#(wrestling. i am just describing wrestling.) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leclsrc · 1 year

Text

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

#f1 #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

3K notes · View notes

cardentist · 2 months

Note

Fam how can one be trans in the direction of their assigned sex? I'm not even trying to make the idea sound ridiculous or anything. I'm genuinely curious and want to understand. I thought the whole meaning of trans was that you feel or act in the opposite direction of your assigned sex; if you're transfem but you're afab then to me that's just cisgender??? But like please explain to me how that's not the case if that's what you and others strongly feel so I may grow my compassion

Context: [Link]

well ! while I personally am not intersex, I DO want to highlight intersex people first and foremost.

gender and sex are very Very complex, and I think generally people don't consider the way that being intersex can play a big role in that!

there are intersex people who are afab who are also trans women, there are intersex people who are amab who are trans men, there are intersex people with many Many different relationships with sex and gender and anywhere in between !

an afab person can be born with masculine sex characteristics and transition the way trans women often do. that person May identify as trans, they may not ! that trans person may not even consider themselves a woman depending on who they are and what they want !

I Do think there needs to be an effort to be aware of and make space for intersex people within the trans community, and really the wider queer community as a whole. as it's often something that's given a footnote without deeper thought into the ways that intersex people Actually interact with our communities.

which I don't blame people for not already knowing ! that's the whole point of trying to educate people in the first place ^^

and as for Myself

labels are, ultimately, a form of gender presentation. what you call yourself is an extension of not only how you see yourself, but how Other People perceive you.

I could call myself nonbinary or I could call myself trans masc, and both would be Accurate. but people have certain traits and expectations and associations when they see those labels. there are assumptions made about the kind of life that I live, the things that I want, the things I might experience, that change depending on which labels that I use.

and that's not Inherently a bad thing ! I mean, that's part of why people Like labels. but it Can be a struggle for people whose gender is Funny.

I could Also describe myself as genderqueer or multi-gender or genderfluid or gnc or-. I've tried on lots and lots of labels, and for the most part I haven't thrown any of them out, I just keep them in a box under my bed and take them out when relevant.

I've been wrestling with the feminine aspect of my identity for a very Very long time. I've been aware that I'm some level of trans masc. that part was easy. I want a deeper voice, I want things about my body to change, I don't want people to look at me and see a cis woman.

but I Also like femininity. I've found that after accepting myself as trans masc and slowly growing an environment where I am Perceived as masculine, I've started getting euphoria at presenting femininely in the Same way that I did (and do!) get about presenting masculinely.

but that feeling doesn't carry over when I'm perceived as a cis woman. it's Quite Uncomfortable for obvious gender reasons.

and while I may not know the exact Words that I'd use to describe it (as I've said, I've been chewing on it for Many years now), I've gotten a clearer idea of how I Feel.

I want to be Visibly trans. I want to be perceived masculinely And femininely. I want to transition masculinely to present femininely (and sometimes butch, sometimes like your dad at the ace hardware store, I contain multitudes).

and of course, figuring out what I have going on has involve a lot of exploration ! it's the same way I figured out the whole trans masc thing in the first place. seeking out other trans people and other Things About trans people feeling things out.

I find ! that I have a lot of shared experiences with transfeminine people. both in how I feel about certain things, some of the presentation that I want, and in how people would React To said presentation.

my femininity Is Trans, I don't relate to cis womanhood. but I Do relate to trans femininity. which is really awkward for me, because it's difficult to describe it to other people fjksldljkasfdjklfasd

(I don't personally consider myself a trans woman mind, but I'm certain there Are people who are trans men and trans women at the same time. gender is complicated, sex is complicated. labels are malleable and sometimes situational)

Could I describe myself with a different label? probably ! I've got lots of them. but when I Don't put emphasis on this aspect of myself people assume that it's not there. insist that it Couldn't be there, and I don't know what I'm talking about. and those people who Would act nasty towards me probably aren't gonna change their mind just because I changed my bio. but it feels Nice to assert that aspect of myself when other people are trying to tear it down.

part of me feels like I should post the intersex portion of this by itself, because people tend to engage more with shorter posts and there's nothing Short about my gender situation ljkfdasjkls

but ! I dunno, if this makes even one person understand the gray areas of gender and presentation a little more it'll be worth it.

thank you for taking the time to ask ! and especially for doing so kindly ! I do hope you'll see this

#discourse #long post #intersex #genderqueer #nonbinary #multigender #trans unity #queer unity #moral of the story is that gender is a fuck

315 notes · View notes

onlyhuis · 1 year

Text

wedding night

member — husband!cheol x wife!f reader genre — smut, fluff, newlyweds au word count — 2.3k synopsis — seungcheol just wants to treat his wife right on their first night together as husband and wife. content warnings — cheol calls reader his wife, reader is described wearing a big poofy wedding dress (also a garter), half of this is filth and the other half is cheesy flowery prose oops smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (reader receiving), praise, fingering, edging, some begging, briefly some spitting & marking, lots and lots of making out, sex while mostly clothed, implied shower sex at the end, cheol has a fat marriage kink and so do i notes — this is inspired by the delusional staff at pledis who decided the concept for fml carat version should be wedding photos! i am crazy. like very much i am so unwell rn. anyway not saying this is for @duhnova but this is definitely for @duhnova

your breath hitches as seungcheol hikes your wedding dress up your leg, layers of soft fabric bunching up between his fingers. his breath is hot on your now-exposed thighs.

flat on your back on the king-size hotel bed, you’re still in the dress you walked down the aisle in. the same one cheol had insisted you wore at the reception; the same one you wore on his private plane on the way to your honeymoon spot where he could barely keep his hands off of you, but resisted because he wanted your first time as husband and wife to be extra special; the same one you had trudged through the hotel lobby in, wrestling the gown into the elevator up to the private suite he had bought.

you grasp the material, struggling a little to hold it all up and out of cheol’s face. “baby, it’ll be easier, i can take this off—”

“no,” he interrupts, tugging on your legs to bring you closer to his mouth, and you yelp, sliding further down the bed. “want you to leave it on. let me fuck my wife in this gorgeous dress i married you in.”

you whine, cunt clenching around nothing at the way he calls you your new title. his wife.

he pushes your skirt up higher, finally revealing what he was searching for: a lacy red and black garter wrapped daintily around one of your thighs. he groans and leans closer to your leg, his teeth grazing over your skin and making you shiver.

he looks up at you, and you can barely see his face through all the layers of silk and tulle, but you can clearly see the familiar lustful look in his eyes. he runs his teeth along the garter, pulling it between his teeth and then letting go to snap it against your thigh.

you hiss at the sting, but the momentary pain quickly fades when your husband grabs your dress from your hands and pulls it over his head, hiding himself between your legs and wrapping his lips around your clit.

you arch your back, hips lifting off the bed when his tongue begins to prod into you, swirling wet circles around your entrance as you writhe in his grip. you can’t see anything that’s going on, except for his legs hanging off the edge of the bed behind you, his top half completely covered.

without the fabric in his way, it’s easy for him to hold your thighs apart beneath the dress, pushing them down hard into the bed so that no matter how hard you try to close your legs around him, it’s impossible to move an inch.

your breath catches in your throat as his tongue moves through your folds, and you can feel his saliva and your wetness dripping down onto the inside of the dress. it’s going to be a pain to wash, but laundry is the last thing on your mind when cheol suddenly pushes his index finger into you, curling up and against your walls at just the right angle that it makes you clench down around him as hard as you can. he curses, the sound muffled underneath the layers of the dress, but continues fucking his finger in and out of you, barely enough room for him to move but somehow he finds a way.

you barely even notice when he slips a second finger inside, followed by a third, your juices pooling in the palm of his hand as he thrusts into you.

as if you weren’t already wet enough, he detaches his lips from you and leans his head back, spitting directly on your pussy.

you cry out his name, lifting your hips to chase his mouth as he uses his tongue to smear the mixture over your folds. he presses his face deeper into your pussy, his nose rubbing directly against your clit, and you feel yourself drawn closer and closer to the edge with each movement, all of it accumulating until you feel like you’re about to snap.

but at that exact moment, cheol’s fingers slide out of you and his mouth leaves you with a pop, and everything you’d been building up to crumbles away in a split second.

“seungcheol, please—”

he pokes his head out from beneath your dress at the mention of his name, bunching the fabric up at your hips. cold air hits your aching cunt, exposed to the temperature of the room now that your lower half is no longer covered, and you whimper at the sudden change.

cheol’s fingers play with the garter’s elastic band, a constant reminder of his presence though you don’t feel any stimulation. “what is it, baby? tell me what you need.”

your cunt throbs, and you whine in frustration, reaching out for him with shaky hands. “need you, cheollie, please. want you so bad. please fuck me.”

he groans and shifts over the bed, leaning over you to capture your lips in his. you taste yourself in his mouth as your lips part, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

most of his weight is supported by his arms, holding himself over you but still low enough that you’re pressed chest to chest. his suit jacket was shed long ago, and now you tug at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off so you can see him.

and of course he obliges, readjusting his position until he’s straddling you, so he can keep kissing you as his fingers quickly work to undo the buttons of his shirt. as soon as he shrugs it all the way off, he puts his forearms on either side of your head, falling forward to get closer to you, lips smashing with yours like he’s fighting for breath and you’re the only one that can give it to him.

you can feel him rocking his hips against yours subconsciously and you moan, his erection pressed against your stomach through his pants. you manage to pull away from him for a second to breathe, leaning your head to rest against the pillow as you struggle to get oxygen into your brain.

but this only opens up area on your neck for him to mark, and he dives back in fervently, biting and sucking at your skin. you’re sure he can feel your pulse racing beneath his lips.

he bites at your earlobe particularly roughly and you gasp, hands flying up to grasp at his toned back muscles, clawing and trying to pull him even closer than he already is. your eyes flutter shut when he reaches up to cup your chin in his hands, tilting your face back towards him so he can kiss you again.

it seems like you’re there for hours, both almost completely clothed, tangled up on top of the bed with your lips crashing together like it’s the last time you’ll ever see each other, though this is only just the beginning. it may as well have been hours, with the way your cunt aches with need but you can’t bring yourself to stop kissing him.

the feeling isn’t anything you haven’t experienced many times before. you and seungcheol had been together for years before he proposed, years spent filled with passion and love and good memories. but this time feels completely different. maybe it’s all in your head, the post-wedding jitters finally catching up with you and making your head spin. but just the thought of doing the same things you’d done in the past, but now instead as a married couple, makes you feel like a brand new person. a person that belongs with seungcheol, forever.

finally he breaks away, breathing hard with his cheeks flushed and his hair a tangled mess. he moves off of his position on top of you, and you start to sit up and follow him, but he just pressed another breathy kiss to your cheek.

“‘m not going anywhere, baby,” he says softly, running a hand through your hair. “gonna get you some water and then ‘m gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

you whine in protest, but he doesn’t listen, moving off the bed and grabbing a cup and some ice, along with a water bottle from the refrigerator. he sits at the edge of the bed with you while you take small sips. he’s right; your mouth is dry, and the cool water feels so refreshing.

too soon the glass is empty and abandoned on the nightstand, and cheol moves to take his pants off, now a wrinkled mess but he doesn’t care.

he shifts behind you to unzip the back of your dress, gently sliding the fabric off your shoulders. you start to stand up to step out of the dress completely, but he stops you.

“said i would fuck you in this dress, didn’t i?” he whispers. his breath is warm by your ear and it sends a shiver down your spine. “just wanna see a little more of you.”

you moan, letting him slip the top of the dress down to your stomach, exposing your breasts as he slowly climbs on top of you again. “god, you’re so gorgeous,” he sighs, more to himself than to you as his hands slide up your body, gently kneading and squeezing your skin.

he sits back on his knees, bunching your dress up around your waist again to give him access to your cunt, begging to be filled. he pressed two fingers into you, slowly scissoring them back and forth to work you open, but he stops when you whine again.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he asks, his fingers still inside you as he leans down to kiss your breasts.

“i want you, cheol,” you plead with him, your hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “tired of waiting, please.”

he presses one last kiss to your cheek, then pulls his fingers out of you, finally lining himself up at your entrance.

it’s the same stretch you’ve felt dozens of times, but everything is so different with him now. his arms are planted on either side of you, muscles bulging as he pushes into you slowly, gently. beads of sweat collect at his hairline and begin to roll down his temples until he’s finally sheathed all the way inside you, both of you panting for breath.

after a minute or two you squeeze seungcheol’s bicep, begging him to move. and he does, slowly rocking his hips back and forth at first, before gradually increasing his pace. you can feel every long, deep stroke of his hips as they crash into you, your breasts bouncing as he pushes you deeper into the mattress.

you grab onto his shoulders and hold on tightly, clinging to him for support. his grunts under his breath only spur you on, dragging him closer to you until he’s laying on top of you.

you spread your legs further apart, trying to wrap around his waist but the dress is in the way, and you call his name frustratedly. “seungcheol, please—”

as much as he doesn’t want to pull out, cheol doesn’t like hearing you upset, either, so with a wince he slows to a stop, moving away from between your legs so you can shove the dress away once and for all before he pushes back into you and resumes his pace.

you moan in relief, finally able to feel him like you’ve wanted to all night. cheol curses when you clench around him, and he grabs hold of your thighs and pushes them against your chest. at this angle you can feel him even deeper than before, and you whimper, eyes falling shut as you feel yourself start to come up to the edge of your orgasm.

“are you gonna cum, baby?” he groans, hips slamming against yours. “can feel you getting close, squeezing me so–ah, good. fuck, i love you so much.”

you grab onto his shoulders, your fingers scrambling over his muscles as you try to find something to ground yourself, nails digging into his skin.

his pace never falters, and without warning you let go when he says your name again, “my beautiful wife, look so fuckin’ beautiful, shit.”

you barely register when his hips begin to stutter as he chases his own orgasm, finally succumbing to it with a breathy whine as he releases inside you, spurt after spurt of his cum filling you up before he collapses on top of you.

your ears are still ringing when you finally come down, wrapped up in a blissful state of peace with seungcheol’s softening cock still inside you.

you inhale deeply, holding it in for a moment before exhaling, feeling your body start to relax and that’s when you know you have to get up now or not at all. you gently poke cheol’s side and he rolls off of you, but not before giving you another giggly kiss. he picks you up in his arms and spins you around once, then carries you off to the bathroom to clean up.

although later you find yourself pressed against the cool tile of the shower wall, caught up in another frenzy of kisses, however this time much softer and gentler. between the day’s festivities and the night’s activities, you’re both exhausted, but you couldn’t be happier being tangled in each other’s arms, not bearing to part for more than a few minutes at a time.

with room service ordered and a movie playing on the tv while you wait, you couldn’t think of a better place to be than by seungcheol’s side, not just tonight, but for every night afterwards.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it lets me know this is something people want to see more of and it helps a ton with being motivated to write. thanks for reading!!

> taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @darlingvernon @uwuheeseungie @miriamxsworld

> strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings

> if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

1K notes · View notes

justkending · 10 months

Text

It's just a hobby. (Drabble)

Summary: You took up a new hobby, and Dean likes to poke and tease you for it, but you feel the need to seek a little revenge for the constant joking.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3300+

A/N: I started this during the summer when I started five different crocheting projects (ADHD carried my summer hobbies) and decided to finish it before school started back up. I am currently still writing Found Memories, but I have to put a pause on it as the first month of school tends to take a lot of my time away from hobbies like writing… I’m moving to teach 8th-grade English this year and could use all the energy you’re all willing to send my way! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short story, and I’m happy to have the inspiration to write for Dean again :)

(Also, this is the closest to smut I think I've ever written...)

_______

“Seriously?” Dean grumbled as he looked in the rearview mirror seeing me pulling yarn to untangle a knot I had created.

Knowing where he was going with his normal banter, I just laughed and continued to focus on the craft in front of me.

“I pulled this out like 20 minutes ago. How are you just now noticing?”

“I’m watching the road,” he argued, and I rolled my eyes. As always, he had been sneaking glances to the back of the cab at me every other minute. “The hunt wasn’t even 40 minutes away from the bunker. Why did you bring that?”

“Why do you listen to the same three Led Zeppelin songs when you're upset about a hunt?” I countered, and he opened his mouth to disagree, but I answered for him to skip the sarcastic conversation brewing. “Comfort Dean. It’s all about comfort.”

“Why are you so weirded out by a normal hobby?” Sam jumped in, smirking, and sporting one of the many beanies I had made him with said hobby, which he had come to love. He looked down at a newspaper in his lap, no doubt already scoping out a new hunt.

“It’s not-” Dean stumbled on his answer. “I’m not weirded out by it. It’s just not a hobby I imagine someone like Y/N taking up.”

“You just described why you’re weirded out by it,” Sam looked at him with a blank stare.

He ignored him and rolled his eyes.

“What kind of people do you imagine the crocheting community to be full of?” I smiled, still looking down at my hands and knowing his answer already.

“Grandmas,” he replied almost immediately.

“Hmm,” I hummed as if surprised by his confession, even if it was wrong. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll stop wasting my talents on things for you.”

I could see his eyes shoot up in the mirror and a look of regret ghost over his green orbs.

Dean liked to make a big deal about this particular hobby I had started up a little over six months ago. I think a part of him just liked to tease me about it, but deep down, I knew he was proud of my growth. He was just bad at voicing it.

The first things I ever crocheted were just simple squares in different stitch work to learn a variety of them better. Those squares became washcloths and, surprisingly, were still used daily in the kitchen.

I learned to make bags, socks, hats, sweaters, stuffed animals, and even a few blankets.

“Just 30 minutes ago, you took down five security guards, wrestled three teenage vampires, and booby-trapped half of his nest. Now you’re crocheting a sweater for Charlie that says, ‘What’s up bitches?’ in the backseat. Mind you, with blood still smeared on your face,” he raised an eyebrow at me in the mirror.

I looked up and leaned toward the front to get a better look at myself.

“Oh, shit, I thought I got it all,” I groaned, seeing a smear on the side of my face I must have missed.

“It doesn’t add up,” he shook his head, but I could see a joking smile on his lips.

“Much to your surprise Dean, girls can have more than one personality trait. I know you boys are all, ‘Ugh, monsters! Kill, kill, kill! I need a scotch in my hand and The God Father playing on loop in the background to show how manly I-’

“Hey,” Sam cut me off and looked at me with his sad puppy dog eyes. “I’m on your side.”

“You’re right… You also like to read and share fun facts,” I winked, touseling his hair and getting a scoff of a laugh as he swatted my hand away. “See how hurtful it can be when you forget our brains have the capacity to do more than one thing?” I turned back to Dean with my arms crossed on the bench seat in front of me.

“I don’t think you're incapable of having more than one interest in life; I just think it’s interesting that you chose a 90-year-old women's side gig as your hobby,” Dean countered, pulling into the garage.

“Well, if you can’t appreciate it, then you can’t have the gifts my hard work creates,” I huffed, gathering my things and sliding back to the door as Dean parked the car.

Once the car was in park, I was the first out. I wasn’t actually mad at him, I was a hundred percent messing with him, but he deserved it for teasing me this long about it when I knew he loved everything I had made him this far.

He had a favorite blanket that he preferred to sleep with now. He had a nice sweater he wore around the bunker when he was cold. He had a few pairs of socks he preferred over store-bought ones. He even had a miniature plush Batman figurine that sat on his desk that I had learned to crochet just for him.

“Y/N, you don’t mean that!” he called after me, standing in the door on the driver's side of the Impala and shouting over the roof of it where I was walking inside.

“We'll find out soon,” I yelled back, never turning around.

The next three days, I teased him like he had me about this whole ordeal, but in my own way.

When we were cooking in the kitchen or doing dishes, if he grabbed one of the squares that now acted as our kitchen hand towels, I would steal it from his hands and say, “Sorry, merchandise can only be used by those who value it.”

With which he would respond, “Wait! I need that!” with his hands drenched in water after washing his hands.

Just for extra measure, I took all the towels and moved them to a new place only Sam and I knew. He was happy to join in on my little prank, and every time he had one, he made sure Dean saw him with it.

“Where did you get that?” Dean would jump up from wherever he was and march over to him to try and steal it.

“Only the VIP customers have access to these,” Sam would wave it above his head out of reach of Dean.

Another time, after a hunt, it was freezing in our motel room, where the heater barely worked, and the hotel didn't have enough blankets. Luckily I had one packed in the trunk of Baby, and I used it for extra coverage.

Even though Dean and I shared a bed, I wrapped it around me as I slept and said, “Sucks that you hate this so much, or else I’d share with you…”

He stared at me with complete annoyance when I gave him an exaggerated “Oh well” face before stealing it all for myself.

I did, however, wake up to sharing it, but only because he had stolen it, and I was too tired to fight him about it.

I think one of my favorite times I rebuked him of his privileges was when he was wearing a pair of socks I had made him for Christmas around the house. I may have gotten a little more intense than I needed to, but the look on his face made it worth it.

He had come into the movie room to binge a few episodes of a new series I got him hooked on, and after he called me in to watch with him, I noticed the specific socks he had on.

I grinned once my brain had formulated a plan to make him regret ever giving me hell for a hobby he obviously loved himself.

“Claire said there was a show called Love Island we should watch. I have no clue what it’s about, but she said it was popular and what the kids are watching now,” Dean conversed as he grabbed the remote from the table and stood with a blanket (not one of mine, as I had relocated all of them so he couldn’t find them) around his shoulders.

He was in the perfect position for my plan.

I walked over and, instead of facing the TV, stood right in front of him and looked up at him.

“You know what we could do?” I whispered in a low and sultry voice, bringing my hand up to his chest and inching my fingers up to the collar of his t-shirt before pulling at it gently. His eyes instantly darkened, and he was frozen in his place.

“Wh-What, uh, what can we do?” he stammered out. Even after three years of dating, he still got nervous. I loved it.

“I think you know what,” I said, tiptoeing upward to quietly say in his ear, bringing my hand from his chest to the back of his neck, softly pulling him closer to me.

“I think I have an idea,” he replied more confidently, immediately bringing his free hand to my waist and squeezing it.

I could have faltered there, but I held strong. I was going to make him pay for all his little ‘grandma’ jokes he had sent my way the last few months.

I pulled back, sending him a smirk that I knew revved him up. He returned it with his own and started leaning down, forgetting his grip on the blanket and remote. Now both of his hands sat on my hips with a stronghold.

Before he could lean down any further, I pushed him backward harshly on the couch, and at first, he was shocked, then he was excited.

Slouched into the cushion, looking up at me, his tongue came out to lick his lips and ended with a bite to his lower lip as he eyed me up and down as I stood over him.

“Dear God, Y/N,” he hummed under his breath.

I guess it helped that I was wearing some of my shorter PJ shorts, ones he had told me were his favorites, and a shirt that was cropped and slightly falling off my shoulder.

He had a thing for me being in a disheveled manner like this. Reminded him of how I looked after we fucked around, and he held pride knowing he played a part in the kind of glow I gave off.

I wasn’t sure how long I could do this without failing myself on the original mission. I came here to fuck with him, and now he was the fucker. Or at least he was going to be if I didn’t follow through with my plan in the next minute.

“You know, you should be happy you were by the couch,” I smiled, stepping to him and strategically bringing my legs to straddle his hips teasingly.

His breath hitched at that, and I knew I had regained the upper hand.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he hummed as he admired my hands pressing into his chest as I leaned in, bringing myself closer to him.

“I was about to take you wherever I found you,” I whispered, looking him dead in the eyes with a soft smile. I looked him up and down and bit the inside of my cheek. That seemed to trigger his hands back to my hips instantly. This time a much more possessive lock on them.

“I don’t know where this is coming from, but I can’t complain,” he said lowly, and I knew he was hooked. Now it was time for revenge.

“Can I ask you a question?” I hummed, running my finger lightly over his hair down to his jaw, using the tip of it to push his chin up so I could see his eyes better.

“Please,” he buzzed, drunk with lust.

“Hmm,” I hummed, smiling more, dropping my gaze to his lips, then back at his eyes where he was drowning in dopamine by our current position. “Those socks you have on?” He didn’t catch on immediately and just furrowed his eyes as he processed what I asked. “They look familiar.”

I leaned back from my seat, still straddling his hips, but not with nearly as much pressure as before.

“What-” Dean started, but it dawned on him mid-thought. His eyes went from ready to tear my clothes off to annoyed realization. “Seriously.”

“What?” I feigned ignorance and stood up, repositioning myself between his legs, both hands on his knees as I looked at him and leaned over.

He couldn’t tell which way this was going for him, and that was the point. I was still winning this little game.

I eased myself lower, squatting with my knees going into the couch and in between his thighs. My hands went flat on his knees and slowly started working up his thighs.

“I can’t tell what you’re doing here, Y/N,” he said in a breathy voice. I watched as he tried to control himself, looking up away from me but not being able to help react to my hands on him.

“I’m not doing anything,” I said in a voice that made him lower his nervous wandering eyes back to me. The amount of green in his eyes disappeared slowly.

“You’re teasing me,” he said shortly as if he was worried his voice would tremble if he didn’t get it out quickly.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I shrugged with a pursed lip before bringing my hands slowly back down his legs.

“You’re mad at me,” he stuttered the last word when my hands worked their way back up, but further up than before.

“Now, why would you think that?” I tutted, shaking my head with an exaggerated look of hurt.

All he could do was take a slow, deep breath in as I tilted my head and smiled devilishly at him.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t play innocent.”

I grinned.

“You and I both know I’m far from that…” My tone was darker than before but in a seductive and tempting manner.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He shot up from his slouched position and leaned forward, grabbing my forearms in his hands and pulling me up in his lap with his nose mere inches from my own.

“If your goal was to make me suffer, you won,” he whispered so quietly; if I wasn't this close, I wouldn't have heard it. He tilted his head up just enough for our noses to brush before pulling back.

“Keep it together, girl… Keep it fucking together,” I repeated in my head.

“Did I? Or am I just getting started?” I snarked, and that caused the new grip on my thigh to tighten, and I almost groaned at the pressure.

“Don’t start a war you can’t win,” he smirked, feeling as though he possessed the power.

Two can play that game.

I smiled, bringing my free hand up and tracing it behind his ear before wrapping it slowly around the back of his neck. I brought his face closer to mine but stopped right when I could feel the brush of his lips.

Our chests were pressed into each other, and I could feel his heart rate pick up. Perfect.

I nudged our noses again and smiled as his eyes closed, and he naturally and lazily chased my lips.

I rocked my hips in a measured manner, placed perfectly in the middle of his lap, and he sucked in a breath at the friction.

“Women don’t start wars. They finish them,” I whispered before promptly standing up and, in a swift motion, yanking the socks he had on off and walking to the exit.

“Y/N!” I could hear his shout from the couch from where I knew he was with a full hard-on, unable to move just yet.

“This granny is going to bed!” I shouted, speed-walking to my room in case he decided to run after me.

“You little-!” the shout still seemed far behind me, and I quickly shut my bedroom door and locked it.

Thankfully, I think I left him incapacitated for a second, and he didn’t follow me immediately.

I actually didn’t hear from him for the rest of the night. I hoped I didn’t upset him, but also, the whole reason I had done what I had was because he had become a little ass about my favorite hobby. I don’t mind the jokes, but after a while, you want a pat on the back for learning something new. Especially from someone you care about.

I went ahead and did my normal nighttime routine and got into bed before I started to read a book. I must have dozed off while reading because I woke up to the lights out, my book on the end table, and Dean crawling into the other side of the bed.

Before I could say anything, his arms came around my waist, and he pulled me to his core. He was in his boxers and one of his soft t-shirts I made him wear to bed.

For the record, I was perfectly fine with him in no shirt (or pants, for that matter), but when he did wear a shirt, I made him put on a certain kind cause his band and certain graphic tee ones were itchy on me when we cuddled.

He took a deep sigh and nuzzled his face into the crevice between my neck and shoulder, one of his favorite places.

“Why’d you lock your door?” he asked, already knowing I had woken up.

He had definitely picked the lock.

“I thought you were going to hunt me down, and I forgot to unlock it,” I replied sleepily.

There was silence for a minute, and eventually, he spoke up, whispering in my ear his apology.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” I sighed with a winning grin he couldn't see, knowing why but playing coy anyway.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you how much I appreciate your brain,” he answered.

That was not what I expected, but I was intrigued.

“Hmmm,” I smiled, moving my hands to his that were wrapped around my ribs and nuzzling my backside closer to him. “Don’t stop now; you’re on a roll.”

He laughed and invited my attempt to fit into him like a puzzle piece.

“You’re ambitious with everything you want to learn to do, and I don’t tell you enough how much of a turn-on that is,” he hummed, rubbing his head into mine and peppering a kiss on my neck here and there. “And I know you know how much I love the skills you gain, but sometimes I’m bad about just saying how impressive you are to me.”

“You like my crocheting skills, Winchester,” I chuckled, turning my body to face him now and throwing one of my legs over his hips, pulling back in some. “Just say it.”

“I love your crocheting skills,” he replied with a wide grin and brought a hand up to move the stray hairs that fell on my face. “I love your baking and cooking. I love your impressive TV show-binging skills. I love the random facts you have stored in that beautiful brain of yours. I love your surprisingly nerdy side of Marvel and superheroes. I love your attempt at being a gardener.”

“Hey, I have three plants that are thriving right now!” I argued, poking a finger in his chest, which he grabbed and kissed the tip of.

“I love everything you’re passionate about,” he finished off. “I don’t tell you enough, and sometimes I like to see that face you give me when I tease you.” I gave him a look. “Maybe more than sometimes… But! I do love all those things and more about you, Y/N.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I replied, scooting in closer. “But it is nice to hear it from those captivating lips of yours.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We started smiling at each other, and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about earlier.

“I’m sorry I teased you,” I sighed, moving to where I was embedded in his chest, and he wrapped himself back around me.

“Don’t be. I deserved it,” he replied, chin on my head before he bent down and kissed the top of it. “I will say, though, I’ve never been mad about seeing that side of you.”

“What side?” I looked up at him.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing,” he chuckled, pulling my head back to him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed after a minute. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You’re my favorite person. You know that, right?”

“Feelings are very much mutual,” he answered, caressing a hand up and down my back.

“Good. I’d have to kill you with one of my knitting needles if you said otherwise. Who said needleworking wasn’t dangerous, right?”

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @drakelover78 @caruhleener

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @hobby27 @sucker-for-dean @deans-baby-momma @squirrelgirl67 @death-unbecomes-you @snffbeebee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @spnbaby-67 @akshi8278 @musiclovinchic93 @vicmc624 @carryon-doctor-lock @perpetualabsurdity @herscrunchiehairtie @spnwoman @shamelesslydean @monkeymcpoopoo @winchestergirl82 @luciathewinchestergirl @deansyahtzee @thatgirl1456 @sucker-for-dean @atomicloverdonkeyperson @screechingartisancashbailiff @akshi8278 @supernatural3002

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader drabble #dean winchester drabble #justkending #spn fanfic #dean winchester spn #dean winchester x you #spn dean winchester #drabble #spn drabble

532 notes · View notes

purrrrplecats · 1 month

Text

oh no i found it

the in correct quote generato-

(there a lot so if you don't want to read lots don't click keep reading)(theres loads i think 50-)

Scar: Grian and I are so close we even share a toothbrush. Grian: We what?

(he appoligised abt the joke later on.)

Mumbo: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Grian: Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Scar: Yeah? Grian: Bitch.

Mumbo: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Grian: No… not really. Mumbo: Are you going to do something about it? Grian: Hm… nah.

Grian: Your future self is talking shit about you right now. Scar: Jokes on them. I'll ruin their fucking life.

Pearl: If looking good was a crime, you’d be a law abiding citizen.

Pearl: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Grian: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Pearl: gasps whErE???!!!??

Impulse: So I have made the decision to trust you. Grian: A horrible decision, really.

Grian: Gem, is that my mug you’re drinking out of? Gem: No, it’s mine. Grian: It… looks just like the one I have… Gem: You don’t have one like this anymore.

(its and mug with pink and blue snails on it.)

Gem: This should be illegal! Pearl: It is.

Pearl: Okay, let's split 'em up and make 'em sing. Impulse: Two of you take Gem, the other two take Grian. Scar: Right. Bad cop, good cop. Mumbo: You know, it's interesting that they say "bad cop, good cop," because policing in this country is so broken it's really just "bad cop, bad cop". Impulse: Scar, you're with them. Scar: Got it.

Grian: Norwegia. Is. Not. A. COUNTRY! Scar: Then where are Norwegian people from!? Impulse: NORWAY!!

Impulse: Would you slap Pearl- Grian: Yes. Impulse: I didn't even finish! Grian: Sorry, continue. Impulse: Would you slap Pearl for 10 dollars? Grian: I would do it for free. Pearl: Rude…

(you could also swap Grian and Pearl around because I mean, SKYLINGS)

Grian: If you want my advice- Pearl: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times. Grian: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me. Scar: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

Scar, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go. Impulse: But how- Scar, ignoring them: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

Gem: I am strong! I beat Grian at arm wrestling! Impulse: Anyone can beat Grian at arm wrestling! Grian: Hey-

(sure Impulse sure-)

Gem: Grian, I am nothing if not a Woman of principle. Gem: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Pearl: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Gem: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

(again you could swap them around)

Pearl: Hey, you want a tarot reading? Mumbo: Those are Pokemon cards. Pearl: You got a magikarp. Mumbo: … Pearl: It means 'fuck you'.

Grian: Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere Gem: Where did you get that? Grian: My pocket. Gem: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Grian: Skills.

Scar: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Scar: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

Impulse: COMPANY IS COMING! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE DISNEY ON ICE IN ONE MINUTE! Impulse: SCAR IF YOU HAVEN'T MADE YOUR BED THROW IT AWAY IT'S TOO LATE TO MAKE IT NOW! Impulse: GET RID OF THE COUCHES, WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE S I T !

Gem: Hey Pearl, check out this funny .GIF I found! Pearl: It’s pronounced “jif”. Gem: Huh? Pearl: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Gem: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Pearl: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Gem: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Pearl: It’s exactly the same! Gem: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Pearl: Gentrification. Gem: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Pearl: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Gem: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Gem: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Pearl: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Gem: Huh. Didn’t know that. Gem: You’re still wrong, though. Pearl: You just hate me because I’m right. Gem: I just hate you in general. Pearl: You mean in “geh-neral”? Gem: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Scar: What's worse than a heartbreak? Grian: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Mumbo: Waking up in the morning. Gem: Waking up.

Scar: I love you. Grian: Me too.

Grian: Fight me! Scar: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Scar: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

Pearl: What’s your favorite color? Gem: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature. Pearl: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP? Gem: My favorite color is pink.

Grian: Do you love me? Mumbo: We’re literally married. Grian: Yeah, but as friends or—

(logic is that Waffle duo got married as a bit like Clingy duo (Tubbo and Tommy) but G is like Tommy and doesn't want to get a divorce because he wants to commit it the bit.)

Grian: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Pearl: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Grian: They're not. Pearl: Haha, very funny. Grian: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Pearl: No… what happened? Grian: …Why would you fall for this again-

Scar: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Gem: Bees? Scar: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Gem: Wait- Impulse approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly

Scar: Mx. Grian, I accidentally dropped my seed into my mouth and then I accidentally ate it. Am I going to have a lemon tree grow inside my belly? Grian: Well, let's think about it. Did you also swallow a wet paper towel? Scar: Yes. Grian: Grian: Alright, let's go to the nurse.

Grian: Some people are like slinkies. Pearl: What? Grian: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Pearl: Pearl: Please don't push Scar down the stairs. Grian, pushing Scar down the stairs: Too late.

Pearl: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Scar: When have I been paranoid? Pearl: Um, when you first met Gem you thought they were an undercover cop…? Scar: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Pearl: And last year you were sure Impulse was a mermaid! Scar: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! Later, when Scar’s theory is proven wrong Pearl: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Scar: I still think Impulse is a mermaid.

Grian: Scar, Pearl keeps bullying me at school. Scar: Ask your teacher for help. The next day… Grian, to their teacher: Will you help me beat up Pearl?

Pearl: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

Scar: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

(same quote 2 times in a row!?!?!)

Impulse, near tears: Please, Grian, I don’t speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' is!

Gem: I need to dye my hair. Impulse: … Gem: Or get another tattoo. Impulse: … Gem: Or a new piercing. Impulse: Why? Gem: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

Grian: aggressively throws pencil at Scar Grian, deadpan: Oh no. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been impaled.

(Double Life = soulmates)

Scar : So you like cats? Grian: Yeah. Scar : tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table

Impulse: What have you done with Scar ?

Grian: Nothing. Why, do you think I should?

Pearl: Scar , let’s go! Grian : Oh, yeah, about telling Mom and Dad, I was thinking about writing maybe a letter. Pearl: Okay, you know what? That’s it, you had your chance. Grian : What-? Pearl: Mom, Dad, Scar smoked pot in college. Grian : You are such a tattletale! Grian : Mom, Dad, you remember that time you walked into my room and smelled marijuana? Well, I told you it was Jimmy who was smoking the pot but… It was me. I’m sorry. Pearl: And Dad, you know that mailman that you got fired? He didn’t steal your Playboy’s, Grian did. Grian : Yeah, well, hurricane Gloria didn’t break the porch swing Pearl did. Pearl: Grian hasn’t worked for a year! Grian : Pearl and Gem are living together! Pearl: Grian married Scar in Vegas and got divorced AGAIN! Jimmy: I love Jacques Cousteau! Etho: I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle! Doc: I wanna gooo!!

(I changed some names, aka added Doc, Etho and Jimmy, also Etho is the mum Docs the dad, and Tim is ofc the younger brother.) (the family situation is defo not from TTSBC)

Mumbo: I will send my army to attack! Mumbo: releases a dumpster of raccoons

Gem, throwing their head into Pearl's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Pearl, lovingly stroking their hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

(awwwwww)

Squad is playing Among Us Grian: I believe Pearl is innocent, I was with them the whole time. Mumbo, what were you doing? Mumbo: Oh, I was just murdering… I mean, nothing!

(I was gonna change Pearl to Scar and change Mumbo to Impulse because Impulsetor)

Pearl, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Grian: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

91 notes · View notes

sulfies · 1 month

Text

Wolves In Romé pt2

pt1 here

“I know, I know… believe me I know exactly what you are going through” Ezio could swear he heard a scoff in response

The wolf under him gave a soft whine as he fastened the last knot of the bandage onto the poor animal. He was glad all his fingers were left intact from this encounter...

”I would say you almost sat better than me on my first time” Ezio entertained himself as he talked to the wolf, fingers smoothing the bandage he wrestled onto the beast. “And I do mean the arrow, you horndog… or hornwolf”

His tone teased but Ezio was not lying with his compliments even if the animal could not understand him. The wolf had sat surprisingly still, not that he had wanted to be bit, but he was fairly certain wolves didn't just let you pet and bandage them so he had expected at least a nibble or some puncture marks to remember by.

And now that Ezio had done the basics of medicine, the fact that he was crouched next to a grown wolf that he just helped was entering into his brain fully …. he did not know where to go from there.

His fingers reached back up to the furry ears, digging them into the thick fur to scratch at the spot that got the wolf to close his eyes in a sigh.

Definitely not a normal wolf.

”You must have an owner, Cuccilio… You are trained at least to human touch aren't you?”

The amber eyes slowly opened back, focused directly to his own.

”Those freaks were chasing after you for a reason hmm? Were they your owners? Please don't tell me they were your owners”

The wolf just tilted his head and sneezed on his face. Rude.

”Yea okay, spray your nasty sylva over my face… not like I saved your hide or anything” He said as he crossed his brows in a fake anger. The reply he got was a soft huff and whack of a tail on his leg. As if the wolf was playing along with his ramblings.

Ezio’s voice was low and soft in the night “Now what to even do with you…”

———-

“No way!”

“I couldn’t leave him in the city!”

”Ezio… No way!”

”And If I leave him in the woods his wound will just get infected!”

”SO YOU BROUGHT IT HERE?”

Here, being the doorstep of Leo’s studio in the middle of the night.

”Well he did follow me all the way here… he is friendly Leonardo, I swear!”

Leonardo glanced at the monster with blood-soaked fur mouth…

“It’s a wolf Ezio! Wolves are not friendly.”

”I thought you would be excited to see one! You told me one time how you wanted to study them…” Ezio placed his hands on his hips and… pouted like the grown man he is.

Leo sighed. “Yes a DEAD one, the kind that won't maul me to death.”

”Well, good thing this one won't!”

Leo glanced at the bloody mess sitting right next to Ezio listening to their conversation calmly… weird.

”Merda…” He looked back at Ezio’s grinning face “Where did you even find him Ezio?”

The other man rocked on his feet “He was getting hunted by those crazed wolf worshippers on the street… So I-“

”You thought it was a dog at first and jumped in, didn’t you…?”

Ezio snapped his mouth shut and looked to the side down at his new friend.

”It was dark…”

A snort came from the wolf and it looked back at Ezio with what could be described as a wolf's best attempt at an eye-roll… again, weird.

Another sigh… Leonardo leaned on his doorframe and watched the two most dangerous beings in all of Italy standing at his doorstep in silence for a few seconds.

”You cannot leave me alone with it…”

”I wouldn’t dream of it!”

”not even a second!” “I won't, I promise!”

Ezios grin went bigger as he made a step to go into Leo’s workshop only to get stopped by a hand on his chest.

”I am not kidding Ezio, I do not want to be wolf food!”

This time the wolf's snort was directed at him. Did he understand them? No… animals are animals.

Ezio looked down and with his head gestured to it. “Come on Cuccilio, Leonardo decided to be kind to us… for now”

His third sigh of the night left him and he stepped back,

“If it was anyone else but you Mi Amico… but you need to clean him.”

Ezio’s shoulders dropped in relief.

“Thank you, Leonardo, I owe you one”

“You owe me so much I should just have access to your banking records.”

Ezio laughs as he walks past Leonardo, giving his shoulder a pat. “As if you already don't~”

Leo glared at his friend, almost forgetting about the giant beast till it walked past him like he already owned the place!

“Ay… it's going to be a long night”

He walked toward his wine stash.

—-----

He was finally clean, getting his face dried with a rough towel as he lay on the ground of the workshop.

Desmond was surprised Leonardo actually let them in. At this point, he was concerned both for Ezio and Leo’s rational thinking ability because he personally, under no circumstances, would allow a wolf covered in human blood into his home.

“Now, you are clean… as you can be at least, Cuccilio”

“Really? You are still going to call it a puppy?”

Ezio looked back to his friend who was sitting at his table sketching Desmond’s form on the ground. Getting used to having a wolf in his studio with the help of a glass or two.

Now that the initial shock, some-don't ask-how, was gone the artist was happy to get his observations.

“Well… he doesn't have a name-”

“And he should not, you will get attached the moment you name him Ezio.”

Ezio scoffed “No I wo-”

“Yes, you will.” Leo smiled down at his friend from where he sat, trying to get Desmond's back muscles right on his paper.

He was getting sketched by The Leonardo da Vinci, in his studio, as a wolf…

His tail thumped on the ground slowly.

“I get helping the poor thing, Ezio, but surely you aren’t planning on keeping him?”

Desmond’s ears perked up at that. Ezio put the dirty towel he used to wipe his face away. His other hand still underneath his maw, holding it lightly, while middle two fingers scratched lightly at a spot that gave Desmond’s tail a bit more speed.

Oh no… Desmond knew exactly what Ezio was thinking.

“I mean… I always wanted a dog.”

“Ezio-” Leo started but Ezio cut him off. “He is clearly not a normal one, Leo… took an arrow to the leg and didn't even try to nip when I ripped it out of him..”

His free hand joined to scratch his neck and even if baffled at his stupidity Desmond couldn't stop himself from leaning into it when it was digging into just the right spot.

“Look, he even lets me pet him. I don't think he is a wild one at all… most likely trained.” He looked back at his friend with a grin. “It's a tamed wolf, Leo! I mean-”

“Per l'amor di dio Ezio, You can barely look after yourself, do you have time for a pet? Let alone a wolf?!” His dear friend mused in a concerned tone.

Desmond looked back at Ezio who was still just petting him with a soft excited smile.

Oh no…He already made up his mind, didn’t he?

“Oh, who am I talking to…You already made up your mind the moment you brought him to my door didn't you Amico?” the only sane man in the room parroted Desmond’s thoughts.

Ezio turned to look back at his friend his smile turning to a sheepish grin. “Come on Leonardo… when will I ever come across an animal like this again?”

“And you plan on what? Making him a dog assassin? Teach him how to jump roof to roof?”

Desmond sneezed at the image that came to his mind of a wolf in an assassin getup.

“And does it even want to be kept?”

That made Ezio look back at Desmond, his face showing an expression that said he had not thought of that aspect… Desmond realized he also had not.

He did follow Ezio willingly to here almost automatically but he didn't need to stay here… he could just go, he should just go but… then what? Yes, he was a wolf now, but Desmond was human first and his mind was, surprisingly, still his.

He didn't know a thing about being a wolf! Would he survive? Did he even understand wolf talk or howl or whatever they do?

Did he want to be a wolf?

No, he thought.

He did not want to run through the woods every day hunting for a meal to not starve, sleeping in the open cold air, and waking up with no one to talk to.

No, he decided. He would not run to the woods.

“Bené… you make a good poi-” Ezio’s somber tone was cut off as Desmond slowly sat up, trying to not move his injured leg too much and plopped his head right on Ezio’s lap, nuzzling into his leg as he sighed softly. Looking up he met his eyes, rich brown ones looking back at him.

“Per carità… forget I even asked” Leonardo’s voice supplied in exhaustion.

Ezio’s grin returned full force, eyes twinkling like the first time he let him pet and Desmond found that he could get used to being a lapdog if it made Ezio this happy.

The three sat there in the night as Ezio’s hands found their way back to Desmond’s fur, Leonardo’s pencil strokes filling in the silence between them.

After a good while as Desmond’s eyelids grew heavier, he heard Ezio’s deep voice speak up again “Now can I name him?”

A well-repeated sigh came as an answer “What do you have in mind?”

“Something strong, a good Roman name for a good Roman wolf…”

Desmond’s ear twitched, half listening as the soft rumble of the assassin's voice lulled him to almost sleep.

“Aldobrandino…”

WHAT?!

#assassin's creed #ezio auditore #desmond miles #fanfic #wolves in rome #His name means little old sword and apperiently its a real roman dog name lmao #poor desmond #he went to loving new home

110 notes · View notes

llannasvsp · 5 months

Text

"Basing all of Lloyd's trauma with his dad based on the one incident of him getting thrown through a wall is weird."

I don't think this is the exact quote, but it's been on my mind a lot since someone commented it under one of my posts. I want to make a quick disclaimer: I am not intending this to be rude, to belittle anyone's opinions, or to start any fights or discourse. I just want to elaborate on why myself and so many other people use that moment as a jumping point for Lloyd's post SoG daddy issues.

The quick version of Lloyd and Garmadon's relationship timeline is as follows: destined hero of the world must fight his evil father. Neither of them want to fight, but both must because it's foretold. Garmadon is redeemed by his son, and they build a relationship, making up for lost time. Garmadon must sacrifice himself, leaving Lloyd (at Lloyd's own hands), and was thought to be gone forever. A few years later, the blackest part of Garmadon's soul was brought back from the grave with the soul purpose of making Lloyd suffer.

Okay, that wasn't quick. But the point is, Lloyd and Garmadon don't have a traditional father/son relationship.

In Legacy of the Green Ninja, Garmadon was posessed by the Overlord. Lloyd was able to purify Garmadon's heart when defeating the Overlord, giving their relationship as father and son a new beginning. Lloyd had saved his father and he had forgiven him for the things that weren't his fault.

In Sons of Garmadon, we see Lloyd wrestling with that moment the entirety of the episode "True Potential". The fact that he was able to cleanse his father's soul was eating away at him. He wanted to believe he could do it again. He so desperately wanted his father back that it caused him to act irrationally. He manipulated his friends and hurt the people he loved because they wouldn't let him bring his father back to the light.

Then the fight at Kryptarium happens. Lloyd pleads with Garmadon to change; to see who he is deep inside. Even as he is ragdolled by his father, he begs for him to stop.

"You wouldn't hurt me; your son." "I have no son." - Lloyd and Garmadon; SoG (True Potential)

Lloyd had been beaten and thrown around (and was definitely bleeding and bruised at this point) and was still unwilling to give up on the fact that his father was really gone.

Then Garmadon throws him through the walls. Lloyd couldn't move, he could barely breathe, and he would have have died had the ninja not saved him.

This moment is when Lloyd's view of his father shifted. He no longer saw a man that could be saved; he saw the man who had hurt him, who had destroyed the good person his father was.

"I'll never place my trust in that of which is only a mere twisted shadow of the good man my father once was." - Lloyd, Splinter in the Blind Man's Eye

In his own words, Lloyd describes Garmadon as a "twisted shadow". This is not the man he saved all those years ago. This is a monster. A man who had no remorse for almost taking his sons' life. A man who tried to kill him again after Harumi's death.

And while we, the audience can see the shift in Garmadon's emotions after March of the Oni, we have to realize that it would be harder for Lloyd to see that shift. Garmadon almost took his life. Of course he would be unwilling to trust him in Crystalized.

To close this out, I'll get back to the main point. It's true that not all of his daddy issues came from being thrown through the Kryptarium walls. However, this is where the definite shift in Lloyd's perception of Garmadon takes place, therefore, it is a good basis for his trauma.

#in defense of crystalized lloyd #can you tell i care a lot about lloyd??#because i sure can't #have i finally said all i need to say about lloyd and his trauma?#but this is it for a while #i think...#probably not #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #garmadon #ninjago textpost

134 notes · View notes

mushroomwoods · 8 months

Text

the prettiest?

the hero of koridai, clingy, dramatic and very much comical. still, he was the prettiest in the world for you... not that you would ever tell him, but hey, it's not like your eyes didn't already say as much.

character — koridai, romantic.

cw — none, pure fluff.

this man makes me silly and i am NOT normal about him, but it hurts me physically when i have to write golly. btw, i made this one with a hc that reader was taller than koridai, but this is never explicitly said or described, so read as you may.

Cheerful laughter resounded through the inn, a few voices tagging along with the bard who sung and played at a dimly lit stage of the bar. It was possible to see Courage dancing along with a lady near the stage as Koridai cheered him on. Legend and Time both tapped their leg in sync with the music, probably wanting to play along, but also not wanting to interrupt the performance, Warriors on the other hand seemed happy enough while talking to the both of them, possibly trying to make them go in the stage for a play too.

Unexpectedly Hyrule and Four could be spotted on a far corner, arm wrestling with a few men who seemed a little surprised when neither of them lost a single round.

The rest of the group was either outside enjoying the festival happening around the town or already sleeping in their own room, but it was enjoyable even if all you were doing was watch over them while leaning against one of the inn more secluded walls.

You absentmindedly hummed along the song, which was familiar from Wild's constant singing, eyes closing as you wondered if you should get ready to go to your room too, when suddenly someone tapped at your arm.

You opened an eye, looking at the new presence, quickly spotting Koridai usual cheeky grin.

“So, my dear... Would you allow me for a dance?” He winked, smile spreading even more as he offered you a hand, which you took with a huffed laugh.

“Why, of course, milord.” He laughed unabashedly at your answer, quickly pulling you to the place where the people made a makeshift dancing ground, hands smoothly settling onto your waist.

It was nothing planned, just twirling and moving around as you heard the hero ramble about something you could barely focus on while you watched his pretty smile. It seemed however that he noticed how your mind was elsewhere when he asked you something and you made no move to answer.

“You're really pretty, Link.” The words topppled out without as much as a second thought, and his face reddened comically.

He looked around as if searching for another one named Link, and while there were at least ten other around who shared his name, none were in the least interested in the little shenanigans the both of you were up to.

A proud grin spread over his features as soon as you nodded when he pointed at himself in question, his warm cheeks looking like it would rip at any second if it stretched any further.

“Golly! The prettiest?” He asked and you laughed, lightly tapping at his shoulder.

“Don't push it, hero.” You returned, grin as wide as his.

The rhythm of the music changed to something more cheerful and the pairs were exchanged, your body twisting until you met with the girl that was previously dancing with Courage, her hands tangling with yours as the both of you swung around the makeshift ballroom cheerfully. With a single glance you could see both of the heroes dancing with each other, face plastered with disgust while they bickered with each other, even if they didn't release the other hand.

The moment it had come for the couples to switch back, Koridai swiftly got your hands again, his face leaning closer to yours with a soft glare.

“If I'm not the prettiest, then who is it?” His voice was demanding, even with the lilt of a joke permeating it.

You hummed in thoughts, eyes flitting to the side with a devilish glint as your eyes crossed with Courage's. When Koridai noticed your line of sight he gasped dramatically, hands almost falling from yours, if you hadn't gripped it tighter the moment he pulled back.

“Don't you dare!” He hush shouted, eyes thinning, which only made you laugh more.

“Oh please, darling, I have to be honest after all.” You made a move as if you were getting farther from him, but the moment he stepped closer to you you moved right back to him, faces now only inches away. “Prettiest or not, you are the one I like the most.”

You smiled fondly, giving him a quick kiss on the cheeks, then unraveling from his touch and going out of the dance hall, watching from the corner of your eyes as the blonde stumbled over his own words, the blush creeping from his neck to his ears.

He followed you to the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet a few times and you laughed when he invited himself to your room, taking up your bed space as he opened his arms for you to cuddle with him, which you promptly took.

“So... who is the prettiest? Ain't no way it is Courage.” He pushed yet again.

“I thought we were already past it?” You rebuked.

“'Am not. Now spit it out.” He insisted yet again.

“You may not like it, but since you insist so much...” You drawled, getting closer to his ears which twitched at the contact of your hot breath. “It's Wolfie.”

An ear piercing "what" made you wince as he sat up, now looking up at you incredulously.

“I lost my place to a dog? No way, this isn't fair!” His arms encaged you in the bed, to which you only pulled him back to lay down, this time his weight flopping into you.

He continued whining for a few more minutes, but sleep naturally overtook his body as you ran your fingers through his hair, his breath coming out in short puffs, making you smile to yourself.

“Rest well, pretty boy.” You placed a soft kiss at the top of his head, watching his frown unfurl into a dumb smile.

#fungi's delicacies #linked universe x reader #lu koridai #koridai x reader

122 notes · View notes

heart4reigns · 1 year

Text

SILLY CRUSH, roman reigns.

warnings: curse words, inaccurate events

tags: company BONDING TIME!!, stupid silly crushes

summary: who would've thought this big guy had a crush on you?

YOU loved your job. the it girl–your stage name. as corny as it sounds, it describes you. it all started as a joke, this wrestling career of yours. from underground wrestling as a hobby to becoming one of the top faces in the industry, you truly loved what you were doing.

"and here is your winner for the tag team mixed division, the american nightmare and the it girl, cody rhodes and (y/n) (l/n)!" samantha announced your name as you raised your fist up, reclaiming your victory. you looked over at your tag team partner and gave him a smile. it was a tag team match, you were positive that you and cody would win–obviously. the crowd cheers faded as you went backstage to the locker room.

"you did great tonight." cody gave you a big hug and you returned the favor. "thank you, you did great as well! i guess staying up late to practice our choreography went well." the two of you laughed. "wrestlemania 39, what a blast." you huffed out the air, clearly still exhausted. "i'm tired as hell, that table stunt took a toll on my back." "well, see you at the barbecue party tomorrow." cody replied.

ah yes, the barbecue party.

the party was the big boss's idea for the talents to chill and lay back after the big event. you went back to the hotel, greeting the fans with the biggest smile plastered on your face. you reached the hotel, you were waiting for the elevator door to open. you stepped inside, hearing footsteps coming to you. "hold the door, (y/n)!" it was none other than paul heyman and roman reigns. your eyes widened in shock as they stepped inside. roman always seemed untouchable, maybe, just maybe–that was one of the reasons why you were so damn attracted to him.

you've never interacted with the chief himself, only interacting with his wiseman. "thanks!" paul pressed the level 12 button. "we watched your match earlier, you were amazing." the wiseman complimented you. "thank you paul! roman, you were amazing too, the spear to brock... top tier." he didn't respond to your words.

and you were left confused. you've never shit-talked him, never crossed his path, but the way he looked down at you– it was weird. "sorry, he's sort of out of it tonight." paul excused his chief. "oh, no worries! it's funny how we've never talked before, i'm (y/n)!" you reached your arm out, but still–he didn't respond.

"okay then." to your luck, the elevator door opened. "good night paul, good night roman. see you at the barbecue tomorrow!" you smiled at them, waving your hand. you were hella confused at roman's attitude. you never thought that his act on stage (being sort-of an asshole) was him in real life. you brushed it off, not wanting to destroy your night.

the morning after was brutal. your body was practically giving up on its own. it was 07 am in the morning, you opened cody's messages.

cody: good morning, breakfast starts at 8, i'll save you a seat if you wake up late

(y/n): i'm up, see you downstairs!

you took the time to scroll instagram and reposting some of the stories people tagged you on. what caught your attention was a certain someone's story. 'upcoming champion, what a good match.' it was roman's. that was weird, you thought once again. he didn't say anything but yet he mentioned how good you were last night. "jesus, what does this guy want from me?" you were talking to yourself.

you brushed it off and took a shower. after getting dressed, you went downstairs and saw familiar faces in the breakfast area. you spotted cody and he wasn't alone. god, now this guy keeps on crossing my path, you thought. cody was with roman. they were laughing together. "hello, good morning!" you greeted them. roman's laugh stopped and he excused himself from the table.

"what does that guy have on you, (y/n)?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "i do not know and i do not want to know. all about positivity, my man." he chuckled at your response. "saved you some pancakes, cheat day for us." cody passed you the plate of pancakes. "that was so weird, he was fawning over you before you came here." cody paused for a second to take a bite of your pancakes. "damn man, get your own pancakes! and what did he say?"

"he said that you were amazing last night and you looked good in your new gear." your cheeks flushed. "this is so weird to me." you chuckled. "you know he always asked about you every time we're in the gym. like, how to talk to you and all that stuff." this was all new to you. "and you're just telling me this now?" "you said never mention anything about guys asking about you."

so he was asking about you. the roman reigns, was asking about you. of course you were attracted to him, roman was definitely your type. "maybe he likes you that's why he's shy? that's great news, you like him too right?" "oh come on, cody. we're not 12 years old!"

you spent the rest of the day doing interviews, instagram lives, and countless other pr bullshit. with cody, of course. "you ready to go?" he asked. "yup, let's do this." the two of you were on your way to the barbecue party. the house was already crowded when you got there. "here comes the tag team champions!" sami greeted you. "you flatter me so much!" you hugged him.

wrestling was practically acting, once the camera was off, everyone was a different person. the people you fought using chairs and sledgehammers were your friends. well, everyone was a totally different person–except for the tribal chief himself.

there he was, laughing with his cousins and paul standing behind them, talking to the higher ups of the company. you made eye-contact with him, you just smiled and like usual, he didn't respond. this guy will be the death of me, you thought. "i'm grabbing a beer, you want some?" cody asked you. "nah, i'm good."

on the other side of the house, roman was still stealing glances at you. "so, when are you gonna talk to her?" jey elbowed his older cousin. "what?" roman furrowed his brows. "the it girl! you've been eyeing her since she got here. not to mention backstage yesterday, all the 'god, she's so pretty', that was all bark!" his twin joined at the bullying roman reigns conversation. "you know what, if you're not gonna talk to her, watch this."

you saw the twins coming up to you. they were extreme sweethearts. your mood lighten up. "what's up, (y/n)?" you hugged them. "it feels like a very long time since i've seen you two!" jimmy looked over at roman, who was glaring daggers. "right? we need to hang out more."

"what the fuck does your long-haired cousin have against me?" you finally asked the question. "him? he's just shy." you laughed at jey's sentence. "shy? that doesn't add up to his story." the twins smirked. "nah, he's just shy only to you." "and why is that?" you asked again. "because he has a silly stupid crus-" before jimmy could finish his sentence, roman dragged the twins out of the conversation.

that proved jimmy's point. roman did have a silly little crush on you.

"hey, i was talking to them." you complained. "sorry, they tend to embarrass me in front of people." was the first thing that came out of his mouth. "oh, so you speak now?" you teased him. "i'm a nice person." he defended himself. "no nice person gives a stranger a cold shoulder when they're talking." checkmate. "i- i'm sorry?" "apology will be accepted in a form of a conversation between us."

you saw his cheeks reddened. "i saw your story earlier, thanks for the compliment." you gave him a thumbs up. "you're welcome, i was so stunned when i saw your last move. the signature spin you did was amazing, i've never seen it as amazing as last night. your previous spins were also great but last night, it was just so different." he was running his mouth and you were flattered. "sorry, maybe that sounded creepy like i've been paying attention to you or what, i mean i am, but..." roman fucking reigns was nervous.

"you don't have to be nervous around me, i don't bite." you joked. "i'm sorry, i just... like you that much. not in a creepy way, but i admire you." he confessed. "so that's the reason why you've been avoiding me?" "i guess." roman nervously chuckled. "goddamn, me? (y/n) (l/n)? this is better than the tag team championship."

roman was definitely a fanboy of yours. he knew all of your greatest moments. "i can't believe you didn't have the courage to talk to me? i'm literally just some girl from your workplace." you teased him once again. "i think i had too much beer today." he joked. the party was still going and the two of you were kicking it off. "roman, as a matter of fact, i should be the one intimidated by you." you said. "you're a funny guy, i like that." you continued.

"i'd like to apologize for my actions yesterday, i really am intimidated by you, (y/n)." the way he said your name sent shivers down your spine. this man was very very hot and respectful. "no, no. i don't mind! we're talking now and i'm having a good time. been in this industry for a couple of years and i haven't talked to you before... that's quite funny. just because we both were intimidated by each other."

"then you won't be mad if i asked for your number?" "why would i?"

and ever since that, things were going to be great for the two of you.

a/n: I THINK THIS DESERVES A SECOND PART BC I THINK IT'S TOO LONG... also sorry if it's shitty </33

#roman reigns #wwe #the usos #cody rhodes #wwe imagines #roman reigns x reader #imagines #wwe imagine #roman reigns imagine #wrestling #paul heyman #cute and shy boy roman is my type honestly #idk whatelse to write about

391 notes · View notes

charliedawn · 1 year

Note

Hi, I really like your blog. Can you please do the slashers and the Russian nurse. She came to America to exchange experiences. She is quite strong and tall, she can effortlessly throw Jack on her shoulder and carry him to the room. As soon as y/n arrived at the hospital she acted like a stereotypical Russian, cold, stoic, not talking or smiling, with a neutral expression on her face. But after some time in the hospital, when everyone is assembled, she starts laughing and says that she likes to play pranks on foreigners that way. In fact, she turns out to be very kind, smiling, cheerful, a little cheeky and flirtatious. She's very understanding and you can share anything with her. I'm sorry if my query makes you feel cringe, прошу прощения

Freddy :

Freddy : "So...You're the new girl, huh ? Wasn't expecting Hulk in a dress."

Freddy was...Freddy. He looked at you and bam, big women jokes just kept coming out. He couldn't have stopped himself, even if he wanted to.

But, he wasn't expecting you to play dumb.

"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Krueger ? I am confused.", you replied with your best poker face and Freddy almost spit out his morning coffee.

"You gotta be kidding me...Superhero ? Tall ? Green ? Strong ?", he tried to describe the Hulk to you, but you tilted your head and frowned at him.

"...I am even more confused."

He then proceeded to go on and on about all the heroes of comic books and try to 'open your horizons'.

You never told him that you actually knew the Avengers, it was best to keep quiet and let him try to culture you on what he thought was 'true American culture.' It made him talk, and it was nice to hear him talk about anything else than dirty jokes.

It didn't mean he sometimes didn't let himself crack a dirty joke or two in your presence, or even attempted flirting from time to time.

Freddy *smirks* : "...You know...I wouldn't mind you sitting on my face sometimes. I always fantasized on how it would feel like to die by big woman suffocation ?" *cheeky wink*

You laughed and Freddy was so surprised, he almost fell off his chair.

"....WAIT. HOLD UP. YOU CAN LAUGH ?!"

Pennywise :

Pennywise : "It's going down, girlie. I can assure you that you ain't as strong as me."

He tried to assert dominance right away.

Let's get something clear.

Pennywise is one of the short ones. He's not as tall as any of the others, but he's the strongest. Hands down.

He could run a marathon with Penny on his back and not break a sweat. It's one of his strong points and he'd be caught dead before letting anyone deprive him of that title.

So, he would of course try to gain the advantage and make it a competition.

He'd ask you to compete with him by carrying heavy things around, arm wrestling and other various challenges..

Pennywise *grumbles under his breath in annoyance when you succeeded in carrying Brahms for a whole day*

At the end, he did learn to respect you, especially when you made sure to let him win sometimes—as to not lose face in front of the others.

He doesn't understand why or how you managed to become so strong, but even though Pennywise is technically a god—you managed to push him to his body's limits...And that's no easy feat.

Jason Voorhees :

You : "Jason ! Bath time !"

Oh no...

Nope.

No water.

He ran. He ran faster than he had ever ran in his life, not expecting you to course after him.

You : "Jason ! You come back here !"

He kept running...until he hit a wall and fell backwards.

He was certain you wouldn't be able to move him if he was completely still—but was surprised when you almost effortlessly lift him up and started walking to the bathroom.

He tried to get off, but had to eventually give up as you started humming to yourself and didn't seem to mind the slasher trying desperately to escape bath time...

The other slashers were stunned when they saw the both of you and Jason was red in the face under the mask.

He frantically tried to escape again, but was once again unsuccessful.

Freddy tried to open his mouth—but as if you had the same Freddy senses—you and Jason both glared at him.

You : "Don't. You're next."

Freddy's smile dropped and Pennywise guffawed beside him while you kept walking.

Jason didn't like being carried around—but he had to admit, it was nice to have someone stronger than him.

Brahms Heelshire :

Brahms was very suspicious of you at first—staying hidden and making sure not to make his existence known until he was sure you were nice.

He observed your reaction to his doll very closely and when you started singing to it in your native language and cradling it gently in your arms—he knew that you were trustworthy.

He showed himself to you and you smiled.

You : "Ah. You must be Brahms. Nice to meet you."

He nodded before suddenly pulling you into a hug.

Brahms' way of saying: you too.

He then proceeded to show you around and his favorite toys.

He was excited to have a new friend an when you started bringing him russian stories and toys—his eyes literally sparkled in pure joy.

Brahms would then ask you to read them for him and even try to learn Russian so he may talk with you in your native language.

Brahms would become curious and happy to find out new things with you and share his own personal childhood stories with you.

Michael Myers :

Michael did find it strange when you first appeared.

He doesn't normally trust strangers and tends to stay away, but he did eventually get used to you.

Problem is...Low and behold, the great Michael Myers can and did become jealous of you when you started becoming a role model for the youngest slashers.

Michael is technically their father. He is very protective of his (adopted) children and Myers eventually found you someone to undermine his authority.

Myers *glares at you from afar when you wave at him and walks away*

He was aloof at first. Didn't think he needed you.

But, that quickly changed when he tried to help Jason with his truck and it ended with him, actually trapped underneath the car.

He tried to move it, but had to eventually give up and Jason had to go find you.

You immediately ran outside and started using your strength to pull the car off Michael. He crawled from underneath and once he was out, Jason and Brahms came to pull him up.

He finally realized that having you around wasn't such a bad thing and even thanked you.

He wanted to apologize too, but didn't find the words.

When you smiled, he knew you understood and smiled back.

Jack Torrance :

"...Mr. Torrance. It is the third time I am telling you that it is time to go to sleep.", you reminded Jack who was still hunched over his writing machine, like an old grumpy leprechaun trying to protect his pot of gold.

"Oh yeah ? You're gonna do...what ? Punish me and send me to bed without cookies ?", he mocked and you replied in all seriousness.

"Carry you on my shoulder and tuck you in bed like a teeny-weenie baby."

"...You wouldn't.", he tried to call on your bluff—but was met with a raised eyebrow and a challenging smirk.

"Попробуйте. (Try me.)"

Now, Jack is the only one who knows a little Russian, since his ex-wife was from Russian descendance through her great grandmother or something...

So, he would understand most of the things you say.

And, it was funny when you would pretend to have a whole conversation in front of the others when it would simply be an exchange of random Russian words with absolutely no context..

But sometimes...You would use the language to know you were being serious and Jack knew better than to protest.

So, he sighed in defeat and stood up.

"You know I could kill you, right ?", he told you as you were about to leave and you stilled for a second or two before smiling mysteriously back at him.

"ложиться спать (go to bed), Mr. Torrance."

Truth was, there was absolutely no way he would do that—and you both knew it.

Norman Bates :

You : "Please. Let me hug you."

Call it Russian intuition—but you knew Norman needed a hug the moment you met.

There was just something that made you convinced that the man deserved one. And, it was quite strange as you hadn't even exchanged names yet.

However he didn't seem to mind as he simply tilted his head and asked.

"...On what grounds ?"

You shrugged in response.

"On the grounds that I wish to hug you."

Norman seemed a little taken aback—but not actually opposed to the idea. He stared at you for a while, trying to find out if there was anything in your eyes that could have been interpreted as bad intentions but...He found nothing.

He then crossed his arms over his chest and asked.

"Even if I decide to kill you afterwards ?"

You took two seconds to think about it before nodding.

"Never been so sure of anything in my life."

Norman seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally sighing in defeat and opening his arms.

"Fine. 5 seconds.", he indulged.

"10.", you attempted.

"4.", he said adamantly.

"Да. (Fine.)", you finally agreed and hugged him.

You stayed like this for 4 seconds exactly before Norman pulled away and you sighed. He did say 4 seconds...

"So, ready to die ?", he asked with a small playful smile and you nodded.

"It was worth it.", you replied with a small playful smile of your own and for a moment—Norman thought about actually killing you.

But, he only extended his hand forward.

"My name is Norman Bates."

You looked at the outstretched hand and smiled before shaking it.

"I'm Y/N."

And let me tell you, Norman had never felt such a powerful handshake in his life.

Penny :

"Friends."

There wasn't much to say.

Penny immediately knew that you were trustworthy and didn't waste any time befriending you.

But, what was even funnier was that he perfectly knew Russian and when you were alone—he would often start talking to you in Russian just for the fun of it.

He found the language funny and liked the way it made his tongue feel weird.

But, Penny is also a mind reader. And he would sometimes make sure to creep the others out by finishing your sentences for you.

So, you would sometimes start shouting in Russian and he would loom over you from behind and start repeating your sentences word for word for dramatic effect—or support you.

You *after seeing Jason and Freddy fight for the third time this week* : "Сколько раз у нас должен быть этот разговор, пока ты не поймешь, что нужно себя вести ?! Ты хоть представляешь, как мне грустно видеть, как вы все время ссоритесь ?! (How many times do we have to have this conversation until you figure out how to behave ?! Do you have any idea how sad it makes me to see you guys fighting all the time ?!)

Penny *behind you and giggling maniacally* : "Идиоты (Idiots...)"

Esther and Five Hargreeves :

You were about to ask Five and Esther to go to sleep when you barely managed to miss a bullet coming from their room.

You sighed.

"Children...What did I say about firearms indoors ? What is the meaning of this mutiny ?", you asked before entering their room and found them with angelic smiles on their faces.

Esther : "Well...we concerted between ourselves, and came to the conclusion that—as adults—we should no longer have a bed time."

You *sigh again and pinch the bridge of your nose tiredly* : "Bed time is for children and adults alike. I have a bed time too. And I cannot go to sleep until I know that you are in bed."

Five *chuckles* : "Too bad..We're not going to bed tonight."

"Дети", you tutted in fake disappointment—hiding your smile. "...Do we really have to do this every night ?"

Esther giggled and Five smiled darkly.

Esther *gets out knives* : "Don't tell us you don't like it."

Five *pulls out the gun he was hiding* : "Besides, you perfectly know we don't like it when people call us children. Gotta remind you somehow."

You *laugh and shake your head before shutting the door behind you with your foot* : "Fine. Let us play for a little."

Needless to say, they eventually got to bed.

#freddy krueger x reader #pennywise x reader #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #fandoms #imagine #fanfic #slashers #michael myers x reader #norman bates x reader #number five x reader #esther orphan #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #jack torrance x reader

330 notes · View notes

swollenbabyfat · 19 days

Note

How did you come to draw and paint the way you do? What inspirations do you pull from? All of your art oozes with some strange, almost ethereal emotion I've not quite seen anywhere else, something similar to what I'd like to capture with my own works.

I’ve always had a bit of a hard time answering this bc like…I honestly think aesthetic/inspirational/taste stuff is a library you build up over your whole life, or maybe a closet that you try things on to see what does and doesn’t work for you. My biggest advice to this kinda stuff is to experiment a lot and take in a lot of media in a purposeful way, and try to actively apply things you like about said medias to your work. And don’t just consume stuff within your field, I take inspiration from a ton of stuff that isn’t art. I also recommend having somewhere to keep a kind of reserve of inspo, wether it be on tumblr or Pinterest or what have you.

So with that being said I’ll try to sum up what I can about myself.

I’m a horror lover, have been since I was (too) young. I’ve consumed a ton of horror movies, read a lot of books, and certainly have digested a lot of art about it. I am a bit of a haunted person haha, and I’ve always really attached myself to horror, and with some exception to just purely cute stuff I truly am always thinking about it with my work. I am not really aiming to make people feel comfortable with my stuff, in fact often the opposite, but many feel understood anyways which feels nice. I don’t think horror for horrors sake is always as fufilling to me, it always pulls from something internal that I’ve been wrestling with or are afraid of myself.

I am classically trained in fine art due to the kind of art program my highschool had (magnet program if that means anything to anyone), it was incredibly good and I always feel so lucky I got to go there. Bc of this I learned a lot of techniques in painting as well as the fundamental of art. I don’t think my art would be the way it is without this training, but I also think with how the internet is now you can probably do the same thing at your own pace, just have to be dedicating a decent amount of time and mental energy into it.

Bc of my highschool training I also learned about art history, which had a big impact on me, particularly renaissance, baroque, and rococo. Religious imagery as well had a huge impact on me, particularly catholic (probs cause we learned about it it the most). I would say doing master studies with these would be a huge help.

I would say it’s important to me that each “full” illustration tells a story of sorts, I can’t really help it, I’m a story teller at heart. I use a lot of symbolic imagery, I pull a lot from religious imagery but also within fruit, flowers, personal objects… I think “what am I trying to say with this work” and kind of go from there with what I choose. Make your own personal symbolism language.

There’s like this certainty digital painting aesthetic I really enjoy by niche furry artist lol, many of them really nsfw so I don’t feel comfortable linking to them. It’s like…highly detailed well rendered pieces that they make with literally one brush that is often without any kind of pen pressure, just layering things with opacity. It’s crazy and yeah idk they’re definitely up there in inspo for me.

I really really care about fashion. Lolita was my first love in terms of clothing, and I pull a ton of inspiration from it, but also a lot of other street styles and runways stuff. I like drama and frills.

I play with my art and stories in a way that I don’t know how to describe other than childlike. It’s important for me to do so in my process, but basically, I let my imagination run wild, I talk to my characters, I listen to music and think about them. A lot of my bigger pieces take a lot of time of me thinking about them ahead a time, I draw in my head a lot. Sketchbooks are a huge help in this.

I thiiiiiink that’s all I have to say for now…I could probably list a million things but this feels like a good core to start with. I hope it’s not too vague, but I’m always good to keep answering stuff like this if you wanna know about one part in depth.

#ask #faq

33 notes · View notes

ticklishthoughts1 · 5 months

Text

Start to Finish (350 Followers Story Post)

Cuddles are, absolutely, the best thing in existence. That’s what I’m thinking as I glance down at them, their head nuzzled against my chest. What a cutie. I run a hand softly through their hair, and brush their ears…then grin a bit. Gently, I flutter my fingers by the tops of their ears, and mutter “Tickle monster woke up!~” While using one hand to grip their waist, keeping them cuddled to me. I giggle softly as they begin to squirm around a tiny bit as I gently caress their ears, their neck, the line of their jaw….after about 5 minutes of this relaxing, melting tickling? I flip them and me, using the knowledge i have from wrestling to seamlessly switch our positions so now I’m on top of them, straddling their waist, and relishing in that adorable blush. I wiggle my fingers at them, watching their lee panic build as they watch my hands slowly lower…..

Only to lean forward, and blow a soft raspberry into their neck. The sound of surprise mixed with laughter is simply adorable! So I blow another…just one more….okay, maybe 3 more. 5 more, tops. When done, I begin whispering teases in their ear, as my hands dart up to their ribcage. I giggle softly as their laughter takes a sharp increase-weren’t expecting that, were they? I coo at them as my hands dance around their upper body-armpits, ribs, back, tummy, bellybutton, sides, hips. I hit everywhere that makes them smile, and remind them exactly how cute they are.Of course…that’s only one half of the cute little lee’s body. Luckily I’m tall, so I only have to sit up a bit for my hands to be able to reach back to their thighs, pinching around and skittering, to the back and front of their knees, to their calves and ankles and feet. I move with them as they kick around, and giggle, before letting them catch their breath…then…”Boo!~” I Pounce again, this time targeting their favorite spot-at least, what I had observed to be their favorite from watching them squirm under me. I lock eyes with them, smirk a bit wider, and mouth “ticklish?” before targeting the area a biiiiit faster. I then let them go a bit, and mutter in a deeper voice “Run” as if I was some kind of villain. Maybe I am. Omega-Ler, or something. I let them try to run away, then chase them, silently at first, but then giggling in a teasy way that I KNOW affects them when I’m close. As we scramble around, I begin describing every way I’m going to wreck them, once I catch them. Every way I’m going to make them smile and blush and snort and squeal and squirm. Eventually, I run them into a corner, and walk a bit slower, being MORE teasy as I know I’ve essentially won. I then grab their wrists in a way that doesn’t hurt them, and wrestle them to the floor playfully, laughing a bit as we tumble around together. Of course, being a varsity wrestler, I win the little tussle, and end up straddling them again, this time gently tickling their palms while holding their wrists to the ground. I do this slow, gradually speeding up…until they crack. That, dear reader, is when I go in for the kill~ I do everything I said I would during the chase, step. By. Step. Some parts I tease, some parts I go sient. Slow, fast, pinchy and squishy and pokey and wiggly and oh so very tickly, is it all.I go for the self proclaimed tickle monster bit again, this time letting out playful fake growls, and gently nibbling at them, while making my hands pinch at them like monster claws. I do “drum solos” on their ribs and tummy. At one point, I’m just making them hysterical with ghost tickles alone. After an untold amount of time, I slow to a stop, and kiss them on the forehead, slowly getting up, and getting them some water. After making sure they’re okay, I silently begin, IMO, the best part: aftercare. So I help them up, maybe PICK them up if they’re okay with that. I then, go with them over to where we began, and hug them tight, muttering how cute they are, how special and wonderful. I mean every word, and I am very glad I know them. Finally, we end as we began. Embracing, with their head on my chest. Cuddles are the best thing in existence.

#sfw tickle community #tickle thoughts #ler mood #350 followers?!#hivemind you're mad

91 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 14 days

Note

Re: villain stans, I really do think you're conflating two groups of people and I feel the need to point it out because the art of haterism deserves pinpoint precision. The thing is that I would consider myself, broadly speaking, a villain stan and I also can't stand the people you're complaining about in that post because I think they've missed the point entirely. They've ruined the entire villain-loving ecosystem. I can't even facetiously say "they've never done anything wrong, ever, in their entire life" about characters that may as well be called Murders McWarCrimes, and whose death or comeuppance I am eagerly awaiting alongside everyone else in the fandom, because some of these idiots actually mean it when they say things like that -- and usually about some of the blandest, most disappointing villains I've seen in a long time. It's like passionately defending the storytelling equivalent of a slightly offensive shade of beige.

Look, some of us see the "time to boo and hiss" signs the narrative is putting up, but I'm not looking to experience every story like it's a children's pantomime. Maybe sometimes I want a wrestling match instead. I know the heel is going to lose. That's their job. It's what they're for. But if imagining that they might win is outside the realm of possibility... well, it's probably not a very good story. The stakes are not compelling. There's a reason that I would describe, say, c1 Briarwoods as delicious and c3 Delilah as overstaying her welcome. A good antagonist is a vital part of the story ecosystem and I enjoy seeing that role played well.

But I don't get to relish in characters being terrible people who do terrible things anymore, because now villain fandom is always overrun by people who read one Wikipedia article on moral relativism and want to have debates about what if Murder McWarCrimes is good actually? No! No, they are not! And if they were, that would be stupid and boring!

And so I reach across the metaphorical aisle to you that we may share in one of the hater's greatest delights: the knowledge that no one likes those idiots, and everyone wishes they would just shut up, even the people they think are on their side.

Hey anon,

I will admit usually when I get a long ask telling me I am conflating things I roll my eyes and wait for someone to say "i am feeling uncomfortable when we are not about me" but, the truth is, I very much was, and you are correct to the point that I think we are fully in agreement.

To be clear: I am pro people enjoying themselves in, as you say, the wrestling fan enjoying the heel way! I agree - a good story needs a villain who feels like a genuine threat. I can appreciate a villain for what they are and enjoy them very much as a character! I am personally unlikely in most cases to root for them but people who look at the story, analyze it, and say "this will be a fun guy to care about, even though I know the victory's probably going to the heroes, and I will be normal and not terribly resentful" are entirely valid and my post is not about them (except to say carry on as you were). It sounds like you're in this latter category and so: carry on as you were, you guys are great.

But I am definitely conflating two flavors of annoying villain stan:

the first is, as you very eloquently put it, the Person Who Read One Wikipedia Article About Moral Relativism and ooooooh what if Mr. Murder McWarcrimes was sufficiently sad about bad things in his life such that the murder and war crimes are correct actually.

The second is the person who does understand that they are looking at a villain who is a bad person but seems actively confused that like, a largely hopeful or heroic narrative will probably not end with Mr. Murder McWarcrimes stabbing everyone to death and then evil laughing against a red lightning-filled sky and seems mad that people are like "actually I like Kit the Heroic Hero". Actual Play D&D is not a place where you'll find these people because a TPK is technically possible regardless of the existing themes! But like...for example, I have to imagine theatergoers in 1983 who weren't idiots did not walk into Return of the Jedi like "oh man I think Darth Vader's gonna win the whole thing and he'll blow up everyone and institute more Space Fascism over the nuked out husk of Endor." Like, as you say, the villain needs to have some bite to be worth my time, but deep in my heart, there are stories where I know that victory is assured by the nature of the plot and it's much more about how it will be assured and what sacrifices will be made, and so it's weird when someone seems to be existing in a denial that that's the story and is like NO Mr. Murder McWarCrimes is NOT going to get a comeuppance and everyone is going to DIE at his hand.

#answered #Anonymous #anyway ty anon #i did have to kill one of my darlings (dunking again on otohan's lack of personality) in my response here but. needs must

36 notes · View notes