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swiftispunk · 1 year

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Could I request reader getting turned on after Joel goes feral on some guy who tried to touch her and eventually fucking feral!joel

listen, non

just let me pop off on this one real quick ok if you don't mind

mad love, a drabble | joel miller x f!reader

REQUESTED ~

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 1.8k warnings: smut (this is filthy), violence, blood, implied SA attempt, guns, knives, creampie, unprotected p in v sex, masturbation (f), dirty talk (kind of degrading), pet names, choking

you never feel afraid when you’re on patrol with joel.

scanning the perimeter while he watches attentively from a safe distance back, rifle slung over his shoulder, you’re secure in the knowledge that he’s there, always ready.

except the raiders come from the wrong side, rounding you both from behind so he doesn't fucking hear them coming.

and by the time he realizes you're surrounded, it's too late, one man's got a gun to his head while two others round on you, snatching your rifle and throwing it to the forest floor.

defenseless, against two men twice your size.

you don't know these men but you know them.

know what they do to girls like you; you see it in their eyes - the hunger, the hatred - the same hatred that's reflected right back at them in your own wide stare.

joel's frozen in time, brain assessing his next steps too slowly. the one man’s already grabbed your arm - so hard it leaves bruises - the other's tugging at the fabric of your shirt, tearing it at the hemline.

they're both armed, they're both too strong - you won't win.

so instead you scream - piercing and guttural, kicking your feet as hard as you can to shake them off you, writhing in vain and shrieking out a desperate plea, "joel, help."

he clicks into gear.

now he moves quickly - a violent elbow to the man's jaw with the gun to joel's head, easy. a steady aim of his rifle and then it's one shot to the knee just to hear the guy cry - the second in his forehead to watch him die.

a rustling in the nearby trees - another one, hiding. joel makes quick work of him, not even blinking as he aims the rifle with perfect accuracy at the man's head - that's two dead.

easy.

now these motherfuckers.

the one's still trying to pin down your squirming form, joel can hear them now, wishes he couldn't -

"keep fighting, sweetheart, that's right. fuck, you’re pretty, aren’t ya?”

"hold her down, i'm gonna go kill her boyfriend."

good fucking luck.

the man who says it rises off you to point a handgun at joel - side grip, fucking idiot -

joel shoots him in the thigh, watching him crumple to the floor with an agonized sob, leaving him rolling on the cold ground. he kicks the man's handgun into the bushes.

joel'll come back for him.

because then there's the grotesque monster sitting over you, knees painfully digging into your stomach and leaving scratch marks on your wrists where you fight to break free of him.

joel, with strength no fifty-six year old man should possess, tears the man's body off of yours, throwing him hard against a nearby tree, and using his last bullet to shoot the guy's leg when he stumbles up off the earth.

you stay where you are, surrounded by joel and the two quivering, screaming, pathetic beasts, waiting.

because you know joel's not done with them yet.

he deals with the one he'd shot in the thigh first, flipping him over by his jacket collar.

you and joel both take a beat to look at his face - to say goodbye to it.

"please," the guys begs.

you grin. so does joel.

joel's fist comes down hard on the man's jaw, once, twice, a third time (it's definitely broken), a fourth time (his teeth hit the ground), a fifth time (blood drips from the man's mouth, nose and eye sockets), a sixth (he's almost certainly dead).

joel knows it too, but that doesn't stop him.

you watch, awed, as he strikes the man's face more, more, more till his knuckles are red and splotchy with bruises.

you know it's not right -

but you fucking love him when he's like this.

your pussy pulses with each collision of his knuckles against the man's face, aches when you hear the other monster begging for his life behind joel - obviously having deduced what his fate will be once joel is done with the first man.

you burn with need to see it.

"joel," you say, voice thick with arousal so he finally turns away from the dead man to look at you with crazed, brutal eyes, his hand still knotted in the man's jacket, the fabric soaked in blood.

"get the other one," you instruct him, cocking your head towards the snivelling demon trying desperately to crawl away into the cover of the trees.

yeah, right.

joel catches him by the ankle while you sit back to watch the show.

"no, no, no, no, please," the man pleads, but joel can't hear him - joel is somewhere far away, consumed by the darkest part of his mind, the part that has but one directive - kill.

you can't stop yourself - you reach between your legs and cup your mound, fingers digging into your clothed heat, just in time to watch joel kick the man ruthlessly in the ribs.

you apply more pressure against your cunt when the man cries out in pain, biting down on your lip when joel kicks him again - harder, this time and in the groin - so the man recoils in on himself protectively.

"please..."

"keep begging," joel growls, and the sound of his voice, so low and terrifying...god, you have to bite back a moan, fingers now rubbing in circles into the fabric over your clit.

“you think she’s pretty?” joel demands of the man.

“fuck you.”

the bottom of joel’s boot comes down on the man’s ribs (a crunch, an anguished scream).

“that’s what you said, isn’t it? you think she’s pretty? right? say it again.”

no answer, of course not. just a helpless whimper from the dying man.

“you think you get to fucking touch her?”

his voice comes out an intoxicating roar; you’d flinch if you weren’t so used to it. his southern drawl fades away when he’s in this state - each word perfectly enunciated, clear and deliberate.

spine-chilling.

“look what happened to your friend,” joel orders the man and he actually listens (though that doesn’t surprise you, it’s hard not to listen to joel when he’s like this), eyes darting towards the bloodied man lying dead on the cold ground a few feet away.

“what do you think’s gonna happen to you?”

but joel doesn't give the man a chance to respond, grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to unfurl himself, just for joel to slam his foot in the guy's side again.

he's bleeding out from the bullet wound in his shin, definitely bleeding internally from the force of joel's boot against his gut; you could just leave him here to die.

but you know joel won’t do that, you know what joel wants.

joel wants to watch the man's life leave his eyes.

and you want that too.

"kill him," you say and joel finally looks over at you, sees you with your hand over your cunt, another smirk playing at his lips at the sight.

he situates himself so he's straddling the man then, and now the guy doesn't even fight back, too weak, nothing left.

joel's taken all of it.

just one thing remains.

joel pulls his knife from its holster at his belt, and with a look in your direction, stabs it into the man's neck, eliciting one final cry of pain before you both witness the man choke on his own blood, dead.

easy.

"under the clothes, now, sweetheart."

it's his first order to you, you realize, and he says it while he's still straddling the man, hands covered in a mixture of the monster's blood and his own.

you do as he says, reaching your fingers under the hem of your jeans and into your underwear, not at all shocked to find you're already soaking wet.

you dip your fingers into your wet heat with a low moan as you watch joel rise from the ground, sheathing his knife in its holster and turning to face you, lying on the forest floor, fingers rubbing furiously against yourself.

“you like that, babygirl?” joel asks, voice now honey soft - if a little hoarse with strain - though the answer to his question is clear,

you fucking love it. "yes."

he just stands there for a moment, cock growing hard in his jeans as he watches you, fingering yourself surrounded by his violence, his towering form over you the stuff of nightmares – to someone else maybe, but not to you.

he palms himself through the fabric a few times with a blood-soaked, smarting - probably broken - hand. you can see the hard line of his cock through the denim now - a carnal need taking over.

joel feels it too.

"up," he orders you, not offering you a hand, still rubbing his cock through his jeans and fixing his eyes on you hungrily.

again, you do as he says, waiting patiently as he saunters towards you slowly, hand on his bulge, till he's right in your face - the blood splatters on his cheeks strikingly visible now, even in the dim light of the covered woods.

then his hands are on your face and he's crushing his mouth against yours, a kiss that's all teeth and spit and blood and need and before you can get properly lost in it, he's turning you around so your back sits flush against his chest, his weathered hands yanking your jeans and underwear over your hips, forcing your legs apart, the sound of his own zipper being undone behind you sending arousal coursing through you.

you barely have time to stable your palms against a tree before joel's thick, hard cock is pressing against your ass, wasting no time in piercing into your waiting cunt (a welcome tinge of pain as he splits you open) right to the base on the very first stroke.

"fuck me, you're so wet," he snarls, breath hot and ragged against your ear as he pulls out nearly completely before slamming back into you, your head falling back against his shoulder with a laboured moan.

"bad fuckin' girl, gettin' off like that," he says through gritted teeth, his big hands gripping your sides, hard - so hard you wonder if it hurts him; it hurts you.

his thrusts come faster now, breathless whimpers escaping your throat with each punishing thud of his clothed hips against your bare ass.

"you love it," you sneer back at him as he harshly bites down on your earlobe.

"fuck, yeah i do, sweetheart," joel grunts, reaching around your bodies to play with your clit with his bruised, calloused fingers, cock still pounding into you relentlessly.

you often ponder where he gets his stamina.

"dirty little girl, aren't you?" his gnarls into the skin of your neck. "you gonna come?"

he snakes his other hand up over your front to coil his fingers securely around your throat and -

"yes - yes, joel, fuck, keep talking," you beg, sounding not unlike the man he'd just stolen the life of.

"fuckin' - bad - girl - " he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough thrust up into you, his fingers on your clit never letting up their steady circular rhythm, the hand around your throat pressing into your wind pipe with solid pressure. “like watchin' me fuck some guy's shit up, huh? now you're gonna come on my cock, aren't you? takin' this cock like the filthy fuckin' girl you are."

"fuck fuck fuck, joel - "

"come for me, baby, come on my dick, i know you want to - can feel you soakin' me, jesus"

you come with a noisy moan, shaking on his cock as you hold for dear life to the bark of the oak in front of you, joel still stabbing into you, fucking you through it.

his arms hold you upright then, wrapped tightly around your middle to keep you standing as he groans out a chorus of low, needy sounds - his movements now a frantic, heady thing - and it's all you can do to keep your feet planted when he finally comes inside you with a raucous grunt, his parted lips still at your ear, his broken hands still wrapped around your waist, holding himself inside you till he fills you up completely.

he finally sets you free and lets you get redressed, his come and yours dripping down your thighs, sticky against your skin under the fabric of your jeans - a delicious, messy thing.

"thanks for saving my life," you finally tell him.

a shared smile, genuine gratitude, the carnage all around you nothing more than distant scenery, the scars on joel’s fists just a pleasant keepsake.

because you never feel afraid with joel.

A/N: so there are my thoughts on THAT

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller drabble #feral!joel miller #request #joel miller requests #pedro pascal character fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us smut #these are so fun to write in this style #i hope this was ok for u non #i think doing some this way is the only way i'll get through them all lol #when i tell you i am HOLLERING RN #it is literally 9:30 in the morning #pedro pascal smut

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toonheartz · 4 months

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[ID: A reference image for a blue version of Mickey Mouse.

Their name is Mick, and they're wearing a black hoodie with the hood down, and a sleeveless denim jacket over it. The front of the jacket is covered in many pins, like the trans pride flag, the genderfluid flag, a black patch that says "the first pride was a riot", an ambiguous shape with a red crossed out symbol over it, a watermelon, the autism creature, and a small black patch that is cut off due to the angle, reading "eat the".

The back of the jacket has the Public Domain symbol, white a lower case C on a black background that is crossed out, with ears at the top to match Mick.

They are holding a dark blue offset cane, and have band aids on their leg, nose, and one finger.

Text around her says:

-any pronouns -soft spoken but stands up for their friends -fucks around and finds out -being of pure spite

Back patch should always be the public domain symbol with ears

Feel free to swap patches in the same theme or omit them for simplicity

Uses cane for balance, relieving pressure on his legs, and whacking people

Bandaids are optional and can be any color / placed anywhere (she's very clumsy)."

The very bottom of the page has the hashtag, "mickeysona".

End ID.]

lil something to celebrate the mouse entering the public domain :]

#mickey mouse #toon #actually disabled #public domain #mickeysona #gotta draw something ✏️#hope the disabled tag is ok since i gave him my disabilities lol #would love to see more disabled mickeysonas though #lets confuse the hell out of disney execs. hopefully #*also yes yes i know its only steamboat willie mickey but theres still a LOT you can do with that #TY rjalker for the image id!! i'm still figuring out how to write those #also the crossed out thing is an “ambiguous shape” bc i dont know if tumblr will delete it for the actual common patch #...even if its like against yknow. not sees

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luna-lovegreat · 3 months

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It's all "links meet aus" and "zeldas meet aus", but where's my "companions meet aus"?

I wanna see midna bash fi and navis heads together for annoying her

I mean can you imagine the sheer chaos of all the Zelda companions meeting and going on a journey together? They're all companions/guides! One of thems a talking hat for hylias sake how are they supposed to take initiative?

I think it'd be like Lu where they all just meet up, but can you imagine the chain just somehow finds out this happened (and twilight is just like guys I am so sorry about midna) (but they're also really oddly touched that all their friends met each other too)

Pretty sure midna would be the sort of leader, since the last time she was in a foreign world she just found the nearest dude and started ordering him around. By like halfway through twilight princess she was literally asking LINK to accompany her to get what she needed.

But like. 90% of the group would be fairies. Which can't heal. One is a talking hat who just needs a head? He can't go on midnas cause she throws him off with her magic hair, poor ezlo is just trying to keep up.

They also have these weird green shadows who come around? They don't talk, but there's a rock, a fish, a bird, and a lady who just appear and stab things and shoot wind water fire and lightning.

Also midnas really confused why wolf link just shows up and kills things every now and then (from botw amibo)

Fi is the one who can talk to Hylia and awaken memories and get guidance and information or whatever, but she only does this by ballerina dancing and the others are always pissed at her anyways "WE DONT KNOW WHAT BATTERIES ARE OR A WII REMOTE WILL YOU PLEASE GO BACK IN SWORD FORM ALREADY" "I detect there is a 90% chance you need a key to open this door" "wow. Your perception is unparalleled fi."

Also there's a boat. A boat. Who is also good at taking charging since he's a king, which causes some friction between him and midna, since she has to grab him by her hair to move him half the time.

And with the fairies. Again. They all offer advice mainly. And with the fairies a lot of their main role is speaking and getting attention and pitching in? They come on an intersection and there's a chorus of bells all shouting the same directions. Ezlo is trying to cover the kings ears from his place on the boats head

Also there's this ghost/spirit of Zelda that everyone just feels REALLY strong loyalty to. But she's just like this kid who wants her body back?! They try to protect her but she can turn into a purple knight and stab things so there's that. I think there's also some animal companions from ooa/oos so.

Side quests are nonexistent they don't care about a village or gathering frogs for a kid they are there to save the world on a mission linear plot it is

And it's interesting because you have so many of them who just vanish and then appear to give loud advice. All at once. And the fighting skills basically fall to those weird green shadows that shoot various elements and fight and randomly disappear. Midna and spirit Zelda can fight, and Fi can too (kind of like how she fights as a sword in hyrule warriors). Also up to you if midna is drop dead gorgeous or devilish imp.

By the end they find whatever enemy so they can go back and midna is so pissed by this point that she hears the word "batteries" from Fi and goes full on fused shadow and just obliterates the jerk

***I have not played all the games so do not know or understand all of the companions and probably got some stuff wrong

Bonus: there is a child in a village named Link who does not have the spirit of the hero. He is stalked for three days until Fi decides his vibes are off and they all stop telling him he's the chosen one

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skrunksthatwunk · 3 months

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thinking about how eiji's a pole vaulter and how ash talks about eiji "flying" and how eiji's associated with bird imagery and how eiji's free (unlike ash) and how eiji comes in on a plane and leaves on a plane and how ash cannot fly, ash cannot be free, how nyc is ash's prison, and how ash is the leopard who dies climbing the mountain, unable to live at such elevation, how he was trying to reach the sky and be free but was always stuck to the earth, how he chose to die instead of climbing back down, how he chose to die where he could see the sky and hope and freedom almost like a bird with eiji's letter right in front of him rather than letting everything go wrong and ruin it once again, how eiji's a failed pole vaulter anyway, how a bad fall ruined his career and grounded him (physically and emotionally), how it took flying to america and meeting ash and needing to save him and skip for him to try flying again, how he landed hard and harsh and still the thought of that escape compelled ash to protect eiji at all costs because if he could fly that means something to him, even if he doesn't think he can fly, how eiji is the manifestation of his hope and how when he breaks and asks eiji to stay with him a while he folds himself over his legs and weighs him down and traps him and grounds him, how ash fights like hell to keep eiji alive not because he thinks he can be like him (hopeful, flying, innocent), but because he makes him forget the gravity of his situation, and so he can see eiji fly again. how he wants to see him escape. how eiji is a bird and ash is a wildcat and how ash never once saw eiji as prey. how eiji never saw ash as a predator. how it is eiji's naivete that first endears ash to him, how it is his freedom and flight and removal from darkness and his ability to leave that darkness that really roots eiji in ash's blood as something essential to him keeping on living in this hell of nyc. how it is that distance from the violence and that hope for the future that ash chooses to surround himself in as he dies. how ash dies in a dream because he feels more than anything that he can't fly like eiji, that he can never leave. how his violence is a part of him and will be forever, how it weighs him down. how he wants to enjoy the view from the mountainside rather than looking up from the ground below. as if they can both fly. as if he is with him up there and not grounded. eye-to-eye with what he can't have, seeing eiji's homeland: the sky. how he dies trying to reach the top because he couldn't take retreating and trying again. how ash, tired and tired and tired and convinced it will go on forever if he crawls back down the mountain, chooses to close his life deluged in eiji, in eiji's insistence that they can fly together, in eiji's hope for him and for them, in eiji's beautiful dream. how ash dies without trying to realize that dream. how ash, in dying, destroys it.

#banana fish spoilers #I'M HAVING A FUCKING MOMENT #mutual reblogged exactly one (1) piece of ash fanart and sent me on A Multiple Hour Long Thing and now im rewatching it lol #yes i am only on episode 2 yes i am still going to write big long analysis posts ANYWAY #whatever hope this makes sense. anyway #banana fish #okumura eiji #ash lynx #asheiji #hhhhh i can't believe i've only watched this twice in like what 5.5 years?? sheesh #anywayyyyyyy i care about them a lot ok. god #and yes i DO kinda have beef with the decision to kill ash off at the end but it really does say so much About his character #that he chose to die in the way that he did even though he's been throwing his life away since episode 1 #dying in peace in comfort in solitude rather than in some chaotic battlefield.... ough...... in the peace eiji alone could give him.....#anywayss i relate to ash a little more than i should so. this one's for us cool guy bottoms up #edit i uh.... i forgot it was a leopard.... in the story..... but whatever it doesn't really affect the symbolic meaning it's just embarras #ing that i forgot >;/

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fafrogke · 3 months

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Inspired by THISSSS post that made a lot of sense and made my brain shake so hard it melted, i wanted to try to assign my angel's favorites so i put them together!

thinking that Ren could make friends with pokemon... one can just dream.,.. they're a menace

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #14dwy oc #me mad bc there was not space for me to write <- my brother in christ you made the space??? half cooked its ok #in all honesty i don't know much about these little guys i just did research bc i was curious and it sounds fun and friendship yyeeyy #hope nobody minds the disproportion of heights or tries to make sense of the weights my mind it's already beating itself with that #WHY ARE THE LITTLE GUYS SO BIG AND HEAVY i mean it makes sense but #i just wanted to draw and my brain got fried thinking about making sense of the compositions with the data i was searching #and i just got tired thinking about 4 and i wanted to do moreee aaughhf #like Vi's pokemon having a theme of elegance and whimsy with strenght or Leon with themes of strenght to protect and keeping #an eye on what they care for and taking pride on it and Moth with their cool bugcore team and Elanor chilling with company #im getting too conscious the rush of finishing this is dissipating just post it just do it you ca #okback to my enclosure 🍖#i waited 2 days bc i got scared hiii goodnighhhtt

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mutuallyassureddevotion · 9 months

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going through all my old drawings had me remembering that i used to draw art for an old old old russia askblog that was so unserious and just lots of dumb fun lmfao -- and if you remember what ask blog i'm referring to, c'mere. let me give you some sugar

#an old friend of mine would write for it #i hope they're doing ok <3 #aph russia #aph #hetalia #hws russia #ivan braginsky #yes im being vague lol #it's a test #art tag

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 9 months

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Trimax Thoughts Vol. 4 Pt. 3

Alright. Bit of a heavier one for tonight. I want to talk Vash's relation to his own feelings of anger and how these tie into his suicidal thoughts, because it's tragically fascinating and I still can't really make heads or tails out of it - specifically in that I don't think anyone is a reliable narrator in this situation so I'm left a little lost as to who to believe.

(ID: A screenshot of four panels from Chapter 7 of Volume 4 of Trigun Maximum. A conversation between Hoppered and Vash takes place, in which Hoppered says "I bet you want to kill me too, right? Of course you do... You want to tear me limb from limb." A somewhat grainy image of Rem, smile visible but eyes hidden, is shown, before Vash replies, his eyes narrowed, "Yeah... I do..." End ID.)

Warning! I am going to be discussing Vash's no good, very bad mental health. It's nothing worse than what is obvious from a read of the manga but if you're not in the headspace for it, you might want to skip this one. I had a bit of trouble writing it, if I'm being honest.

Volume 4 basically solidified what had kept cropping up all throughout the manga - Vash is keeping himself going only through his goal of "settling the score" with Knives. On the next page, Vash says the following:

"That's why... you can go right ahead and kill me. But... before I give you that chance... before I let you bind me in chains, lock me up, and torture me to death... I will send Knives to hell!"

Yikes buddy. This has been a running bit of characterization all throughout the manga - Vash survives because he has to. He takes small moments of joy where he can, tries to smile even when he's not feeling it, looks on the bright side even when things seem hopeless, because that's the only way he can survive to do what he has to. <- There's nothing especially wrong with this. This is a coping mechanism and as far as his coping mechanisms go, it's not so bad at all. It's actually pretty good, all things considered.

Problem is, he also has to embody the ideal he strives for - that no one needs to die, that he will never kill. And herein lies the issue, because Vash already feels like a monster because of July. Any deviation from the peace loving pacifist image he tries so hard to maintain brings Vash's self-loathing to the surface.

Ex. Vash sees the moon his angel arm blew a hole in and goes from denying culpability for the destruction of July to hardly resisting and calling himself a murderer.

Ex. Vash expresses that he holds murderous sentiment towards Hoppered. He sees this as a justifiable reason for Hoppered to kill him.

Even the thought that he has or could still deviate from his promise made in Rem's memory causes him immense amounts of shame. Vash does not want to harm people. Is it out of love? Is it out of guilt? I think at this point, there's no separating them. Vash doesn't kill out of a mix of these two emotions that are so intertwined in his core they have become inextricable.

The thing is... Vash's driving emotion appears to actually be anger, specifically, anger against Knives. He wants to "settle the score", which is a pretty retributive mentality for someone trying to embody pacifism. In fact, that kind of motivation strongly clashes with that image in a way that imo cannot coexist. It's reasonable in his mind to take that stance against Knives, who is not one of the humans Rem died to save, but against humans, it's unacceptable. So, Vash represses his anger constantly.

A great example of this is watching the contrast between Vash fighting Leonof and Wolfwood fighting Ninelives. Wolfwood fights with his emotions on visceral display; he is loud and cocky and desperate and violent. Vash, on the flip side, is almost dangerously quiet and composed, to the point Wolfwood seems a bit disturbed by it - but it's all repression. He needs to stay focused, his motions are calculated to reduce harm even against the puppets, he's eerily silent and his facial expressions are controlled and muted for the most part; all methods that Vash uses to stay in control (<- this is important!).

Here's the thing. I don't know that I necessarily, fully believe that Vash wants to kill Hoppered. I don't know that I trust anyone's narration in this scene - first of all, Hoppered is mad projecting his animosity onto Vash because he needs to secure the image of Vash as unrepentant destroyer of July; if Vash isn't the demon he believes him to be, his quest for revenge was for nothing (well, sort of. Vash obviously did destroy the city, but the intent was not there - and the latter seems to be what Hoppered is banking his hatred on). Hoppered earlier accused Vash of enjoying the fight... which is pretty clearly not true, so that it was Hoppered who prompted Vash's admittance above is a little suspect. Second, we've seen what Vash looks like when actually violently angry.

(ID: Two separate images screenshotted from the Trigun manga. The first shows Vash raising his gun at a recently reborn Knives, angrily shouting the other's name. The second shows Vash having jammed the barrel of his gun into Monev's eye, clearly close to pulling the trigger. End ID.)

To me, I see little indication in the build up to this of Vash legitimately wanting to kill Hoppered. He had no desire to kill Rai-Dei after all, and that was after he knew the GHG were targeting Home. Hoppered is probably the most sympathetic of the GHG. Vash is also in a self-destructive mindset in this scene, having just called himself a murderer after seeing the damage done to the moon again.

Is he agreeing with Hoppered's projection because he wants Hoppered to continue to hate him enough to punish him for the deaths of all those people? (The image of Rem then becomes symbolic of his having already failed to uphold her sacrifice.) Or should I be taking his words at face value and he really does want to kill Hoppered? (In this case, the image of Rem is out of guilt for voicing something aloud that goes against his image of her.) Is it possible that a combination of his self-loathing in this scene and fear of himself has him agreeing with Hoppered out of resignation that despite his best efforts, he is doomed to destroy? (Like in fifth moon's "we were no good from the start". The image of Rem is thus the image of someone genuinely good and kind to him, an image he feels he cannot embody no matter how hard he tries.)

I find it very ambiguous honestly. Any interpretation is compelling from a character sense. Perhaps they all hold merit to some degree.

Regardless of how you interpret the line though, Vash is obviously angry, and for good reason - Hoppered, Midvalley and Zazie have taken Meryl. He's also likely afraid for her too - dude did jump out a window for like no practical purpose whatsoever before Zazie even finished talking. Like that's really sweet buddy but you accomplished absolutely nothing of use lol. Anyways. The point is, even if Vash was angry enough to want to kill Hoppered (and it would be for this reason, since nothing else would really warrant that), then that still wouldn't make Vash secretly evil and awful - first off, having a thought does not mean you will actually act on it, and second, what's the thing we keep getting shown and told, again and again?

Anyone will pick up a gun when their loved ones are threatened.

It's very natural to feel animosity for a person who may have harmed someone we care about. In that sense, Vash is behaving very human.

However, there's an extra layer here that complicates things. Vash has never been shy about his anger, but I think there is a bit of a progression of Vash kind of... tamping down on it faster, reeling it back in a little sooner after an initial flare of rage. ...Ever since Fifth Moon, actually. We also know that he has a strict training regimen, he does not miss a target, even blindfolded - Vash clearly maintains strong control over himself, all to mitigate the potential damage he could cause.

But then there's his Plant abilities. The angel arm. Something destructive he clearly does not understand, and has little if any control over (never mind that control was literally wrenched away from him but whatever). I don't think it's a stretch to say Vash is terrified of losing control.

Any human can feel hatred and anger and potentially cause moderate amounts of harm and damage, but these are likely to be targeted and can be more easily contained. Vash feels hatred and anger and has the capacity to level a city and blow a hole in a celestial body in the blink of an eye, and there is nothing anyone can do about it. That must be terrifying.

Because, see, the no-killing thing is out of respect for Rem, but Vash also strongly wants to, needs to believe that non-violent solutions are possible, that people are good, that anyone can change. Vash, out of some combination of love and guilt, does not actually want to harm anyone, but Vash is also a living gun just under the surface of his iron self-control. And being reminded of that deeply fucks him up, to the point he believes he is a danger by nature, incapable of living up to the standard of kindness he wants to put into the world, so even just the thought of wanting to inflict harm on another is enough to send him spiraling - because what if that is the point he loses his control? "I should never have been born" indeed...

It's interesting to me that Vash should call Wolfwood out on his lack of hope in a future for the world, when he so clearly has little if any hope in a future for himself. He allots himself no place in the world. Maybe you should allow yourself to heal a little, buddy. You have some people pretty close by who, in spite of it all, like you quite a lot...

#starting putting ids under my images since i want to make sure they are easily accessible! should've been doing that before... sorry #(hope they're ok! i tried lol)#also i apologize for the delay in writing this - the topic + my stupid depression episode was uh. not a good combo. i just couldn't write #while in that headspace.#i hope this actually made sense lol i have no idea if it flowed well or makes sense or if i wildly misinterpreted #tw suicidal thoughts #<-if there is a better tag for me to be using for these kinds of discussions please inform me!#trigun #trigunbookclub #trimax #trigun meta #vash the stampede #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.#storyrambles

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tickle-bugs · 3 months

Text

Pre-Flight Checks

@allytheally: hi :) here's a prompt: you reblogged this thing a while ago about the seatbelts on aircraft (one on the shoulder, waist, and individual ones for the thighs) (https://www.tumblr.com/tickle-bugs/715247149506609152/hey-there-i-work-with-fighter-jets-super-hornets?source=share) and I think it'd be great if you wrote something incorporating this idea... like maybe lee!hangman and ler!rooster or lee!mav and ler!iceman and/or ler!slider? honestly any pairing would be cool

“Gooooood mornin’, Rooster.” The heavy impacts of boots on the stepladder send Bradley’s eye twitching. Hangman’s presence has a volume the way bright light slowly wears on the eyes.

“What do you want?”

“Me? I just came over to help with your pre-flight checks.” Hangman grins, cocksure. A sliver of sunshine lights up his eyes over the edge of his aviators.

“I’m clear, but thanks.” Bradley gives a little ‘shoo’ motion with his hands.

“Lemme give it a second opinion.” Hangman hoists himself up to get a better view of the cockpit. He makes a big show of scanning over the switches and buttons and humming in thought.

“Knock yourself out.” Bradley snorts and turns away. Hangman’s indecipherable muttering falls easily away under the buzz of his brain. He double and triple checks everything, noting the feel of each switch and knob under his practiced hands. Finding the rhythm of his plane is half the ritual.

Wiggling fingers fit suddenly into the curve of Bradley’s waist and he barks out a laugh, knees jerking against the straps holding him.

He blinks at Hangman. Hangman grins at him.

“Don’t--” Bradley dives to grab his hands, but the seatbelts, ever-dutiful, wrench him back into place.

“Oh, now that sounds like you’ve got somethin’ loose. No pilot should be making that noise.” Hangman tuts, but he doesn’t stop, just lets his stupid hands do their stupid crawl across his stupidly sensitive stomach. Bradley lets out a giggly shriek and tries to fold in half.

“Oh, Mav wasn’t kidding. This is my lucky day.”

“Youuuu--” Whatever half-baked insult Bradley was aiming for is smothered by his own laughter.

“Meeeee. Say, are you ticklish anywhere else? Gotta catalogue this for future use. Scream once for yes or twice for no.” Hangman tazes his sides and Bradley’s voice cracks around his laughter.

He’s going to die in this plane. He better die in this plane, otherwise he’s going to gut Hangman like a fish.

…No, he won’t.

Bradley manages to plant his hand square on Hangman’s face and start pushing, and the ultimatum between continuing the torment or falling onto concrete makes Hangman finally, blessedly let go.

“Seems like everything’s in order. Pleasant skies, Rooster.” Hangman pats his shoulder and hops down out of sight.

In his mind’s eye, he’s shaking Hangman by the shoulders until his brain falls out of his ears. In practice, he’s turning his burning face and shy half-smile back towards the controls with hopes of killing both.

…

“Mornin’, Bradshaw.” Hangman pops up like a gopher. Bradley jumps and nearly flips his lounge chair.

“Seresin.” He exhales tightly through his nose. He stays very still—maybe he can still salvage the last throes of the sun-warmed nap he was finding his way towards.

“You seem tense.” Hangman cocks his head in something that passes for concern. The rushing ocean suddenly sounds more like an omen.

“There’s no one else around for you to bother right now?” Bradley leans up on his elbows to search for the other Daggers. He can hear Fanboy laughing somewhere, he thinks, but Hangman’s giant head blotting out the sun is the only thing he can see.

“Nope!” Hangman makes a big show of cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers. Bradley’s eyes widen.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Don’t what?” The expression that Hangman generates overshoots innocence by a country mile.

“Tickle me, you asshole.” Bradley winds an arm around his torso and scrambles up in his lounge chair. The fluttery kick of anticipation slaps a smile straight across his face.

“I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Fell for--”

Bradley pauses as it dawns on him. Watching it dawn on Hangman is worse--his entire face brightens with mischief.

Bradley starts stammering through a protest and giggling through another, but Hangman’s kneeling over him before any of it becomes coherent. He flails hard enough to send them both tumbling into the sand. Never in his life has he been more grateful to be alone, if only to keep the pitch of his laughter between him and the menace causing it.

He makes a note to keep his shirt on at the beach.

…

Maybe a week or so of this puts Bradley in a…strange headspace. Distracted.

Touch is nice, but there’s more of it lately, enough to make him notice and crave its absence in a way he hadn’t before. When Phoenix leans into his side or Fanboy claps his shoulder, he misses the warmth of their touch after. Even Hangman’s utter nonsense sets a gentle buzz into his chest. It’s dizzying.

He’s so lost in the ache of it that Mav catches on, and it kicks solidly into that tangle of ‘complicated shit’ between them that he keeps putting away for increasingly rainer days. He’d gotten so used to Mav tiptoeing around him as if he were fragile that the first gentle touch on the shoulder almost shatters him.

The Daggers meet for a barbecue at Mav’s and Bradley shows up early with a bottle of Ice’s favorite Pinot. Things may be complicated, but the mushy smiles on Ice and Mav’s faces are not. It’s nice, putting ‘complicated’ in motion towards being something else. Something lighter.

Later into the night, Bradley’s got his feet kicked up on the couch in the hangar and the radio crooning slowly in his ear.

He watches Mav and Ice dance--more of a sway, really, as they banter. Mav’s got a playful tilt to his smile, one that suggests he’s being as much a menace as he’s visibly in love. Bradley smiles and hums along, halfheartedly wondering what Mav might be pestering Ice with.

“This seat taken?” Not waiting for an answer, Hangman picks up his ankles and takes their spot. Bradley brings his heels down hard on his thigh. He gets a swat on the ankle for his trouble. Still, the weight of Hangman’s arm on his legs is comforting. Solid.

A room full of people to bother, yet Hangman finds him. Hm.

“Why’re you so obsessed with me lately?” Bradley nudges him with his ankle. Hangman’s eyebrows raise.

Well. He’d meant to say that with a bit more tact but it’s out there now, between them.

Hangman snorts softly and passes Bradley a beer. He pops the caps on both and pockets them. Probably donations for Coyote’s collection.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw.” Hangman gives him an utterly complex and unreadable look before taking a swig of his beer. ‘Complex’ and ‘unreadable’ are not words that belong anywhere near him.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Bradley frowns.

“It’s a stupid question.”

“Seresin.” Bradley leans forward to smack his shoulder.

“Alright, fine.” Hangman exhales tightly. “You’ve been moping around like a dark fuckin’ cloud these past few weeks and we couldn’t figure out how to get you out of it. We ran out of ideas and eventually Mav realized he couldn’t hide from us anymore, so he coughed up a solution. Something he said we could try, and I quote, ‘at risk of your lives’. Never thought he’d suggest tickling, but--”

“You went to Mav?”

“Yeah, and Mav—“ Hangman imitates the way Bradley’s voice cracks— “told Phoenix to try it if all else failed, she told Bob, Bob told me, and now we’re here. And it worked.”

Bradley’s brain stalls out. He sits up, bracing his elbows on his knees. He drops his face into his hands.

“Oh my god. So everyone knows?” He peeks through his fingers. Hangman shrugs.

“Well, I don’t think Fanboy was paying much attention.” He scratches idly at his jaw.

“Mav said if all else failed. I didn’t—you guys didn’t try anything else.” Bradley fiddles with the label on the bottle.

Hangman raises his eyebrow in the precise shape of ‘oh really?’.

“Remember when Bob tried to buy you soup? Or when Payback made a fool of himself trying to sing Great Balls of Fire? Or when Fanboy tried to introduce you to Star Trek? Or—“

Oh.

For maybe the only time in his life, Hangman snaps his jaw shut. Bradley furrows his brow.

“Look…point is, you keep making that exact face you’ve got right now, and concerned parties asked me to investigate.” Hangman swirls his finger around Bradley’s face. He swats it away on habit, but fondness bubbles in the base of his throat.

“Concerned parties?” A smile sneaks under his mustache.

“Yeah, Phoenix and the rest of them were worried. Not me though.” Hangman takes a long, incriminating swig from his bottle.

“Not you?” Bradley tilts his head teasingly.

“Nope. I’m a neutral party. Like Sweden.”

“It’s Switzerland, dumbass.” Bradley knocks shoulders with him. Something about Hangman’s smile tells him he already knew that.

“Sure. Whatever.” Hangman throws his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers brush Bradley’s arm. The fondness settles into a resonant hum deep in Bradley’s chest.

“You’ve got your shit with Mav and your past. I get it. But some of us would like to see you smile more than twice a week.” Hangman gestures with his bottle. His movements are loose in the practiced Seresin way, but the care on his face is stunningly plain.

“Some of us?” Bradley grins. Hangman narrows his eyes.

“Concerned parties.” His cheeks grow rosy even as he scowls.

“You are obsessed with me and I’m telling Phoenix.” Bradley pats his shoulder and makes a break for it. A fist grabs a handful of his collar.

“Like hell you are!”

The (thankfully empty) bottles clatter to the floor as Hangman wrestles an already-laughing Bradley back down to the couch. He tries not to think too hard about hearing Mav cheer in the background.

…

Bradley does not start fights. He does not. He finishes them.

He slips past Phoenix and Bob, nodding in passing, and ducks up to Hangman’s Super Hornet. He can feel their eyes on him--especially Bob, he’s got a killer stare for someone so quiet--but he ignores it.

It’s not a fight, not really, but if he thinks about what he’s doing too hard he’s going to lock himself in a supply closet somewhere.

Bradley hops up the steps alongside the cockpit.

“Rooster! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your ugly mug?” Hangman grins and bats his eyelashes.

“I heard you were challenging Mav. Wanted to get a good look at you before you spend the rest of the evening with your face to the tarmac.” Rooster holds up his fingers like a picture frame.

“Try not to miss me too much.” Hangman winks, insufferable as always.

“Miss you? Every second you’re not buzzing around down here is a second of peace.” Bradley reaches up and knocks on his helmet.

“Would you kindly get the fuck off my plane?” Hangman swats lazily at him. Bradley bats his hands away.

“Before you go, just thought I’d see how your pre-flight checks are going?”

Hangman goes rigid. Bradley grins evilly at him.

“Bradshaw, don’t you fuckin’—“

Bradley fumbles with Hangman’s hands and flight equipment until he can jam his fingers right into the soft parts of his side. Hangman yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin. The seatbelts ensure there’s nowhere for him to go, and the clacking of the buckles only spurs Bradley on.

“I thought you’d put up more of a fight than this, Hangman.” Bradley tuts and shakes his head, worming his fingers up under straps to get at his ribs. Hangman well and truly shrieks.

“I am g-going to kill you!” Hangman shakes with the force of his laughter, folded awkwardly into his seatbelts. He shoves uselessly at Bradley’s chest.

“And I’m never gonna let this go. Think I could get you to do that again, or are you a one hit wonder?” Bradley squeezes quickly at Hangman’s thigh. His hands slap down hard on top of Bradley’s and he starts cackling his way to incoherency.

Bradley raises his eyebrow and times the squeezes to every escape attempt. It’s incredibly entertaining to listen to Hangman reinvent the squeal. He wonders if the other Daggers know about this yet.

The sound of a throat clearing nearly sends Bradley toppling backwards off the plane. Strong hands heave him upright and he turns--Maverick’s eyes crinkle around the edges of his sunglasses.

“Appreciate you getting a head start on destroying him, Rooster, but I believe that’s my job.” Mav pats him on the shoulder. Bradley goes to duck away, but Hangman makes a swipe for his sides, and he can’t let that stand. He leans back into the cockpit and tickles Hangman’s ribs until he’s screeching between hiccups and an interesting shade of red.

“Aren’t you ssssupposed to help me?” Hangman crumples in around Bradley’s hands, wriggling like a worm on a hook.

“Help you? No. Teach you? Sure. Wheels up in two minutes. Hopefully you’ll learn a thing or two about getting your ass handed to you.” Mav pulls Bradley back by the shoulder. He lets it happen. Hangman thunks his head back against his seat, chest heaving.

“Bold words, Pops. We’ll see who comes out on top.” He clicks his tongue and winks. Insufferable bastard.

“See you in the skies, Hangman.” Mav pokes Hangman’s stomach.

…

The lounge at Top Gun hums with quiet chatter through the evening as the Daggers share drinks. Bradley’s tucked against the wall with Phoenix and Bob under his arms. He’s half watching Fanboy and Payback fumble through a game of pool, half listening to a story Phoenix is telling, and fully content to lose himself in the sound of her voice.

The door slams open, welcoming a sweaty and disgruntled Hangman to the room. Scattered laughter and teasing applause kicks up among the other Daggers. He gives the entire room the finger.

“Yeah, laugh it up. I was off my game.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes. Coyote offers him a pity beer. He takes it.

“I wonder why.” Bradley chuckles. Phoenix swats his chest. Hangman locks eyes with him, absolutely feral. Bradley goes to make a run for it, but Phoenix hooks her arms under his. He could break her grip if he really tried, but…

When Hangman barrels towards him and tackles him over the back of the couch, Bradley can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.

#ok this was supposed to be mostly lee!hangman but i started thinking about bradley and blacked out #hope you still like it tho!! hangman still gets got as he should #idc if you tag this as ship btw #background icemav bc they are married #special thanks to chock who reminded me that writing is fun and i like to do it <3 #my fics #top gun maverick #ticklish!rooster #ticklish!hangman #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #not tagging the other daggers they're barely here <3 #idk how I feel about this fic still but it was fun to write

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baalzebufo · 1 year

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'I don't know what you're-a trying to say…' Peppino sighed, exasperated. He went to turn away, when-

'Pe-Pino.'

The voice… it was his voice, but the cadence was just slightly off. An imperfect mimicry, but close enough that it immediately fired every panic neuron in his brain at once.

---

A little piece of writing to nail down the vibes im going for with my interpretation of Fake Peppino! Having a normal fun day in the kitchen where nothing uncomfortable or weird happens.

---

'Pe- pi- no.'

Peppino tried not to flinch when he felt the heavy wet hand on his shoulder and the voice gurgling in his ear. Deep breaths- okay. He inhaled sharply and grit his teeth, bracing himself before he turned around.

It hadn't been easy, getting used to… that thing. Fake Peppino, as he had been calling it in his head. But he did feel admittedly a little guilty for destroying the tower- its home, really- and it didn't ask to be made like that. Still, he wished it hadn't decided to stick around sometimes. He'd spent an entire week just trying to make sure it didn't attack him on sight! And even then, it STILL chased him from time to time...

But he had reached an uneasy accord with his doppelganger, or at least thought so. He seemed more sedate at any rate, and Peppino had even managed to talk it into helping in the kitchen- which is where he was now, spreading a ball of dough thin with his knuckles, before he was so rudely interrupted.

He turned and forced a smile, trying to cover up his nerves with fake confidence. Ghh- he never got used to seeing him. His fake looked like him, but… uncanny. Stretched. Something wearing the wrong size of his skin. It made a weird bubbling noise- Peppino had come to learn that was its 'excited sound'- and grasped his wrist to tug him to the other side of the kitchen.

'Okay, o-kay! Slow down- whats-a the rush, paisano? What do you want to-a show me?'

Peppino tugged his wrist free and returned his hands to their comfortable position, tugging nervously on his tank top. Fake Peppino had dragged him over to the pizza oven. It was a great brick thing- a traditional piece and easily the most expensive thing in the whole restaurant, but also something he would never sell. After all, what kind of a pizza chef would he be without his pizza oven?

His clone straightened up then, drawing an involuntary shiver out of Peppino. It looked at him. Peppino looked back. He briefly made eye contact, watching as the fake's right eye slowly dribbled down his face- he glanced away before it started to make his heart pound any louder.

'Ah… what? What is it?' He mumbled again, shrivelling a little under the unyielding gaze. He may have been his clone, but they apparently didn't copy the part of him that hated prolonged eye contact, ugh. He chanced another look. His double was looking at him almost expectantly.

Suddenly, he raised an arm- quick enough to make Peppino flinch. But he didn't strike. He simply pointed- one finger poking Peppino in the chest. Then he moved his hand to point at the oven, the heat of which was beginning to make even more sweat bead on his forehead.

'I don't know what you're-a trying to say…' Peppino sighed, exasperated. He went to turn away, when-

'Pe-Pino.'

The voice… it was his voice, but the cadence was just slightly off. An imperfect mimicry, but close enough that it immediately fired every panic neuron in his brain at once.

'Peppinos. Pi- Za.' The fake nodded, looking pleased- then slapped one hand down on Peppino’s head, crushing his chefs hat down and drawing a yelp of surprise out of him.

'Peppino. Pi-zza.' The words sounded smoother as he rolled them around his mouth, smiling wide enough that his teeth looked as if they were about to drip out of his lips. He pushed Peppino a little closer to the oven- his heels dug into the ground instinctively. The heat was oppressive... 'Peppi-no. Pizza.'

Peppino froze. He had learnt not to run- bolting only excited his fake. He stood stock still, even as its face slowly lowered to his. His eyes widened- there wasn't anywhere else to look but into his own distorted visage, the oven's heat only causing it to drip more. Oh, god, it was dripping everywhere…

His hands balled into fists, ready to react, but his body seemed stuck. Damn his freeze instinct-! He held his breath as his fake tilted his head curiously, and then laughed. A bubbling gurgle, face practically split in two.

'Pizza. is. Peppi-no.' He said, happily. Peppino couldn't bring himself to figure out what exactly that meant, because the only idea he had right now- well, the heat wasn't helping, and his vision was blurring, and it wasn't good…

'Peppino. Pizza. Nothing. Compares!'

All of a sudden, he was pushed back. Away from the heat, a cold blast of air hitting him as the doppelganger shoved him. All at once Peppino’s body reacted, scrambling back along the floor and breathing- wheezing, really- trying to get enough air in his lungs so he didn't pass out. All the while he watched as the wax figure of himself dripped like a candle in the heat, spun on its heel happily and giggled.

'Not- yet!' It smiled, face still firmly turned to look at Peppino even as its entire body twisted 180 degrees to stick to the nearest wall- his neck creaked with the strain, more of its doughy flesh sloughing off onto the floor as he moved away from the heat.

'Cook.' It's hand found one of the open vents- it's favorite hiding spots. 'Let him. Cook. Not ready!' It smiled, eyelids squeezing shut happily over misshapen sockets, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.

'Later? Pizza later. Nothing Compares...' He mumbled, voice softening as Peppino could only watch in wide-eyed terror as it folded itself in half to slide into the narrow vent- he'd seen it many times but he still wasn't used to it. The wet sounds of a body moving in ways it shouldn't, the scrape of the metal... As it pushed itself into the darkness, Peppino saw its face- his face- the last thing to disappear.

'Peppino. Pizza...? Soon...'

And then it was gone.

He didn't move.

Honestly, he stayed on the floor for an uncomfortably long time.

After what felt like hours, his body finally decided to return the feeling to his joints- and all at once he scrambled upright. What- what was that? He thought…

He thought he was reaching… some kind of agreement with that thing. But clearly it was still far, far beyond his understanding. And what it said- no. No, Peppino shook his head violently. He didn't want to think about it. Because if he thought about it, it sounded an awful lot like...

No. No, no, no. That was silly. He just needed to get back to work. He needed to push this out of his mind and forget it ever happened.

He stumbled over towards his pile of pizza dough. Looking down at it, he couldn't help but feel… uneasy, suddenly. A wave of strange nausea rose in his chest.

Maybe… maybe that was enough pizza for one day.

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #set post-game where fake peppy wouldnt leave the pizzeria so peppino just has to deal with him now #haha! im sure thats fine peppino! dont worry about letting your guard down around him again!#do i even have a writing tag? i dont remember #BUT UM... HEE HEE.. hope someone else enjoys this little thing. i felt inspired #i want to write him being Creepy more ok i love having fake peppino make Implications

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reborrowing · 3 months

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dust prince, part one

poll story! they were kind of a trend when tumblr first added the poll feature so now that the concept is dying I thought I'd give it a shot. we'll see how well I stay on top of this. (there may be some weirdness because I'm still not sure if I want "you" to be just the rogue or both adventurers. For today? Rogue.)

rough sketch of the you's

part 2 -

In the middle of a long and lonely road sits a tavern. It's been here longer than any one person can remember, some even say it's older than the kingdom that now claims these grounds.

You are a fragment of a heroic party, a once-refined rogue shadowing a proud barbarian as you limp back towards society. You're both relieved to see this shabby, familiar tavern as you make your way through the sparsely populated wetlands. While the two of you have put yourselves in much more dangerous situations, passing through the area in such small numbers has been unpleasant at best.

But inside, the tavern is warm and blessedly dry. A silver-haired halfling at the counter greets you, while an invisible set of hands continues working behind her. You dimly recognize her as the owner and remember she makes some fairly impressive potions, if you had the coin to burn. For now, you take the cheapest meal that’ll satisfy you and sit near the fire to bicker over what to do next, as if the two of you hadn’t already exhausted the topic over the last few days.

You’ve worked together for years as part of the same party but the de facto leader recently decided to retire. Your party continued to work without her, until this last job, where the other two bastards abandoned you mid-quest when they got offered a more lucrative opportunity. Now you’re left to either find replacements out here in the middle of nowhere or slink back home with nothing to show for your efforts.

The barbarian is sizing up the handful of other patrons present, discussing their potential with all the subtlety of a flaming brick through a window. It’s getting you both looks and you doubt any of them will want to work with the two of you at all. You’re about to interrupt and say so to your companion when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Your well-honed senses were trying to get your conscious mind to pay attention to something important.

You look up to see shifting dust in the rafters just as something falls off one of the beams. You lean to get out of the way before you even identify the object. It lands in your soup with a yelp, splattering broth across the table.

It thrashes for a few seconds, trying to find its bearings. If the small scream wasn't enough to confirm it, you're now definitely sure this thing is alive, though you don't recognize what it is. As you look down at it, you would almost swear it's a sprite of some sort, though without their distinctive glow.

It's about the size of a mouse with the face of a person. He's too drenched and frantic for you to notice much else. He stares back at you with fear in his eyes as he pulls himself onto a sinking piece of bread.

taglist @da3dm @mottinthemainpot @whumpsday

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t community #g/t writing #sfw g/t #poll story #my writing #I don't have a Definite plot but I've got directions to go #lemme practice pants writing for a minute #also I should name these people huh #temp oc tag: rogue #temp oc tag: barbarian #temp oc tag: shana?#dust prince #may change title? I really hate names man #and oh my god im anxious about whether or not the choices are stupid isn't that weird?#like if I just write what we're doing that's fine but do the choices look ok?? am I stupid??? i hope not

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malarkgirlypop · 6 months

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Green-eyed Monster (Ron Speirs x GN!Reader)

HEY! HEY! Sorry for this taking so long, she's a busy gal. But this is for @kafka-ohdear who asked for a jealousy story, and boy oh boy he was a bit jealous. This was so fun to write. I thought it would be the most fun to make Mr. Speirs jealous. Cause he just wears jealousy so well. It got a bit steamy, so I hope you like it. Anyway as per usual this is based off the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the men who served.

Ronald Speirs was a calm man. He thought of himself as composed and coolheaded. These traits made him a good leader. He was able to handle any situation thrown at him. Like in Foy when he had been made to take over the assault that Lieutenant Dike had been butchering to then be made CO. But one person made his calmness dissipate. Ron couldn’t put his finger on why the private had wound him up so much. Maybe it was their carefree attitude, they were in the middle of the war but still found a way to be chipper and brighten up the rest of the men. Or maybe it was the way they carelessly flirted with every soldier they came across, did they know they were doing it or was it unconscious. Maybe he was jealous at how easily they talked to everyone and opened up to them with their infectious personality. Everyone seemed to hang off their every word. Now as they sat in Hitler’s Eagles Nest Ron watched Y/N entertain the men with their stories.

“And then she dropped it and it went everywhere!” Y/N finishes their story as the soldier’s roared with laughter. “Thank you, thank you I will be here all week.” Y/N bows, pretending to receive applause. Y/N reaches forward picking up the bottle of wine they had placed on the floor before they had stood up to give a dramatic reenactment of the story. Y/N sips from the wine, still standing, their eyes scanning over the room. Y/N’s eyes fall on the soldier sitting in the corner of the hall, Winters and Nixon sitting close to the men but he doesn’t involve himself in their conversation. Ron’s eyes are fixed on Y/N, not averting his gaze. They seem to stare at each other, waiting for the other to pull their focus. Y/N tilts their head as they regard the man as he mirrors their actions. They sip from their wine, finally turning their attention back to the group of rowdy Easy company men that sat in front of them. Y/N sat next to George trying to focus on the conversation he was having with Lieb but their mind wandered to the solitary soldier drinking across the room from them.

Ron had only become CO a couple months prior, but he had been around before that. Ron was in Dog company originally. Y/N had only seen him a handful of times but had heard many things about the infamous Captain Speirs. Ronald had quite the reputation, many soldiers in the company being scared shitless of the ruthless man. A rumour or two had spread at the beginning of the war right after D-day, that Speirs had given a group of POW’s cigarettes only to shoot them all dead after they had lit them. However this was just gossip, only one person had claimed to see the event, and from there the story had become more exaggerated. People said he shot 8 and then the next Y/N had heard the story Ron had killed 20 odd men. Y/N didn’t believe all the tall tales told about the Captain but had kept him at arm's length. Though he was stunningly handsome, he was cold and calculated. He was curt and stubborn, all the things that Y/N was not. Known in Easy company as the flirt and entertainment along with Luz. Luz and Y/N had clicked right from the beginning getting on like a house on fire. The two were notorious for playing pranks and causing havoc. They were referred to lovingly as Easy companies trouble-makers. Y/N loved Luz like a brother and they were attached at the hip, never far from each other. It kept them sane, amidst all the chaos and heartbreak of war. They had each other and were able to make each other laugh, even when they were having the toughest of days. But they also were able to console each other, knowing what to say when the jokes weren’t feeling the most appropriate. George and Y/N had had a hard time after they had found the camp when doing a search of the perimeter. Neither of them had seen anything like it before and it broke them. It was different to the casualties they had experienced in war, this situation seemed more cruel. The men in the war signed up knowing the sacrifice they might have to make, knowing they might not make it back alive. But this camp they had found, the people were innocent. They weren’t even being treated like humans, they were inferior in Hitler’s eyes, cast aside to be exterminated like cockroaches in a house. That was cruel, the most awful thing that Y/N would ever see. George and Y/N weren’t the same after that, but none of the men were. In that moment they saw the real horror of what was happening and how blindsided they had all been to the reign of Hitler. So when they had stumbled across his Eagle’s nest they were more than happy to loot and steal whatever they wanted, that man deserved no respect. George knocked his elbow into Y/N pulling them from their thoughts.

“Huh?” Y/N asked.

“Were you not listening at all?” George rolled his eyes at his friend.

“Nope, but you know what? I am super drunk.” Y/N slurs in George’s face. George laughs, as Y/N tries to get the room to stop spinning. Y/N spots Winters and Nixon laughing across the room. Y/N gets to their feet, steadying themself before sauntering over to the men.

“Hello handsome!” Y/N says to Nixon swaying over him.

“Hello you!” Nixon equally as drunk smirks at Y/N. They take a step forward to sexily whisper in his ear, stumbling over Nixon’s feet landing on his lap.

“Woooh, steady on Y/N!” Nixon laughs as Y/N gets comfortable. Wrapping their arms around his neck.

“You love it!” Y/N teases. Nixon wraps his arms around their waist steadying them on his lap. Y/N stays in that position flirting with Nixon as they chat. Y/N feels a shiver run up their spine, glancing around finding the icy stare of Ron trained on them. Shaking off the feeling they turned their focus back to Nixon. Y/N couldn’t seem to pay attention to Nix, the weight of Ron’s gaze distracting them too much.

“I have to pee.” Y/N announces wiggling off of Nixon’s lap. Y/N scurried out of the hall they occupy into one of the long hallways. Feeling more sober now thanks to the glare of the stoic Captain.

Y/N turns in a circle, where am I? The Eagle’s nest is huge. All the hallways looking the same turns it into a never ending maze. I swear I just walked past that panting. Y/N groans turning around to try and find their way back to the hall. After making more turns left and right trying to remember the way they had come originally, Y/N was once again lost. OMG I WILL NEVER ESCAPE THIS HALLWAY! Y/N presses their back to the wall, sliding down it to sit. Hiding their head in their knees sighing. A pair of black boots stepped into Y/N’s eyeline. They take a moment to regard the shoes, slowly trailing their eyes up the figure looming above them. They gape at their Captain who stands over them.

“Oh, Captain!” Y/N sputtered. Ron didn’t speak, only extending his hand to help Y/N to their feet. Reaching out Y/N clasps the outstretched hand, as he helped haul them to their feet. Once standing they noticed the closeness of the Captain. Ron stood toe to toe with Y/N, caging them into the wall with his body. Shyly Y/N glanced up at Ron who looked down his nose at them.

Ron leaned forward into Y/N’s space, prompting Y/N to take a step back only to be stopped by the wall. The Captain’s breath fanned onto their face, only inches between them, one small movement would cause their lips to touch. A blush rose to Y/N’s cheeks thinking about them sharing a kiss with Speirs, shaking the thought from their head. Their eyes finally glanced up to hold his gaze.

“Is there something on my face?” Y/N asked, turning on their signature charm.

“No.” Speirs said curtly.

“Then why do you keep staring at me?” Y/N questions the man tilting their head in a coy manner.

“I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Ron spoke in a low voice. Y/N blinked at the man confused at what he meant.

“I’m sorry Sir, I’m confused? Do I have something of yours?” Y/N asked. The man didn’t answer immediately, scanning his eyes over their face, lingering on their lips before dragging back up to meet their gaze again. A shiver ran up Y/N’s spine. The intensity at which Ron was looking at them almost had them in a puddle on the floor.

Ron took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of Y/N. The smell of wine and something almost sweet lingered around them. The smell alone was addicting. Ron had never felt like this before about anyone. When Y/N had sat on Nixon’s lap he saw red, the way they smiled at each other. Draped over each other, the way Nixon’s arm looped around their waist. His head swirled with jealousy. Ron didn’t think he liked the Private much, he thought he disliked them. Watching them flirt with people, he just assumed he was annoyed at how they weren’t focussing on the task at hand. But after he saw them in Nixon’s lap, he had soon figured out that he felt quite the opposite about Y/N. He had wanted to be the one they were draped over, laughing carelessly, whispering to each other. It had taken quite some control to stop himself from marching over and plucking Y/N out of Nixon’s lap to find somewhere more private. Ron had taken the other option of sending the most deadly glare in their direction instead. When Y/N had scurried out of the room he was quick to slip out as well, following them from a distance. He could tell when Y/N had taken multiple wrong turns they had been lost. He kept his distance though, planning to only be a spectator to it all. When Y/N had sighed loudly and sunk to the floor, he thought it would be the right time to intervene. His plan at first was just to help Y/N back to the hall they were so desperately trying to find. But after he had helped them to their feet he couldn’t help but close the distance between them. They had tried to charm Ron but he had other motives.

“Sir?” Y/N questioned again when the Captain didn’t answer. The man seemed to snap out of his trance, taking a step back from Y/N.

“Do you want me to show you back to the hall?” Ron asked. Y/N felt like they had whiplash, one moment it seemed like Ron was about to confess something, the next he was offering to show them back to the hall.

Y/N still feeling a bit tipsy felt a surge of confidence, taking a step forward into Ron’s personal space. Lightly brushing their fingertips down Ron’s arm. The man stood still, watching Y/N fingers trace down his sleeve, his jaw clenched.

“Careful Y/N, you don’t know what you’re doing.” Ron growled.

Y/N smirked, “Oh like this?” dragging their fingers across Ron’s chest teasingly. In a sharp movement Ron captured Y/N’s hand in his, causing a gasp to leave their lips. Pulling them in even closer to whisper in their ear. “You’re playing with fire.” Ron let Y/N’s hand go as it dropped back to their side.

Something switched in Y/N. An anger bubbled in their chest. Yes they had noticed Ron’s glares on occasion, only thinking it was because the Captain disliked them. Y/N was fine with that, not everyone had to like them, but from his actions tonight it seemed like it was the opposite. Which ticked them off, if Ron liked them why treat Y/N so coldly. Why did he always send a dirty look, never talk to them. Whenever they talked in the past it was short and sweet, no small talk. Orders and go. Now Ron wanted to claim them. A huff left Y/N lips.

“Do you have a problem with me Sir?” Y/N demanded. Ron seemed taken aback from the sudden outburst of Y/N, not often were they mad and showed it. Ron opened his mouth to answer the soldier standing in front of him only to be cut off.

“You can’t just treat me like you hate me and then tell me that I am yours!” Y/N spat harshly at the man.

“I didn’t know.” Ron said calmly, trying to defuse the situation.

“You didn’t know what?” Y/N challenged the man, fist clenching at their sides to try and restrain themselves from doing something they would regret.

“I didn’t know that I liked you.” Ron confessed sheepishly. The statement had shocked Y/N causing a blush to rise on their cheeks. They opened and closed their mouth, unable to form a sentence.

“I’m sorry for treating you poorly in the past. You just….you just made me so angry. I couldn’t put my finger on why. But now I can. Seeing you tonight with Nixon, it just hit a nerve. Then I realised that I was jealous.” Ron blurted trying to fill the silence, as Y/N stared stunned at him.

“I wanted you to look at me how you were looking at him.” Ron breathed. The pair still standing toe to toe stared at each other as their breaths filled the silence. The tension between them was thick with need. So close, their faces only inches apart, breaths mingling with each other. Ron’s eyes searched between Y/N’s for an answer, a signal, anything. Ron’s hands moved from his side reaching Y/N’s face cupping around their jaw.

“Is this ok?” He hummed lowly. Y/N’s lips parted as a soft yes fell from their mouth. Ron’s thumb moved, stroking Y/N’s jaw. The movement causes Y/N’s eyes to flutter closed, enjoying the gentle touches.

“What about this?” Ron breathed, running his thumb down Y/N’s neck. A sigh left their lips, letting their head fall back so the man had better access to their skin. Ron came closer, tucking his face into the open space that Y/N had created.

“This?” He said, deliberately dragging his lips over the soft flesh as he spoke. Causing a moan to sound from Y/N. The man stepped back letting all contact cease. A whimper came from Y/N from the sudden loss. Y/N head swum, desperately wanting to be back in Ron’s arms and pissed at him for teasing them so.

“That’s not very nice of you Ron.” They panted, a smug smirk formed on the Captain's lips.

“Well now you know how it feels.” He teased Y/N. Y/N scoffed at the man.

“Fine then! I will find someone else to satisfy my needs.” Y/N exclaimed, turning on their heel back to the direction of the hall. I mean if it’s that way, I am still lost. Not making it two steps before their waist was grabbed by Ron. Who turned them back to face him.

“There is no need for that.” Ron asserted. Before Y/N could come back with a snarky reply Ron pressed his lips to theirs. His lips were surprisingly soft and full. The kiss at first was gentle. Ron’s hand gripped at Y/N’s hips pulling them closer. A contented sigh leaving Y/N’s lips. Sliding their hands up Ron’s arms to rest on his shoulders, pulling him further down to deepen their kiss. Ron’s grip on their body grew possessive, his kisses becoming more fervent. His hands running up their spine, stopping at the base of Y/N’s neck, his fingers playing with the hair there. A soft moan falls from Y/N’s lips. Taking the opportunity of their open mouth Ron teasingly running his tongue along their bottom lip. Y/N presses their body further into Ron’s needing to be as close as they could to the man. Ron allowed his tongue to find its way into Y/N mouth. The sounds of soft whimpers and groans filled the empty hallway as the pair became hungrier with lust. Ron moved Y/N swiftly, grabbing under their legs to lift them off the ground. Y/N wrapped their legs around Ron’s waist. Ron pushes Y/N against the wall pressing their back against its surface. With his hands wrapping fully around their body Ron passionately kisses Y/N, his hands gliding up their figure as his lips continue to explore theirs. With Y/N pressed against the wall Ron leaned into the kiss more heavily, his tongue exploring Y/N mouth, as their hands roamed around Ron’s body. Slipping their fingers into his hair tugging gently causing the man to groan, the sensual sound causing goosebumps to arise over their skin. Y/N pulls back to admire the man, his blue eyes full of lust, his swollen pink lips parted slightly as he pants.

“I think we should take it slow.” Y/N whispers to the man still being held in his arms.

“God you’re killing me Y/N.” Ron growled, but in the same breath gently placing them back on the ground but still holding them close. A small smile formed on Y/N’s lip, giving the man a gentle peck. Grabbing his hand Y/N starts to lead him back to the hall. He smiles and walks after them.

“Y/N, the hall is this way.” He chuckled, pulling them back. Continuing to hold hands they walked down the corridor back to the hall where the rest of Easy company resided.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #HEHHE #I hope you all enjoy #this is kinda smutty #I kinda want to do a really smutty one #should I ?#Enjoy the green-eyed monster that is Ron #Can he do this to me?#Is this ok? has me melting #who allowed me to write this?

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howdyboh · 1 year

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delitto!... e sanguina / per piaga immonda / il petto a quello / ed era giovane! ed era biondo! ed era bello!

(crime!... and his chest / from a filthy wound / does bleed / and he was young! and he was blonde! and he was beautiful!)

lezione di anatomia, arrigo boito

#toh #the owl house #caleb wittebane #philip wittebane #evelyn toh #or are we going with #evelyn clawthorne #already? well it's basically canon anyway. i hope.#tw blood #tw death #< just in case #my art #aka me paying attention to one (1) lesson and immediately going 'oh i can make this about the guys (<-toh)'#sorry for the versions with the words looking bad I can't do text stuff I don't know how to make it look good #but i still wanted a version with the writing cause that was the first goal #ok byeeee

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todayisafridaynight · 5 months

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#rgg #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku 7 #yakuza series #yakuza like a dragon #yakuza 7 #masumi arakawa #snap sketches #i underutilize drawing arakawa as the prettiest girl ever and i will go to prison to atone for my crimes for this #Awful i thought of a fic while making sketches LMAOOOO lets see if i do it cause i still have another one cooking #i also have a teeny goofy comic but idk if im gonna finish it #if i do im gonna revise it first since i dont like its pacing and whatnot rn but anyways bye #im gonna stare at google docs #shout to my Not-Kayla friend because i bumped into her during dinner tonight #and i told her i needed to pick up rice so we hop to the store and i ALMOST missed the last two bags. i almost did.#wouldve had to go a week without rice... unthinkable.#i mean the bags wont get me through the week but they'll be enough for a couple days LMAO #ok bye now heres to hoping i can write

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oikasugayama · 4 months

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hiii could you write poe coming untouched? i feel like thats somethig he would do and ohhh god 🛐🛐🛐

UM YEAH I SURE CAN BC HE TOTALLY WOULD

gn!reader, NSFW, MDNI bc i'm an adult get away from me. not edited or formatted or whatever, very stream-of-consciousness

Poe is fairly insecure and needy, so relatively often you have to reassure him that he's your one and only, you love him so much, no one else matters to you, etc. etc. The words and affection (hair pets, kisses, cuddles) help for sure, but the best way to reassure to him that you're his and no one else's, and he's yours and no one else's, is to rail him. absolutely fuck the shit out of him.

it starts with the kisses and cuddles, but your touches gradually move lower and lower, rubbing his hip and his thigh until you're eventually kissing on his neck and rubbing his crotch like that oscar wilde movie scene, you know:

poe doesn't sit in your lap though, he wants you on top of him, he likes to feel small and taken care of. (he's fairly tall and gangly so it's not exactly easy to make him feel small, but he tries his best)

you take him to your room, lay him in bed, and take his clothes off while kissing and touching him. it's definitely more kissing than touching--you'll make out of with him for a while, lightly brush your hand over his crotch. kiss down his neck, mutter that he's so pretty, and you love the way he whines for you. he pets you back, running his hands up and down your arms and your back, petting your hair when you kiss lower and lower on his body.

he tries to buck his hips up to get some kind of friction, but you sit up and tsk.

"no, no no," you coo, sliding your hands up his body, making sure none of you gets close to his crotch. "that won't do. you're a good boy, right? my good boy."

"yes," he whines, wrapping his arms around you. "I'm your good boy. can I touch you? i want to touch you."

"Do you deserve to? are you going to worship me?"

"yes" he insists, nodding hard.

"will you make me cum? with just your tongue?"

poe keeps nodding.

"what if i sit on your face, hmm? that sounds nice."

"yes. god yes please, please."

"and you're not allowed to touch yourself, you understand? your hands stay on my thighs."

"yes yes yes yes yes"

you finally relent, getting naked yourself and crawling up his body until your knees are by his head and you're hovering over his face.

"hands on my thighs," you demand, and he quickly obliges, getting comfortable. his tongue is already sticking out, trying to reach you. you make him wait, though. you softly move his hair out of his face, you trace your fingers around his eyes and nose and his eyebrows.

"you're so handsome, you know that? such pretty eyes, such nice hair. you've got such a perfect nose and such lovely lips."

"thank you," he says softly. he knows he has to say thank you otherwise you'll fuck him in front of the mirror and make him compliment himself--sometimes he's okay with it, but it's not what he wants right now.

"eat up, baby."

then you finally lower yourself down, sitting fully on his face. no hovering, no going easy on him, full sitting.

and he loves it. he loves the weight of you, he loves feeling the warmth of your inner thighs, loves your taste, loves your smell, everything. his tongue goes straight to work, teasing and tasting everything. he's good at it, too. he made sure a long time ago that he could make you cum on his tongue because he wanted to be good for you. he wanted to be the best for you.

you swear that between your own moaning and your praise of him you can hear little moans from underneath you. you rub his hands, groan, squirm around grind down on his tongue.

"fuck, poe, you're so good. so good for me baby, yeah, just like that, right there!!" and so many other praising and filthy things. he can't take it anymore at a point. the feeling of you on him, the nice things you keep saying, the taste he's so addicted to. his hands tighten on your thighs, he squirms around a little, keeps moaning, and then you notice his breathing picks up and you feel something splash on your back.

"eh?" you turn around just a bit and catch the final sight of his cock twitching as the last bit of cum settles on his belly. he whines under you as you lift off of him, wanting to hear his voice when you ask:

"did you just cum? you weren't supposed to touch yourself."

"I didnt!! i didn't do anything, i couldn't help it, you just feel so good, i can't help it. i love to please you."

"oh, you sweet thing." you reach behind you and wipe some of his cum off your back then take your hand up to your mouth and taste it. "well it's my turn then, isn't it? keep going, darling." and you sit back down.

#ask answered #poe x reader #bungo stray dogs poe #poe smut #bsd poe #bsd poe smut #bungo stray dogs poe smut #OKAAAAAAAY SOOOOOO #YEAH POE IS HOT AND HE NEEDS SOMEONE TO TELL HIM WHAT TO DO OK???#uhhhh yeah i wasn't really paying attention while writing this but i hope you like it ok byeeeee

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