#how do these fucking people live with themselves are they so removed from the rest of the world they ravaged

[snixx]

god i hate the uk so much

#til that they have a higher gdp than india like wtaf #the bullshit colonialist history of how they got there aside this is a country of what 70 million people?? #like are you fucking. kidding me it makes me so angry #everything related to that godawful country always does #i wanna study economics as like my main subject in college but the more i learn about it the more depressing it gets #how do these fucking people live with themselves are they so removed from the rest of the world they ravaged #i want to scream #is there no sense of humanity #ugh i need to ignore their existence it only makes me mad and is so unproductive

[evilminji]

Oh shit :D ?

I just remembered! (Thank you, historical fantasy section!) But like? Serving and protecting The King, especially a HIGH KING, is quite literally not just an incredible honor... but it can sometimes be a person's Life Ambition?

Specificly a WORTHY king.

Perhaps they were denied in life. Perhaps they FAILED. And in their dying moments struggle with all they were to LIVE. To PROTECT. Perhaps the PREVIOUS king was a great and worthy ruler... but their heir is...

Unworthy.

Maybe they are born to an age without Rulers. Power shifting between hands in hidden halls. Unclear and murky. All they want is for their loyalty to MEAN something. For things to be SIMPLE.

The universe is large. The Infinite Realms? Unimaginably larger.

And Pariah Dark was a BASTARD.

Who would willingly swear to him? Fools! That's who! Every warrior soul worth ANYTHING gets as far AWAY from his Realm forsaken resting place as they can. Hides. Lest they be dragged in to his infernal, gods forsaken, cess pit of a so called "army"! *disgusted spitting noises*

But what does this mean? It means every trained FIGHTER... got the hell out of dodge. Oh, sure, a FEW refused. Like Pandora and her people. But most? The farthest side of NOWHERE, several layers down! Some still GOING! Better to be decried as cowards then have ANYTHING to do with THAT(said with loathing)!

It also means they weren't where Pariah could get to them when he woke. Couldn't help. Couldn't fight. Couldn't be commanded to kneel. Nothing. They removed themselves completely. Planned on CONTINUING to remove themselves. Preferably to the farthest reaches of forever, far beyond the bastard's gaze.

But! The whole REALM INFINITE felt it? When that... that hissing, acidic, malicious undertone? SLAMS back and away, like somebody's knocked a parasite from their backs. Replaced by coolness and starlight. Delicate balance and blood on your teeth. The pounding in your chest of HOPE.

It flutters so small across their backs, inside their chests. Washing away the old.

The King... feels tiny. Young.

.......what are they doing? Running like this. Hiding away like that will change anything. How long... when did...

There are so many of them now. A veritable army of souls, of all Ages and People's. Every armor and crest imaginable. They'd been so.. so REPULSED by Pariah... nothing else had mattered but to get AWAY. Where even ARE they? What YEAR is it? Does any of that matter?

The King.

Their Obsessions whisper. Loyalty. Service. Protection. Honor. You have left you post! Abandoned your DUTY! What are you DOING!?

They are AGHAST. They turn around at once. The King! How could they have ABANDONED the King!? Who is guarding him if they are all HERE?!

Himself!?

(Yes. Danny is fine. He is eating the "Thank You for keeping us all from dying to whatever the FUCK that was!" tamales Paulina's mom pushed into his arms on his way back home. He didn't even try arguing. He made eye contact and knew he would lose.)

(Why does he feel like something really, really bothersome is headed his way?)

It's UNACCEPTABLE. Unthinkable! The King? Unguarded? Where assassination attempts and nefarious PLOTS could occur?! What if someone tried to steal his eggs!? Or attacked him while his exoskeleton was molting!? They aren't entirely sure which species he is yet, but there are SO MANY NEFARIOUS PLOTS OUT THERE!!

*panicked honor guards*

Just? Imagine becoming king. And thinking "well, aside from the skeleton army I have to figure out, at least I don't have to manage anybody!" Only to *WABAM!* your ENTIRE GHOST COURT shows up like a week later. Turns out they were hiding from your predecessor.

You have a whole ass honor gaurd. Who REFUSE TO LEAVE YOUR SIDE. You have Chefs. Who WILL cry if you send them away. The Literal Best In The Multiverse are all following you around... YOU, a RANDOM TEENAGE, with Excited Shoujo Sparkles in their eyes... because you punched a jackass really, REALLY hard.

There is no way to make this stop. Your friends are laughing at you. The interior decorator wants you to look at swatches. What are swatches and why are you being harrased by them at 1am, you wonder? If you are Mean(tm) they throw themselves upon the floor and blame themselves for their Wicked, Evil, King-Upseting Ways and you can't even TELL if your being played here.

It's like being bullied by house elves. Or Miette.

Your parents are too excited by all the New Research (at least the reveal went well?) To SAVE THEIR SON, and your sister is HELPING THE ENEMY (Traitor!), so now you're being bullied into eating vegetables and studying more.

Then? THEN!! WHO SHOWS UP?! Like... five WEEKS late?! The Justice League. Gee! GREAT RESPONSE TIME, GUYS! Reeeal snappy! But ya, JUST missed the guy!

.......YES HES BEING SARCASTIC!!!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

[deadsetobsessions]

Trigger Warning: blades, mild torture, injuries, and what amounts to suicidal thoughts and actions (he lives at the end but he does need a hell of a lot of therapy)

Tim shudders, as best he can while bleeding and bruised and broken.

The Red Hood is above him, mechanical voice melding into the raspy deeper tones of an Older Jason Todd. His voice is hollow and cruel as he digs his blade into Tim’s flesh. It hurts. But, Tim thinks dazedly, having Robin, Tim’s Robin, hating Tim hurts worse.

“Wow, Replacement, no last words for the person you stole everything away from?”

Jason’s mocking him.

“Okay.”

“What’s that, Replacement?”

Tim is so incredibly tired. And the blade held to his neck is starting to look like comfort. Tim thinks-

“My last words. You- You want to hear it?”

His hero’s face tilts, green eyes sparking something deep within Tim’s memory. But he’s so tired.

“Sure, let’s see what kind of recruitment pitch you’ve got for me, Replacement.”

Cruel. So cruel. Mocking him with false warmth. But false warmth is better than the coldness of Drake manor, the coldness of Bruce’s grieving form or Dick’s smile, sometimes when he thinks Tim’s not looking.

Ah, Tim knew it. His Robin will always be better than any other heroes, even if the false warmth makes his heart hurt worse than the broken ribs he’s now sporting. That Hood is pressing a knee down on to keep him immobile. Not that Tim could move anywhere considering both of his legs are broken. Tim wonders what it is about him that makes it impossible for people to muster up warmth towards.

“Do you know why… why heroes are so… so loved?” He wheezes out. He doesn’t wait for a response from Hood. “It’s because… they choose good- they choose to better the world- to save people, even if… even if they weren’t saved themselves. No matter how much- the obstacles, there’s always, an obstacle. But they try anyways.” Tim has to wrap this up. He’s losing coherency. “It’s why… it’s why this is okay. You… you’re choosing to save… to save Gotham from the Joker. Ev’n if you weren’t saved yourself. You’re not… good. You kill.”

Red Hood- Jason, snarls. Tim, blinking slowly, admires the man’s green eyes. “That’s fucking right-”

“But, you can be. Y’re helping.” And because this is important, because Tim has an alter set up to mourn Jason, “You were my hero,” Tim says, and Jason stops short, expression blanking. “So. I’ll help- help remove an obstacle so… so you can keep helping. Helping people like… like me. Or, not like me. Something.”

With that, Tim summons the rest of his strength and presses his neck towards the blade, starting the process to slit his own throat.

Jason flings the knife away, expression crumbling in horror as he stares down at the child he just tortured.

And as Tim’s voice fades, as blood spills out of his neck, as Tim gives him time to retrieve the knife, Jason breaks.

Oh, Tim thinks. His eyes weren’t green. They’re supposed to be blue.

——

Jason sits beside the medical cot, the steady beeping of the heart monitor grounding him as he held two fingers on the kid’s- oh god, he’s a fucking kid, Todd, you monster- pulse.

Jason will grovel when Tim wakes up. Because he turned into the kid’s Joker and Willis and if there’s anything Jason won’t ever allow himself to turn into, it’d be those two. He crossed a line. If Tim wants him to rip his liver out and present it to him, Jason thinks he’d do it on the spot.

Fuck. He fucked up.

#jason todd #dc #Batman #red hood #Tim Drake #angst #mild comfort? #Robin #joker #Tim wakes up and is like I forgive you #Jason is like drowning in his guilt #and basically stops killing out of sheer guilt #Robin now has a crime lord as a protector #Robin: I’m a vigilante #red hood: shit that’s my vigilante kid #listen dick is a great older brother #he was also grieving #he doesn’t hug Tim bc 1) boundaries and 2) jason was too fresh #if Tim asked for a hug #dick would immediately give him one #jason following Tim around while Robin is patrolling #and crashing his bike on the face of whatever criminal is giving Robin trouble #Robin is the only bat allowed in crime alley

[attapullman]

Someone Will Hear | Robert "Bob" Floyd 18+

Summary: When everyone else retires to bed after Friendsgiving, Bob has other plans for you.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings & Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader, 18+ ONLY as always, smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m and f receiving), creampie, praise kink, cum play if you squint, sex in a house full of people, mostly porn without plot. It’s cozy season. It’s Friendsgiving season. It’s Bob Floyd Fucks season. Season greetings to all who celebrate.

“Guess we’re the sole survivors.” Bob’s breath is hot on your neck. Those warm, strong hands skim down your sides. If you turn your head slightly you can catch the remaining scent of mulled wine on his breath.

To be fair, everyone had agreed to a second movie. An afternoon crowded around mismatched card tables stuffing your faces with overcooked turkey (Javy) and undercooked sweet potatoes (Mickey) quickly turned Friendsgiving into movie night while your stomachs settled. And everyone had still felt rowdy and wine drunk enough to start the sequel. Or so it seemed. Not even ten minutes in Bradley was shuffling himself to Natasha’s guest room with a soft yawn. You hadn’t even noticed the rest of the squad excusing themselves, your head cushioned between overstuffed cushions and Bob’s welcoming chest. Your head swivels around to confirm that you two are the only ones left in his front seater’s living room.

But one press of Bob’s lips on your neck has every thought leaving your brain. He’s been impatient for the past hour. Your thigh pressed between his legs, your nails scratching down his back, the tiny kiss pressed to his wrist when he removed a pesky hair from your brow. It’s taken every ounce of will to not fuck you right on the loveseat where everyone could see. Docile, sweet, cozy you is his favourite to defile.

Hands slip under your sweater. One admiring the smooth texture of your skin, while the other quickly finds purchase over your bra, fingering the delicate material. Instinctually you keen into his hand, desperate to feel those skilled fingers tease. A not-so-subtle nudge against your thigh reminds you of the thick appendage he indulges you in daily. Twice if you ask nicely. There is truly no greater pleasure than sex with Robert Floyd.

It’s too much. Your body surges forward, fingers curling in softly gelled hair as hot mouths collide. Tongues twist and curl, desperate to devour. How does he taste so good? He barely drinks and yet you’re drunk off his kiss. Your needy fingers bring him closer - feeding your addiction to his touch - before sense returns and you tug his head back.

“We can’t do this.” The kisses he presses to your jaw say otherwise. “This is Natasha’s couch. Her house. Everyone’s here. Someone will hear.”

He isn’t the least bit concerned. Intertwining your fingers and brushing them against the unmistakable bulge that has made you walk funny on more than one occasion. “Don’t worry, everyone’s asleep.” A light kiss to your jaw. “Look at what you’ve caused.” Another addictively delicate kiss to your neck. “You have to fix it.”

Your brain holds fast to the belief this is a bad idea, but the tidal wave of arousal that floods through you wins out. Your fingers stroke along his covered length, straining against his zipper. Everyone is fast asleep, you can be quiet. Bob watches the fight leave your eyes, the swell of your chest under his hand as your nipples tighten. He knows he has you right where he wants you.

His hand leaves your waist and strokes your jaw. An adept finger runs along your bottom lip. “Say it, baby. Tell me you want me to fuck you on the couch while all our friends are asleep.” 

The depraved moan that leaves your mouth is too loud in the quiet house. His heavy hand clamps over your lips. “Say it quietly like a good girl.”

Your whimper out, “Please fuck me on the couch while all our friends are asleep.” 

The grunt he lets out is low but carnal. Arousal stilling the air as you anticipate how he’ll play with your body. That strong, lean-muscled torso leaving yours as he settles between your thighs, opening them up like a present before guiding your pants down each leg; soft, spongy kisses replacing the denim. Once discarded, there’s a slight burn in the muscles as your thighs swing as wide as possible to accommodate his broad shoulders. He already has his mouth latched over your panties, the soaked lace his appetizer before the main course.

“Mmm, always taste so good, baby.” The words are muffled he’s so deep in your core. You can feel his finger slip through your soaked folds, pulling the lace back from where he eagerly devoured. Instantly replaced by a deliciously warm, wet tongue that wastes no time in re-acquainting itself with your pussy. It’s his second time enjoying you today, but every time is just as devoted as the first.

Words catch in your throat as he licks along your inner walls like a starving man. His nose presses against your clit harder and rougher as he searches for the spot that makes you see stars. He’s only reached it once with that short tongue, so quickly relinquishes the search to his long fingers. His right hand offering you one finger for pleasure, but filling you with two once it’s confirmed you’re stretched enough. Eyes roll back in your head when his left hand trails along your sternum before slipping three thick fingers in your mouth, effectively muffling the obscene moans you’re emitting. He pulls back for a breath. “That’s it sweetheart, show me what a good girl you are.”

His pupils are blown, sapphire turned obsidian. Eyelids drooping, a red tint to his cheeks…Bob looks every inch of fucked out pussy drunk as he breaks eye contact to worship your clit. Mouth swiping over the bud, suckling it as his fingers thrust harder. The white hot edges of an orgasm fuzz your brain, excitedly awaiting when he hits that spongey spot. You pant around his fingers in anticipation. So drooly for him, his little pet.

But one spit-slicked thumb press to your clit changes plans. Your body suddenly cannot comprehend the ecstasy he’s showering you in and the edge of the cliff is suddenly there. And then you’re careening off it, brain spiraling in orgasmic nothingness, one hand wrapped in his hair while your mouth drools around his fingers. Bob’s tongue unrelenting, dedicated to licking you through your pleasure as his thumb guides each spasm. Hips rubbing against the couch as he chases his own relief. Not stopping until you’re whispering “S’senstive” around his digits and squirming for relief.

Your eyes are heavy as your highly trained aviator raises himself to his knees, taking in the vision of your half naked body. The house is still quiet, and you bask in your glow under his watchful eye. Not the end to Friendsgiving you expected, but a nice treat before Bob drives you home. You reach down to fix your panties when strong fingers wrap around your wrist. 

“Let’s take those off for this next part.”

Bob is not an ostentatious guy. Never draws attention to himself or makes a fuss. But his cock? It strides in heavy and thick and demanding every ounce of your attention. You can’t look away from him. Breaths still heavy as he recovers from feasting on your dripping pussy. Sapphire eyes hold your gaze as he unbuckles his belt and teases the button of his corduroys. The anticipation heavy between you. He knows you would do ungodly things for his cock, based solely on the filthily descriptive letters you’ve sent him while on deployment. The man believes in old-fashioned letter writing and eats pussy like a king. Of course you worship his cock.

Unable to handle the wait, your fingers fly to his crotch. Unhooking the button and pulling down the zipper with zero finesse. Now that he’s promised the gorgeous stretch of fucking you, you want nothing more. As he unbuttons the respectful tartan button up he’d chosen for dinner, slipping the fabric from his shoulders, that all-consuming fuzz clouds your brain again. Growing only stronger as he slips the pants from his hips before removing a monster of a cock from tight cotton. Your mouth waters as he slips one veiny hand around the head and stokes down firmly. 

Your mouth opens instinctually. 

A large hand wraps around the back of your neck, guiding you hungrily to his lap. His thumb rubs along your pulse as he traces your lips with the tip. Bob loves how your lips are always a shade darker than his cock. When you’re ready, you tilt your head and swallow him down.

“So good baby, feels so good.” You can tell he’s already on the edge of wanting to swear. “Your mouth was made for me.” Bob’s too far gone to indulge in your velvet mouth, wanting nothing more than to feel your tight walls squeeze him. Currently unsure whether you both can stay quiet, but he’s willing to die trying.

He slips a few more inches past your lips and enjoys the way you swallow along his cock, breathing through your nose as your hands wrap around his creamy thighs. Shudders rise up his spine as delicate fingers trace along his cum-filled balls. Too much of that and he’ll paint the back of your throat with salty cream. He’s already so close. 

Before you can lose yourself in the rhythm, his hand is pulling you back gently by your neck, helping you out of your sweater. The material hugs you and he’s been thinking about your tits all night. Bob regularly has dreams about suffocating between them, enjoying his last breaths with one nipple in each hand. He can’t properly appreciate them in Natasha’s living room with a ticking clock, but this will satisfy for now. Gentle hands guide you onto your back, on display for him upon the cushions. His lips descend down your chest - hot, wet kisses to your flesh, nose tracing the cups of your bra. A rumbled grunt warming the valley between when you stroke his spit-covered cock and bring it to your dripping cunt. 

“Bobby…please…” Your voice is low, still afraid of waking one of the house’s occupants. But as his tip catches on your entrance need overtakes sense, a moan slips past your swollen lips. “Need you now.”

A swift flick of his hips and he’s inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. Years later you’re still experiencing the continued stretch, one his colleagues would raise eyebrows if they knew what heat he was packing. His fingers soothe over your upper arm, lips still praising your chest. Loving ocean-blue eyes trained on you, anticipating your needs. 

Hands slip over his shoulders, soothing over the broad muscle to distract yourself. Nails biting into the flesh as he accidentally twitches before you’re ready. You’re faintly aware that the movie ends, the soft glow of the credits bathing you two in low light as you determine if you’re ready for Bob’s engorged cock. He presses a kiss to your jaw before whispering in your ear. “I love you. You’re such a good girl for me. I love you so much.”

His words have worked and your hips slip forward, begging him to fill you up. Feeling impossibly full as he gently thrusts between your folds. Peppering your chest in affection-filled kisses. Your mouth clamped shut to keep pathetically desperate moans from filling the quiet house. He sinks deeper and deeper, words of affirmation falling from his tongue, until the neatly trimmed hair around his cock is drenched in your essence.

He shifts down to his forearms, surrounding you in his scent, his touch, his aura. Chests touching, nowhere else to look but those cerulean pools of blue that had you falling on day one. From this angle your leg can hitch around his waist, opening up your pelvis to hit a spot that has you seeing stars. His balls slapping against your cunt as he continues his deep, forceful thrusts. Your mouths slot together in a desperate bid to stay quiet, both of you working quickly toward the edge with the fear of anyone in the house discovering you.

Your fingers trail from his shoulders to hair, pushing a wayward strand from his forehead. You pull away from his lips to whisper in his ear how good he feels, how he’s made for you. He looks debauched, his tongue slipped between thin lips as he concentrates on thrusting his way to the spongey spot of your cervix. This is the kind of pinpoint accuracy he doesn’t win accommodation medals for, but he always finds his target with you.

“Keep quiet, baby.”

Hands clamp to your mouth as Bob delivers a hard thrust to your cervix, blanking your brain as white spots fill your vision. His lips quirk as you move your hips, chasing the feeling. Sweat-slicked chests pressed together as he rams himself inside of you again and again, your muffled moans the sound of victory. This is exactly what he wanted when he settled himself behind you on the sofa. Such a perfect girl for him.

You’re so close to the edge, his hot breath on your neck, the stretch of his cock driving you home. If you close your eyes you can feel your orgasm within reach. Bob adjusts his weight, still pressed against you though as he can’t bear any space, and brings his fingers to where you two connect. Your aching clit happily accepting the controlled circles as hips slap together, too loud in the house to be mistaken for anything else. He whispers one last praise against your lips before you crumble before him.

Your walls squeeze around his shaft, forcing Bob to slow his hips and enjoy the tight sheath of your pussy. Back arching into firm chest as one low pornographic moan escapes right into his mouth. Small spasms wracking your body as he continues to drag himself in and out of your warmth. Chasing his own orgasm as you spin back to earth. Your droopy eyes and sleepy smile spurring him on, his happy cockdrunk girl. Slamming hips against yours one last time before bottoming out - garbled grunts of warning filling the space between your mouths - before pushing every creamy drop of his seed deep inside his babygirl. The creamy ring around his cock forgotten as his cum fills every available space.

Panting, unable to open your eyes, you regain your bearings in the dark room. Everything is still silent, the promise that you’ve kept your dalliances private. The warmth of Bob’s skin grounding you to the moment. You love him so much. 

After too much time has passed and your skin itches with dry sweat, Bob finally pulls out. A wicked grin upon his lips as he pushes his cum back inside you; partly for his own pleasure but also for the safety of Natasha’s couch. Wrapped in a throw blanket, he whisks you to the bathroom to clean up (sweet kisses and praise included) before redressing and tucking you both in for the night on the cramped couch. His legs are too long and you both want to stretch out, but it works out with your knee between his thighs and your head between a cushion and his chest.

While hours have passed, when you open your eyes it feels like you’ve only just drifted off. The living room is still dark, but the rest of the house is bustling. Reuben and Mickey are making coffee while Jake loudly brags about the perfect shot he pulled on his new espresso machine. The sweet smell of pancakes fills your nostrils. Bradley’s specialty, and you can slightly hear the tail end of whatever he’s humming as he works the stove. You snuggle in closer to Bob, who has also woken up to the chaos of his squadron making breakfast.

The two of you fight off reality for a moment longer before joining in the kitchen. All assembled look disheveled, having slept in their Friendsgiving formals and most spending the night on the guest room floor because Rooster won’t share a bed. Joking accusations fly around as Jake complains of neck pain.

You’re tucking into the offered pancakes when the rest of your group joins the kitchen. Javy looking well-rested because he slept on ten inches of memory foam in the primary bedroom. Natasha, however, doesn’t seem as pleased after a night of comfortable sleep with a partner. And when you see what’s hanging off her finger it makes sense. With a pinched face, she slowly holds up the pair of charcoal grey briefs. 

“Floyd, why were these under the couch?"

#robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd smut #top gun maverick smut #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for getting a pet one of my parents is allergic to and/or planting plants that would attract them?

Pretty short one, honestly. I'm currently living with my parents and younger siblings. Ages aren't particularly important, just know that everyone involved is an adult except my youngest sibling, who just reached teenagerdom, and the rest of us "kids" are stuck living at home without any real way to get places of our own.

What some of my siblings know, to varying degrees, and that my parents either don't know or are willfully ignorant towards, is that I am so far removed from my parents' political views that it's like listening to an alien way of thinking whenever one of them brings politics up. I've gotten very good at shutting up and letting them think what they want to about me- with how hard they project, they probably think I'm exactly like them. In reality I just don't think minorities should be considered "hate crimes against God" and think they're insane for believing as much.

Sure doesn't help that I'm in multiple categories of minorities that they consider "hate crimes against God" lmao

One of them, in particular, has gone into detail multiple times about what he thinks should be done to people like me or those who support them. It's, uh…not pretty. Let's just say he thinks fascism is perfectly fine and leave it at that.

When I move out- because I refuse to be stuck here forever- I'm hoping to be financially stable enough to afford a pet. I'm considering a snake, or maybe a bird, or a cat. Not all at once, obviously. However, when we were growing up, we only ever had dogs. The fascist parent is allergic to cats, so I can count on one hand the number of cats I've ever actually interacted with, and I'd need more than two hands and two feet to count the number of "throw the kittens in a sack and toss them into the river" "jokes" I've had to suffer through over the years.

I'm pretty sure there's no saving this familial connection. I want to tell them both who I am, but I can't do that until I have my own place because I know they're gonna react really fucking badly. They've told me so themselves.

…which brings me to my question. I guess it's not so much "WIBTA for encouraging the presence of animals one of my parents is allergic to as a measure to keep them away" and more "WIBTA for getting a pet that my parents might dislike enough to try and get rid of" iykwim.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[rymndsmth]

kyoto 3 (tangerine)

you gain some answers and more questions from tangerine. 18+. prev

He smelled like a warm, crackling fire. Hints of tobacco, a little bit of vanilla. Exquisite and classic. You turned to press your face into his chest. His strong arms circled you, holding you close. 

Tangerine ran his index finger up your bare spine, fine hairs on the back of your neck standing tall and firm. Salt licked your tongue as you placed a kiss to his skin, and then another. He chuckled, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze despite the darkness. 

This isn’t real, love.

I know. Just…stay. 

You don’t know why you dreamt of him that night. Subconscious stuff, maybe, running into him two days in a row. It left you feeling uneasy. Not so much the fact that he was there, but the nature of it. The intimacy. 

Clouds hung low in the sky. You could see the sun behind them, thrashing and struggling to break through. The thin pre-roll you’d scored the night before turned over between your fingers as you sat on the fire escape, metal digging into the backs of your thighs.

What would you do today? All that walking had left the soles of your feet aching, but you still had the desire to see more. Maybe you’d step into the first shop you saw with a help wanted sign, and get a job. 

Not that you needed one, at least at the moment. Your living expenses were paid in advanced for some time thanks to daddy dearest, and you’d been frugal with the money you made doing extracurriculars. 

Having something to report to every day could help. People, though you weren’t sure who, could take notice of you floating about and start to ask questions. With a job, you could build a cover around why you were in town. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you would admit that the real reason this even crossed your mind was to keep your hands clean. It would be best to leave all that shit in the past behind. 

If you were to be completely genuine, however, you would admit that no legal employment could ever satiate your tastes. That was one seriously fucked up inherited trait you’d never read about. 

You smoked halfway through the blunt, opting to save the rest for later when you felt less existential. A quick shower and outfit change later found your boots meeting the pavement yet again without purpose.

And again, you ran into the man of the hour. Or seconds, or minutes. However much time he decided you were worth sparing today. In his navy suit, he sat by the window. Sticking out like a sore thumb in attire, but not demeanor.

“How was the date?” You slid into the conveniently empty seat beside his. 

“Got a little bloody.” Tangerine ran a finger over the edge of his steaming mug.

The motion made your muscles tense, the dream flooding back into your memory. A flick of your eyes upwards brought your attention to his face. There was the slightest bruise forming at his temple, spots of yellow and purple. Your hands found themselves curling in an effort not to reach out. 

“None of it being yours I hope.” You sighed, leaning back.

He smiled at that, “Not a drop.”

Good, you breathed. And then you thought about why you would care. You didn’t know him to be concerned in any way, so why did you? Moreover, this conversation was far removed from normal. 

Though heavily doused in insinuations, it was clear to you and him what was being said. This also might’ve confirmed a feeling you had. That he might be just the thing you were looking for. And that made whatever the fuck this was that much more exciting. You had to know more.

“What exactly do you do, Tangerine?” You stole a sip of his coffee and instantly regretted it. Espresso, double shot.

“A little this and that.” He perked up, seemingly amused at your question. “Procurement, delivery, and if you’re really nice…” His hand crawled along the table to take his cup back. “I might even butcher for you.”

“And was your date nice?” You swallowed thickly.

The dabbling you’d done exposed you to a lot. Drugs and guns were one thing, but the bodies that came in this line of work were another. They were a harrowing reminder that a single step out of line could mean that someone like him was going to show up on your doorstep. 

“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to?” Tangerine flicked his wrist, taking note of the time. 

You blinked, stunned by his sudden forwardness. Also, you weren’t entirely certain what he was getting at. There were a shit ton of things you wanted to know about him to the point where you didn’t know where to begin. 

Do you start from yesterday? He never exactly told you if he was following you or not. Do you dig even deeper? He surely has a real name, and it was only fair that he told you his after knowing yours. 

“I-“ You fidgeted with your dangling sleeves. 

Tangerine huffed, taking a hearty sip of his coffee. He stood up and buttoned his blazer in the middle. All the options were scrambling around in your head now, immobilizing you.  

“Good seeing you, sweetheart.” His hand gave your shoulder a squeeze. 

Another memory flash in your mind, except this one was all too real. A rush of heat across your face left you breathing shallowly, shooting to your feet with the fear that he would slip away too far to catch this time. 

“Why did you-“ You started and then looked around.

The few other people in the cafe weren’t exactly the kind of company you wanted to hash this out in front of. You took the hand that was on your shoulder, pulling him through the building until you found some sort of supply closet near the back. It was surprisingly spacious, the kind of place you’d probably use to disappear during your shift if you worked here. 

“Where were you? When the train stopped, I mean.” You leaned against the door. 

Tangerine tilted his head back, looking down at you. “I left.”

“You left?” You deadpanned. 

There he went again giving you yet another puzzle to join the million question pile. You swore at this point that the man was a bag of walking riddles, probably the offspring of a trickster faerie you read about as a kid if they existed.

He nodded, walking closer to where you stood. “I wasn’t supposed to fuck you, but I’m not the best at denying myself what I want.”

His blue eyes seemed to swallow you whole as he leaned in, one hand placed on the wood above your head and the other falling to your waist. You curled your finger into one of his chains with your gaze still fixed on his. 

“Why?” You bit your lip.

Belatedly, you realized that you hadn’t specified which part of his statement that question was referring to. An answer for both parts would be nice though. Who set those rules, and why? You also were confident, but not delusional. Why did he want you of all people so badly to break those rules? 

“You, my little artist, are making shit very complicated.” Tangerine bumped his nose into yours, lips dipping almost too quickly for you to register the kiss. 

Typical of him to not elaborate in any coherent way. You’d get your answers though. For now, all you wanted to do was let this thing that was coiling inside of you spring free. 

“No, Tang.” You shook your head. “We are.” 

He made small sound, something between an inhale and a tsk. The hand that was on your waist travelled lower with his eyes on yours the entire time. You held his gaze challengingly, your breathing catching in your throat at the contact of his cold rings against your bare thigh.

His tongue darted out to the corner of his top lip. There was nothing but mischief in his expression, observing the way you reacted to his touch. A slight pinch formed between your brows when you felt the tips of his fingers graze just barely over your panties. Still, you managed to keep your eyes zeroed in on his. 

Tangerine didn’t seem to be a fan of your rebellion. He curled his fingers, pressing the fabric against your already soaking core. There was no stopping the obscene moan that fell past your lips, your hips bucking for more. 

“There she is.” He purred. 

You didn’t have time to bite back with some smart reply. His mouth was on yours in a flash, tongue parting your lips to mark its claim. The kiss was deep and hungry. He took what he wanted from you, leaving you breathless when he pulled away. 

And when he saw your heavy lidded gaze and friction plumped lips, he did it all over again. Your hips rolled over his digits, begging. Satisfied with your submission, Tangerine gave you some relief. He pushed your wet underwear aside to part your folds with his fingers. 

“Fuck…please.” You whimpered, head falling back against the door.

He took that as an open invitation to claim your neck with soft bites and kisses.

“Tell me, love.” His tongue ran along your jumping pulse point. 

“Please make me cum.” Your eyes completely lost focus. 

Tangerine circled your clit and you swore you saw stars. In any other scenario, you would’ve been embarrassed at how quickly you were falling apart. It was different with him though. One sweep of his icy eyes over you was enough to turn your spark into flame. 

He could have you any way, any time he wanted. You knew that, and he knew that too. It was a thought that leveled you, how something unspoken could be understood so quickly. It was the reason why you were a mess right now before him. 

His index and middle fingers stretched your pussy open, thumb taking over on your sensitive bud. He beckoned to you, calling you, pulling you. There was no resistance on your end. You came to him. Closer and closer. And then you came for him. 

Your hands fell to his shoulders, squeezing the thick material of his blazers as you touched bliss. Hard contractions squeezed his fingers within your soft walls while you shook and cried out. 

“Lock the door.” Tangerine breathed into your mouth.

Through your haze, you managed to reach back and fulfill his request. As soon as it was done, he was plucking you from your feet as if you were made of nothing. You didn’t even have time to hang on before he placed you on the windowsill and pulled your hips to the very edge. 

He cupped your cheek in one hand, bringing your face to his. Tangerine licked your lips before prodding his tongue between them to run against your own. Your hands tangled into his soft hair, tugging as you rolled your hips against his pant straining erection. 

Tangerine shuddered, losing a bit of his composure while fumbling to free his cock. It was a quick thrust that left your eyes widening, tears beginning to prick at their edges, when he entered you. 

He let out a growl that left your toes curling against his hips. Fuck, yes, fuck, fuck. You chanted, head falling limply to the side. A woman possessed was the only thing that could describe your state. You were lost in your senes, overwhelmed with his thick cock dragging through your walls, his woodsy scent in your nose. Ears filled with his soft grunts and praises.  Pretty little pussy taking me so well. 

You seized around him, biting down until your mouth flooded with copper as you came. Tangerine moaned, blue eyes nearly black with blown out pupils while he watched you writhe. His cocked fucked with increasing force into you until his hips staggered to his own release. 

Your forehead pressed to his, lips leaning in to catch his between shuddering breaths. There was nothing going through your mind at all. Nothing except him. The mischievous slant of his mouth, those eyes reminiscent of oceans. You were so thoroughly fucked out that you felt as if you had temporary amnesia. Unable to remember anything before him. 

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me,” Tangerine pulled out and pressed your thighs together. “And keep that in all day, right?” 

He could’ve asked you to drop a body right then and there and you would’ve responded the same way. With a nod, a small yes leaving your lips. He ran a thumb along your bottom lip, satisfied. 

taglist:  @noz4a2 @simpforbuckyb @marshmelloyellow02

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #fics.n

[skelavender]

“It’s snowing,” she says. Mulder follows her gaze. “The first of the season.” “Huh, look at that.”  “Yeah,” She sighs absently, leaning back into his body. “It’s so peaceful.” “It is.” 

read chapter seven of you are in love on ao3, or below the cut!

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

'Cause you can hear in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

***

January 1997

Scully is fucking bored. 

She’s pacing the office aimlessly while Mulder is out who-knows-where, probably meeting an informant that he won’t tell Scully anything about. It’s not often that she’s here when Mulder isn’t, but when it does occur, it’s the worst. He can occupy himself by organizing and reorganizing the X-Files themselves, but she’s not going to mess with his (allegedly) organized chaos.

She fills the time by inspecting Mulder’s wall of insanity behind his desk. It’s covered in everything from sketches to newspaper clippings to a photo of them at a crime scene. She’s noticed it before, of course, but it’s slightly shifted and showing a sliver of another image stuck behind it. They’re lined up almost perfectly, but not sticking together, so it must be intentional.

Scully removes the pin, and behind the photo is another one of them, this one from their wedding day. Skinner must have taken it. She hadn’t even noticed he had a camera. 

And here the photo lives, behind a far less innocuous one, but there all the same. Its mere existence threatens their partnership within the FBI, and yet Mulder keeps it here, close to him, in their space. She wonders how she had never noticed it before.

She and Mulder are framed in cascading sunlight, walking down the white arched walkway outside the courthouse. His hand is on her lower back, as it often is when they walk side-by-side like this, and her hand is angled up to rest on his mid back. He looks down at her, and she up at him like… shit, she looks up at him like she’s in love with him. She was. She is. 

Is this how she always looks at him, with this gaze? How they appear to every outsider? No wonder people have been making their assumptions about them since they started to work together, if she’s constantly looking at him like he hung the stars she wishes on. 

“Scully, you’re not gonna believe this,” Mulder says as he bursts through the door, filling the room with his excited energy. He approaches her and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth in greeting before he continues. “What do you know about Mexican folklore?”

Scully doesn’t register what he’s said, she barely even glances up at him. Her eyes remain glued to the photo between her fingers.

“I didn’t know there were photos.” She murmurs absently.

“What?” Mulder’s eyes catch on the glossy paper between her fingers. “Oh.”

“Did Skinner give it to you?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know he brought a camera.”

“Neither did I, until he gave me the photo.” Mulder forces an awkward chuckle. “It’s, uh, it’s the only copy, and I have the negative, if that’s what you’re worried about. I asked. And I figured if I kept it behind other stuff, it was innocuous enough, but if you think it’d be safer to get rid of it…”

“Do you think we could get a copy?” She asks before she can lose her nerve. She looks up at him. “I’d like one.”

Mulder is a bit shocked by this. He hadn’t expected her to be so… eager about it. “Uh, yeah. I can get one for you.”

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him like he’s offered some grand gesture, like she doesn’t know he would go to the ends of the earth for her. Like this small favor is everything he would ever ask for.

“Of course.” He wraps his arm around her and pulls her in to his body. Her hand settles on his mid back, their position mirroring their wedding photo. He presses a kiss into her hair, and pulls her into a hug.

She wants a copy of their wedding photo. Mulder feels like they’re teetering on the edge of something, but he can’t quite tell what.

***

Mulder doesn’t even realize he’s in pain until a hand on his shoulder breaks him from his trance. His eyes burn from staring at the flickering computer screen for hours and his back and shoulders ache from an extended period of his horrible computer hunch. He breaks his stare down with the computer to look up at Scully, who is standing behind him with concern painted across her features and the blanket that usually lays at the end of her bed draped over her shoulders.

“Mulder? Are you alright?”

“Huh?” He says dazedly. He’s shifted gears too suddenly, now left feeling like he’s stepped into a dream. 

“You weren’t responding when I called your name. Are you okay?”

“Yeah— yeah. Sorry, Scully, I got a little… caught up.”

“In what?”

Mulder rubs his stinging eyes. “A potential case, which is looking less and less like an actual case. What time is it?”

“Close to two.” 

“Why are you up?”

“I was cold.” She grumbled. “We might want to look into getting the windows resealed, it gets so drafty in the bedroom.”

“I’ll put it on the list.” Mulder rises, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “C’mon, Scully, let’s go to bed. I’ll keep you warm.” 

At the top of the stairs, Scully pauses. “Do you want some tea, Mulder? It might help you sleep.” 

This is an offer Scully makes frequently, but one that Mulder doesn’t take. He’s so used to being awake at all hours that he doesn’t think something as simple as a cup of tea would help. 

But Scully is cold, and if she’s making a cup for him, she’ll make some for herself as well. 

“Sure.” 

She doesn’t look surprised that he’s finally agreed, she just fills the kettle and places it in its usual home on the back burner before flicking it on. She reaches for the teabags and Mulder for the mugs, which sit on a higher shelf. There’s a light smile on her face as she settles a tea bag into each mug, as if there’s no place she would be more content than their kitchen at 2AM. 

Wind blasts against the walls, singing through the trees in the side yard. The cold air seems in slightly, and Scully shivers despite her blanket. Mulder gathers her into his arms, wrapping the blanket around him too so that it captures both of their body heat. He rests his face in her hair and closes his eyes, breathing the moment into his lungs and letting it enter his bloodstream. 

Scully hums into his chest, content and sleepy. They just stand there in each other’s arms as the water boils. 

Mulder doesn’t even notice they’re swaying until the singing of the kettle makes him open his eyes. Softly shifting back and forth, not quite in a dance, just enough movement to lull them into a sleepy, drifting state. 

Scully blinks slowly as Mulder pulls away to pour the water. She could have fallen asleep standing up, comforted by the warmth of Mulder’s embrace. Her eyes drift out the window, and a smile graces her face. 

“It’s snowing,” she says. Mulder follows her gaze. “The first of the season.”

“Huh, look at that.” 

“Yeah,” She sighs absently, leaning back into his body. “It’s so peaceful.”

“It is.” 

They’re silent for a moment, standing in each other’s arms watching the snow fall as their tea steeps. 

***

It’s a quiet Friday evening when everything changes. They’ve just gotten back from their latest case in California and had finished the paperwork this morning, but haven’t haven’t started a new one yet. The window and cabinet are fixed from the ordeal with the Excellium Medical Group case, they haven't heard from Krychek or the Cigarette Smoking Man, and everything is quiet. They’re at peace.

In this moment especially. They’re on the couch with an old movie on the TV and abandoned takeout containers on the coffee table in front of them. January rain pelts the windows, making their space feel fuller, safer. These four walls keep the rain out and the love in. 

Mulder is leaning against Scully’s shoulder, her cheek resting on the top of his head, half asleep. She feels so full. It's one of those moments, ones she has often, these days, where she’s overwhelmed by the pressure of how much she wants, wants him, wants a life together, wants bliss. 

Scully reaches for one of her fantasies, the ones she keeps on the shelf in her brain she can only touch on special occasions, the distant dreams involving her and Mulder. The unattainable things she doesn’t have, things she can’t have, much still make her chest ache with sticky-sweet yearning. She finds the shelf empty. 

In the blink of an eye, it all falls into place. 

Oh. Oh. 

Just as the feeling is rising in her throat and starting to choke her, she realizes that she has it. Every domestic fantasy she’s had about Mulder over the years, she has. The quiet evenings, the loud and bumbling mornings, the laughter and casual affection in between. She has him, and she has for a while. There’s nothing else to be afraid of.

“We’re married” The words slip past her lips without meaning to.

“Uh, yeah? I was there?” Mulder says with a laugh, “I get people forget anniversaries, Scully, but the entire marriage?”

“No, I mean – we’re married, Mulder. We’re… a couple.” The realization has caught her off guard, and she’s a bit breathless when she says it.

“Oh.” He sounds just as surprised about it as she is. Neither of them have noticed the direction they’ve been shifting in, too preoccupied by want for a step they haven’t quite yet reached.

“Yeah.”

“What do we… do about that?”

“I don't know.”

A moment passes, thick and full of things thus far left unsaid. Mulder is the one to break it.

“Do we just… let it happen?” he suggests.

She pretends to think for a moment. Like the suggestion doesn’t make her heart skip a beat. Like this isn't everything she's always wanted. “Alright.”

He looks up at her with his puppy dog eyes, wide and vulnerable. Full of hope, of wonder. It’s the same way he looked at her while stargazing in West Virginia a couple months ago, and oh, he’s had this simmering inside him too. He’s wanted her, just like she’s wanted him.

Quietly, she says, “I can't imagine being married to anyone else, Mulder. I don’t want to.” She takes a shaky breath, “You’re my person.”

“I love you.”

She places two fingers under his chin, and pulls him in to kiss her. It's slow, easy as breathing. Peaceful. When they break apart, she looks into his wide, awed eyes and his Christmas tree smile, and places a light kiss on his nose before pulling him closer. They lay on the couch, intertwined, hugging each other a little tighter than they had been before. 

Perhaps it’s silly, to perceive something as simple as a kiss as world-changing, as redefining a four-year-long relationship. But with that small contact, just like that, they’re married. Actually married, not just on paper, but finally in agreement on the shape of a them. They’re together. They’re in love.

Scully understands love songs. She understands poetry. She understands how people lose themselves in the depths of this feeling. Her chest is ballooned with pure emotion, like her body is too small to hold all of her love for him so it’s leaking out at the seams, in the spaces her own practiced hands have sutured together old wounds. 

She doesn’t realize at first that he’s playing with her ring where it lays on top of her shirt. She wears it openly when they’re at home, and she had caught him staring at it a couple times before. Actually, looking back at it, that might’ve been him looking at her chest. Huh.

“Do you,” he clears his throat, “Do you want to start wearing this on your finger?”

A small smile spreads across her face, warm and slow. she runs her hand through his hair, encouraging him to look up at her. 

“Ask me properly, Mulder.”

“Scully,” he says, breathless and with his lips scant centimeters away from hers, “Will you marry me?”

She echoes his words from last year before she kisses him. “Any day of the week, honey.”

<- previous chapter next chapter ->

#fall into place series #LTWrites #LTW: you are in love #fics #.txt #the x files

[msjaeger]

That Wasn't In The Script (Part:ll)

*there's gonna be underage drinking and smoking but everyone is above 18 so it's technically not underage ;)*

Eren, Jean, Connie, Mikasa and yourself all walked backstage into the dressing rooms to plan for the afterparty. Sasha, Armin and the others had left after the conclusion of the talkshow to either get dressed or mentally prepare themselves for whatever might go down tonight.

You sat down on the comfy chair that was in the centre of the room while Eren and Connie sat on the couch and Jean leaned against the wall. You playfully yank Mikasa down and into your lap, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your chin on her shoulder. This caused you to miss the red flush on the girl's face. "So what's the plan tonight? We doing it at my apartment again?" You asked and you played with Mikasa's fingers.

Connie scoffs "Bro, be so fucking for real. You don't live in an apartment. You have a whole ass penthouse, babe."

"It's not that big, Con." You reason.

"You have a fucking bowling alley."

Jean throws an empty water bottle at Connie's head and rolls his eyes. "Maybe if you didn't spend so much money on shoes, weed, and cars, you'd be able to afford a nice ass penthouse like the rest of us." Connie shoots out of his chair and storms up to Jean.

"Don't make me shave that mane off." Jean glares at Connie before focusing his attention on you and Eren. "You know, the horse jokes would've never existed if you two stopped telling them when we were kids."

Eren shrugs "If the horseshoe fits."

"Can you guys stop?" Mikasa sighs, annoyed about the constant bickering. "You guys are upsetting Mika, now I'm gonna have to lace your weed with bleach." You say playfully as you hold your friend closer.

"So we'll do it at my place. I can get the alcohol so let me know what you guys want and what you think everyone else wants. Like Smirnoff, Everclear, Pink-"

"If you finish the word 'Pink Whitney', I might throw up." Connie exaggerates and places his hands on his knees while hunching over.

"Real. Last time we hung out and there was Pink, I ended up blacked out on a park bench." Eren cracks his knuckles while recalling the... interesting experience.

"Well, a lot of people know how to handle their liquor unlike some of you." You scoff. "Anyways, Connie can you get some bud? I haven't smoked in a while and I swear I've been smelling colors or something."

"For sure, I got you, ma. I'll text my guy right now." Connie pulls out his phone and walks outside into the hallway. "Do we want this to be a private party or what's the move?" Jean asks as he takes Connie's spot next to Eren.

You think for a bit.

"Fuck it. It's celebrating us busting our ass for the past- what- 10 years? We just gotta make sure security is checking everybody." Jean nods and pulls out his phone to make an announcement on Instagram about it. Eren looks over to you lazily and smiles.

"What do you want me to do, ma? I can get the food and drinks 'n shit to your place in an hour if you want." He offers as he stands up and walks behind your chair. You feel his two large hands rest on your shoulders and a light squeeze.

"It's weird, isn't it?" You say suddenly. Both Eren and Mikasa quirk a bow.

"What do you mean?" Eren asks, still not moving his hands off of your shoulders. You hum. "Just... weirdly, it's over, y'know? Even during that big hiatus that happened between Season 1 and 2, we still looked forward to Season 2. Then Season 3. Then all the parts in Season 4." You pause to remove your head from Mikasa's shoulder to look up to Eren. "It's just... weird."

You hear Mikasa hum in agreement while Eren sighs. "Yeah, I get it. Especially you, Mikasa, Armin and me. We literally saw each other grow up, you know?" You lean your head onto his forearm and right before you were about to add onto that, Connie burst into the room.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! I need the biggest favor of the entirety of favors.!" Connie screams as he runs to you. You sigh but smile at him softly.

"What's up?" Connie begins bouncing on the heels of his feet.

"You know how I'm trying to launch a music career and stuff? My producer asked if I could do a little gig at your party tonight." He falls to his knees. "The beautiful, intelligent, prosperous Y/n. PLEASE. I'll do anything!" He begs.

"Connie get up." You chuckle. "Of course you can. One condition though. When you blow up, you have to say I'm your number one fan." Connie nods his head so fast, you thought it would fly off its hinges.

"I love you so much. Plus I got 15 zips heading to your place in an hour so best believe you're gonna be fried fried." Connie shoots up and fumbles with his phone.

"I gotta call my stage guy, my DJ, my sound guy..." He sticks his tongue out as he concentrates. "You know what, I'm gonna head back to my place. I gotta get ready and organize my crew. What time were you wanting us to pull up?"

Jean clears his throat " I mean, I posted on my story for people to start pulling up at 8. And she probably wants help setting up so come at like 4 or something. Does that work?" He looks towards you and you shrug.

"Sounds good to me. Eren is gonna cater but if you guys wanna bring food or something, I'm definitely not gonna object." Jean nods and stands up. He walks over to you and ruffles your hair.

"Bet. I'm gonna head out with Connie too. It takes a good two hours to look this good. I'll see you later, ma." He kisses your head as he leaves with Connie, who is screaming into his phone about finally being able to put himself out there.

"I'm gonna take Mikasa back to my place and meet up with Sasha, Armin and Reiner. They're gonna help organize everything and then we'll start setting stuff up. You wanna come with?" You ask as you lightly pat Mikasa's waist a few times. She hops off you and you stand up and stretch.

"Nah, I gotta go get something. But I'll probably be there by 3ish." Eren yawns before he kisses your cheek. You grimace and push his face away. "Gross. You're gonna give me rabies." You chuckle as you lightly pull his ear. Eren shrugs.

"You know when you get a girlfriend, you'll have to stop doing that. I have a slight feeling it wouldn't go too well." Eren holds his hand up to his chest in fake offence.

"What?! But I've been doing it since we were little." He wipes a fake tear away from his eyes. "I guess I'll just stay single forever." You scoff and shove his shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Y/n? Where do you want me to put the DJ booth?" Connie asks as he jogs into your apartment with Jean on his heels. "At least say hi to her first, damn." Jean scoffs as he admires your penthouse. Sure, he's visited plenty of times, to the point where he has his own room. But it never ceases to amaze him.

The open-concept living space is a masterpiece of modern design, seamlessly blending contemporary aesthetics with comfort. High-end finishes and top-of-the-line materials adorn every corner, from the polished marble floors to the custom-designed lighting fixtures. The living room has plush, designer furniture arranged around a sleek fireplace, creating an inviting atmosphere for both relaxation and entertaining. Not to mention you added your own little flare by adding LED lights around certain areas of the living room.

The kitchen is a chef's dream, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances, a spacious island, and custom cabinetry. Whether you're hosting a dinner party or preparing a quiet meal for two, this kitchen is both practical and aesthetically attractive.

A highlight of your penthouse (and the upcoming party) is its expansive terrace, an outdoor oasis in the sky. He remembers the time the group had come over to drink and it ended up with Jean and Eren recreating that one Titanic scene on the balcony. With a private plunge pool, lounge seating, and a dining area, the terrace was the perfect space to host parties for a bunch of young adults whose highlight of the week is to get drunk and high.

"Jesus, did your place get bigger?" He whistles as he walks up to an energetic Connie and yourself, who already drank half of a seltzer.

"Har, har, har. Can you grab whatever that is? It's for Connie's performance and he needs it close to the stage." You crack your knuckles out of habit.

It was currently 7:45, meaning there were 15 minutes left until the party started. It may be assumed that no one ever really shows up to a party at the exact start time but parties thrown by your cast members tend to be excluded. If you were to glance outside the window, you would see a huge line that wraps around two blocks. And obviously, as the night progressed, more people would show up.

"I wonder if Levi, Hange and all the old people will show up?" Sasha suddenly spawned behind you, causing you to jump. She was munching on a slice of pizza while holding a red solo cup. You wrap an arm around her and sigh. "Fuck, you scared me, Sash. But I think they're coming later. They have some fancy event they're all going to.

As the anticipation builds for the upcoming party, you begin to observe the setup you and your friends worked so hard to accomplish.

Dimmed ambient lighting, accentuated by flashing, bright lights and spotlights shines over various areas of the room, creating a scene that could only be described as a scene from Euphoria. The music playlist, carefully curated to match the event's vibe, subtly fills the air, acting as the calm before the storm concerning the festivities that were to come.

At the bar, a well-appointed alcohol station beckons with an array of alcoholic beverages. Shimmering glasses, neatly arranged, await their turn to be filled with a variety of concoctions. The bar is even stationed with two mixologists in case guests don't want to make their own drinks! You watched as Eren sneakily took a shot of Hennesy before shaking his head rapidly with his eyes and nose scratched up.

In the kitchen, a buffet table showcases an enticing spread of appetizers and snacks. From cake to pizza to chicken wings, the culinary offerings set the stage for a night of the munchies. The aroma wafting from the food station adds an extra layer of anticipation. Mainly for Sasha.

A focal point of the setup was the entertainment area. Whether it's the dance floor, a stage for Connie's performances, or a professional DJ ready to fill the space with upbeat music, this area promised to be the heartbeat of the celebration. You even got a photo booth and a karaoke machine that's hooked up to the TV in your other living room.

"You look so good, mami. I forgot to tell you." Sasha says as she slaps your ass. You chuckle as you smooth out your sweatpants. Your 'party' outfit consisted of designer half-black-half-white sweatpants (the only reason you would ever wear sweatpants to a party is if they were 400 dollars), a fitted black cropped cami and a pair of Jordan's. "I don't know, Sash. I feel like I underdressed. You're wearing that cute skirt and Mikasa and Historia were wearing dresses. I feel like I look like those girls who say 'I'm not like other girls' or some stupid shit." You sulk.

"Girl look at Ymir and Annie. Ymir is wearing skinny jeans that make her look like Sojiua Boy and Annie is wearing the same jacket that she wears to sleep. I don't think anyone thinks your outfit is bad. Plus your makeup and hair make it ten times better."

"Yo, Y/n!" Reiner calls out. "It's 8. You ready to open the gates and let the hellhounds in?" You glance around your penthouse, making sure there were no details missing. Once you confirmed everything was set, you gesture to the DJ to turn the soft and ambient music up and into something more up-beat.

"Tell securtiy they can start sending people up once they've checked them."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What time was it? 10? 11? You knew it hadn't been long since the party started but you could estimate at least 300 people were inside your penthouse that very moment. You recognized a few of your friends and cast mates, like Pieck, Hitch, Floch, and a few others, who came later but you knew the majority of the people were fans of the show.

You were currently at the bar, holding a bottle of Tito's, before downing one more shot and placing it back down onto the counter. You began to journey through the sea of people on the dance floor, people noticing you almost instantly cheering your name and moving out of your way. You make your way over to the "VIP section" a.k.a a little section that sat on the small balcony that overlooked the living room that could be accessed by a secret staircase. The security obviously recognized you and let you up the staircase.

Fitted with a few couches, you found a few of your friends chilling upstairs. You had Eren and Jean leaning slightly over the balcony to wave at fans, Floch who was blacked out on the biggest couch and Mikasa trying to light a preroll, except her lighter seemed to be faulty.

"I got you, Mika." You say as you sit down next to her and fish your lighter out of your pocket. With a subtle click, the flame emerged, casting a warm glow that contrasted the euphoric lighting that surrounded. The joint, lifted to her lips, met the flame with a hiss.

She inhaled deeply and then removed the joint from her lips before holding the bitter smoke deep in her lungs. She offered it to you as she exhaled, not before a few coughs left wracked her body.

"My little butterflyyy." Eren stretched out as he turned around to see you sitting down. He slightly stumbled over his feet as he shuffled over to the couch you and Mikasa were sitting on and threw himself onto your lap.

The sudden movement caused some of the roach of the joint to flake off and began to fall towards Eren's face. You quickly covered Eren's face with your hand just as it was about to land in his eyes and instead landed on your hand.

"Fuck." You hiss out as you blow smoke out and begin to shake your hand, hoping the cool sensation will ease the pain. Mikasa quickly snatched your hand and began to examine it. "Are you alright? How bad does it hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital?" Mikasa's words were slightly slurred but you understood it perfectly. She snatched a water bottle off of the table next to her and poured the water onto your hand.

"It's alright, Mika. Happens all the time." You attempt to calm the anxious girl. Eren sits up slowly and looks at you with glossy and low eyes. "Did I hurt you?" He asks quietly, reminding you of how he acted as a child when he would get in trouble. You give him a reassuring smile. "It's alright, I promise." He hugs his knees to his chest and stares at you.

"Eren, I love you so much but I hope you know when you're high or crossed, you get extremely creepy." You chuckle lowly as you unravel his current position. He tilts his head to the side, causing his bun to flop a little. "Wha' you mean?"

"Your eyes get all beady and you stare at me like Chucky." He lays his head down in your lap and shrugs, then proceeds to mumble something. "What was that?" You give him a quizzical look.

"N'thing." He pouts.

Jean finally turned around and waved at the three of you. "Guys! Connie's about to perform! We need to get down there!" Jean announces loudly over the music. You ushered Eren out of your lap and the four of you leave the balcony and go downstairs to what can only be described as the pit.

Connie is standing on the stage with a mic in one hand and of course, a fat blunt in the other. He ushers the crowd to be quiet and surprisingly, the once wild and rowdy crowd became almost like law-abiding citizens.

The four of you join up with Armin, Sasha, Annie, Ymir and Historia in front of the stage as you await Connie to speak more. He clears his throat, takes one more hit of his blunt and lifts the mic up again.

"As y'all may know," he starts off, his speech somehow intact, "I'm Connie mothafuckin' Springer! And I've been working on 'sum I hope y'all enjoy." He pauses as he lazily searches through the sea of people before spotting you and the group right in front of him.

"And I gotta give a quick shoutout to my day ones right here!" He yells into the mic, causing the crowd to clap and cheer. "I'm way too drunk for this," Jean mutters in your ear.

Connie had said something again but you missed what he said. It must've been something about starting the music because all of a sudden, the DJ began blasting a beat through the speakers and Connie began jumping around the stage and rapping into the mic.

"Why does he lowkey look like Central Cee?" Ymir chortles.

"I swear, if one of my windows break because of the bass, I'm gonna lose it."

//// THis is long overdue and I wrote this half-asleep, with five shots of Henny in, and high as balls while at an NYE party so I'll check this in the morning to make sure it is grammatically correct or smth. Anywho lemme know what you wanna see next and ILY GUYS SM HAPPY NEW YEARS///

#aot x reader #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan season 4 #eren jaeger x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #mikasa x reader #shingeki no kyoujin imagine

[samijami]

Honestly I have a thought (Christians dni youre not gonna like this)

The whole Jesus thing could realistically be explained very easily

Some guy decided he wanted to be famous and start a cult n such and then when he was burned at a cross cuz of his bullshit, his cult followers dug up his grave and did a Junko Enoshima x Mikan Tsumiki with it, discarding of the body elsewhere where nobody in that place would venture out and actually look for (most likely could be remains that either turned to ash or we discovered and thought it was just normal remains), then continued to carry out the deeds prescribed to them during the cult until they grew a larger following, the Bible was written by some living and breathing human person (cult book), and the cult was passed along as a 'religion' through the decades

Cuz honestly Christianity is a cult. It controls how your life works, says who you can and cannot love/be associated with, says what you have the freedom to do, tells you what you can and cannot wear (feminine-masculine), threatens removal of other 'fake' religions, targets minorities, and immediately shoves programs and literature and such down children's throats for immediate indoctrination.

The expanded upon definition of a cult is any 'religious' practices that try to control every aspect of one's life. Including how they dress, act, and other stuff I mentioned before. (So for example, Amish and Mormons have a specific set of how they're supposed to present themselves, and what they can wear. Along with Amish people having to isolate themselves from the rest of society [a common cult rule] and needing to marry a specific person, not be able to utilise certain human technologies, and needing to wear/love only what/who they are permitted to by their religious standards).

And if you think Muslims fall under this though, you'd be mistaken. A hijab is never to be enforced upon a woman, and it is wrong to force a hijab on someone. Although in some places, unfortunately, law are beating women for incorrectly wearing hijabs or not wearing them (this is both morally wrong and wrong to their religious beliefs). Although I've always been confused on their LGBTQ standard, because considering anyone could be LGBTQ and statistically, every few people would end up being LGBTQ, then some people raised Muslim would have to fall under an LGBTQ umbrella given there is a lot of people in that religion. So..if they find out they're LGBTQ and they're a Muslim, do they like..convert? Or..just suppress the feeling and let it eat away at them mentally? That's not meaning to be an offensive question, just out of curiosity (and I've been scared to ask this so please don't make me regret it), because out of how many Muslims there are, and given that there are a lot of LGBTQ people in every walk of life, there'd..need to be some Muslims who fall under this umbrella? Just a bit of a confused thought there, sorry if I explained it piss poorly. (Also I've met some guy who's claimed he's a Muslim who likes guys but he 'can't be gay cuz he's a Muslim' so he's just 'gay online, but straight irl').

Back on track with the post though, Christianity kins these cult-like behaviors in many ways, and actually follows quite strictly to them. So who's to say some dumb fuck claiming to have a found a new religion didn't get grave-robbed and praised by people who then made it into some forever-lasting sugar high?

Seriously, all of these religions have books to them. And for some religions to claim 'Hey I'm the real and truest religion, none others are', there has got to be a liar here. I feel like AT LEAST the Bible was written by some somewhat literate straight white man who'd just murdered like 4 prostitutes.

Plus, 'God' is cannonically sexist. Go read the book accompanying the Bible about the woman before Eve. Sexist as fuck.

#tw religion #tw religious mention #tw religion rant #tw rant #tw offensive thoughts #random rants #religion rant #christians dni #controversial thought

[fandomgremlinlover]

My opinions on the ATLA Live action series (just from the first episode):

….I fucking hate it.

No, the visuals are not the problem. And no, the cast is not the problem. It’s the fucking dialogue and delivery. As well at the changes they’ve made.

I can tell you right now, as a hard core atla fan, LA katara is not the katara I know. Why the FUCK is this girl not RAGEFUL AND SASSY!!! There is literally nothing to work with, her personality is dry, and her dialogue and delivery is so fucking blaaaannnd. It literally makes me want gouge my eyeballs out. My girl has been RUINED!!! THIS IS MUTINY!?!? Not only that, but aang’s lines and dialogue make me want to cringe and cry and throw up. His delivery is NOT done well (I blame the fuckin directors for this) and his lines make absolutely NOOOO sense for his character. Wheres the goofy little boy I know!?! Wheres the kid who RAN AWAY bc he was scared to be the Avatar!?! WHERES AANG!?!?

His reactions to his people being dead and gone are NOT it👁️👄👁️ also that reaction for Gyasto came out of fucking nowhere. He ALREADY knew about his peoples death, and how the fire nation had something to do with it!? He literally went from, “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL EVERYONE WITH MY AVATAR POWERS!!” to literally, “sorry guys,😢😢 I don’t know what got into me, I guess I overreacted a bit😰😔”…..NO YOU DIDNT AND WHY ARE YOU SO MATURE FOR 12 YEARS OLD!?!? ALSO WHY DID THEY CHANGE HIM FROM RUNNING AWAY!?! TO “I think I need some time to think guys😕😕😔😔” LIKE—NOOOOOOOO YOUR SUPPOSED FO FEEL AFRIAD OF BEING THE AVATAR AND BEING SENT AWAY AND YOU DONT WANT FO BE DIFFERENT AND SO YOU RUN AWAY FROM YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES BC YOUR IN DENIALLLLLLL😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Not only that, but media literacy is dead. Bc wtf do you mean you have to explain ALLLL the lore and info dump in the first episode😀 What happened to show not tell, hmm??? What happened to people having to use their fucking BRAINS to figure out themselves!?!? WHY THE HELL DID YOU PUT THE ORIGINAL INTRO INTO GRANNY’S DIALOGUE!?!?

AND WHY, do pray tell, DID YOU TELL AANG ABOUT THE GENOCIDE TO HIS PEOPLE IN THE FIRST FUCKING EPISODE!?!??! AND LITERALLY HAVE HIM REACT “man we lose people, but we gotta move forward😔” NOOOOOO WHYYY, AGAIN, DO YOU HAVE TO PUT IN BLOCKBUSTER MOVIE DIALOGUE💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Iroh is a whole other can of worms that I will open later, but right now what you need to know is, I’m fucking pissed.

Now onto another issue, Zuko’s scar…Why the hell is it pretty-fied!?! Like, that is NOT Zuko’s fucking scar and anyone who wants to argue me about that can suck a lemon. Bc I’ve seen WAYYYY better makeup done by cheap ass makeup for cosplays. Let me say that again, COSPLAYS. Zuko’s scar is supposed to cover at LEAST half his face, and reach his ear. It’s supposed to be ugly and unsatisfying to look at. Because it’s a fucking fire burn. Also he can barely lift his fucking eyelid in the canon show, so what the fuck is that about!?! Like I don’t WANT a nice, aesthetically pleasing scar, I want an ACTUAL FUCKING BURN THAT DOESNT LOOK LIKE IT WAS DRAWN ON BY EYELINER!!!!!🤬🤬🤬

Sokka, my poor sweet funny Sokka…what have they done to you!!😭😭 They removed his most IMPORTANT character arc bc it was “iffy” and “was not relevant to the plot”…..it was fucking relevant you sick sacks of shit, he’s supposed to be iffy and then later grow threw Suki. He’s SUPPOSED TO BE SEXIST AND GROW AS A CHARACTER BC EVERYONE HAS FLAWS!?! IT WAS MEANT TO PROGRESS HIM BECOMING A BETTER LEADER AND MAKE HIM LEARN THAT UNDERESTIMATING HIS ENEMIES IS A NO GO!?!? LIKE, EVEN 9 YEAR OLD FUCKING ME SAW THAT SHIT!?!? BUT YOU CANT????? 💀

The only thing I enjoyed about this episode was the visuals, and admittedly, the air temple battle scene. It got to me, and it goes to show that the fire benders were brutal when they committed a genocide against the Air nomads. That was it….i…I don’t know how I sat through the rest of the episode….bc it makes me SOO angry. Like, as soon as the ending credits came, I started sobbing. They had the ability and the tools to make a great live action of ATLA, but they blew it. Because this show isn’t for the fans or for anyone who likes to sit down and discuss the meanings and implications of each scene and its significance for the show. No, this show is for people who only want noise in the background. I don’t care for it, and I’m not happy with what they’ve done. When I heard the original creators stepped away from it bc they were promised this show would be exactly like the original series, but instead they chose what they wanted to do and change. I knew we were doomed. I understand there are people who live the live action, and I understand. But I simply cannot tolerate the show when I know they could do better. I hate to compare shows and medias, but One Piece set my expectations really high. Bc the creator had full control or say over any and every decision that was made in the LA. The Live action ATLA disappointed me and I’m very sorry to say that I didn’t enjoy it. But I had a hunch, and for me, I was right.

#atla #atla live action #atla netflix #atla rant #live action atla #opinion #rant/vent

[relevant-url-incoming]

Scenes from Ord Mantell

I am still going insane if anyone was wondering. I started this today on a whim and played through all of the Trooper prologue to get it right. anyway: behold! sometimes you plop your asshole smuggler into the trooper story and it brings out the daddy issues in him. I've got to cut Nalyan a break but instead I made him bond emotionally with Tavus. oops (technically??? spoilers??? for the very very start of trooper class story?)

“Before you go, Sergeant. A word.”

Nalyan gritted his teeth. He’d been having words with commanding officers as long as he’d had commanding officers to deal with. None of them had said anything new yet, or particularly inspiring.

“Commander,” he said as neutrally as he could.

“You’ve got quite an interesting record,” said Tavus.

“Are you talking about the time I disobeyed orders to save a town full of plague-ridden civilians or the time I punched my commanding officer?”

To Nalyan’s surprise, Tavus smiled.

“I’m talking about the fact that you’re a good shot and a genius at field medicine. You don’t respect anyone who doesn’t earn it, do you?”

Make them earn your respect, his uncle had warned them all once. Hand it out freely, and you end up like us.

“I think that’s pretty standard,” Nalyan said. “We’re in a Republic, right? We vote. Whole point is that we get to decide which leadership is worth our time.”

Tavus actually chuckled at that. So much for getting discharged on Ord Mantell. The guy seemed to actually like Nalyan.

“I can understand reserving judgment,” Tavus said. “But my duty is to my squad first. All right? I don’t intend to let you down.”

My duty is to them, Nalyan’s dad once shouted. I don’t have any fellow soldiers to look out for, but I have these kids.

He was getting really sick of the memory lane. He’d have to avoid talking to Tavus in the future, if this was how he was all the time. The stupid soldier rhetoric was starting to get to Nalyan.

“Thanks, Commander,” Nalyan said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

-

There were too many people waiting for Nalyan when he got back. He set his jaw, prepared to hear the usual scoldings.

“You spent a lot of time with those civilians,” Needles observed.

“She was dying,” Nalyan said. “He wasn’t looking so hot, either. And that medicine wasn't going to do anything if it wasn't mixed and dosed properly, which you ought to know -”

“It was hardly a concern -”

“Needles,” said Tavus. He jerked his chin toward the rest of the squad. Blank-faced, Needles retreated. Nalyan looked between Tavus and Jorgan, unsure what this meant. Was he still about to get chewed out? The rest of Havoc was obviously watching.

“You lost a lot of time out there,” Jorgan said. Nalyan clenched his fists, hating the way his gloves creaked. Even his anger was starting to remind him of his father.

“They didn’t,” he snapped.

“That bomb –“

“Should never have been made in the first fucking place, and what the hell is the point if we’re not actually protecting civilians?” Nalyan interrupted.

“Do you have any idea how many people will die if the Separatists set it off?” Jorgan hissed. Nalyan shook his head.

“This planet is theirs, Jorgan,” he said. “They’re a bunch of idiots, but they have to live here. The Separatists can't afford to destroy their own families and homes and infrastructure. Maybe, maybe, they come for Fort Garnik. But with the number of refugees? You’d have to get one hell of a loose cannon in charge of that bomb before someone makes that call.”

“They’ve already proven they don’t give a damn about the refugees,” Jorgan said.

“Enough of them see themselves as freedom fighters that there’s no way –“

“Lieutenant Jorgan, give me a minute?” Tavus interrupted. Jorgan growled under his breath. The only thing stopping Nalyan from doing the same was the desire to be as far removed from Jorgan’s cold-hearted banthashit as possible. He barely kept himself from rounding on Tavus by remembering what the commander had said before. The guy understood where Nalyan was coming from. He wouldn’t have brought him on otherwise.

Tavus sighed.

“What brought you to the army, Celi?”

He was never going to get used to hearing his old surname. Nalyan gnawed on his lip, trying to think of a good lie.

“It was… something my sister would believe in,” he said slowly. It wasn’t a lie. “I needed a job. And I know what I’m good at.”

“Well, it’s not taking orders,” Tavus said with a chuckle. Nalyan didn’t laugh. Tavus was slowly earning his respect, but that didn’t mean Nalyan was going to show it easily. Tavus sighed again.

“People are going to get hurt in a war, Celi,” he said. “I’m glad you’re not letting the rules get in the way of what’s right, but you can’t get distracted.”

Well, that was a whole lot of nothing. Nalyan kept his face blank.

“Sure, Commander,” he said. Tavus reached out to squeeze his shoulder. Nalyan felt a flash of irrational anger. The last person to do that had been his dad, and Nalyan had pushed his hand off. Because he could, and because his dad would never punish him for that. Tavus could do anything he wanted, but not because he’d earned it; he was just the bastard in charge.

“I know it’s not right, the Republic always turning its back on the people it’s supposed to stand by,” Tavus said. “But this isn’t how to change it.”

Nalyan didn’t say anything, too distracted by the urge to twist one of Tavus’ fingers until he took his hand away. At last, the commander let him go.

“Is all this just a speech, or are we going after that stronghold?” Nalyan asked.

Something in Tavus’ face seemed to tighten a bit.

“How do you like Havoc?” he asked.

“The squad or the people in it?”

Tavus shrugged.

“Whatever comes to mind.”

“I’m going to be honest,” Nalyan warned him. “Commanding officers usually don’t like that.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” said Tavus. “But not me.”

“Wraith’s too quick to torture or kill. Needles is a disgrace to medicine. Fuse seems nice, but he’s a pushover next to them. The only guy I’d actually trust to take care of civilians is Gearbox.” Nalyan could admit that maybe such a rapid-fire dismissal of the team wasn’t the best idea, even if he wanted Tavus to think he was too much trouble, so he added, “And you. Commander.”

Tavus nodded, looking solemn.

“Havoc will be moving out,” he said. “But you’re observing the op here with Jorgan.”

There it was. Nalyan nearly laughed.

“This isn’t a punishment, Sergeant –“ Tavus said.

“I couldn’t care less, Commander,” Nalyan said. Tavus frowned at him.

“It isn’t,” he said, as though he couldn’t comprehend Nalyan not particularly wanting to get himself killed inside a mountain for somebody else’s war. “If we had more time, the chance to build cohesion and trust between you and the rest of the squad, you’d be first on my list. You’re damn good at what you do and you’ve got a better head on your shoulders than almost any soldier I’ve met.”

Nalyan hadn’t been looking for praise, but it cracked open his chest a little anyway. He swallowed down thoughts of his sister and his father and smiled weakly at Commander Tavus.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “I understand. I really don’t mind.”

Tavus seemed to search his face for a few more seconds, then he nodded and clapped Nalyan on the back.

“Maybe another time,” he said. “You’d be a good addition to the team.”

Before Nalyan could muster a response, he’d turned to the rest of Havoc and shouted for them to move out. Bewildered, Nalyan sat beside Jorgan.

“I have to admit I’m a little surprised,” Jorgan said quietly as he opened the comm channel to Havoc Squad. “Not that I’ve been too impressed with your attitude, but Tavus seemed to like you.”

“Thanks,” Nalyan said. “You’re warming my heart.”

The noise Jorgan made was almost, almost a laugh.

Nalyan tuned out what little chatter they got as Havoc headed for the stronghold, only checking back in when Tavus reported that they’d breached the perimeter. He was leaning back, head sprawled awkwardly over the back of his chair, when the technician made a noise of alarm.

“Sir! I’ve lost contact with Havoc Squad – with everything!”

Nalyan bolted upright, his throat dry. Jorgan barked orders at the tech, poorly concealing the frantic edge to his tone. Nalyan got to his feet, thinking it all over.

“I should go after them,” he said.

“It’d break Tavus’ orders,” Jorgan said. Before Nalyan could snap out anything rude about orders, he added, “But if it comes to that –“

“I can’t get them back. I think we lost them for good, sir,” reported the tech.

“All right, people, I’m not letting this mission fail! Lucky for us, we still have one Havoc trooper left.” Jorgan looked at Nalyan levelly, and for once there was no contempt in his eyes – for once Nalyan had his respect. Nalyan set his jaw and nodded, not about to waste this on a glib comment.

“You’re going in there, Sergeant,” Jorgan said. “The ZR-57 must not fall into Separatist hands.”

Tavus’ laugh was still fresh in Nalyan’s mind, and the way he’d reached out to Nalyan just like his father always had. That bit about earning respect.

“What about the squad?” Nalyan said. “We can’t leave them. If they’re in trouble –“

“The ZR-57 has to be the priority,” Jorgan said. “When it’s taken care of, we’ll see what we can do for Tavus and the others.”

Nalyan wanted to argue, but he knew how this went. He’d faced these choices before. And Jorgan wasn’t wrong – that bomb, in the hands of people who’d use it, meant a lot more lost lives than one missing squad.

“Sir,” he said, the word tasting foul in his mouth. “What’s the plan?”

-

“I hate to say it, Jorgan, but I think you told me so,” Nalyan said in an undertone as he crept past the latest patrol. “I’m seeing Imperial armour, and they would blow up Ord Mantell.”

“Glad you see it my way,” Jorgan muttered, though he didn’t sound nearly as grateful as Nalyan thought somebody should upon hearing one of his rare apologies. “Focus.”

“Do you think I’m not?” There would be no sneaking past these Separatists. Nalyan sighed and lifted his rifle. A couple dead freedom fighters later, he was stepping over bodies and onto a lift.

“What I want to know is who sets up a base in a volcano? Wouldn’t the heat fuck up all their tech?”

“Cut the chatter.”

Nalyan rolled his eyes.

“I’m killing people out here, Jorgan, I don’t think complaining about lava is the most unsubtle thing I’ve done today.”

Jorgan didn’t reply.

“Of course, if you just don’t want to hear my voice, you could say so. Can’t imagine why. I’m a delight.”

That was definitely a growl. Nalyan grinned to himself. Jorgan certainly wasn’t Shiny, but he was predictable just like her. He’d be glad to get out of the Lieutenant’s hair, but he would regret never getting to see his sister and Jorgan meet. That would be funny.

Taking down the Separatists guarding the controls he needed was too easy. Nalyan kept his mind fixed on new ways to annoy Jorgan, just so he wouldn’t consider the dead Separatists too hard. Imperials were one thing, and he certainly didn’t appreciate that the locals he’d been trying to defend had sold out to the Sith, but he’d been a freedom fighter. He’d been a terrorist, technically. He knew what would drive a person to violent revolution.

At least he could rest easy knowing that deactivating that bomb was unequivocally good, and that no one would be able to use it again. He pulled his comm out.

“There’s definitely Imperials here,” Nalyan said as soon as Jorgan picked up the holocall. Jorgan looked unimpressed, and Nalyan realised belatedly that he’d been about to say something.

“I was going to congratulate you on your work,” Jorgan said. “We saw the Imps. We need to know how deep the connection goes. Finding your squad is priority one now. If they’ve been captured, they may be able to tell us more.”

“Finally, a reasonable priority!” Nalyan said. Jorgan growled at him.

“Don’t push your luck, Sergeant,” he said. Something almost like concern crossed his face. “You’re going to need all the luck you have.”

“With these skills?” Nalyan said. “Yeah, probably.” He ended the call and cracked his neck, ignoring the little voice in his head that sounded like his dad telling him not to. He’d done a hell of a lot worse, and he would do even more before the day was out.

Time to rescue Tavus.

-

The depths of the fort were almost entirely Imperial, no more Separatists to be found. Nalyan had pretty much given up on his sympathy for the local rebels, if this was the kind of person they threw their lot in with. The answer to bad governance was not worse governance, that was for sure. At last, he found what seemed to be the heart of the operation, though not in any way he wanted.

A hangar had been carved into the back of the mountain, and it was this that Nalyan walked into. A large ship emblazoned with Imperial markings sat, obviously awaiting the payload Nalyan had just rendered unusable. A group of armoured people stood there, talking, and Nalyan’s blood ran cold as he realised he recognised the armour. Mostly white, with gold symbols denoting squad and rank, Havoc’s armour was unmistakeable.

“Commander Tavus,” he said. He should have just shot, but there was a distant possibility it was a ploy. That was the kind of game his family had to play all the time, pretending to be passing information to the Imps or hiding amongst real Stormtroopers. There was still a chance.

“My orders were clear, Sergeant,” Tavus said. “You were to remain at the base.”

“Tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” Nalyan said, raising his rifle. Wraith and Needles both lifted their own weapons, aiming at his head and heart, and he slowly lowered his blaster. Clearly, his hopes were about to be dashed.

“No, Wraith,” said Tavus. “The sergeant deserves an explanation.”

“You’re damn right,” Nalyan snarled.

“Celi, I hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” Tavus said. Nalyan couldn’t hold back his flinch. “You’re a good warrior. I’m just afraid the Republic no longer values her warriors.”

“I know a lot about that,” Nalyan said through gritted teeth. “But you’re a damn idiot if you think the fucking Sith will treat you any better. Going off to play nice with tyrants? With the people who order massacres? I don’t care about being a warrior and I never have, and the warriors –“ He sneered the word. “That I know would have died before throwing their lot in with the people you’re working for now.”

“I thought you would understand,” Tavus said. “If we’d had more time together, you would see. You were already so close –“

“Close?”

The only thing that kept Nalyan from shooting Tavus then and there was the fact that Wraith and Needles both had clear shots on him. He'd put his life at risk for a lot of things in his time, but he didn’t want to die before he got his sister back.

“I’m the worst damn soldier you’ve ever met and I’m proud of it,” Nalyan said, voice shaking more than he’d ever admit. “But I am never going to be a traitor.”

Tavus frowned coldly. His expression was so much like the disappointed look Nalyan’s father used to give him that Nalyan wanted to hurl.

“It’s a shame,” he said. He called to the Imperial officer nearby as he stepped backward, boarding the shuttle just as the engines whirred to life. Wraith and Needles joined him.

“Kill him,” Tavus ordered. Nalyan sprang for cover as the wind from the shuttle picked up. He made short work of the three Imperials left behind, but it was nothing to be proud of. He’d lost the traitors, he’d lost the massive hunk of radioactive material that they could probably reactivate given time and effort, and worst of all – he’d been exactly the kind of man Tavus thought would be on his side.

#swtor #swtor oc #my writing #swtor trooper #commander tavus #nalyan: begging to the force to let him rest #also i should maybe state that i adore jorgan. nalyan's just a dick #roleswap au

[dustymagpie]

Wembley

Name: Wembley. This is not their birth name. As they experimented with their gender expression, they changed their name to fit how they were choosing to express themselves. He has used quite a few different ones over the years and eventually stuck with his current one. He doesn't use his family name to remain "mysterious" (or so he says). Born: 21st January 2050, 27 as of 2077 Nationality: American of very mixed descent, the most prominent being Irish and Indian, but the family is from all over. Pronouns: They/them or he/him, but any is tolerable.  Sexuality: They've never given it much thought, bi or pan would fit them.  Gender: It's complicated. AFAB and spent their youth and teen years trying out different ways to express their gender. They never found anything that felt like it really fit them. By their late teens they stopped being so bothered by it, these days they'll just give a shrug of their shoulders when asked.  Parents: Divorced but still very good friends. Mother lives in Night City and manages an art gallery. Father lives on the East Coast and is a graphic designer. They all try to meet up a few times a year at least. Both are artistic (and do not have names because I suck at names!) Siblings: One younger sister, Sera.  Romantic partner: They have never bothered putting a label on it, but they have been with Scott Dodd since their late teens. It's very much an open relationship, allowing them to both sleep with other people. But he is the only one Wembley calls home.  Friends: cliché, but he thinks of Sera as his best friend. He is also close with Richard Ripper. Richard started as a client, then a fuck buddy, then after an incident, they became actual friends (who still fuck on occasion). Hobbies: Like the rest of his family, they are an artist. Their preferred medium is mixed media and things that are more three-dimensional in nature.  Job: Hairdresser. They do your usual cut and blow dries (and if they like you maybe even a cut and blowjob) and they also do artistic pieces with hair for magazines and the catwalk.  Notable features: A near permanent pout and a prominent nose. His cybernetic hand has a practical use with his job, housing the finer tools needed for cutting hair. It originally had a very fancy and fine outer cover to it, but it made it awkward to utilise the tool aspect of it, often getting caught, so he removed it. It’s still at home somewhere. No body hair, they hate it. They got it permanently removed some years ago (they like it on others though). Personality: They play into the bitchy hairdresser stereotype, and it is only partially faked, they are a bit of a bitch. A generally quiet person when they are comfortable, they tend to be loud and show off-y when they are feeling nervous. They enjoy sex with multiple people at the same time, often attending sex parties. The more, the merrier in their book! Tattoos: his body is covered in blackout style tattoos (90% done by Scott) including a little heart in his face (that matches Sera's).  Style: Smart and simple, often accentuated by a loud pattern or colour. Typically, at the forefront of what's currently in. That could be anything from pants to skirts and dresses, they will wear whatever they look good in and wear it with confidence. Still often seen in custom pieces made by their sister.

#cyberpunk 2077 #wembley #videogameedit #gamingedit #gamingnetwork #dailygaming #cp2077edit

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Seven.

Just in case you didn’t see, it’s double update day so this is the second chapter I have posted this morning! Go read chapter six if you haven’t already :) 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 3,243

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Yo, what the fuck? Are you trying to give me a heart attack in my sleep with that underwear?”

“It wasn’t my choice, but I am working it, aren’t I?”

Angel snorted softly. “Y’all over there making me wish you were working something else, mamacita.”

She sauntered over to him, her hands stroking up his hard thighs before sitting astride him, Angel leaning forward and running a lick along the black lace of the underwear set she had on. “Hmm, I might have to.”

His eyebrows knitted slightly. “Might?”

Pushing herself against him, she felt the thick bulge in the front of his jeans press at her sex, Angel moaning as he kissed the side of her neck. Reaching behind her, she unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor, pressing her hand against his throat and pushing him back, her mouth on his, kissing one another with magmatic desire. “How badly do you want me?”

Pushing her back on his thighs, he held her eye contact firmly as he undid his jeans, shifting a little, pulling his cock out, looking down at it and then back up at her. “That badly.” Her eyes followed his, biting her lip, beginning to grin, leaning to him again, their kisses frantic, feeling him pull her undies to the side, Keri reaching for him, positioning the thick head of his cock at her opening before sinking down.  

God, if he felt that good in dreams, then just what the hell would the man feel like in reality?

“Kinda loving that you ain’t so shy these days,” he groaned, his mouth closing over her nipple as she began to gyrate against him, his cock slipping effortlessly back and forth within the soaking clasp of her cunt.

“I still would be in reality,” she panted, holding his face in her hands. “But in my dreams, well. I think you bring out something in me, something that wants to enjoy being a bad girl.”

She kissed him again then, his arms tightening around her, beginning to bounce her on his cock as he groaned against her tongue. It was, just like the rest of the sexually charged nocturnal experiences they’d begun to find themselves in more and more often, a short-lived indulgence. In that particular offering, though, it wasn’t the sex, or earth-shattering orgasm she’d had atop him that had woken her. It was his words.

“I wish this was real.”

She found herself questioning why, though. Did he just want to have sex with her, or was it more for him? It was built upon something so inconceivable that despite her own judgement, or the talk she’d had with Frankie two weeks before, she just didn’t know. As a result of this, as well as the ever-escalating sexual nature of their mutual dreams, she began pulling back from him a little in reality, trying to gather herself.  

It had been a month and a half since the very first dream, and they’d gotten to know one another about as well as two people who only met in dreams and spoke on the phone could, but still, something prevented her from coming out and asking him in as many words, what his intentions were towards her. Also, he hadn’t further mentioned them actually meeting up either, but then again neither had she.  

It was a situation she wished happened with more frequency, so that maybe she had someone to reach out to about it, share her experience, have them maybe be able to offer advice. As it stood, it was just her in it. Well, her and him. Literally, the only frame of reference she had was a movie about the same subject, one that Angel had mentioned to her during one of their long telephone conversations, called The Good Night. She guessed she should probably get around to watching it. For science.  

“Hey, little!” David called from the door, Keri sitting on the couch engrossed in a picture gallery featuring different hair colours and cuts, contemplating a change. “Come grab these beers before I drop ‘em.” She raced out to meet him in the hallway, her face lighting up to see the paper bags from her favourite burger restaurant in his arms. Meryl was a strict vegan who refused to cook anything that had once had a face, as she worded it, so Keri and David had to get their fix when she wasn’t around.  

“Oh my god, double cheese’s, yes!” she announced with excitement, David kicking the front door shut.

“Yeah, I gotcha. Got the loaded fries, too. Let’s get this movie night started, huh? What are we watching?” He kicked his boots off before following her into the lounge, the pair having the house to themselves since Meryl was out for dinner and drinks with her friends.

“It’s called The Good Night. It isn’t new, it was released eleven years ago now in two thousand and seven.” Taking the bag from him, she pulled out the contents as he sat his bulk beside her, the heavenly smells of freshly seared steak patties making her mouth water.

“So, was this a recommendation, or did you just find it while surfing Prime?” he questioned, twisting the caps off the beers and placing one next to her.

“Remmomemdafon.” Her reply was muffled through the mouthful of cheeseburger she’d just bitten into, David unfolding a napkin with a little shake and tucking it into her t shirt, save her ending up covered in the sauce. He knew of old, after all.  

They were taking advantage of no Meryl there to nit-pick the junk food splurge, David picking up their dinner on his way home from work at the logging company he owned. With that, she pressed play and they settled, falling silent other than the sounds of eating delicious, greasy food. For the entire duration, he couldn't help but notice what sharp interest Keri was taking in it, nodding in parts like she was empathising, concentrating on it intently.

“David?” she spoke suddenly, leaning forward and grabbing the remote to pause it about half an hour from the end. “Would you think I’m crazy if I was to tell you I can empathise with what Martin Freeman's character is going through?”

He grinned in interest, wondering where she was heading with her statement. “What, whenever you dream, you're in a situation with your ideal other half who turns out to be a real person who thinks you're insane?”

She took a breath, setting her beer down and turning to face him. “This sounds like utter lunacy, I know it does, but for the past two months almost, I've been dreaming about the same man over and over again. But here's the deal, he's dreaming the exact same thing too. We’re having what is known as mutual dreams. Also, we’ve managed to get in touch with each other and well, we're kinda becoming friends now. It's all so inconceivable, but when I speak to him, I dunno, it stops being strange.”  

He paused for a moment, eyes narrowing a little. “Are you being serious?” His words were slightly incredulously delivered, but with a certain ripple of excitement in his voice.

“Hand on heart.” Placing her hand to her chest, she held his eye contact to enforce the sincerity. “It's completely unbelievable I know. Even I still wonder at the state of my sanity. But it's real, he's real.”

He sipped his beer, reaching to grasp her hand. “You're not crazy, hon. Believe it or not, I have heard of this before. Mutual dreaming, from what I know it isn't common, but that doesn't make it impossible. So, what's the nature of these dreams you have with him? Or do I not wanna know?” he asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.  

“Yeah, you’re not getting the deets on a lot of it,” she began. “I’d say use your imagination, but ick.”

He shuddered. “Nope, won’t be doing that, kid!”  

She chuckled, reaching for her beer again, finishing it and opening herself another. “What I am comfortable revealing is that in our dreams, it’s almost like we’re together. We’re affectionate, we just kinda hang out too and talk for as long as we can. Lucid dreaming is difficult, though, so we’ve done most of our talking and getting to know one another over the phone.”

“And where in the world is this guy?”  

“Santo Padre, Southern Cali,” she confirmed, David’s eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh, so he ain’t that far, then? I mean, alright it’s a good few hundred miles, but he could have been in New Zealand or Namibia or something, you know? Somewhere truly far from you. I kinda get from the fact you say you’ve been getting to know him that a meet up is on the cards, am I right?”  

She coloured up a little, David laughing warmly, reaching out to pinch her cheek softly. He’d never been blessed with his own children, but for the last ten years he’d been in a relationship with Meryl, he’d very much looked at her like she was his. “Come on, little. You can tell me!”

She shrugged, the corner of her mouth quirking. “It’s been mentioned briefly.”  

“Might you be letting your shyness with guys get in the way of something that could be special? Come the hell on, Keri. This is something almost completely unimaginable, so much so that it can only be fate come calling, don’t you think?”

Was that truly what it was, fate?  

“Hmm, perhaps.”

“Psht, perhaps nothing,” he snorted dismissively. “Meet the guy, see if there’s anything there. You’ll kick yourself eventually if you decide to never find out.”

“I doubt you and mom would approve. He’s... ah, a little older than me,” she broached, David raising an eyebrow.  

“How old?”

“Thirty-six.”  

The eyebrow continued its ascent. “Well, yeah that is a bit of an age gap, but heck, I’m twelve years older than your mom. I kinda feel like if I said anything with negative connotations, I’d be a massive hypocrite.” He paused for thought before continuing. “And from what you’ve confided in me over your dating life, most guys around your age are a walking shit show these days, so I dunno, maybe someone older might suit you better.”

David’s simple, yet sage advice stayed with her through the rest of the movie, both deciding to watch another, Keri being introduced to the Jackass movies for the first time, sitting there cry laughing on her stepdad’s shoulder for the duration. He knew it would work in taking her mind off a situation that he sensed she might be in a little bit of tumult over. Laughter was a tonic, after all. It also ensured that when Angel called her at just gone 10pm, she actually felt relaxed enough to pick up.

“Ahh, finally she answers the phone. I was starting to think you'd gone quiet on me.”  

“Sorry about that. I did go quiet on you,” she confessed, turning her music down a little.

Sitting down outside the clubhouse, he rested his feet up on the table, sipping his beer. “I did wonder if you might, with how our dreams have been. I know you get shy, even if dream you has been the exact opposite, and driving me out of my damned mind.”

“I have?”

He laughed softly. “Oh, hell fucking yeah, you have.” She didn’t reply to that, Angel reading between the lines, knowing that dream Keri and reality Keri were two very different people in that respect. “How’s your day been?”

She instantly relaxed at the change in subject, happy to talk about what she’d been up to, both sharing their news for a while since it’d been a couple of days since they last spoke.  

'What's that music you're listening to? Sounds interesting,” he asked later in the call, noticing he'd been on the phone to her for almost an hour. It was a good job he got free minutes plentifully.

'Danheim, it’s ambient, Nordic folk,” she revealed. “I find it soothing.”

'I like it, I’ll have to check it out,” he replied, hearing it grow a few notches louder. “Listen, imma head home and call you back, okay? I want more beer and I can’t.”

“Ahhh, you don’t drink and ride. Good to know,” Keri chirped, liking that he wasn’t an asshole who put himself in charge of transportation while under the influence.

“Nah, not unless it’s a woman.”

She couldn’t help but snort laugh. He was such a shameless flirt. “You’re so bad.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, baby. I’ll be about twenty minutes, alright?” Just under half an hour later, and her phone rang again. “I’m home, and I believe we were talking about music.”

“We were,” she confirmed, down in the kitchen making herself a coffee, David distracting her by writing ‘Keri’s got a boyfriend!’ on the big chalkboard Meryl used to write anything from her grocery list to inspiring quotes and silly messages to her family upon. ‘Stop it!’ she mouthed as he danced and pointed at his scribble, picking up her mug and softly kicking his shin on her way out. “I have a really diverse taste in music.”

“Yeah? Hit me with a few, lemme see if you’re as eclectic as me.”

“Alright, I’ll read you everyone on my usual Spotify playlist, hang on.” She switched the call to speaker before loading the app, beginning to recite all the artists that featured. “The Smiths, Iggy Pop, Lizzo, Taylor Swift, The Ramones, Twiztid, Snoop Dogg, Greta Van Fleet, Danheim, Wardruna, Tool, Machine Gun Kelly, Cardi B, Oasis, Nirvana, Panic at the Disco, Motionless in White, Megan Thee Stallion, Deftones, Sam Smith, Massive Attack, PJ Harvey, Madonna, The Distillers, Tricky, Cypress Hill, Digga D, Miley Cyrus, Zara Larsson and Goldfrapp.”

“Okay, y’all got me beat,” he laughed, thinking that truly, he’d never heard such a diverse list before.  

“How about you?”

“Oh man, loads. Mostly I like hip hop, classic rock and metal, but I got some classical shit in my collection, bit of country as well. I like that you mention Tool, because most chicks I’ve been around don’t even know of ‘em, and then haven’t liked their stuff when I’ve played it,” he snorted, Keri scoffing.

“How can people not like Tool? They’re so atmospheric! Even my mom likes them! Me, her and David went to see them on their last tour two years ago.”

“Yeah, I did, too. Went with Coco, who I lost halfway through because he went and banged two chicks in the restroom in rotation,” he revealed, snorting with laughter at the memory, and how that for once, it wasn’t him being indecent in public, sliding further down in the bathtub, the hot water soothing to his recent iguana-related injury, his thigh still purple and black from the tail whip he’d received.  

“What was the swooshing noise?” she asked, sipping her coffee. “Are you in the bath?”

“Yup, you get what so many other women crave. A naked and wet Angel Reyes, talking to them on the phone, and not charging by the minute,” he joked, making her giggle.

“So, you fancy yourself as a woman magnet then?” she teased. She knew from his Instagram it was true, though. Women flocked to him.

“Honey, I know I'm a woman magnet.”  

“Modesty who? Do we even know her?” she teased, Angel laughing. “So, how come you're single?”  

“After recent events, I’m choosing to be fussy. What's your excuse?” His last relationship had ended quite well, he and his ex-girlfriend Lucy remaining friends, but the women who had followed... not so much.  

She groaned softly, remembering the disaster that was her very recent attempt at dating after breaking up with her boyfriend of two years five months previously. “The same, being fussy and hoping not to attract the same kinda guys as the couple I went on dates with. Especially the last one. He was... well. A grade A dick, to borrow from Frankie when I told her about him.”

“Why was he so bad, then?”

She cringed, feeling herself going red. “It’s so embarrassing!”

“Come on, you can tell me,” he assured her. “I’m your friend, or something like that.” She was glad that he seemed to not really be able to define what they were either, but she liked that, that he considered himself her friend, flirting and dream humping the hell out of each other aside.

“Alright, so he seemed perfectly fine to begin with, he was nice and courteous, but then when things began to get a little spicy, well, he point blank refused to have sex with me.” If she could have seen Angel’s face in that moment, she’d have died laughing.  

“And why the fuck would anyone not want to have sex with someone as stunning as you?” he snorted, reaching for his beer.  

“Because I don’t wax my pubic hair, apparently, and he doesn’t like that. Well, I do, I get my bikini line done, but everything else I just trim so I’m nice and tidy, and he said he’s only into chicks who are bald from the waist down, apparently. I was mortified! Made me so self-conscious!” Angel probably should have timed his bursting into hysterics a little better, but he couldn’t hold it in. “Stop laughing at me!” she cried, covering her face with her hands as she shook her head. Shit. Why had she told him?  

“Oh, baby I ain’t laughing at you. I’m laughing at him. That’s the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard!”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “So, it doesn’t bother you, then?”

“Hell no! I got one stipulation with women. Wash. End of list.” Entirely reasonable on the stipulation front, she thought. “You know, an ex of mine was a beautician, and she talked me into letting her wax my balls once. Fuck, that shit hurts! And I’ve been shot, so I know pain. Never again, even more so that I got an ingrowing hair that blew up into a big fucking lump, made me have a meltdown, thinking I had fucking testicular cancer!”

“Oh, don’t,” she began, chuckling. “I had my own brush with that. I had a lump come between my armpit and boob once, and panicked like hell thinking it was cancer. I went to the doctor to get it checked, and thankfully it was just a sebaceous cyst. He gave me this drawing ointment for it, but I ended up getting impatient and popping it. It was like the nastiest zit ever, so gross, yet so satisfying.”

“EZ’s wife would have been right up in your bra trying to get it for you, I swear, she has a fixation on it. I had a blackhead behind my ear one time, and she wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d let her pop it,” he shared. “You ever seen that doctor pimple popper channel on YouTube? She subscribes to it, that woman has issues, man.”

“She’d get on so well with Rachel, she loves watching that and torturing me and Frankie with it!” And so, their conversation continued, talking about various content they found interesting online, covering a vast wealth of subjects for the next hour. Friend, guy she might date, whatever he was, Keri was enjoying getting to know the literal man of her dreams regardless of where it might or might not end up.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes smut #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x ofc #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc smut #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Hellfire Mom finds a handful of jocks tormenting one of her babies and goes BATSHIT on them.

oh ABSOLUTELY

no one gets to fuck with moms hellfire babies except her. and sometimes Erica. she gets a pass.

you’ll be walking through the parking lot after school and see a couple of the popular kids picking on Dustin or Mike and though you know they can handle themselves, you don’t like it when other people think they can fuck with them. because that’s your job.

it won’t even get to the point of violence because you’re someone who doesn’t like to get violent. but you do get personal. VERY personal.

of course you’ll walk over and yell at them to stop, but not before taking a few pictures and calling over some people as witnesses, maybe even promising test scores to a few underclassmen to stretch the truth a little bit so that when you bring all your evidence into the principals office they’re ✨magically✨ removed from their position as class president or they lose their spot on the basketball team.

you’ll even go as far as to call their parents and have a nice chit chat with them before their asshole kid gets home. you’ll be well dressed and perfectly behaved, a mother and fathers dream child essentially. you’ll bring up how you know their kid at school and though you try your best to be nice to them, they make it very difficult by being so mean to you and your friends. maybe even shedding a few tears if you really need to because all you wanted to do was be their friend and they’ve just been so mean to you and the rest of the guys.

their kid will come home and think everything is fine until they see you sharing a laugh with their parents in the living room. you’ll give them a menacing smile and excuse yourself, apologizing for losing track of time and how you don’t want to be home too late and because their parents already love you they want to invite your parents over for dinner.

as soon as you leave you’ll give their kid a wave and a smile before sitting in your car for a few moments until you hear their parents yelling about how they raised them better.

after this happens a handful of times, the jocks and other popular kids learn that you will make their lives hell if they fuck around with you or any of your hellfire babies.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #gareth emerson #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #hellfire club #corroded coffin #hellfire mom

[airbrushfather]

having now watched the teaser and currently watching silkstone talk through it, i have more to say.

the concept they keep playing on of 'fear and his disciples' is... fine. it's not particularly compelling to me personally, but it's a good way of ka linking their campaigns together. the locksmith and fear had very similar looks, and this year's 'disciple', the toymaker, is a very strong departure from that. i don't dislike the vibe, in fact i love the idea of the toys as the new maze theme and i'm very excited to see what they come up with.

the new maze is massive. the space outside cantina is a very large and very important one for tpfn, always has been, and the marquee that has been constructed is, without question, huge. let me speculate first about what this new maze is going to be like, then we'll talk about the teaser a little more. i can't see the tp team going with 2/3 mazes being free flow, and since it would be insane for survival games not to return (both from a logistics and a marketing standpoint, because survival games is bloody amazing, and a huge investment which i predict will live longer than most mazes due to the redo factor it has - because of that free flow element) this maze will (likely) not follow that structure. however, because this space is absolutely huge, this calls into question: how long will this maze actually be? and moreover - how will it actually be structured? a combination of hallways and rooms would make sense to fill this space, similar to the structure of trailers, but since trailers does follow this structure, i wonder if they will do this again? thorpe themselves just said - literally as i was writing this - that this maze will be 'very different' to survival games. so in my mind, that rules out the idea of free flow. i imagine, knowing thorpe and their maze style, that you as the one experiencing the maze, the story will be something like this: the toymaker turns people into toys in a variety of fucked up ways, i assume you'll probably see these in the beginning of the maze, and then the vibe will be - and you're next! oh no! better get out! this does lend itself very well to the idea of the 'rooms and hallways' style of maze, as opposed to the 'lots of hallways and tight and spaces' type of maze. in case you're confused about the difference, i'd call trailers at tpfn 'rooms and hallways', and ash hell penitentiary from xtreme scream is more of a 'corridor maze' - not that either are bad, but the vibe i'm expecting from the toymaker maze is more room and hallway. were they hoping to save budget, potentially they could just do a series of rooms with not much tight space connecting them. however, this seems lazy of thorpe, and I can't imagine it.

now we've touched on the maze, let's talk teasers. if you read my last post, tpr have now confirmed there are 7 teasers launching over the next 7 days - meaning there's either: a) no roaming team, b) no show, or c) only two scare zones. i could see a case for option a or option c, but removing birthday bash this year with the toymaker theme tying so heavily into it seems like a folly that tp would not make. i suspected they were going to go down the one a day route since, yknow, it's literally almost september, and as we've established, they have other things to do. im suspecting that tomorrow will be doors or birthday bash, then whichever doesn't get announced tomorrow will be saturday, then crows, trailers, survival games, and then we hit new ground. i can only imagine the final teaser will be for the new maze, but what do i know? they could drop it tomorrow and then weave the rest of the announcements in, since they've gone more specific with their overarching theme this year.

if i may get even more specific - let's dive into the toymaker teaser itself. 'howell's toy emporium' is showing up immediately, and this isn't a character i've ever heard of in my (substantial) tp lore research. so this puts me off the idea that whoever is in charge of this twisted toy factory is someone we already know. this is nice, but a bit of a shame to see them departing from the characters we already know. as much as i love KA and their work, i have noticed that, under their command, the intricacies of tpr lore seem to have faded a little, and standalone stories are much more common. this may also be due to steph leaving the creative direction team, or maybe i'm just reading too much into things. tp have done this a lot before and it's something you have to do if you want to keep your events interesting, but lots of stories from the past at least have some link to the island. though, i suppose, there's an argument that this just enriches the scape of the island further - there is industry here beyond the lumber trade and the one-off businesses we already know, like the cinema (trailers) and the ghost tour business (platform 15).

i'm interested to see how 'mr clappy' ties into all this. the bear makes lots of appearances in the trailer, and, being the carnival teaser, he must be important somehow, though i'm drawing a complete blank on how the bear itself could actually play a big part in the maze. there's a 100% possibility that i'm wrong about the story direction, but that's the vibe i'm getting based off this teaser alone and my preexisting knowledge about how thorpe make mazes.

i'm excited to see how they pan this out - and how they balance this with oktoberfest marketing - and i'm sure updates will come as the teasers do. ka are great at dropping hints, though with things like trailers and the crows, it might prove difficult to give much insight into the new things. as another aside - i've lost all hope for the buckwheats returning this year. i knew it was a strong possibility, but i had some small hope for unchained to return this year just to give us an insight into how they'd feel about their home actually being destroyed now exodus construction has started.

this is all just my speculation, so feel free to disagree with me in the replies, but that's what i think. see you tomorrow at 7 for more - if there is any more to say.

#thorpe park #thorpe park fright nights #fright nights #tpfn #danny talks tpfn

[randyortonofficial]

title: you and me (meeting in secrecy) (click here to be taken to the ao3 version) pairing: cody rhodes/triple h word count: 1733 important tags: public sex, dirty talk description: Years later when people ask Cody why Hunter is his favorite wrestler, he will always think back to this night in question note: takes place sometime in 2009

All of this started because they both ran into each other at that seedy little bar.

To think that all it took to rile up Hunter Hearst Helmsley was to slide his hand under the rips of his jeans and tell Hunter about how easy it would be for Hunter to take advantage of him, how he’d look so hot bent over for him and moaning his name, over and over and over until it’s the only word in his vocabulary.

Hunter had dragged him out of the bar and into the dirty alleyway so quick it made Cody’s head spin.

Cody never thought he would get this far with Hunter, but he doesn’t complain as Hunter sinks his teeth into his neck to suck a mark onto his soft and pretty skin. He’s only whining, only tilting his head back and to the side, only gripping desperately at Hunter’s shoulders after pushing his denim jacket off.

“Damn, kid, you want it bad, huh?” Hunter chuckles after pulling away to admire the mark he made. He has to grin as he runs his fingers along it. “Lookin’ forward to ruining the rest of you.”

“Please,” Cody breathes out as he lids his eyes down at Hunter. “So fucking bad, you have no clue.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I…” Hunter shrugs. “I really don’t.”

A gasp pushes past Cody’s plush pink lips as Hunter grabs his throat to push his head back against the dirty, black bricks of the bar.

“Why don’t tell you me all about it, baby?” Hunter rolls his lips back briefly between his teeth. “Tell me all about how hard I’m making you right now?”

The mention of it makes Cody whimper out and close his eyes, not because he’s embarrassed to be called out like that, but because of how hard it makes him.

“You’re so big,” Cody tells him. “I-I know you could - could fucking wreck me. You could give me what I need, a-and I’ve been with guys, and girls, but it’s not enough, I just need more, I need a man, I-” He whines hearing the neediness in his tone. “Please, Hunter, fuck me. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Aw, you’ll be good, huh?” Hunter asks as he presses his hand against Cody to start palming him through the denim. “Gonna be a good boy and let me do what I need?”

The hand on his throat stops him from effectively nodding, so he breathes out, “yes, I promise.”

After nodding his head in approval, Hunter begins to look over Cody’s body. There’s a toned body lying under all those clothes and an even greater ass, and it’s about time he gets to take a piece of Cody for himself. Fuck, Cody hopes he takes so many pieces.

With a hum, Hunter drags his gaze up into Cody’s dark eyes. “Turn around,” he murmurs. “Pull down your pants, baby.”

Once Hunter removes his hand from his throat, Cody is going as quick as he can. In his excitement, his fingers start to stumble over themselves and it takes longer than it should to remove his belt and undo his jeans, so much so that he hears Hunter chuckling at his expense, but he gets his jeans and briefs down soon enough. His reward is Hunter’s bulge pressing right up in between his cheeks and he can’t help but push back along his cock with a moan.

He can feel how thick Hunter is and he already knows how much it’s going to hurt.

Right now, he doesn’t care.

Hunter moans as Cody keeps grinding back onto him and he latches onto his hips. “Fuck yeah, baby, I’m gonna make you hurt so good,” he tells him. “Do you like it when it hurts?”

“Yes,” Cody groans. “Fucking love when it hurts, and you better give that to me.”

“Shit, you’re a fucking dream come true, you know that?” Hunter digs his nails in hard for a moment to make Cody whine before he begins to undo his own jeans. “Guess that runs in your family.”

Cody wants nothing more than to live up to his dad’s legacy and carve out his own. He wants to set himself apart, wants to be the world champion and win the Royal Rumble just like Randy did earlier in the year, but if he and Ted keep sticking with Randy, he knows he’ll make it there soon.

Fuck, they’d be so pissed if they knew he was about to let Hunter make him his bitch, but then that’s Cody’s business. If they want to get into Cody’s business, maybe they should get into him.

If they do find out about this lovely little midnight rendezvous of theirs, he knows it would be so fucking worth it because Hunter is slowly pushing every thick inch of himself inside and he sees so many stars in his eyes. Stars, galaxies, colors, he’s being thrown into whole different fucking universes with the way Hunter is making him feel.

Cody’s eyes screw tightly shut. “Oh my god, oh my god,” he gasps. “Fuck-”

“Take it, Cody, you said you’d be good,” Hunter grits through his teeth as he sinks his nails into Cody’s hips again. “C’mon, show me you can be a good boy and take it.”

Cody bites so hard at his lip that he can taste the blood, but if Hunter wants to make him bleed, then he can certainly bleed for him just as long as Hunter makes him feel good. If Hunter makes him feel good, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

It’s such a tight fit. Cody can feel his body stretching to accommodate him with every thrust, and every one makes him whine, over and over and over again. His forehead is pressed to the cold bricks, fingers trying their best to grip the grooves in between them, as Hunter keeps slamming into him with no regard and effectively splitting him down the middle. They both know what this is and why they’re doing this, they’re not out here to look into each other’s eyes and wax poetry under the starry sky, they’re here for a much needed release and both of them are serving the need perfectly.

“God, that’s it, baby,” Hunter growls as he pushes up the back of Cody’s shirt. “I fucking knew you could do it. I knew you would be such a good fucking whore.”

Hunter is so brutal fucking him that Cody can’t even try and begin to think of a response. It’s unintelligible whining and moaning and pure desperation but maybe that’s what Hunter wants. Maybe he doesn’t want Cody to talk anymore, maybe he just wants to use him like a toy and shove him off to the side and Cody is fine with that, he’s fine with not talking just as long as he keeps getting this.

Fuck, he’s never had it like this. Nobody ever fucking gives it to him like this, so he’s not going to complain about anything right now. This is what he wanted for so long and now he’s getting it.

Hunter keeps taunting him with all these degrading words, all of them about Legacy.

“What do you think Ted and Randy would say about their favorite bitch being my bitch tonight?”

“Are those other Legacy boys not fucking your sweet ass good enough, huh? Is that why you came to good ol’ Hunter?”

“Would’ve at least fucking thought Randy would keep you satisfied, shit.”

But he can’t be satisfied if there isn’t anything to be satisfied by.

It can’t ever be like that with Randy and Ted. They could never look at Cody in that way, they’re not able to look at him in that way, and it is the most annoying thing in the world because Cody would let those two men do anything to him.

But straight men have always been a lost cause.

Thank fuck for Hunter.

“Please,” Cody whimpers as he scratches his nails down the bricks. “Pl-Please-”

“Oh, finally using your words, huh?’ Hunter chuckles as he runs his hand up to thread his fingers into Cody’s hair to pull his head back. “Alright, yeah, tell me what you fucking want, Cody-”

“I wanna come, please-”

“Aw, you’re close, baby?”

“I am, I am, Hunter, please-”

“Yeah, you can’t fucking wait for me to fill you up, Cody? Is that what you want, huh? Want me filling up your pretty hole?”

The tears are welling up with how good it feels and unadulterated waves of desire flood Cody’s body as he cries out.  “Yes,” he gasps through his tears. “Y-Yes-”

“Then stay right fucking there and be good.”

Hunter filling him up is enough to have Cody falling over that edge soon after, and he’s hitting every rock on the way down.

His whole body aches with pleasure, hot and electric beneath his skin, as he’s filled, as his own come spills onto the dirty bricks of the seedy bar. His mouth is parted open as the cries continue to spill, all the way until it turns so loud it loops back around to being totally silent.

Even when the pleasure finally, finally begins to subside enough for him to start catching his breath, he still can’t say anything. His tongue has gone dumb, and his body uncooperative. Hunter has the courtesy to at least wrap his arm around Cody’s waist to keep him held up.

“You good, Cody?” Hunter asks.

Cody clears his throat and takes in a huge deep breath of air. He nods.

“Good.” Hunter spanks his ass and chuckles at Cody’s whimper. “Let’s do this again sometime, alright?”

He waits a bit for Cody to fully get his breath back before moving forward with the tragic duty of pulling out. After tucking himself into his pants, he’s heading back into the bar, but this gives Cody the opportunity to sit out here and collect his bearings.

As Cody slides down the brick wall to sit at the ground, he can already feel the large amounts of pain from what they just did, but there’s a smile on his face. Not despite it, but because of it.

Years later when people ask Cody why Hunter is his favorite wrestler, he will always think back to this night in question, and the many nights after that.

#my fics #cody and hunter make so much sense to me #SO WHY THE HELL DID I WRITE THE FIRST CODY/HHH FIC? #HELLO???