon who loves hearing his baby let out such loud giggles whenever he kisses them, it's music to his ears to hear his little one let out such a hearty laugh, their little arms and legs flailing because their face is being tickled by his stuble.
❥ Dad!Simon who absolutely adores when his baby attempts kissing him or you (their momma) because it's basically just them having their tiny hands on his or your face while they're open-mouthed and almost headbutting their little lips on either yours or your husband's face.
❥ Dad!Simon who absolutely love nap time, mainly because he takes the naps with them. Nothing more sweet than waking up with the little one's life you two brought to this world.
❥ Dad!Simon who you found awake in the middle of the night to put the baby back down to sleep.
"Come on now pumpkin, you should let your momma rest. She's extremely tired of taking care of both of us.." Simon whispers while he cradles the baby in his arms, trying to lull them back to sleep.
You couldn't help but smile, knowing that what you do doesn't go unappreciated.
"I would never get tired taking care of you two" You said in a hushed tone, making Simon's head snap to the doorway.
To see you, his loving wife look at him as if he was the most important thing in this world reminded him if why he wanted to marry you a few years back.
❥ Dad!Simon who receives a video you sent him while he's deployed of the baby waking up from a nap.
❥ Dad!Simon who doesn't notice you in the room while you were trying to collect laundry, he was working out, you caught him doing push ups and your baby's attempts in copying their dad.
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❥ Dad!Simon who bought the baby a little stuffie that they now are emotionally attached to and bring everywhere, yeah the baby constantly signals Simon to kiss the stuffie too.
❥ Dad!Simon who had to train Riley not to lick the baby so much because dog slobber and even though Riley was well behaved, poor thing didn't have much of a self-control the first time you guys brought the baby home.
❥ Dad!Simon who thinks it's absolutely adorable that his little one likes Riley so much.
"Dada!" The baby called out for Simon.
"Dada, Ri-ley" They said, pointing out a little finger to your family dog.
"Yeah pumpkin, that's Riley" Simon said, letting the little one make a beeline and waddled quickly towards Riley, giving the dog a hug with their tiny arms.
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❥ Dad!Simon who spends forever looking for the skull part of his mask only to find the baby trying to chew on it, couldn't really blame them because the sight was cute and he knew how agitated they were with teething.
❥ Dad!Simon who constantly washed his gloves and almost never took it off during your baby's teething stage because god they were a strong biter. The gloves helped cushion the pain of the bites a lot.
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❥ Dad!Simon who swore his heart was about to burst when he saw you and the baby meet him before he was able to go home after deployment for a surprise. (Of course Price was the one who set it up, he wanted to see his grandchild (might as well be)
"Dadadada–dada—da" Your baby squealed out while reaching out, recognizing Simon almost too fast even with the mask on.
"Pumpkin," Simon says as he takes your baby out of your arms and into his "–yeah, dada's here now. Missed me like I missed you?" Simon asks the baby as if they could actually respond.
The little one let out a happy little gurgle, hands reaching out for Simon's face.
"I'll take that as a yes" Simon tenderly kisses the top of the baby's head through his balaclava.
❥ Dad!Simon who loves baby hugs, the tiny little arms providing a bit of warmth while he holds his baby in his, rubbing their little head with his gloved hand and fingers.
Taskforce interacting with little Ghostie
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saetoru · 7 months
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ STRAWBERRY FLAVORED — GETO SUGURU.
contents. here is a lil prequel to this btw, basically this is suguru’s shower scene but if he actually had someone to take care of him, reverse comfort, aka my extremely self indulgent drabble of fixing suguru before he turns into a mass murderer <3
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it’s been a while—suguru has been in that shower for long enough that you’re starting to grow concerned. you contemplate for a bit, whether it’s a good idea or not to enter the boys shower, weighing the possibilities of being caught.
satoru’s not here, you reason, nanami and haibara are gone too, and yaga shouldn’t notice either—so, with a heavy sigh, you walk up to the door, opening it slowly. you can see him, standing as the water pours over his body, not even moving a little when you enter.
suguru is not the same—not after everything that’s happened. you can tell, you can see it under his eyes from the lack of sleep, you can see it in his cheekbones as they show a bit more from the lost weight, you can see it in the stiffness of his body when you’re around him. he’s not the same, and no one’s seem to have noticed, but you have. you always have.
you slowly strip from your clothing, walking up to him quietly until your arms circle his waist and your cheek rests against his bare back.
“baby,” you hum, “you’re turning into a prune. look at your skin,” you grab his hand, running a thumb over the tips of his fingers, wrinkly from the water.
he gives you an empty chuckle—you don’t think you’ve heard a real laugh from suguru since that day. “but aren’t i a handsome prune?” he mumbles.
“of course,” you kiss his shoulder, “the handsomest.”
“that’s a relief,” he says playfully—there’s nothing playful about his tone, though. it’s numb, automatic, like he’s trained himself to respond to you the way he always does. but you can feel it. he’s not the same.
“you’ve been in here a while. i got tired of waiting.”
“sorry,” he drops his hand from yours, falling limply to his side, “lost track of time, i guess.”
“suguru,” you say softly, “what’s wrong?”
he’s quiet, probably contemplating his answer. no one else might’ve noticed, but you have. you always do—he knows you always will. finally, he decides to answer, “are you really asking me that?”
“yes,” you say firmly, “i want to hear it. i want you to hear it. stop pushing it down.”
“i’m fine,” he mutters, “just tired.”
“i know,” you say softly, “i know you’re tired. what’s got you so tired?”
gently, your arms twist his body—he doesn’t put up a fight, just spins to face you until his face is digging into your neck on instinct. he can smell your body wash, can inhale the familiar scent of you from here. there are no curses to consume and no people to save at the risk of himself here, just the soft feeling of your skin and the warm press of your lips on his head.
riko would’ve liked you, he thinks. he can’t help it.
for a fleeting moment, when his hand was outstretched to her, he’d wondered if you’d like her too. he’d decided you would—you’re kind, you always have enough love for one more person. you’ll like riko, he’d thought. and then just like that, she’d been on the floor, dark pool of blood under her head.
you never got to meet her, and he never got to introduce you.
“what’s wrong, sugu?” you ask again, voice more delicate this time.
“everything,” he whispers.
he’s tired, so incredibly tired. suguru is exhausted. so for today, he’ll let you pick up the pieces. he doesn’t want to worry about you right now, doesn’t want to think about whether or not the edges will be sharp enough to slice your fingertips. suguru is exhausted—so for once, he lets you worry about him instead.
“i see,” you nod, letting your fingers trail to his head, stroking the wet strands gently as he trembles against your body, “everything is a lot. let’s start with just one, yeah?”
“i hate the taste of curses,” he spits, “it tastes like vomit.”
“that’s no good,” you agree, and then you’re pulling his head out of your neck—he wants to protest, wants to stay right where he is so he doesn’t have to face you, or anything. but you’re insistent, gentle as you are firm, cupping his cheeks as you force him to look at you. “can you still taste it?”
“yeah,” he nods. it’s true, he can’t forget the taste even if he tries. it’s like a phantom pain—but it resides on his tongue, haunting him long after it’s gone, even as he breathes and swallows and talks. “i hate it.”
your lips are on his after that, soft and sweet against his mouth. he can taste the strawberry of your chapstick, the familiar taste of you that he also could never forget. it washes down the vile taste of curses easily, so he leans in for more. and more. and more. he needs more.
“what about that?” you ask, stroking his cheek when you pull away, “how does that taste?”
“good,” he says shakily, “i…i like that.”
“i know you do,” you smile, pecking the corner of his mouth, “i can’t change how curses taste. but if i could, i’d make them strawberry flavored for you.”
he chuckles at that—it’s small, but it’s real. for the first time in a long time. it’s real.
suguru hates how curses taste, and you can’t change that, but you can help make swallowing become easier. he’ll take it—he’ll take anything you give.
“that might make the job easier,” he says, burying his face back into your neck, “they’d taste like you.”
“i’ll kiss you then,” you stroke his hair, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. his lips wobble, vision turning blurry. suguru is tired—he doesn’t want to hold it in anymore. “after every curse you swallow, i’ll kiss you. it’ll make it easier.”
“i don’t know if it will,” he admits, “this….what do we do it for? none of it is easy.”
he used to think it was. fighting curses was easy—satoru and him were the strongest. fighting curses was like stepping on ants as they walk on the concrete, crushing them before they can bite anyone. but he starts to wonder if people deserve to be bitten, if the people who kick at ant piles mindlessly for fun deserve to be saved from themselves.
you think for a bit, contemplating his question as the water runs over both of your bodies, slipping into the thin crevices between your skin and his.
“it’s not,” you agree, “it’s not easy. i would’ve loved to meet riko. i know you wanted me to. i’m sorry, suguru.”
somewhere along with the water on your shoulder mixes his tears, and his body shakes against yours. suguru is tired. he’s tired of swallowing curses and tasting bile. he’s tired of pretending the weak are innocent. he’s tired of carrying so much weight on his young, innocent shoulders. they deserve to be free.
“is it worth saving them?” he asks as he sniffles, “if they clap over people like us dying?”
“people like us aren’t always so different,” you point out.
people like us don’t need saving, he wants to argue—but you don’t give him a chance to, turning the water off behind him as you stand there holding him as he leans into you.
“there will always be someone who needs to be saved,” you murmur, “and there will always be something they need to be saved from. it’s not always as simple as curses and exorcisms, though.”
“that doesn’t make any sense,” he frowns, “that’s the whole point of jujutsu. to exorcise curses.”
“and if we exorcised them all? would that make everyone safe?”
“maybe not,” he furrows his eyebrows, “but at least we wouldn’t be dying for them.”
“you never know,” you reach for the towel, slowly pulling away and patting his skin gently as you dry his dripping skin, “maybe you’d die from something worse.”
“what could be worse?” he asks bitterly. he doesn’t understand. but you smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you brush his bangs from his face.
“i don’t know,” you shrug, “but i’m sure there’s something. there’s always something worse. but there’s always something better too.”
he still doesn’t completely understand. but the weight on his shoulder doesn’t feel as heavy when you lean and kiss it again—he feels like at least some of his youth is still his, still yours.
“you make no sense,” he grunts, scowling when you ruffle his hair obnoxiously with a giggle.
“well, maybe you’ll make sense of things after a nap,” you poke his chest accusingly, “you really need one. and then you’ll eat something. c’mon.”
“i don’t sleep with wet hair,” he reminds you as you tug him along, stopping where his clothes hang. you gesture at him to hold his arms up, grabbing his shirt. he rolls his eyes and indulges you, letting you dress him.
“i’ll dry it for you,” you chuckle, “my sugu is so high maintenance.”
and then, before you can turn to grab your own clothes, he tugs your wrist and pulls you in, kissing you hard, kissing you hungrily, kissing you like you’re all he has. just because he can. he can taste the last bits of your chapstick—he wants to keep tasting it forever. it’s strawberry, his favorite.
“i like strawberries,” he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, “so don’t change the flavor.”
“okay,” you grin, cupping his cheeks, “i’ll always get strawberry for my sugu.”
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he just needed a few kissies and he would’ve been fine. i guess i’ll take one for the team and kiss him a few times 😔 i guess i can take the responsibility of loving him 😔 i’ll be fine guys no need to worry about me 😔
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chrisevansonly · 19 days
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The Morning Count
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lando norris x female reader
summary: every morning like clockwork you count the freckles that adorn your boyfriends skin, only this time he catches you in the act.
warnings: none, just fluff
a/n: i got inspired from the pic above in today’s quadrant video, and i needed fluff after my last fic failed lol so enjoy <3
The sun was just coming up over Monaco, soft rays filling the room and a still very tired Lando sleeping softly beside you. It wasn’t even 7:15 in the morning yet but you were usually an early riser, the opposite of your boyfriend. The one good thing about being the first up is it gave you time to count all the freckles that adorned his tan skin.
Honestly it was something you’d started to do when Lando first stayed over at your house, and you carried on the little routine even after you’d both moved in together. As you faced him, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, your fingers skating across his skin gently. Moving from freckle to freckle, counting in your head.
“What are you doing?”
Pausing you looked up to see an amused smile on Lando’s face, his eyes slightly open as he looked at you
“I’m counting…” you replied softly
“Counting huh?”
“Is it annoying?”
He shook his head, letting out a yawn
“No, not at all…i’ve finally managed to catch you though”
“Catch me doing what?” you knew what he was going to say, but you needed to hear it
“Counting my freckles…you’ve done it since the first night i slept over”
Hearing this your eyes widened slightly, not knowing he’d been aware of your little tradition for that long.
“You’ve known this whole time?”
“Mhm just never caught you till now baby”
Lando took your hands gently and brought them up to his mouth to kiss them gently before pulling you in close and leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. Even if it was earlier than he liked, he’d never turn down the chance to keep you close and have you in his arms for a little extra before he’d leave for training.
“Well I’m not gonna stop…even if you caught me”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way”
Smiling up at Lando you kissed him once more before settling down on his chest and letting his arms tighten around you. The room fell quiet, only the sounds of the city slowly waking up could be heard, that and now the sounds of Lando’s snores as he’d fallen back to sleep.
Even at the earliest of hours it didn’t take much for him to go back to sleep…in fact the soft touch of your fingertips trialing between his freckles, usually did the trick.
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ceilidho · 27 days
Text
prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 4; ghoap x reader) part 1, part 2, part 3 tags: dubcon/noncon, nsfw
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Much of Ghost’s behaviour is reactive. Oddly passive for the assumptions people often make of him. He doesn’t run from trouble, but certainly he doesn’t seek it out. Aside from a few rare deviations from the norm (running his father out of the city at eighteen, not breaking enough bones to count as restitution, and finally leaving home to enlist), that remains the rule. 
The way Johnny mopes for days after parading his bird around base has Ghost nearly rolling his eyes, already exasperated. He should’ve known his puppy wouldn’t share well. 
It’s worse than he expected though. Johnny mopes for a week straight after the fact, hardly able to meet Ghost’s eyes in briefings. He stares straight down at the floor pathetically, dragging his feet behind him when he’s dismissed. Price notices it right away, raising an eyebrow at Ghost after Johnny leaves the room. 
“Trouble in paradise?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach.
“In the dog house, I reckon. His girl’s pissed at him.”
“Your doing?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Ghost replies smoothly, face giving away nothing.
Price is hardly convinced. “I’m sure. Nothing to do with you.”
Ghost doesn’t answer that. He waits until he’s dismissed and then takes off down the same hall Johnny just left, curious about wherever his boy’s slunk off to. 
He can’t help the latent sadistic streak in him that curls up in pleasure at the sight of Johnny pouting and squirming whenever he walks into the room. Still, his attitude will need to be rectified soon enough—there’s only so much Ghost will tolerate, only so much disrespect he’ll turn a blind eye to. One day Johnny will look back and reflect on this, and appreciate the extent of Ghost’s magnanimity. 
Still, he doesn’t enjoy being ignored. One week bleeds into the beating heart of the next and Ghost realizes that he’s had enough of the silent treatment. He’s given Johnny more than enough time to come to terms with their new situation. 
He tracks him down to the armoury on a Monday evening after most of the other soldiers have already left for the day, back home or eating supper in the mess hall. It’s empty apart from the two of them, and when Johnny finally notices his presence in the room, his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t flinch at least. Good boy. He’s gotten better at being less reactive, less shaky about being caught off guard. 
“Done for the day, sergeant?” He keeps it light to start, taking a step closer. 
Johnny tenses at the approach. “Yes, sir.” The title would usually satisfy on its own, but it comes strained, polite but removed. 
“Where’d you come from?”
“Layouts and gunners training, sir.”
On any other day, Johnny’s deference might come as a lovely note to end the day on, but not today. It rankles now, the edge of his voice sweetened by a kind of silent dismissal, not giving any more information than what’s required of him. Nothing like the boy who used to open his mouth and sing the world back to him. Ghost has earned his every thought. 
“We have a problem, Soap?”
“No, sir,” Johnny grumbles, still not meeting his eyes. His mouth barely moves when he says the words, teeth all but grit. 
No dealing with this temper tantrum like adults then. For all Johnny must carp and bitch to himself about the hardships that Ghost has put him through, he seems to have no desire to actually deal with the problem. That’s too bad. It would’ve been easy enough to talk it out like grown men.
They’ll have to come to terms some other way.
“Come. We’re fixing this attitude of yours now,” Ghost grunts, turning before Johnny has the opportunity to complain and marching down the hall towards the gym. 
He hears Johnny make a sound like an angry bull before following him down the hall. The loud footfalls against the tile floor betray his simmering anger; it reveals to Ghost what he already knew intuitively. His boy still needs to learn to play well with others. 
In time, this anger will fade into the ether, replaced by Johnny’s old doggish need to please Ghost, but it’s causing too many problems now to be tolerated. He hasn’t gotten to see the bird since the week before. Doesn’t even have a photo of his own to look at when he rubs one out. It would be less aggravating if Johnny were willing to spread his legs and let Ghost rut between his thighs, but they aren’t there yet.
The gym is empty as it usually is around early evening when Ghost opens the door, the lights off from whoever last used it. Johnny follows him sullenly, dragging his feet about it. Ghost’s eye ticks at the show of attitude persisting into this space.
“Lock it behind you,” Ghost says without looking back at him, crossing to where the mats are on the other side of the gym. 
Neither of them are dressed to spar, still clad in their fatigues, but his blood cranks up to boiling when he turns around to watch as Johnny crosses the room angrily, picking up steam now as well. He comes in hot, not even bothering to suss out Ghost’s first move before launching himself at him. 
Ghost staggers back a step at the hit, but he takes it in stride, shifting his weight and using Johnny’s momentum to throw him off, sending him sprawling. He’s quick to get back to his feet, but that moment of carelessness gives Ghost everything he needs. The next time Johnny throws himself at him, Ghost lets him get an arm around his leg and nearly grins to himself when he feels Johnny put all his weight into trying to flip him. 
He knows strength isn’t everything, but there’s something to be said about the several inches and even more kilos he has on Johnny. That plus a decade’s worth of experience. Sparring devolves into a sweat-slicked grapple, Johnny’s shirt coming untucked and rucked up, his hair mussed. He tries to go for the mask, eyes gleaming with a wet, savage glint—forgetting decorum or tact, and just going for the most underhanded maneuver. 
He pays for it when Ghost takes him hard to the floor, catching him with a leg sweep that he might’ve been able to avoid if he were fighting with a clear mind. Anger makes him sloppy though. 
“Fuckin’ bastard—” Johnny grunts when he hits the floor, narrowly avoiding clipping his chin against the mat. 
“Folks never married, so guess you’re right,” Ghost remarks, unbothered. Hardly winded even, only the lightest sheen of sweat on his brow, obscured by the mask. 
His sudden divulgence makes Johnny falter. So rarely does Ghost open even a crack that the momentary honesty catches him off guard, giving Ghost the opportunity to wrangle him into a tight hold. 
Pinning Johnny isn’t an easy task because the kid fights dirty when he feels cornered. Lashes out wildly with his fists when Ghost gets an arm around his neck and holds him in place, less precise than when he’s coolheaded, but still brutal, all raw strength packed behind his punches. He twists Johnny over onto his stomach when the boy tries to buck him off, slamming him down hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
“Gonna tell me what’s got you all riled up now?” Ghost asks, twisting Johnny’s arms behind his back to pin him in place. 
He struggles in Ghost’s hold, trying to find a weak point. The search is fruitless. Ghost’s body weighs him down like a boulder pinning him flush to a dirt-streaked mountainside, forcing the air out of his lungs when he presses down harder. 
“Ye cannae just take her from me—” he spits out, face flushed. He kicks out a foot, trying to free himself, but all Ghost does is shift slightly to press his shin to Johnny’s calf, holding it down. “I told ye she was different and ye had to—and now she willnae even fuckin’ talk to me. Barely texts me, willnae answer my calls. I cannae—I can’…” 
His voice trails off on a hitch. Not quite a sob, but a frustrated, wretched sound. 
“Held that in for a while, didn’t ya?” Ghost murmurs, holding Johnny down with ease when he struggles again, trying to wrench his arms out of Ghost’s hold. 
“I almost fuckin’—almost just fuckin’ gave her to ye,” Johnny says, shame thick in his voice. “Thought maybe it wouldnae be worth…jus’ dinnae want a girl coming between us. But she’s—I told ye, Lt, she’s special, I cannae jus’—I cannae jus’ let her go. And now she doesnae want anythin’ to do with me.”
Ghost doesn’t bother pointing out the absurdity of that statement. As if Johnny could give him something that’s already his. 
“Not trying to steal your bird, Johnny.” He taps Johnny’s cheek, a little reprimand. It makes him blink and scrunch up his nose. “What’d be the point of that?”
He forgets how young Johnny is sometimes, just now nearing the end of his twenties. Still wet behind the ears, all blood flushed and pink cheeked. Green still to the realities of the world and Ghost’s presence in his life (permanent, fixed; unchanging). 
There isn’t a version of him that wants someone who doesn’t also want Johnny. Inconceivable. After everything that they’ve been through together, the root of him and what he wants is inextricably tied with what Johnny wants—at times, Ghost almost wishes he could live inside his head, just a constant stream of Johnny’s thoughts into his. 
Johnny twists his head enough to glare over his shoulder at Ghost. “The fuck are ye on about? Ye grabbed her ass in front of God ‘n everyone, for Christ’s sake. Said your intentions loud ‘n clear.”
“‘Course I did. She’s got a nice arse, doesn’t she?”
“You’re really startin’ to fuck with my head, Ghost, I dinnae understand what ye—”
“You keep running your mouth off about trying to take the girl from you—I don’t need to take anything.” He stresses the word to be clear, forcing Johnny back down when he tries to buck Ghost off again. This time he stays in place, both calves pinned down to the mat, cheek pressed into the fabric when Ghost slots a hand into the scruff of his mohawk, forcing his head down. “Quit struggling—you’re not getting back up. We’re sorting this shit out now so you quit moping around base and giving me a fuckin’ headache.”
“Stop exaggerating—I havenae even opened my mouth around ye in days. I’m no’ doing anything to your head—”
“How the fuck am I supposed to think when you keep running away?”
The air hangs heavy in the wake of his words, the oxygen all but sucked out of the room. 
“The two of you are mine,” Ghost says in a low, harsh voice, the sound making Johnny flinch against the mat. “I’m not asking for just one of you. You’re out of your fuckin’ mind if you think I’d leave you out of this, mutt.”
He’d sooner lose them both, but that’s another scenario that he’d never tolerate. 
With some effort, Ghost tips Johnny over onto his back, holding him down before he can start to struggle again. He keeps his wrists trapped behind his back, forcing Johnny to arch his back off the floor, presenting himself. From his vantage point, it’s easy for Ghost to flick his gaze down and find Johnny’s dick pressed hard against the zipper of his pants, all plumped up from being pinned to the ground. 
“Good, you’re already hard,” Ghost grunts approvingly, rolling his hips down to alleviate some of the pressure building up in his groin. “Haven’t come since she left the other week, I bet.”
Panic flares red hot in Johnny’s eyes, widening when Ghost settles deeper between his legs, his own hard cock unmistakable. “Wait—wait, Ghost—I’m no’—I’m no’—”
It would be a stretch to say that anything softens in him, but a part of Ghost does feel for the boy. He’s been around Johnny long enough to know his persuasion—strictly women with the occasional appreciative glances towards some men. An appreciation he relegates to furtive, guilty glances, holding it inside of him like a nasty secret that he’ll never part with. Too riddled with Catholic guilt and the ease of just playing it straight. 
Ghost has no intention of making it easy on him though. 
He tries to imagine what it might be like if he were on the other end, but for him it’s only ever been cunts and Johnny and the bird. Now just the latter two hold any weight. 
His protests only last as long as it takes Ghost to unfasten their belts and zippers, fishing Johnny’s cock out first. The second his rough hand wraps around Johnny’s length, the words die on the boy’s lips, replaced by a choked off grunt. His balls are full enough to corroborate Ghost’s words—he probably hasn’t come since seeing his girl off the other day, too frustrated and upset to jack off, the ducts shut, working himself up into a frothy mess only for it to slip right out of his hands at the last second. 
Johnny’s eyes roll back when Ghost grips both their cocks in his fist, slicking his hand up with Johnny’s precome. Sweat sluices down the sides of his neck. He looks good with his tongue tied up in knots, thoughts emptying out through his ears in rivulets. 
Even with Ghost’s hand as big as it is, he can’t wrap it all the way around the two of them. Johnny’s come provides a nice glide though, lubricating the underside of his shaft when Ghost grinds up into his fist. 
It spurs him into a kind of ​​protolithic fervour, desperate only to come. The iron rich scent of blood and sweat makes Ghost salivate, eyes drawn to the tender skin of his neck, the flush now riding high, up and over his cheekbones. Lips bitten red, also swollen with blood. In a better mood, Ghost might indulge him, might roll up his mask and lick into the wet mouth hanging open deliciously, teasing him, but there’ll be time for that later. 
He slurs out Ghost’s name when he comes, Simon ripped from his lips like it was dug clean out of his soul. His come splatters across his belly and shirt in thin, watery spurts, the wind knocked out of him again. 
Johnny squirms when Ghost doesn’t let go of their cocks, hand still dragging up and down, mumbling that he’s too sensitive, fuck, lemme go, I cannae—
“I’ll stroke your cock and grab the bird’s ass whenever I feel like it,” Ghost growls down at him, at the end of his patience now. He pants out a ragged breath when his cock throbs at a particularly whorish moan dropping broken from Johnny’s mouth. “I’ll nut in her cunt and make you lick it out if I want. And you’ll fuckin’ thank me for giving you a taste.”
Johnny almost goes nonverbal at that, a leg trying to kick out weakly even though it’s still pinned down under Ghost’s heavy thigh. His dick twitches against Ghost’s, a valiant effort. 
When Ghost comes, it settles in a thick, viscous mess across Johnny’s stomach, pooling around his belly button. It radiates hot down his back, the ache in his lower spine abating momentarily. Can only imagine how much better it would feel balls deep in Johnny’s ass or the bird’s pussy, a wet warmth clutching him tight, legs wrapped around his waist to drag him closer. 
He’ll have that soon enough.
A ragged wheeze is pulled from Johnny’s chest when Ghost drags his cock through it, spreading it over his stomach. It’s worse when Ghost dips his fingers into the mess, a sticky blend of both their come, before bringing his fingers up to Johnny’s mouth, forcing them past his lips and over his teeth and gums. Johnny sputters at the taste, going cross-eyed to look down at Ghost’s hand. 
There’s no time for pillowtalk or soft words though. Even if there were, niceties come out of Ghost’s mouth like a ring of smoke. Still, the thought of the bird not returning Johnny’s calls or texts makes him bristle, his annoyance renewed. His own disinclination to communicate aside—a waste of words as far as Ghost’s concerned, he says more with his actions anyway—none of this works if the girl won’t talk it out. 
Probably pent up, the stubborn thing. He’ll have to sort that out too. It keeps him young at least. 
“C’mon, Johnny,” Ghost says, rising to his feet. He dusts his hands off on his fatigues as if nothing happened, then holds out a hand for Johnny to grab. “Let’s go see our bird.”
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dragon-ascent · 18 days
Text
You think you can train a dragon. Unfortunately, the dragon is the one training you.
Zhongli sees the net fall over him and yet decides to stay still as a summer leaf. You're bounding over to him excitedly, goofy-looking thing you are, but there's no malice in your grin.
You better have a good reason for interrupting his idling with this rather bothersome net. Briefly the dragon wonders if he should simply open his mouth and terrorise you into thinking he'd eat you - not that he would, though. Human flesh isn't particularly palatable to him.
"I caught you, dragon!" you exclaim, despite the fact that the net hardly covers half his draconic body. "You shall be mine! Forever and ever!"
The dragon looks utterly unfazed as he tilts his head. "Oh?"
"I'm going to train you," you add, placing your hands on your hips. "Everyone'll be jealous of my new pet!"
Pet? Zhongli thinks to himself as he gnaws the net away with ease. Ah, humans call dogs and cats their pets, and they seem to be quite close. He could use some company for a change. "Very well, I shall be your companion."
But who's REALLY the pet here?
This dragon is very picky about the feng shui in and around your place. "The arrangement of your garden is lovely, but it could use some work. I would suggest having the roses to the east, and the peonies should be by the pond so that the..."
His long noodly body doesn't fit inside your house, but he can still peer through the windows, softly tutting at the placement of your bed or your tea-table. Zhongli gently instructs you what should go where for maximum elegance, and every time you wilfully ignore his suggestions, he stuffs you in his mane for a bit. Enjoy all that golden hair in your mouth and eyes.
He doesn't even let you stay out late. He can track you by scent so he simply shows up wherever you are, huffs in disapproval, gently swats the other people away like flies, and picks you up by the collar using his teeth to take you back home.
You can't even slink away in shame while he lectures you about the dangers of the night, for he simply picks you up and drags you back once more, smoothly picking up in his lecturing where he'd left off.
Cooking, sleeping, sitting - you name it, Zhongli has something to nitpick about it.
He never lets you be unless you adhere to his standards. Much to your chagrin, he even bathes you himself using the soaps that he thinks are good for your skin. You're sick of it, but the dragon is your societal flex, and he has an attractive rumbly voice, so you put up with it. Plus, your skin does seem to be doing better these days...
"I have something for you, little one," he tells you one morning while you're sitting in your garden chair reading (with a straight sitting posture like he'd taught you).
"Oh, goody," you reply, rolling your eyes. "What is it, oh scaly one?"
Perhaps he hasn't picked up the sarcasm in you, or he's simply that overcome with excitement, for his tail wiggles incorrigibly. He opens his curled-up claws, and there in the middle is something shiny. Moving to take a closer look, your eyes widen.
"It is a collar," the dragon states before you. "For you."
You stare, agape, at the fine jade collar. "Are you...serious?"
"Of course," says Zhongli, eyes crinkling in elevated elation. "Proof of our companionship. Allow me to put it on you."
And thus, you end up walking around with a jade collar around your neck at your dragon's insistence.
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indecisivemuch · 21 days
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Flatline
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Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader
Summary: A certain hospital equipment exposed Luke's feelings for you (funny, fluff, friends to lovers, banter dynamic, minor injuries, happy ending).
Note: I’m sorry if this is not as good as my other works, writers block + being sick has been killing me.
Word count: 2.7k
It was somewhat strange at first to see Luke in normal clothing rather than that bright orange camp shirt that you’ve grown so familiar with. But after spending four days outside of camp and on a quest together, you’ve actually somewhat grown fond of the sight. You could still vividly remember the moment he picked you as his quest companion without an ounce of hesitation. It wasn’t surprising, considering you two have always made a good team, a likely result of training with each other for three years straight. Nevertheless, it warmed your heart that you were his first pick. 
“Are you okay?” You asked inspecting Luke's wound as he sat against a tree and sighed in relief when you realized the cut was not too deep. 
Just a couple of minutes back, you two were walking through the forest and on your way to the nearest bus stop that could take you back to camp. However, the universe must have thought the long journey was not enough of suffering because somehow, you two came across a chimera that managed to claw your arm and Luke in the abdomen. 
“It’s not too bad. I think we can still make it to the last bus if we just quickly wrap your wounds up,” you noted. 
Meanwhile, all Luke could do was watch you. He knew he should be listening, but how could he when you were so attentive to him at that moment? He hungrily took in the way you were taking care of him in such a worried manner as if you were his personal guardian angel. Part of him wanted to soothe your worries, but he selfishly wanted to enjoy it this time because it was for him. 
“Hey, did you hear what I said?” you asked when you didn’t hear a reply. You turned towards Luke, but was quickly caught off guard. 
There was something sincere and sweet about the way he was staring at you. However, somewhere along three years of knowing him, you have concluded that Luke Castellan must have made it one of his life missions to annoy you because he has never passed up on any opportunities for flirty antics just to see you grow flustered. Hence, you ignored how he was gazing at you, though you scowled at yourself internally upon feeling your cheeks warm up. 
“Stop looking at me like that,” you forced out. 
“Like what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” Luke almost chuckled at how you started blushing from just the way he was watching you. Oh, if only you knew. Luke loved getting your attention on him. He would snatch up any chance just to have your eyes on him or to have you care for him. The boy loved just seeing you blush over his little teasings. It was also fascinating to him how you never realized the true intentions behind his actions. Luke knew that half the camp probably knew that he was absolutely dotted on you from the way he was acting like a five-year-old boy chasing after his crush. Though, you always deemed his words and gestures as playful and jokes rather than genuine.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied. However, the cheeky grin on his face told you otherwise, and you hit his arm in retaliation. “Ouch, is that the way to treat an injured person?” Luke joked.
“You’re barely injured. The wound is not even that deep.” 
“Well…surely, if it’s not that bad, you can just kiss it better, right?” Your cheeks tinted a more evident shade of pink at his words, and you let out a deep sigh before giving Luke a playful glare. He only smirked at this, and Gods, you found that annoying yet endearing at the same time. Meanwhile, the boy was proudly relishing the idea that he was the cause of the blush that was adorning your cheeks.
“Okay, I say, let’s find somewhere safer, and then I’ll disinfect and wrap your wound up, yeah?” You suggested, purposefully deciding to ignore Luke’s previous words.
“Yes, ma’am.” Luke breathed out. 
However, before you could help Luke up and relocate, two hikers spotted the both of you. It was a middle-aged married couple, and you slightly cursed under your breath. As you predicted, they started panicking at the sight of Luke’s bleeding wound and asked if you both needed help.
“Oh no, we’re fine,” you tried saying, though you could see the husband already calling 911. “Seriously, we have this handled,” you tried to reassure them, reaching out to the husband so he’d put the phone down, but the wife touched one of your shoulders.
“How did this happen?” the over-caring strangers asked.
“It was…a bear,” you settled on saying, grimacing when you realized you were less convincing than you wanted. You hoped the woman would not ask for further elaborations because that would require the impromptu level you were not ready to play at.
“The ambulance should be here soon,” the husband informed while keeping 911 on the line, and you abruptly turned to him. Now, your mind started panicking. You two were meant to keep a low profile.
“What? No, he’s really fine. It’s just a minor injury. Look! He’s practically like he always is. Right, Luke?” You turned back to Luke, hoping he’d attest to your words against these strangers. However, you were caught off-guard by the sight of him with his eyes closed instead. “Luke?” you called again, this time louder. Yet, you were met with the same response - utter silence.
Then came the sound of sirens, and the next thing you knew, you were sitting on a chair next to a hospital bed where Luke was lying still. You’ve been sitting there for two hours, calmly waiting for the boy to wake up after recovering from the initial panic over the thought of something seriously wrong with him. The only noise in the room was from the ticking clock on the opposite wall to you, as well as the occasional sound of magazine pages being turned.
“Y-Y/N…?” The quiet sound of Luke calling out your name pulled you out of your thoughts, and you looked up from the magazine in your hand. “Where are we?”
“The hospital,” you answered promptly. You watched as the Hermes cabin counselor looked down at the item in your hand, then back up at your face again. 
“Well, you seem awfully calm. Not even worried at all about me?” You almost chuckled at his words, slightly in disbelief that even after getting knocked out, Luke somehow still had the energy to joke.
“Nah, the doctor told me you were going to be fine. Apparently, it was the mild concussion from knocking your head against the tree that made you pass out. Said you’d be up in like three hours or so.” Luke nodded as he remembered the chimera shoving him, causing him to bash his head against a tree. The boy sat up on the hospital bed, and you helped him by adjusting his pillow so he could lean against it.
“So you would have cared otherwise?” He gave you a teasing grin. Things like that had you thinking sometimes if he was just being playfully flirty or if he meant more. Luke does not seem to do this with anybody else at camp. But once again, you ruled out the theory of him having feelings for you in that way. 
“Only because I would not have anybody else to harass if you die,” You poured Luke a glass of water and handed it to him. He only smiled at your witty reply and took a sip of water. However, you took the opportunity to be honest, just so he’d at least know that you do care about him, despite the sarcastic remarks before.
“On a serious note, though… I’m glad you’re okay, Luke,” you sent Luke a sweet smile. Though there it was again — that look. However, for some reason, he didn’t whip up a clever, flirty line to joke around, which made you wonder what was on his mind.
Meanwhile, Luke felt as if his lungs had lost half its capacity. Gods, under the moonlight, you looked ethereal. It made him wonder for a second whether he was in a coma because you felt too good to exist in this ever-so-cruel world. Don’t even get him started on the way you were smiling at him, so sweet like caramel that his eyes were tracing to forever remember. He internally sighed, wondering how many more signs must he give out before you would get that he was genuinely interested in you.
You misinterpreted Luke’s look as one of vulnerability. Your brain theorized that maybe he was shaken from the chimera attack, so you slowly but surely grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. However, you didn’t notice the slight hitch in Luke’s breath as soon as you did this. His eyes almost fluttered shut at how nice it was to have your hand around his. If he could hold your hand every day, he absolutely would. You started rubbing your thumb on his knuckles as well. Oh, to be somebody you found worth worrying about and caring for. Luke thought maybe he did win the lottery after all. He could feel his heart wanting to crack his ribcage open to jump out of—
Unexpectedly, you heard a sudden continuous beeping from one of the equipment nearby and looked at it. Luke followed your gaze, and his face immediately started flushing over the drastic change in the heart monitor’s graphic representation of his heartbeat. The beeping still continued when you looked back at him with evident concern on your face.
“Woah, are you alright?” Luke tried muttering an affirmative answer but froze when you leaned closer and lightly graced his forehead with your hand. The boy gulped while you were cluelessly trying to see if he was coming down with a fever or not — which you assumed he was due to the way his face seemed to have warmed up. However, you were greeted with a normal body temperature and the sound of the heart monitor beeping even faster.
Suddenly, everything clicked. You cast your gaze on Luke again, tilting your head in amusement.
“Am I making you flustered?” Luke’s cheeks flared even more at your words. The Hermes cabin counselor looked away from you, taking his hand out of yours now as he attempted to slow down his heartbeat. However, you immediately took hold of his face and moved it back towards you. A mischievous grin grew on your face as you took in Luke’s blushing. How could you pass up the opportunity to finally torment him and get him flustered, especially when he has been doing the same thing to you for the past years?
Luke watched as you had him wrapped around your fingers both figuratively and literally, smirking as if you knew you had entire control over him. But he knew you only knew the surface level of it because even he doesn’t know the extent to which he would go for you. The only thing he knew was that he was in deep, deep trouble. He knew whatever part of him that was logical would perish as soon as you let him be yours. Yet he did not seem to mind discarding all his senses and submitting to whatever these feelings were.
“Careful there, Castellan, keep looking at me like that, and I might just have to believe you’re secretly obsessed with me.” You were only joking, but the way his eyes fluttered when you said that made you gulp. 
“And what if I tell you I am?” At his words and the sound of his heartbeat speeding up on the heart monitor, you froze. 
It was as if all the clues had come crashing down at once. It finally sunk in for you that perhaps you were wrong this whole time for thinking Luke was not into you. Because now, this hospital room had somehow become a crime scene filled with evidence of his feelings for you - the way he was intensely looking at you with dilated pupils, the uncontrollable speed of his heartbeat that you could feel where your fingers lay near his neck and pulse point, his shallow and nervous breathing, the beeping sound from the heart monitor that would make others think it has gone haywire, and most of all, the earnest and resigned look on his face as if he had already embraced the fact that his feelings for you would not change whether or not they would be reciprocated.
Your hand left his face to brush his dark curls. Your eyes cast down at his lips quickly before looking back up. You noticed the yearning in his eyes and how he copied your actions. 
“...Can I?” Luke uttered breathlessly as if all the air in his lungs had been replaced with pure, relentless wanting. Even as a victim of heavy longing and subjected to desire, Luke still awaited the green light. His eyebrows slightly scrunched as if silently asking for permission, and you knew exactly what he wanted when he glanced down at your lips again. 
One tiny nod from you, and he pulled you in. His hands delicately held the sides of your face as your lips clashed. Almost instantly, Luke felt as if he might flatline soon from the way your kiss was seemingly sending him into a cardiac arrest. He practically melted as you giggled into the kiss when the heart monitor started beeping even more frequently, indicating Luke’s increasingly erratic heartbeat. Something about this moment felt so urgent yet endearing like a long-awaited wish come true.  
Slowly but surely, he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you up onto his hospital bed effortlessly, as if desperately needing you to just be closer to him. You both somewhat laughed at this before you wrapped both arms around his shoulders without breaking the kiss. 
One of your hands started playing with his hair. You were not sure why but you pulled it and almost instantly, Luke had to break away from the kiss as a raspy groan escaped his lips. Your other hand on the side of his face and neck could feel the way it echoed as a hum in his throat, and you gulped at your effect on him.
Luke licked his lips as he stared at you again. He came to the conclusion that after that kiss, you were wrong that he was obsessed with you. Instead, he was everything above that - devoted, fervently fixated, infatuated, an addict who shamelessly wanted and needed you. Gods, maybe he was a madman when it came to you.
Your eyes flickered to the clock nearby and noticed it was 4:41am, realizing there was just enough time for the two of you to leave the hospital and catch the next bus back to camp. That prompted you to whisper, “I think we should leave now. If we do, we’ll be on time for the next bus.” Luke groaned at your words while you hopped off the hospital bed and grabbed your jacket. The boy unhooked himself from the heart monitor, though his eyes lingered on it for a bit while a smile grew on his face. 
“Why the rush?” He asked, grabbing his own jacket before opening the door for you.
“Cause as lovely as that was, I don’t want to make out again in a hospital,” Luke froze before grinning at your words.
“Oh, does that mean it might happen again? Us making out?” He asked, watching as a cheeky smile grew on your face despite you opting to just shrug at his question. You fanned your hand out before him, smiling even more when he put his hand in yours. 
With that, you led him out of the hospital hand in hand while he grinned like a fool behind you.
Honestly, Luke would blindly go anywhere you lead him.
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signedkoko · 1 month
Note
HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???
Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?
THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT
-🐚
Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]
In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.
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When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed
You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face
It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow
You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way
He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord
Truly a shame
You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged
Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort
But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you
You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice
The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you
Something about it was so familiar
J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R
When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing
Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device
Unless you did it just for him?
R-K-J-E-R-K-J
" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "
Y-O-U
Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk
And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method
One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display
Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw
" COMATOSE. "
You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious
Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!
But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel
He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that
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Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them
Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before
But he'd never heard of something like yours
Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle
You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved
Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures
After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!
While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you
From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction
Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled
He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear
But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with
Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to
Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of
Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites
The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you
But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats
" Silence. "
From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking
The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left
Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!
Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?
YOUR POWERS DID THAT???
He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too
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Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!
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sunnyaelia · 5 days
Note
since you’re willing to write age gap alexia and reader: alexia keeping you a secret and you overhear her talking to someone and she basically insults you to hide that you two are a thing because she’s scared of the repercussions of dating someone so young?
Little Secret
part 2 -
“Buenos días, mi amor.” You felt Alexia’s lips kiss alongside your cheek to your nose before she pressed them onto yours, pulling away as your eyes slowly fluttered open. 
“Good morning.” You stretched, a small laugh escaping when Alexia used the chance to gently tickle you for a moment. 
“Ale, what time is it? I didn’t hear the alarm go off.” Her lips resumed their work on your cheek again, this time travelling lower over your jaw to your neck before she mumbled the next words against your skin. 
“Mhmm it’s still early, I thought we could use the extra 30 minutes for something else.” 
You were a bit later than usual when you entered the changing room that day, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander too much over to Alexia who was the reason you were late. She had kept you in bed a lot longer than planned, as usual not satisfied until you were totally spent and you could feel your legs being a bit shaky as you sat down on the bench, already feeling the soreness creep in.
She always insisted that you two had to arrive at training at different times or otherwise people would catch on. You honestly wouldn’t mind that much but this morning it had made you annoyed since you were both later than you normally were and she still made you wait and let her leave first.
Training was eventless at first though you couldn’t help but look over to Alexia few times, struck by her doing her stretching exercises that highlighted her muscular thighs - the same thighs you had used for much dirtier things this morning. You were distracted by your own thoughts, only noticing that you had been staring when she caught you for the third time, her expression darkening as she grabbed your arm and pulled you a bit to the side. 
“Stop looking at me like that!” Her voice was hushed but strict, her eyes boring into yours intensely as she made her disdain for you right now clear. You tried not to take it personal, assuring her that you had just been checking if you were doing the drills right - though she didn’t believe you. That became clear when she literally send you off and paired you up with someone else, telling Jona that you two would work together better. She had never used her Captain status like that before, insisting that it would be unprofessional to intervene in any way solely because of the relationship you two had. You two had never openly defined whatever it was between you, never daring to call her your girlfriend since she wanted it to be private and didn’t call you hers either. Trying to shrug it off, knowing how much Alexia deeply valued her privacy you went on with training, keeping your eyes trained on the ground or talking with your training partner and good friend Jana. 
You were already in your car in the parking lot after training when you noticed that you had forgotten your jacket in the changing room in your hurry, eager to drive over to Alexia’s and spend more time with her - hoping she wasn’t annoyed with you anymore for staring a bit too much. You had thought that the others were gone already since the changing room had been almost empty when you had exited the showers earlier, having taken too long to detangle your hair. But when you came closer to the room you heard relatively loud voices from inside, the door not fully closed. 
“…you and her together or something?” That was Ingrid’s voice. 
“No! We aren’t even friends, why would you think that?” 
You frowned as you recognised Alexia’s answer, wondering who she was talking about like that, the annoyance clear in her voice as she went on. 
“She’s actually getting on my last nerve with her constant questions and stories, I wish she would just shut the fuck up finally. Not even sure why Barça ever bought her, her skills are not even close to the rest of the team, it really shows that she’s the youngest player here and lacks experience, she’s always just being annoying.” 
Oh. 
The youngest on the team was you. Alexia was talking about you. 
You cursed yourself internally for the tears that immediately filled your eyes at her words. The pure dismissal with which she talked about you - someone she usually called affectionate spanish nicknames like amor and bebita, enjoying how much you blushed whenever she did. You didn’t even know what hurt worse, to hear her say that you were getting on her last nerve and she didn’t like you after she had just spent this morning and almost every single day for the past several weeks with you, or the fact that she had just criticised your football skills and basically questioned why you were even on the team. 
You tried to keep it together as you quietly hurried away from the changing room towards your car, deciding to just leave your jacket there. You didn’t hear anymore how Ingrid defended you, though you didn’t care that much about whether she agreed or not at the moment, too hurt by what Alexia had said. The person you had trusted with your body and a lot of your stories, someone you had told about all of your struggles when you were younger and all of the problems you had went through in life. And she had thought you were annoying the entire time, probably just hoping you’d finally be quiet. Had she just used you for your body this whole time? 
Your first thought had been to confront her, to demand an answer on why she was talking about you like that after she had spent almost an hour this morning practically worshipping your body, even waking up earlier and risking being late so she could hold you a bit afterwards, knowing how much you loved cuddles afterwards. Though you decided against the confrontation as you could already barely hold it together in your car, driving off hurriedly so nobody would see you. 
You could still smell her perfume on you from the close contact to her, if you closed your eyes for a moment you were brought back into it. The way she had woken you up so gently, been so sweet and nice. Was it all just a game to her? Why would she act like this if she didn’t want you anyway? 
The longer you pondered about it the more you got annoyed with yourself for not noticing earlier that you had been played. Of course you were, there was a reason she never wanted anyone to even think that you two were even friends. There was a reason why she kept you at arm length as soon as someone else was near. There was a reason why you two had never established what exactly you were, any try at a conversation about it had been stopped by Alexia distracting you with her kisses or telling you that you’d soon be able to tell the others. 
It had apparently all been a lie. The promises of you being her girlfriend and one day her wife had been one just as much as her promising you over and over that you were good enough to play at Barça and that there was a reason they had made several offers for you. It had all been untrue, maybe she had been laughing into her pillows on the rare nights you weren’t there, giggling about how stupid you were to believe her, to trust her this much and give her your body every night, believe her when she whispered words of affection against your skin. 
The realisation hurt terribly, at some point the tears blurred your vision so much that you had to pull over for a moment. It was pathetic, sitting in your car in some McDonalds parking lot and sobbing about someone who apparently couldn’t give any less fucks about you. The thought made your tears even worse and it took over an hour until you had halfway calmed down, thanking the downpour of rain outside that nobody was able to see you sitting there crying your eyes out. 
You drove a different route than usual to avoid having to drive past Alexia’s house, not bothering to even let her know that you wouldn’t be coming over today. You usually always did and your phone was already being spammed with messages from her if you were alright and where you were. It didn’t matter, she should be grateful that you weren’t bothering her since she was apparently so sick of you and your constant talking anyway. When she didn’t stop texting and calling, you opted to let her know that you weren’t feeling well. The immediate concerned offer of hers to come over and look after you made you scoff. She was a grade A actress, that’s for sure. What was in it for her that she’d tolerate your apparently so annoying presence to check on you? 
You didn’t even bother answering, just quickly changing and laying down in bed as you tried to figure out why she’d act like she cares if she can’t even stand you. After over half an hour of brooding over it, you came to the conclusion that it must be because she’s afraid of you telling others about this relationship? Friendship? Arrangement. An arrangement you hadn’t known about, having been certain that she actually wanted you beyond your body, that she was sincerely interested in what you had said and talked about. Yes you had noticed that you usually talked more than her but everyone did, Alexia was and according to Mapi always had been, the type to just prefer listening. She had not once complained, actually encouraging you and telling you that she wanted to know more about you. Any attempt at redirecting your attention on her and find out more about her had failed. Alexia was not a talkative and vulnerable person but you had hoped that she’d open up for you after some time. Seems like the actual reason had not been that she wasn’t talkative, she just didn’t want to talk to you. 
Your vision was blurry again as you read the thread of messages from her, the little heart next to Alexia’s name feeling incredibly ironic and stupid now. You didn’t know how she had you saved on her phone but it most definitely wasn’t with a heart. Probably first and last name. Or maybe she didn’t even have your name saved at all if she found you so annoying. 
She was asking if she should come over again, clearly impatient and typing once more while you read through several 
‘don’t ignore it if you don’t feel well’
‘call in sick for tomorrow if you’re genuinely not good, I don’t want you to exhaust yourself mi amor’
‘anything specific you need? I’ll get it for you’ 
texts from her. A few hours ago you’d have swooned at the countless messages, assured that it means that she likes you a lot and wants to take care of you. Now you were certain that it was just so you wouldn’t show up at training and drag the team performance down - since you were apparently so horrible at playing anyway. Or she didn’t want you to make anyone else sick. 
When she sent another text, saying that she was coming over since you weren’t answering you were quick to reply and tell her not to, saying you’d just call out of training and would be fine. She wasn’t convinced at first until you said that she’d catch whatever you had as well and would miss the next match. That was enough for her to agree, though she insisted that you tell her if you need anything. You could only scoff, she’d probably be happy if you didn’t show up to training at all anymore. 
The next few days you called out of training, trying to cry it all out and hoping to speed up the healing process from this - honestly extremely painful - heartbreak. There was a reason why people said not to date your coworkers and you really felt the consequences of that now, stomach turning at the sheer thought of having to see her again every single day at training. You dragged it out as long as you could, though you didn’t want to affect your body and fitness negatively so after a week you decided it had been enough and you needed to go back before you got put into recovery because of a too long break. 
Alexia had texted you every single day several times, often getting impatient - you doubted it was genuine worry - if you didn’t reply in a timely manner. You wished nothing more than to block her, disappear from the team and just never speak to her again. Though you knew that as your team captain you couldn’t just block her so you’d have to deal with the consequences of your actions.
You were still cursing yourself as you walked into the changing room, shoulders slumped and an unusual amount of makeup on your face as you had tried your hardest to hide the swollen and red eyes. 
“God you look awful.” Lucy was always not afraid to say it as it is, merely getting a hum in reply from you as you dropped yourself down on the bench to change into your boots.
You didn’t notice Alexia’s gaze on you, a worried frown etched into it at how incredibly wrecked you looked. She had been put off by how you had basically ignored her the whole week anyway, though she had thought that you were just trying to rest a lot and probably asleep most of the time. Now she was more and more certain that something was actually going on with you, it was hard not to notice with how you didn’t interact with anyone, gaze firmly on the ground most of the time. You weren’t joking around with your teammates and friends either , far from the usually so happy and bubbly person you normally were. 
Alexia’s frown didn’t leave her face as she tried to figure out what the problem was. You played pretty much perfectly, seemingly not physically bothered anymore by whatever exactly you had had. She broke her own rule of not making it obvious that something was between you two when she paired herself up with you, hoping to get a closer look and see if something was wrong. Once you were directly in front of her she saw how red and swollen your eyes were, how you didn’t even meet her eyes as you kicked the ball into the goal. You ignored her attempts at striking up a conversation, mumbling something about having to concentrate. 
In the meantime you were genuinely getting irritated with Alexia, still incredibly hurt by what she had said and how she was now acting like she cared. You had tried to hide the evidence of your countless hours of crying, annoyed that it was still very visible since even she had noticed - someone who apparently couldn’t care less about you. To then have her try to start a conversation with you was even worse, only serving you to kick the ball a lot harder than necessary into the net. The only positive was that you got praised by Jona for your efforts so shortly after you had come back, only nodding in reply as the only thing your brain could focus on were Alexia’s words on how you didn’t even come close to anyone else’s skill on this team. You had already been insecure about playing among several ballon d’or winners, Alexia of all people the one to assure you that you were more than capable. To have her, a player with countless trophies, think that you weren’t good enough was a nightmare come true. 
You felt embarrassed too as you stood next to her while stretching at the end of training, knowing that she had seen you during such intimate moments. The way she had taken you apart throughout, making you beg her to let you come before she comforted you afterwards, holding you close and praising you for taking it all so well, always checking in with you and ensuring you were okay. It bothered you to no end that you had given yourself to her in every way, that she had seen you naked and vulnerable, that you had cried into her arms after you had missed a penalty during an important game. She had assured you over and over that it was fine and nobody would judge you, knowing damn well that she didn’t think you were good enough for this entire team anyway. 
It was humiliating to think about, the way you had shown her your most intimate parts, completely exposed yourself to her. She had never done any of that, had never cried in front of you, had barely opened up about anything, had shut down any conversations about her father or sensitive topics immediately. Now you knew why: she had never planned to actually let you in and start a relationship with you anyway. 
The next days were lonely as you tried to figure out how to deal with all of this. You kept a very persistent Alexia at arm length, telling her that you just weren’t feeling that well right now. It wasn’t a lie even though it was the understatement of the century. You were a wreck, feeling lonelier than ever in the country you had moved to, to be with one of the best European teams you had ever seen. All of the friends you had made here were Alexia’s as well, every single one of them had been her friend first too. They would be on her side in all of this, no doubt about it in your mind. Why wouldn’t they? They probably also found you incredibly annoying, maybe they had all thought this entire time that you talked too much and that you were too loud and too enthusiastic. The thought made you even more embarrassed and it showed. You were far from the open and bubbly person you usually were, rejecting any attempt at conversation from anyone, ignoring Ingrid and Mapi or any of the others trying to ask what was going on, not telling Lucy or Keira either who were just as concerned. You barely replied to any of Alexia’s messages who tried her hardest to figure out what was going on, not opening the door when she came over and basically running from her whenever she came close to you during training. 
It took only four days until she had enough, knocking on the door and ringing the door bell for several minutes until you finally opened, not wanting to get into trouble with your neighbours.
She was quick to push herself inside, the door still open as she stood in the doorway, planning on finally talking to you. She wasn’t stupid, Alexia knew something was wrong and she was more than willing to comfort you. But she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t also very hurt about how you were shutting her out, you usually being so quick to come to her for comfort when something was going on and it was painful to see you push her away this time. This still on her mind she wasn’t the most gentle as she started speaking, still miffed about the past few days and your constant rejection. 
“Want to tell me why you’re acting like that?” 
You had barely any reaction to her words, them being far from as painful as what you had overheard in the changing room
a few days ago. 
“Acting like what?” 
You sounded almost hollow as you answered, the several nights and days spent crying were slowly really getting to you. 
“Like this. Ignoring me? Ignoring everyone else on the team?” 
“Why do you care?” You felt exhausted, regretting having ever opened the door as Alexia scoffed at your words and crossed her arms, staring down at you, now really feeling the anger in her rise up. If she was just a little more observant, a little less focused on her own hurt feelings at your rejection of her, she might have noticed your slumped shoulders, the dark circles under your eyes and how swollen they had been these past days. In a certain angle the light from above showed the tear tracks still visible on your cheeks from the last crying session 30 minutes ago. 
“Why do I care? Maybe because you’re being incredibly rude and I’m tired of it.” 
It wasn’t the most sensitive thing to say, Alexia once again failing at staying calm, her worry as often coming out as anger as she felt helpless at your refusal to open up. She wasn’t good at this, too used
to pushing her own emotions down time and time again, her worry and love for you mixing in an unhealthy way and therefore she sounded incredibly angry instead of admitting how worried she was about you. 
You only met her with a dry chuckle, not even bothering to reply. You felt almost numb, the only thing you could focus on was her hateful words and how she had spent months deceiving you and acting like she cared about you. Or maybe she hadn’t deceived you and you were just that unlikeable. 
A small push to your shoulders made you look back up at her. 
“Don’t ignore me! I want to know what’s going on, now.”   
“You made it quite clear that you prefer it when I’m quiet. Shouldn’t you be happy I’m not saying much?” 
She frowned, completely lost on what you meant and about to ask but you continued before she could. 
“I heard what you said in the changing room. To Ingrid. About how annoying I am and how I’m not good enough for the team, how you wish I was quiet.” 
Alexia’s eyes widened as she realised, remembering the conversation with Ingrid. The one where the Norwegian hadn’t bought a word she had said anyway. You had not only missed the black haired girl fiercely defending you but also how Ingrid had seen right through Alexia and told her that she knew what was going on between the two of you. She had warned her to be careful with her words, telling her Captain that you might overhear and misunderstand - not knowing that that had already happened. 
Alexia reached for your hand as she tried to bring her thoughts in order so she could explain but you moved away from her, crossing your arms so she couldn’t touch you. 
“I want you to leave. Don’t text me again.” 
“No, amor por favor I didn’t mean any of tha-“ 
“Save it.” Your words had a lot more bite in them now, you felt the anger in you rise up quickly. The sheer audacity of fooling
you like that, playing with you like you were some toy and then even talking about you like that to others - and not just anyway, to people you were also friends with. 
“I don’t want to hear it Alexia, leave.” 
“Please, just give me-“ 
“GO!” 
You had never yelled at her before, you would have never dared to either, the older woman with the stern face and firm voice way too intimidating for you. But you couldn’t care less right now, finally deciding to stand up for yourself as you were still convinced that she had just played with you this entire time. You pushed at her, something that would normally not move the way taller woman at all. You caught her off guard however, the few steps she stumbled back enough to close the door in her face. You ignored the ringing and knocking this time, moving away from the door to bury yourself in your bed as sobs wrecked through your body. As much as it hurt to hear her begging you to open the door and hear her out, nothing hurt more than knowing that you had given your heart and body to the wrong person. 
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tangledinlove · 2 months
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i have a cute lil idea for a request for luke if you're still taking them (no pressure if ur not)!! yk that feeling when u hit ur lip bc you dropped ur phone on it and it turns red and you can't stop biting it bc the pain feels good? what if reader hits herself somehow and the next day her lip is swollen and Luke promises to kiss it better but bites the swollen part instead bc he thinks it looks cute all red 🙈
kiss it better
— luke castellan x fem reader! 1.4k
listen to the rihanna song :) ft. suggestive kissing that they are really insane about
“Ow—”
“Ah, shit, sorry. Did I—”
The blood pools in your mouth, thick and settling under your tongue. You spit it out, the blood and saliva sitting in a sad puddle in the grass.
That’s fucking disgusting.
Luke stares at it. Repeats, “That’s fucking disgusting.”
You jab him with the point of your sneaker. “That was your fault, asshole.”
Your eyes widen when you hear your voice, which sounds weird because of your swollen lip. You run your fingers along the skin, and they come back streaked red. Luke is shoved away from you in a hurry as you rush the few feet to the water.
The reflection isn’t pretty. Your lip is slightly split, just off the center of your Cupid’s bow. A bit of blood drips down and sends ripples through the water, distorting your face even more than Luke has.
You turn to glare at him. He’s laying on his back in the grass, eyes shut without a care in the world. He only cracks an eye open when he feels you sit next to him again.
“You okay?” He lifts his hand and pokes at the crease between your eyebrows. You scowl harder when he tries to smooth it out.
“Aw, I said I’m sorry. Smile for me,” he says, before something like realization takes over his face.
You actually frown. “That sounds kinda—”
“I realized it the moment after I said it. Sorry.”
You whack the back of his head as he props himself up with a Herculean effort. He’s smiling at you apologetically, and it makes you want to whack him again. You wonder if he ever gets tired of looking so effortlessly pretty.
As some way of comfort, he says, “Your lip looks pretty sick, though. I’ll let you give me a shiner so we’re even.”
“Oh, of course you’d want to look all tough. You’re only saying that because Audrey said your bruised knuckles made you look hot.”
He looks a little smug as he grins boyishly. “Was she wrong?”
(No, she was not.)
You pout. He places both hands on the sides of your face to drag the corners of your mouth up into a smile. You pretend like you’re going to bite him and he pulls his hands away, chuckling.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You whack him again for real. “Oh, fuck you. How are you going to injure me and then make fun of me?”
“I told you I was sorry!” he defends.
“Luke.”
“I’m sorry,” he stresses, dragging you closer to him by the belt loops on your jeans. He pulls you right into the space between his legs, the two of you so close your faces would touch if you turned your face an inch.
Luke’s voice drops fifteen fucking octaves.
“Want me to make it up to you?”
He’s so close that he can hear the hitch in your breath. He smiles.
“You want to...?”
Your voice trails off at the end, like the syllables are getting caught in your throat. You think the entirety of your insides have shriveled up like an unwatered plant. The neurons have stopped functioning your brain completely.
His hands, which were resting comfortably on your hips, are sliding upward, under your shirt and to the bare skin of your waist. His palms are callused from years of hard work and his training, and you can feel every single shift of his hands on your skin.
The best swordsman in 300 years, you remember.
He’d let you handle his sword once during practice — you’d needed two hands just to wield the weapon he can spin around effortlessly in one of his.
The reminder of Luke’s sheer strength comes back to you in startling clarity.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
You thank whatever part of your brain has enough willpower to form any semblance of a thought. “And how would you do that?”
“I’d hold you like this,” he says matter of factly. You think the birds have stopped chirping. He pulls you close enough that you can count each individual freckle under his eyes. “And then I’d kiss it better.” He squeezes uour sides. “Do you want that?”
If you were standing up, you’re certain that your legs would give out. As if you wanting that was ever a question. You think the embarrassing way you’re struggling to find words gives him enough of an answer.
“Do you want that?” you echo.
“‘Course I do, babe.” His thumbs are rubbing symmetrical circles against the spots above your ribs. “I’m asking if you want that.”
Very reluctantly, you pry one of his hands off your side. You guide it up to the side of your neck, where your heart threatens to burst from your body.
It takes him a second to find your pulse, but you notice the exact moment he does. His entire face lights up at the feeling of your heart hammering out of the side of your neck.
His smile threatens to take over his entire face. “I got you.”
You let your eyes slide shut, your nerve endings burning in anticipation. He’s seated so close that you’re surprised your lips haven’t slotted together yet — which is why you’re confused when he nudges your head to the side with the point of his nose.
“Luke?” you whisper. “What are you— Oh, fuck.”
He’s missed your lips by a long shot. But you don’t even consider complaining about the way he’s pressing his mouth to the side of your neck in burning hot kisses.
You think you see the light.
Your hands seize onto the closest thing, which just so happens to be Luke’s upper arms. His scratchy camp t-shirt feels oddly soft and perfect under your touch. He moves all the way up to your jaw before working his way back down to your collarbones, making sure to pay special attention to the spot where he can feel your pulse throb under your skin.
With your grip on his biceps, you feel every muscle in his arms shift when he tugs you onto his lap. And you feel the way his laugh rumbles in his chest when he hears the sound you make in response.
“Thought you were—“ You hiccup, trying and failing to make your breathing go back to normal. “—going to kiss it better, Luke.”
He finally lifts his head from the crook of your neck, staring longingly at the expanse of skin he’d just been fixated on. “Sorry. You distracted me.”
Whatever you were planning on saying dissipates from your mind — the responding kiss he presses to your cut is so chaste that you barely even register it happened at all.
“That better?” he asks, his hands slipping away from you to try and fix his messy curls. You hadn’t even realized you’d been tugging on them this entire time.
The stark contrast between the kisses he’d been giving you before and the miniscule peck he’s placed on your lips has you blinking at him, confused.
Luke laughs at whatever disappointment he sees on your face. “Yes?”
“Can you…” The blood rushes to your face as the words struggle to come out. “Can you…”
He must think he’s being kind by soothing the spot near your hip bone just above the waistband of your pants — but it just makes everything ten times harder. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. He’s smiling. He’s so evil.
“Luke,” you warn.
“You’re really warm, babe. You okay?”
“Please,” you beg, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
“Alright, alright,” he hums, tilting your head for you. “‘M sorry, I was just messing.”
You’re practically singing under his hands. When he finally kisses you — kisses you for real — you wonder how you’ve gone so long without this.
He’s not hesitant in the slightest, and you think your face is actually going to catch on fire. Luke feels so perfect against your lips and against your chest and against your sides and underneath you that you know that even if Poseidon were to drag you to the bottom of the lake and if Zeus were to smite you from his place in Olympus right now, you’d die happy.
Luke’s tongue flits over the cut he gave you.
It stings.
You hope he never stops.
“D’you forgive me?” he asks, still ghosting over your lips.
Your chests are heaving hard in unison. His eyes are blown so wide that you see nothing but the black of his eyes.
You drag his lower lip between your teeth and bite down. When he pulls away, he’s grinning, his mouth swollen and red.
“Want me to kiss it better?” you ask.
He answers yes against your lips.
notes: this is what happens when i’ve been writing for luke for a month and have not had the chance to write a single kiss. so uhhhh sorry for this! i am but a girl and not immune to the charms of this fictional character.
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hypewinter · 9 months
Text
I got a take on the Danny is Damian's older brother au. He's Damian's brother but he's his adopted brother. So hear me out:
Danny is running away post TUE and he encounters some assassins. For whatever reason they get into a fight and he beats them. This ends up getting back to Ra's who is quite curious about who beat up his most prized assassins effortlessly. After some investigation, he extends an invite for Danny to train under him. On Danny's part, he jumps at the chance to disappear off the face of the earth and have a free place to stay.
Danny ends up being an absolute prodigy. This is him close to being Dan so his morals are much shakier. He doesn't leap at the opportunity to kill, but he's most definitely not above it if need be. Combine that with his ghost powers and personal training by Ra's himself and the guy becomes like the golden standard within the league. So much so to the point where Ra's even names him his heir and adopts him. Though Danny insists he is his adopted grandson and not adopted son.
Flashforward to Damian being born and Ra's obviously wants him to be his new heir. Not that Danny has any problem with this. He's very clearly Ra's favorite considering the things he's allowed to get away with. Like letting targets go, having worldly possessions in his room (TV, gaming console, computer, etc), and even befriending his subordinates (Ra's particularly doesn't like that one but knows Danny will never allow it to become a weakness for him). Even if Danny wasn't the heir, he would still maintain a significant level of authority within the league (again not that he cares about having power as long as there's a roof over his head).
The problem is, Damian can't compete with Danny. After all, who could match up to a highly trained half ghost with dubious morals? Let alone a kid. Too bad Ra's doesn't see it that way. He sees Damian as a failure who will never measure up to Danny. That's why he sends the boy off to live with his father. It's under the excuse that he'll be receiving a different sort of training but in reality, the Demon Head no longer wants anything to do with his biological grandson.
Obviously this turns into quite the complex for Damian. Meanwhile Danny absolutely adores Damian. From the moment he was introduced to the baby he was ecstatic. He'd always wanted to be an older brother. He would constantly be barging into Damian's room to hang out and whenever they'd sparred together, he'd try to let him win. Ra's quickly caught onto that one and put a stop to it immediately though. Basically Danny is Damian's League of Assassins version of Dick. An example of what he's supposed to be that he will always compare himself to (and that also has no idea what personal space is).
Danny loved his little brother so much that he even managed to get a mission to Gotham about a year after Damian had been sent there in order to surprise him with a belated birthday present.
The bats are absolutely shocked with an assassin suddenly charges at Damian and before anyone can react, scoops him into a hug. Damian is screeching bloody murder as he attempts to get Danny to let him go. Danny is just hugging him while saying stuff like "I missed you little brother" and "You've grown so much since I last saw you" all while avoiding knives to the chest.
The bats get shocked x2 because wait.... little brother!? Talia had another child!? And one far older than Damian to boot. Damian is quick to clarify that Danny is adopted while still trying to stab him. Imagine the boy's horror and Danny's delight when he gets invited back to the batcave to speak further.
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