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moonlit-jeno · 3 years

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friends (m.)

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

genre: explicit sexual content | omegaverse | heat sex | unprotected sex | some name calling

words: 3.6k

don’t like don’t read :)

“Your heat’s coming up.” Jeno says, point blank in between bites of his apple. You just nod, taking a break from your notes to side eye him. It’s not odd for him to know intimate details of your life- you do make sure to keep him updated on your cycle just so that he can send you the notes for the days you miss - but it’s not exactly a common subject for the two of you. “Who are you spending it with?”

There are still 13 powerpoint slides for you to grind through, but you figure a small break won’t hurt. Might as well use the conversation topic for something good, aka a reason to slam your laptop shut. You turn to Jeno, giving your best friend your full attention, and take the iced coffee right out of his hand. He doesn’t protest. “No idea. Would call Jaemin but he’s ‘found the one’ or something, so I’ll probably just spend it by myself.”

“By yourself?” Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as if you’ve just admitted to committing a sin. It’s not like the concept isn’t unheard of, there’s a market full of toys to help you through it. “Isn’t that dangerous?” You shrug and take a sip of the coffee, offering him your smoothie in exchange. He takes a sip and then bites down on your straw. His entire face scrunches and he yanks his face away from the beverage. He pulls the straw up, inspecting the now soggy and dented object with disgust. “Fuck, what is this made out of?”

“Paper.” You huff a laugh out through your nose, taking your smoothie back. “And I mean, it’s not any more dangerous than spending your heat with the wrong person. Plus, my heats get kind of… intense.” If Jaemin sleeping for three days straight and limping after is anything to go by, both parties take the short end of the stick. You’d felt so bad after and apologized to him profusely, but he had just thrown you his signature dazzling grin and told you that drowning in pussy was exactly the way he envisioned himself dying. He definitely didn’t complain about the brownies you’d baked him as a ‘thank you’, though.

“Spend your heat with me.” The bold request has your brain malfunctioning, at a loss for where to even start reacting to his statement. You just stare at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while he returns the gaze earnestly. “Look, it makes sense, right? I know you better than anyone, and you already trust me. Plus if they’re as intense as I’ve heard they are, you need someone there.”

You frown, opening your laptop up and staring blankly at the screen just to avoid having to look at Jeno. It does make sense to have him there with you, and it’s not like he’s the worst person to have sex with. Plenty of people around campus have delighted in talking about their nights with Jeno, dreamily telling you how lucky you are to have him and falling deaf to your insistence that the two of you aren’t like that. Plus, you’re not blind and even if you’re not the cute couple everyone thinks you are, you can admit that he’s hot.

“Wait, hang on. What do you mean ‘heard’ about? What shit is Na Jaemin saying?” Jeno’s shoulders shake with his laughter at your sudden concern. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t show up to practice for like a week and when he finally did, he looked like he’d been mauled. Coach had to bench him.”

Your heart drops slightly at hearing that Jaemin’s soccer had been affected. He hadn’t told you that. “Oh.” The guilt must show on your face because Jeno is quickly soothing you, making sure to tell you that they all found Jaemin’s state funny. “Okay, wait. Wouldn’t you have the same problem if you help me?”

“It’s off-season. So, what do you say?” Jeno waits for your response expectantly, eyes soft, curious. “You can say no, y/n. I don’t want to pressure you at all, I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.” “I’ll think about it.” And you do. A concerning amount.

You spend that night tossing and turning, trying and failing to shut your brain off. Worries about ruining your friendship and about hurting Jeno bounce around your brain no matter how much you try to stop thinking about it. What if something bad happens during it? What if you never talk again? And worst of all is your brain telling you that he doesn’t actually want you specifically, he just wants to be with an omega in heat. You’re just convenient.

That thought actually makes you cry and you wrap your blankets even tighter around yourself, sobbing weakly into your pillows. In an effort to distract your wandering mind you grab for your phone, opening instagram to find an influx of dm’s from Jeno. It calms you a bit, the messages ranging from cute dogs to absolutely cursed memes, and you smile softly at the reminder that he’s your best friend, and that he definitely cares about you. Biting your lip, you hesitate for only a few moments before typing out a “you can help”, hitting send before you can second guess it. You lock your phone and set it face down on the dresser, thankfully finding sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It’s hot when you wake up, clothes clinging to your skin uncomfortably. Peeling your shirt off only gives you relief for a moment but then the sticky heat is back full force. You whimper in misery, trying to snuggle back into your bed for at least some comfort, but you find that the corner of your fitted sheet has come up, the rest of your blankets on the floor. There’s only one pillow near you and it’s soaked in sweat. You panic slightly, frantically yanking your sheets back onto the bed and trying to fluff them up as much as possible, only calming down once the bedding has been fixed to your liking. Only once you’ve settled down in the plushness of your blankets do you have a moment of clarity.

“Oh shit.” You shoot up and search for your phone, dropping it once before finally managing to open the correct app. There’s a few messages from Jeno that you don’t bother looking at, going straight for the ‘call’ button. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy, like he’s just woken up, and a flash of heat runs through you at the low tone. “Why are you calling me at 5 a.m?”

You manage to stop fantasizing about your best friend long enough to choke out the word “Heat.” It comes out pathetic and whiny and you pause to clear your throat, trying to keep a clear head as well. “I’m sorry, my heat came early and I wanted to call you but you can go back to bed, I didn’t realize-”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll be over in 10.” Jeno cuts off your rambling with a swear, some rustling in the background accompanying his words.

“Thank you.” You whisper, setting the phone down and curling up in bed, trying not to focus on how agonizingly slow the time is passing.

Jeno’s looking down at his shoes when you open the door, kicking idly at the door mat and fidgeting with the bag in his hands, though his head snaps up when he notices you. The smile on his face falters when he inhales, turns a little strained as he gets a taste of your heat, and you honestly give him props for the amount of restraint he has. It’s definitely more than you have, at least, because you’re on him the second he’s inside. He ends up sandwiched between you and the door, bag dangling precariously in one hand while he envelopes you in his strong arms. You don’t (can’t) do anything besides bury your face in his chest and whimper, knowing exactly what you want but being too needy and fuzzy to remedy it.

“Jeno, it hurts.” You whimper and lift your face to nose along the skin just above the collar of his shirt, finding that while the skin to skin contact helps, it doesn’t fully relieve the heat scorching through you, the dull ache screaming for Jeno to take you already. “Please…” He holds you closer to his chest, encasing you fully in his scent, and picks you up bridal style. “I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

Being around Jeno does help to ease your stress, but it also serves to make you needier. The warm scent that you’ve grown to associate with the man is stronger than you’ve ever smelled it and it’s making you lose your mind more and more by the second. You’re worried that you’re drooling by the time he sets you down on your bed. He pauses to drop the bag he’s holding on the floor, and then he’s on top of you, strong arms caging you in.

The first kiss is soft, chaste. It would be cute if you weren’t so fucking needy, but you are and it’s just not enough. Unsatisfied, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, nipping at his bottom lip and tilting your head to the side to get a deeper angle. A groan rumbles in his chest and he returns the kiss with more intensity, trying to take control again. You don’t let him, even if every instinct in your body is screaming at you to just submit.

Jeno shifts on top of you, scooting so that he can fully lay down between your legs. You wrap your limbs around him on instinct, pulling him as close as you possibly can and- oh. The close proximity means that you feel everything when he grinds down, and the feeling of having him so close to where you need him has any semblance of control that you had draining out of your body. You gasp pitifully, annoyance clawing at you from the amount of fabric blocking you from what you want.

“Please,” You almost sob, tugging at his shirt while trying to grind your lower half against his, the pressure of his cock against your center making your eyes roll. Jeno pulls back to yank his shirt off and then he’s back, hands sliding down your body to your panties, tugging the fabric down as far as he can before he growls in frustration and just rips the fabric in half.

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Jeno moans in awe, breaking the kiss yet again to marvel at your pussy. “Bet I could just slip right in.” He drags his fingers through the slick on your upper thighs, eyes glued between your legs. You’re just about to complain when he finally presses his fingers into you. The initial relief has you moaning sweetly, though it quickly turns to impatient pleas for his cock. You clench around his fingers, reaching a hand down to palm over where he strains against his sweats.

“I need you to fuck me.” You beg, looking at him with what you hope is a convincing expression. “Please Jen, I need you.” “You have me.” He promises you, flicking his wrist faster, curling his fingers just right. “I’m right here baby.” It’s sweet, and under normal circumstances it would be enough, but right now it’s not what you need and the frustration has you on the brink of tears.

You buck your hips and try to arch up as if it’ll magically make him slip in, but Jeno remains as patient and controlled as ever. It’s too hot and every part of your body is screaming for him to fuck you, for him to claim you, and his refusal is killing you. “Alpha please, I need you.”

He absolutely snarls, pinning down your wriggling body with one hand around your throat. The other hand stays between your legs where it continues to strike pleasure into every single nerve ending you have, adding to the fire already coursing through your veins. “What you need is to take what your Alpha’s giving you. You’re not in charge here, okay?” With his face pressed so close to yours you have no choice but to make direct eye contact, staring straight into the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen. His pupils are blown out so wide that his eyes are almost black. Unable to tear your eyes away and as if in a trance, you find yourself nodding. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. Now listen to your Alpha and cum.”

It happens almost instantaneously, as if his words were directly connected to a trigger, your body exploding just as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your entire body locks up, mind going blank as the immense pleasure takes hold of you, leaving you clawing at his back and screaming silently into the air.

The orgasm only serves to thicken the haze in your mind, clouding any thoughts that aren’t related to the Alpha above you and his cock. It takes a moment for your eyes to finally come back into focus enough to make out your surroundings, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jeno with his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence off of his digits. You’re burning so hot, so much hotter than you think you’ve been before, and it’s hard for you to function. All you can think about is his cock.

“Please,” You beg, swatting at him weakly. “Alpha please, I need you so bad.”

There’s no way that Jeno isn’t being affected by the pheromones clouding the air, but he manages to appear unbothered, his actions rough but nowhere near as desperate as yours. He just laughs lightly at your begging. “Aww, baby needs me?” The rhetorical question is punctuated by a slap, his hand coming down on your pussy hard enough to draw a yelp from you, thighs closing on his hand in a conflicting attempt to relieve the pressure from the hit and keep his hand on your cunt. He laughs meanly and pulls his hand away, drawing back slightly to spit onto your already soaking pussy, rubbing the spit into your skin while he talks. “This pussy belongs to me, yeah? You’re mine now.” Jeno leans down, mouth at your neck so that he can bite at the skin. “That means that I can do whatever I want with you.” You can’t speak, can’t even begin to think about what you should say in this situation. He presses a kiss to your jaw before pulling back and uses his free hand to turn your head so that you make eye contact with him. “Tell Alpha what you need.” “Need Alpha in me.” You beg, plead, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees and arching your back, presenting yourself to him. “Need your knot, need you to fill me up, breed me, Alpha please-” Your sentence is cut off by his cock slamming into you, the filthy sound being drowned out by his groan. You gasp in relief, breathy thank you’s leaving you with each powerful thrust he delivers. His cock stretches you out so well, makes you go dizzy with the relief of finally having him in you. Your elbows give out nearly instantly, your chest hitting the mattress, and Jeno takes instant advantage of the new position to pull your hips even higher into the air.

It’s so good- almost too good- and it leaves you drooling and clawing at the sheets. All you can focus on is how well he’s fucking you, how he’s going to fill you up so well, breed you like he was meant to.

You scream when he pulls out, alarm bells going off as your body instantly protests. It only lasts a second though, Jeno’s hands never leaving your body as he flips you onto your back.

“Couldn’t see you,” Jeno pants out, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pushing back in, returning back to the brutal rhythm he had before. It has your eyes rolling in your head at how fucking good he feels. “My pretty baby, taking everything I give her.”

He’s got you so fucked out that you don’t even realize your tongue is hanging out of your mouth until he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out even more. “You love my cock, hmm? You love everything I give you.” The pad of his thumb rubs over your tongue, the sensation making your toes curl and tears slide down your cheeks. “Such a fucking needy omega, isn’t that right?” He tugs on your tongue, your head following his actions as he leads you into nodding.

Jeno laughs and lets go of your tongue, dropping his face down to kiss at your neck. He sucks mark after mark into your skin, licking over each one to soothe it after, until he finally gets to your most sensitive, vulnerable spot. Even just the feeling of him close to your mating mark has your entire body aching for it, your neck craning to the side and pushing into his touch. The leverage you get from your legs wrapped around his waist has him pushing even deeper into you and you can feel his knot at your entrance, not quite fully swollen but definitely getting there. It has you absolutely keening, the thought of being so totally owned making you desperate.The sweet drag of his cock along your walls paired with the absolute filth he’s spewing has your body locking up with no warning, your orgasm ripping through you. You arch off the bed, the action only pushing you further onto his cock.

“God y/n, fuck!” Jeno curses, slamming his hips into you with even more force, his knot popping into your entrance and forcing the neediest sound you’ve ever made to leave your lips. You desperately wrap your limbs around him, trying to get him even closer, digging your heels into his ass to push him further inside. He grinds his hips against you one, two, three more times before he shudders, teeth clamping down right on your sweet spot as he comes. Jeno seems to come forever, filling you up with delicious warmth, making your body purr in satisfaction. He finally comes down, having the clarity of mind to tip the two of you onto your sides so that he doesn’t crush you when he collapses. He still tugs you close, arm thrown around your body possessively, his chin resting atop of your head.

“Told you it was intense.” You laugh out, trying to break the silence in the room. The heat’s subsided for now, but you’re still barely in your mind, and you have no idea how long the break will last.

He huffs out a laugh, chest shaking against you. “I understand Jaemin now.” His hand pets over your back, sliding up to the back of your neck and scratching lightly at the skin there. “You alright?” “Mhmm, yeah. Perfect.” His fingertips press lightly against the mating mark, sending sparks shooting down your spine, and it has your head spinning. You try to adjust yourself against him in an effort to keep your cool, but moving has his cock shifting inside of you and you sleepily grind against him, not thinking. Jeno hisses and tightens his grip on you to keep you still, but the way he grabs your leg has him shifting inside of you and pressing against all the right places. Heat floods through you and your grinding turns more urgent.

“Ohgod,” You moan, finding enough strength to push Jeno flat on his back. Your body has a mind of its own and you find yourself bouncing desperately on his cock. His knot has you locked into place and you’re barely able to move, but you can still swirl and grind your hips against him, feel the delicious friction of his knot against your entrance. “Alpha, it feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking knotdrunk, hmm? Can’t get enough.” Jeno shakes his head, laughs in a way that’s meant to mock you but it comes out strained. His hands are heavy on your ass, squeezing and slapping to feel the way it jiggles, to feel the way you clench around him with every hit. You throw your head back and let him do as he pleases, losing yourself entirely in how full you feel, in how good his knot feels in you. He buries his face into your chest, moving one hand from your ass to play with your tits, his mouth wasting no time in marking the delicate skin up.

“Shit baby, gonna make me cum again.” His lips seal over your mating mark again in a sloppy kiss and that’s exactly the final push that you need, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out as your cunt spasms around him, orgasm ripping through you almost painfully. Jeno groans as well, hand flying to your back to pull you as close as possible, and his knot pulses inside of you as you swear you feel more cum shoot out.

He shudders against you, tight grip finally relaxing, though he still keeps you anchored to his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against him. A tired moan leaves you and you let yourself relax, lips absentmindedly mouthing at his skin. His hand pets your back soothingly, touch heavy and sluggish, and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his lips on your forehead.

#jeno smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #00 line smut #kpop smut #lee jeno smut

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art-blogge · 2 years

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Bonus Tracks- Cain and Cain

This was completely incomprehensible to Ingo. He'd just wanted to see how the Gear Station blog was doing on his own time. Emmet had left his own computer unattended, so Ingo plopped into his seat and opened the site. He wasn't even remotely surprised that Emmet had been meming again. That wasn't new. What the heck was a Live Sliggoo Reaction? Plinko? Blorbo? Scrunkly? Wait, no, he knew that last one. Emmet kept calling him that one. Oh well. He'd catch up eventually.

He then remembered he'd started planning an actual personal blog for Emmet to use instead. To Ingo's surprise, it'd been fleshed out and cross-posted. Emmet had gone through and manually dated every imageset- That had either taken one highly motivated hour or three unmotivated days. Off-track. The blog hadn't even been made public yet. Why?

As he was skimming over the blog code (like he had any idea what he was doing), a white spot appeared to the right. A reflection of the silent brother that was attempting to sneak up on him.

"I can see you, Emmet," Ingo stated, and Emmet stopped in place. And he just stood there. Menacingly. Ingo opted to ignore him, until Emmet moved closer and just kept standing there.

"What do you want?" Ingo asked, finally turning to look at him. Emmet's response was to T-pose for a solid ten seconds before leaving without a word. What? What?? Then he spotted Banette holding Emmet's phone in the doorway. She was on Durant's back, looking equally as confused as her trainer. Ah. So that's how it was going to be today. He already had a retaliation in mind.

---- Emmet posted the video without much thought. He loved teasing Ingo with utter nonsense. It drove Ingo wild trying to figure out what Emmet was trying to communicate. And the numbers were already coming in! A reblog and a reply! He nearly scrolled away when he very suddenly realized that was HIS personal blog responding!

"Ingo...." he muttered, then checked the reply. Ingo's response was holding Baby Worthy like a shotgun, captioned "Emmet, I am going to kill you with the power of friendship and this gun I found."

Then another post popped up from the personal. Ingo, still holding Baby Worthy, using her to hide his face. Caption, "When you get eeby deeby'd & all you remember is the wikipedia article on trains. Check out this funny looking thing, I'm abandoning my brother for Baby Worthy. She's here for me. [Joking]"

"What the fuck, you egg?!" Emmet yelled across the house, and was met with his brother's loud laughter. So that's how it was? Huh? That's how it was today?? Oh, he'd show Ingo. ---- Ingo eventually went back to his own room, watching all the new memes pour in. That picture of him with Baby Worthy had certainly been worth-y it. Lord Arceus. That pun was awful. That pun was something Elesa would say. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't hear Emmet approaching, only realizing he was being stared at... At the last second.

BONK!

He'd been hit with an old wrapping paper tube. Old, because it was already dented in some places. It'd been around longer than Banette had. Off-track.

Ingo did the only thing he could think of- He fell off his chair and faceplanted onto the floor. Ouch. He regretted that decision immediately, but it made Emmet laugh. Patience, patience...

"You can get up, Ingo! It was a good clip!"

No response. Oh. Oh no. Had he hit too hard? Emmet bent down to inspect. He didn't think Ingo would fake that.

He was wrong.

Ingo lunged, wrapping his arms around Emmet and dragging him down to the floor. He'd gotten stronger in Hisui, and he was about to prove his dominance. Emmet squirmed helplessly, realizing he really was outmatched. As a final show of dominance...

"Say mercy, Emmet. I'm not letting go."

No! No!! Emmet would never! ---- Emmet called mercy a minute later. He'd started to cramp, and Ingo was feeling merciful at the moment. Emmet bonked him with a tissue box. Emmet proceeded to be chased outside by his brother, laughing the entire way out. Once outside, Emmet nursed his cramped arm. Ouch, ouch. Ingo considered taking a potshot at Emmet from a window, but decided against it when he realized Emmet was hurting.

"Truce?" Ingo called down, and Emmet nodded. "Truce!"

Emmet spent a few more minutes outside enjoying the breeze before heading back in. Ingo had picked up his controller and died to a boss as Emmet plopped down next to him.

"Darn," was all Ingo said regarding this. Chandelure settled down next to Emmet- He's here to help.

Emmet's phone beeped and both of them jumped. Ingo's character died again. Elesa had been complaining about Emmet not using it, so she stuck to only sending messages it to it and not his Xtrans. He opened it while Ingo peered over his shoulder.

Elesa was presumably standing on something, because otherwise she'd have no way to dwarf Skyla. She was holding Skyla under the armpits like a long Meowth. Written on it in Impact font was "I'll kill you with my heels and this gun I found."

Emmet burst out laughing so hard he fell off the sofa. Ingo just shook his head and went back to his game. Chandelure found under Emmet, dead and killed. Help him.

#subway bosses #track system #writing tag #submas #emmet #ingo #cain instinct

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faunusrights · 3 years

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Citrus Summers (GWS AU)

just had this idea nip into my head... i really wanna do more with menagerie and the scarlatina fam but for now have this lil snapshot of velvet growing up :)

great weiss shark au, weiss's pronouns are she/her, velvet's pronouns are she/they

###

"So, what was your hometown like?"

Velvet's used to Weiss's interest in her life; they come from two radically different ends of some bonkers spectrum of lifestyles, where one end (Velvet's) is radical self-acceptance, anti-cop sentiment, and a Scroll full to bursting with communist memes, whilst the other end (Weiss's) is... well, to be honest, Velvet doesn't like to think about what that end entails, exactly. All she knows is that it was exactly what a young shark Faunus without any clue as to her heritage didn't need. So, Velvet entertains her with stories of growing up in the deserts of Menagerie, of her time running along the trash-strewn beaches of Kuo Kuana, of her years shooting up like a weed under the relentless freckling kisses of the bright and vibrant sun.

Sometimes Velvet can tell she can't quite wrap her head around how different their lives are, yet have somehow ended up on such an intersection as to be able to call each other friends. Velvet just goes with the flow about it all.

"Well, we didn't have a hometown, really," Velvet starts, attention half-drawn to sets of plans scattered about her desk in her dorm. She's got big plans to improve Anesidora's projector and fix the information compression problems; drawing a flat 2D image into a 3D projection has always been a sticking point, but she's nearly got it down to the extent that her wireframe tests very nearly reveal the dents and dings and imperfections that it'd previously ironed out by mistake. Accuracy is key, and she crawls ever closer to a perfect 1-to-1 copy each and every day. It's just really boring work, is all. "We lived outside of the nearest town by a couple of miles, but we went there pretty regularly, so I guess you could call it that."

Weiss hums, letting herself fall back onto Velvet's unmade bed, the handwoven blankets of orange and black brought straight over from the homeland and still gritty with red dirt to prove it. "What's it called?"

"Desert Sands. Very original, I know."

"You know a lot of the people there?"

"Shit, they trade us meat and gas for potatoes and carrots and tomatoes, not to mention almost everyone there immigrated in a group with my grandparents. I know that town like my own family."

"What's your favourite thing there?"

That pulls Velvet up short, and she worries at her bottom lip as she stares as a variety of absolutely godawful equations. Thank the maidens Weiss has given her something meaty to say, because she can't bear the idea of redoing all this horrible maths. "Uh, probably the inn, as everyone else who lives there would say. Can't go wrong with a good old fashioned pint and a few rounds of pool."

"Even as a kid?" Weiss says, and Velvet can hear the raised brow even though she can't quite see it.

"Even as a kid," Velvet agrees. "My mam had a couple of pints and my da flirted with the guys and I'd go out with my siblings to meet our friends and raise a little hell. Not very often, but often enough."

Weiss goes sort of quiet, in a way that Velvet recognises as an intensive processing of what she's just heard. She wonders, briefly, if Weiss can even imagine that sort of freedom after a childhood spent locked in the same old rooms of the same old house--even when it's as big as the Schnee manor--and then pushes that thought away. If Weiss wants to ever get into all that, it'll be in her own time.

"Describe it to me?" Weiss asks in a very little voice after a few seconds, and Velvet nods. She can do that. She remembers those halcyon days like they were yesterday.

###

"Trench, I swear, if you don't repaint those window sills I'm gonna sneak down here and do it myself, asshole."

This was about as typical an entry as Taffeta Scarlatina could ever make, shouldering open the dark wood door into the Desert Sands Inn with a grin on her face and children in tow, Ash bringing up the rear and trying to pretend he couldn't see everyone turn in their seats to look to the new arrivals. It was one of those establishments with a big boxy interior and just a handful of rooms to the side, where the only three doors led into the toilets and the kitchens and the stairwell to the rooms above, and much like everything else on Menagerie, nothing ever matched; the doors had been collected from a variety of sources, the floorboards uneven and scratched and recut, the paint on the walls patchy with mismatched shades and covered with picture frames in some last-ditch attempt to hide it. No two stools matched, no three tables carved by the same hand, but that was the price of the community effort--everything you ever needed, maybe just not in the way you always expected.

"Taffeta," Trench greeted from behind the bar, turning to fetch a pair of glasses without prompting whilst making sure not to jostle the hanging bottles overhead with his great buffalo horns, split like a strange middle parting on the top of his head. "You're welcome to it, to be frank; Cinna doesn't have a clue where she's put the paint, last we saw it."

Taffeta rolled her eyes, letting go of Velvet's hand to pat her between her ears instead, the ten year old quick to laugh and duck away. "I'm sure. Not at all like I said I have some lying around the last three times I was here. You really that scared of scraping all that flaking paint off?"

"Well," Trench said after a moment, leaning under the bar for a second. "I did get some in my eyes last time, and boy, that hurted. You want your usual?"

"Pint of porter for me, and something weak for my pretty boy, lest he forget which way is up," Taffeta agreed, shooting a wink Ash's way and cackling when he blushed. "And some juice boxes for the kids?"

Trench didn't even pause, turning about to fish out a variety of colourful cartons adorned with a collection of cartoon characters, and Taffeta lifted Velvet up to plop her onto one of the few cushioned stools, Chiffon quick to use her older, longer limbs to scramble her own way up. Trench offered the drinks out freely, letting them decide between orange and passionfruit flavours, before noticing the new addition on Ash's hip. "Oh? This the newest Scarlatina?"

Satin--hardly a year old--was clinging to her da's loose shirt, dark eyes looking about in wonder, and Taffeta smiled before reaching over to brush her loose, light hair out of her eyeline. "Sure is. Gettin' real big already, so we thought it was high time to meet the folks around here. She won't be the last, though." At that, Taffeta leant across the bar, dropping her voice low. "Would you believe me if I said Ash is already askin' for the next one?"

"Slander," Ash shot back, face still pink. "I just said four is a rounder number than three."

Trench made a face, glancing pointedly away. "My girl woulda mounted my horns on the wall for that one. We had just the one and she swore off the rest before I could even consider it. Count yourself lucky."

"Cinnamon's a good kid," Ash offered, rearranging Satin to sit a little nicer in his lap. "I think that all worked out in the end."

Taffeta rolled her eyes, watching as Velvet picked the orange juice for herself, leaving the eldest to the passionfruit. "Doesn't that imply we have so many 'cause you don't think just one was good enough? Chiff's a darling, if a bit of a pain in my ass, huh, baby?"

Chiffon ignored them both to instead help Velvet punch the straw into the carton, and Ash grinned. "Just one was perfect, but you told me yourself that you don't think I know when to fold."

"You don't," Trench interjected, pouring out a pint of something dark and bitter enough to linger on the tongue. "When we played poker last year... phew. Thank the maidens it was a couple's night, else you woulda been walking home absolutely stark--"

"--drunk," Taffeta quickly interrupted, glancing towards the kids who stared back with wide eyes. "Been walking home absolutely stark... trashed. Wasted. Uh, Trench, what's on the menu today, whilst it's on my mind?"

As they discussed the menu (Taffeta eager to point out the contributions of the family crops, asking, overly sweetly, and who traded you those lovely chickens? they must have been very generous), Chiffon turned to Ash in her seat, legs swinging freely, bumping into the overly-varnished wood of the bar. "Da? Can me 'n Velv go out and play?"

"Sure can, kiddo," Ash said, though he was quick to grab Chiffon's arm before she could throw herself off the stool with the straw still in her mouth. "Woah, take that out first before you end up swallowing it. You remember the rules?"

Chiffon nodded, face cast all seriously. "Don't go outta town. Be back before dark. If someone tries to bully us, punch 'em in the nose."

"And?" Ash added, drawing his brows together.

Velvet chirped up. "Cops aren't friends!"

At that, Ash broke out into a grin, as bright as Velvet's and twice as toothy. "That's right. You go have fun, and don't eat too many snacks; we're having dinner here before we go home."

Chiffon slid free of her stool, turning about to help Velvet down too, and then the pair scampered towards the door with a harmonised yes da! before pulling it open to the main road outside, the sunlight blisteringly bright, the sky an endless, cloudless blue overhead. The paint on the windowsill peeled off and flecked away, and under their shoes, the ground crunched.

Everything tasted of oranges.

###

Weiss sits silently.

"Did you get back before dark?"

Velvet snorts, sitting back in her chair until it creaks dangerously below. "Just about, though my mam didn't look all that impressed. Still, can't do much about it; we didn't even have, like, landline calls back then, let alone Scrolls and shit."

Weiss laughs to herself, rolling over and tucking her legs up onto Velvet's bed until she's curled atop the blankets, running a thumb over the wool quietly, repetitively. Truth is, they still smell of Menagerie, of home; Velvet could wash it a thousand times, but the earthy scent of hot summers and prickling scrublands sticks like its own aura.

"I'm jealous," Weiss says simply, and then she draws the blankets up to partly cocoon herself, tight across the ribs, loose about the ankles. "Will I... would you show me it, sometime? If I went there?"

It's sweet. Velvet wishes she could travel through time and show it to Weiss from the start; she wishes she could have told her what she would have, in the future. Look, see? This is real. You can have this too. Happiness doesn't only exist for people far away; you get to feel this, too.

"Of course," Velvet says with a smile, instead. "Bold if you to think my parents don't demand they meet every single last one of my friends."

Weiss grins back, all shark-toothed and sharp, and Velvet likes how it looks on her face. It took her team months to eek it out of her more often than every couple of weeks, but now, it's practically daily. "I'm afraid the offer doesn't extend back to you."

"Thanks the maidens," Velvet says, very seriously. "Because if I ever meet your dad, I'm setting his car alight."

#rwby #weiss schnee #velvet scarlatina #gws au #great weiss shark #its one of those tags #my writing #just a lil thing #(taffeta paints the windows as payment for the beer)

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heyitsrcoor · 3 years

Text

Meet-cute

Genre: Fluff, unrequited love, friends-to-lovers

Pairing: Day 6 Jae x Reader

Length: One-Shot

Meet-cute [noun] /ˈmiːtˌkjuːt/:

(in a movie, etc.) a humorous or interesting situation in which two people meet, that leads to them developing a romantic relationship with each other. (Cambridge Dictionary)

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: Absolutely Smitten (Dodie Clark)

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◄◄⠀▐▐ ⠀►►⠀⠀ ⠀ 1:17 / 3:48 ⠀ ───○ 🔊⠀ ᴴᴰ ⚙ ❐ ⊏⊐

•••

Your 12-hour shift at the hospital just ended. The census hasn’t gone down for days and while you’ve gotten so good at convincing yourself that you’re strong and resilient, you can feel the weariness seep in through your bones.

While walking to your apartment, you noticed that the bookstore on the corner of the street has finally opened its doors. A part of you wanted to walk past it, visit another day when you’re not wearing your nurse’s uniform, tired and sweaty. But the urge to scan the book selection was much stronger and so you find yourself pushing its glass doors. The bell chimes welcome you.

The warm lights and the smell of new books were enough to calm your weary soul. The bookstore was smaller compared to the well-known ones located at the malls, but it had the organic and cozy vibe of a library which you’re very much well pleased with. And the fact that it’s not crowded yet means you’ll be able to roam around freely.

You were feeling giddy when you finally reached the non-fiction section. Your eyes scanned each title, looking for any familiar ones that could be in your TBR list.

Finally, you see a white spine, “When Breath Becomes Air.” You grabbed for it hastily which caused the books beside it to topple down.

You bowed down to reach for the books but a hand beat you to it.

“Oh thank you.” You said as you stood upright. The person was really tall that you had to tilt your head a little bit to be able to see their face. You held your breath as you stood face-to-face with a handsome, bespectacled, human being.

“Was just looking for this.” He smiled as he held the book you accidentally dropped—Being Mortal by Atul Gawande.

You pretended to be cool about it like it’s not at all a big deal to meet your ideal guy (superficially speaking) in one of your most favorite places.

“Yeah? Sorry for accidentally pushing it to its death.” It sounded alright in your mind but having said it in words made you internally cringe.

He held the book and scanned it for dents. He shrugged, “Nah, it survived the fall—despite being mortal, oh God, that was so bad.” He let out a hearty laugh which you swore could melt an iceberg. “Anyway, thanks!” He smiles once more before turning his back.

Your heart deflated a little bit. Sharing a joke with a handsome stranger at the bookstore. Isn’t that the perfect recipe for a meet-cute? Except you’ll probably never meet again. Just another statistic of your “could-have-beens”.

Well, he could have asked for your name or YOU could have offered a book suggestion. Except he probably doesn’t find you attractive enough and you don’t have the guts to make the first move on a stranger.

You shrugged the thought away. Too much Kdramas and romcoms do screw your brain a little bit. You looked at your book once more. Right, maybe you should just fill your mind more with philosophies and thought-provoking stuff. Nonetheless, you can’t contain the smile forming on your face. Butterflies should stay in the gardens and not on your guts.

•••

When you said that book guy is just another statistic of a failed meet-cute, you were pleasantly surprised to find yourself wrong.

Two months later, you’re at a coffee shop waiting in line when you spot him sitting near the window.

He was wearing a white uniform, busy typing on the laptop in front of him. Unlike the scattered papers on his table, he looked serene. He adjusts his eyeglasses and you notice how slender and beautiful his fingers are.

“He’s a student.” You thought. Before you knew it, you started computing for your possible age gap. Given it has only been a year since you’ve graduated, 5 years would be the maximum gap if he’s a freshman. You cringed at the thought of dating someone younger. Moreover, you cringed at the thought that you’d actually date someone out of your league.

“Good morning! What’s your order?” The barista’s voice booms as if calling you out back to reality.

“Oh…yeah, uhh..” You proceeded to recite your order and another 5 orders of your co-nurses at SICU (Surgical Intensive Care Unit).

Waiting for your orders, you purposefully sat on a table that could give you the best vision of him in a very lowkey manner. Whatever that is.

You tried your best to be nonchalant but your eyes would subtly glance at him.

Oh wow, is that a great view from the window? You thought as you glide your eyes to where he was. To your surprise, he was looking at you too.

You dropped your gaze for a few seconds and looked up at him once again. He was smiling and your heart starts to palpitate.

Did he recognize you?

You watch him raise his hand, waving.

Entranced, you almost waved back but a person walks past you, her white skirt blocking your view of him. You watched her sit right in front of the book guy. Your book guy. She was wearing the same uniform as him. A classmate. A really pretty classmate.

You clenched your hand. You felt embarrassed, angry even. Angry at yourself for always expecting that someone would actually look at you. And stupid for thinking that meeting your soulmate would eventually be as exciting and memorable as the Kdramas.

The barista calls your name and you get up. You picked your orders and left without turning back.

•••

The thing about reality and romance is that not every encounter will be explosive. No, it won’t be as fast as love at first sight. Sometimes, love would come in the most mundane and gradual way possible.

A week later, you’d see book guy at your workplace. He’s one of the two med students on their clerkship assigned in your unit. He’d introduce himself as “Jae” and before you could do the same, he’d utter your name and everyone would be curious to know how you knew each other.

You’d dread the fact that he’d recognize your embarrassing moment at the coffee shop but he’d say that he actually recalls meeting you at the book store. And that he just read your name from your name tag.

Days, weeks passed.

Coincidence or not, your schedule would almost be the same and so you’d spend most of your shifts with Jae. You’d almost feel tired answering his seemingly endless questions.

You’d give him a heads up on what to expect on his first observation in the OR and he’d let you borrow a book in return.

You’d still catch yourself sneaking a glance at him but work would eventually drown his presence.

You’d sometimes spend your lunch together and you’d learn that you share the same taste of music and that he plays an instrument too.

You never seemed to run out of things to talk to and sometimes—a lot of times, you’d entertain that idea that he could actually like you.

But you knew that expectations lead to disappointments so you’d eventually settle your heart that whatever you had is just purely platonic friendship and you’d convince yourself that you are totally fine with that.

You thought that once he leaves your unit, whatever connection you had will mellow down. But then he asks for your number and his first text would be “Started benign in the morning, now I just assisted in delivering a baby. Is it normal to feel like crying?”

He’d send you memes about cats and your fave shows and soon you’d develop your inside jokes.

You tried your best to keep cool and ignore the butterflies but then something actually happens.

1 year later, he’d confess to you in the same coffee shop.

"I like you. I really like you." He said.

You’d be left speechless and be teary-eyed.

“How…? When?” You’d ask.

He said he could not forget how he was amused at your facial expression when you were picking your book at the bookstore. He said he would have stricken a longer conversation if not for his dad waiting on his car who was his ride at that time.

At the coffee shop, he noticed you while you recited the lengthy orders of your workmates and he was impressed.

He did smile at you but his classmate and partner in a school activity coincidentally arrived.

And no, he did not read your name tag. He knew about it when he heard the barista called you and he remembered.

When he saw the hospital he was interning at, he wondered if you’d be there. When he saw you at the unit he was first assigned at, his heart felt like it could jump out of his chest. He thought it was “fate” and it felt like fate because your schedules would usually coincide. He said knowing you more each day excites him and gives him joy. You were his kindred spirit and confidant. You just clicked.

And just like that, your unrequited-love streak comes to an end.

"Thank you." You answered and Jae's eyes started to quiver. He opens his mouth but no words came out.

Realizing your mistake you started to say sorry which made everything worse.

Jae forced himself to smile but you can see the pain in his eyes. He thought he was being rejected!

You took his right hand on the table and held it firmly. "I like you too, Jae."

His eyes widened and he started laughing.

"Oh God, I can't believe I'm capable of having 5 different kinds of emotions in less than 10 seconds."

"Cute," you muttered.

"Did you just call me cute!?"

You shook your head and smiled. "I mean... I guess you're my meet-cute after all."

-END-

#THAT WAS SO CHEEZY #i know #day6 #day6fanfic #day6 scenarios #day6au #meet cute #friends to lovers #day6 fanfic #day6 jae fanfic #day6 jae #park jaehyung

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factual-fantasy · 4 years

Text

Thank you so much for asking this, @im-nice-but-i-dont-like-you, I wish my OCs would get more attention. (ಥᴗಥ)

Suburban: He adores these cute little magnets. He thinks that when ever someone sticks one to him, its that person saying “I love you!” He keeps all the ones he finds stuck to his body and protects them with his life. He has yet to lose or damage a single one.

Miata: She likes the magnets a lot, she thinks they’re adorable and she thinks they’re the Humans way of showing affection. She keeps them all, but only wears about 5 or so at a time. She may be small, but she’s fast, so they have a tendency to come flying off during battle.

Escort: Escort loves these little things. They remind him of sad things, but also happy things. Although he moves a lot, he’s not fighting or anything, so he wears them all. They’re all at pretty low risk of flying off at any point during his work time.

Brown Suburban: When ever he finds one on him, he smiles. Its the only time anyone ever sees him smile.. He always puts them on his left forearm, all somewhat organised. As he started collecting them, he often times could be seen staring at the magnets in thought. Sometimes with a warm smile, or sometimes with a deeply saddened expression. Some of the bots have been speculating whats going on with him. Some bots think he’s remembering things, bad things. Or maybe good things?.. Or maybe he’s mourning. Mourning the loss of the family he once had. Of the purpose he once fulfilled.

U.M.Dragster: U.M. Likes them a lot. His favorite are the ones the kids call “memes”. He likes the funny faces and all the colors, he feels like he’s covered in jewelry and fancy things when he wears them. But he often loses them a lot. He doesn't take them off before battle because he’s kind’a lazy, and when he goes at insanely high speeds, the smaller magnets tend to come flying off.

A.T.Dragster: A.T. Doesn’t really like the magnets, only because she doesn’t like foreign objects being stuck to her plates. But she keeps them and protects them anyway, because in her eyes, its the Humans ways of showing her love. And she wants to show that she loves them too by keeping them right where the Humans put them, despite the occasional discomfort they may bring.

Green Truck: Green Truck loves them and keeps them all... but actually cant really wear them. His metal is rusty and dented, his paint is peeling and his armor isn’t flat. The magnets sometimes have trouble actually sticking to them, and often times fall off. So to save himself the embarrassment, and to not loose them, he doesn’t wear any of the magnets that get stuck to him.

Vega: Vega really likes them, but he doesn’t ever wear them, ever. He has a severe overheating problem, and last time he had an overheating spell he completely ruined all 5 magnets that he had at the time. He still keeps them and loves them, but whenever he spots one somewhere on his body he immediately removes it.

Red Van: Shes a mamma, she loves all her babies little creations and would fight Unicron himself before she let anything happen to them. Its not even just magnets with her, she’s basically is a refrigerator. “Aww!! What a pretty drawing little one!!.. (GASP!) For me!?? Why thank you!! Here, I’ll stick it right here so I can see it all the time!” *sticks the drawing to her chest plate* The only times she takes them off, magnet or other, if it is to protect the them from being damaged. Like right before a mission or before some messy surgery she has to help out on.

White Truck: He thinks they’re really cool! Although he often loses them without realizing unfortunately, but he tries his best to keep them all and take care of them. He thinks of them as special little presents just for him, and he loves them dearly because of that.

Beluga: YES. ALL. THE. MAGNETS. She just loves these things to death. If she finds one on her ankle, she put it on her chest plate or right on the side of her head. She shows them off with great pride, and wears every single one.

Honda: She likes them a lot, but only really likes to wear one at a time. She’ll wear one on her chest plate one day, but once a new one appears on her leg she’ll switch the magnets and put the old one with the rest of her collection. She is never seen wearing the same magnet for very long.

Ranger: She likes them, and keeps them, but like some of the others, she doesn't really wear them too often. She doesn’t want to risk them getting lost or damaged during battle, and she also doesn’t want to forget they’re there. So she’ll keep them in her berth room up on the wall.

Volvo: He doesn’t like most of them. But also doesn’t have the guts to throw them out and the kids just stick more to him when he tell them to stop. So he instead sticks his around the base and only holds onto a few he actually does really like.

Jeepy: Jeepy loves the magnets! He thinks they’re great! He promises to never take them off!........Which means they either get lost, damaged or get caked in mud after one of his joy rides.

Bash Buggy: Bash Buggy is blind in a way that doesn’t actually allow him to see the drawings on the magnets, but he knows a lot of effort most likely went into these things so he keeps them. He likes them, but wont wear them. The reason why is because “They’re just gonna get blown off in battle kid. I like em’, I don’t wanna lose em, so I ain’t gonna wear em.” He also cant really wear them for the same reasons Green Truck cant but worse. He’s basically a mess of chords and pipes, there isn’t a flat surface to stick them to. And the flat surfaces he does have are bent, dented, rusted and the paint is severely chipped and peeling, so ain’t nothin sticking to him anyway.

#transformers #my original stuff #my ocs #transformer ocs #my response

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ardenatkins · 3 years

Text

PANIC 01. THE JUMP

tagging → @rosiekang , @theduchampboy , @peteverona

location → 4th of july, dead man’s quarry

notes → *insert i am no longer baby i want power meme*

Back in her neck of the woods Arden had always been propped up as an example. Used to try to shame other south side kids out of getting involved in unsavory acts or falling into a life of crime. She’d had shitty parents who neglected her to go party, and drink, and bet what little money they had for fun. In fact, they had fucked around so much that she had almost found herself becoming part of the system had her dad not racked up so many gambling debts he had to flee town in order not to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. And even after that it had taken her mom so long to sober up, get a job, and stop finding herself down in the dumps over the loss of the man who had sent her into her downward spiral for her to become the stable parental figure that Arden needed her to be. And despite all that she always managed to persevere.

That had never really sat right with the blonde. Pitting kids who were already looked down on by society against each other. Making them compete for opportunities instead of creating more for those who could really make something of themselves. And that was how a lot of the people she had grown up with, people with even bigger hopes and dreams, ended up down less desirable roads. Every opportunity she got was one less for someone else who wanted it. There was a deeply rooted guilt in her the day that realization first hit but still she continued fighting. Even when it cost her friendships, from people who ultimately thought she didn’t deserve it.

Still, that little girl who had grew up with nothing had a plan. She aimed to make sure that in the future she would never have to want for anything ever again. So she worked her ass off reading, learning, getting involved in as many things as she could to become a well rounded person. She worked so hard that she managed to get a scholarship to Rosewood Academy and later to Ravenwood. She joined pageants and was getting enough exposure that her dreams of becoming a broadcast journalist seemed more achievable by the day. After such a long journey it felt like things were finally starting to look up.

Until the day they finally didn’t.

Her reasons for taking part in the games was pretty cut and dry. She decided to join because like a lot of her south side friends she really needed the money. Whether she needed it more or less than anyone wasn’t her place to say. Everyone had things they needed, things they wanted, or debts that needed to be paid. But what mattered most to Arden was her own family’s situation. It had been a couple of years since her family’s trailer had burned to the ground and they still hadn’t been able to financially recover. Looking back on that day the way every emergency service worker who had arrived at the scene of the accident reassured her that they had got off lucky now felt like a slap in the face. Of course she was thankful that they had all made it out alive but they had all been miserable since.

Her mother spent months in the hospital recovering from all the the burns inflicted from the accident, accumulating a pile of bills that to this day they could only dream of making a dent in. Her grandmother was also at the age that she wasn’t fit to work either. And they still couldn’t scrounge together enough to get a permanent residence, instead paying routinely for a two bed motel room they all barely fit in. And most of the burden of managing that now fell on Arden.

If she was ever going to find her way out of this situation she needed to win Panic. It was her last hope.

As she waited around for her turn to jump she continuously talked herself in and out of going through with it. That was until she caught her co-workers, jump. Watching Pete pull a whole serenade out of his ass, when in all the years they had worked together she could barely get him to hold a conversation with her, and Trevor, doing what he did best and showing off like the pain in the ass he was enough to hit the final nail on the head. All her life she had fought for what she wanted. And at some point she had lost sight of that fight. She had let that edge of hers soften in order to appease others, or to make herself more likable. But no way was she going to just sit by and watch someone else get something she wanted more than anything she ever wanted.

It was a little unnerving how the the blaring music and loud ruckus of the crowd that had gathered for the jump quickly began dissipating the further she made her trek up the cliff. The higher off the ground floor she got the quieter it became, to the point that all she could hear was the sound of the wind and her own heartbeat ringing in her ears; the speed of it and the blood rushing to her head there to remind her that what they were doing here wasn’t normal. With her mind on so many things and her gaze focused solely on her destination she wasn’t paying attention to the ground below her. And because of that soon found herself tripping over a hole in the ground, face planting into the dirt. So much for her pageant grace working out for her in the end. Rosie would probably have something to say with that display once she found out later.

She stood up quickly, ignoring the string of the scrapes left on her knees and the stray taunt here and there from random hecklers who wanted to scare her out of continuing, finishing her walk with her head held high. She refused to keep her head down ever again, even to look down at the quarry she was about to jump into. Lighting her flare and shouting her name loud and proud, she leaped forward.

It wouldn’t be the flashiest display. But the jump itself would at least put her on the board.

Let that serve as a reminder that she was here to play.

#chwpanic

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wingedwarren · 3 years

Note

❛ you don’t have to be so gentle with me. ❜- Sara //this is me, trying to get my damn muse off hiatus, by letting the lil bird do whatever she wants I mean wut

@southern-belle-outcasts || meme

he has her up against the wall, her arms draped loosely over his shoulders and her fingertips plucking on the rough edges of where his shirt opens to let his wings through. warren’s hands are on sara’s waist, skirting up under her shirt before diving into her back pockets like little thieves -- all they want to steal is a firm squeeze. ‘i thought canaries liked a little bit of comfortable quiet,’ he replies, grinning against her lips while he presses her close to him. ‘but i suppose you’re more a hands-on kinda girl, huh? i can do that.’ he goes through his knees without warning, thumbs hiking up her top so he can kiss the dip of her belly button and down to where his hands are popping open the button and the zipper. soft, sheer fabric over light skin has warren look up at her with absolute mischief in his eyes, taking care that the panties don’t move when he pulls her jeans down her thighs and to the floor. thank god they already ditched shoes somewhere down the hall -- it makes it much easier to lift her feet one by one to get her pants off, throwing them carelessly over his shoulder. teeth play with the little bow at the front for a second, an appetizer, a tease, and when he notices her eyes on him, his tongue shamelessly licks a stripe across the front of her underwear. he knows the kind of guys that won’t go down on girls for some dumb-ass fucking reason, and he doesn’t get it. genuinely doesn’t. he’s done it plenty of times and he could never ever grow tired of it. a hand at the back of her knee tugs it over his shoulder, feathers dragging lightly across her smooth shin, feeling her heel dig into his back. baby blues hide under long eyelashes again and he focuses on the task at hand, breath warm against her before those cheeky teeth drag along the fabric. it’s not biting, not really -- teeth never clasp together. he’s just doing it because he knows she’ll feel it. licks, the tip of his tongue pressing in a little harder. he can taste her and he’s already heady for it, wanting to skin to the better part. but he doesn’t. he’s gonna drag this out.

a hand curls into his hair, not careful at all, and warren’s lips purse, suckling there where he estimates is that lovely nub he can’t wait to meet more intimately. a hand slips into his pocket and right when he whispers ‘don’t move’, the switchblade pops open, the steel ice cold against the hot skin of her inner thigh. unceremoniously a finger hooks into the crotch of her underwear, and a swift movement later the fabric is cut, blade hidden in warren’s pants again. he’ll take the punishment if she was attached to these panties, but he’s fairly sure she doesn’t care all that much right now. the elasticity of the torn garment works in warren’s advantage, slipping upwards to sara’s waist so it’s out of the way, and he licks -- not gingerly, not shy at all, no. he goes for the homerun, tilting his head to get between her thighs, tasting the faintly sweetness of her on his tongue before he drags it forward, all the way to the front to flick that friendly little buddy that’s already red, a little swollen with her arousal. he loves it. ‘so smooth,’ he purrs against her, dragging his knuckles along her lips, thumb caressing the cleanly shaved skin. ‘you do that for me? you’ll make me blush.’ god, he’s an ass about it, of course he is. even if his lips are wet from her, he’ll make this a game where he’ll come out on top. bastard. she knows his deal, has probably dealt with guys like him before, her ring finger and pinky pressing at the back of his head to get him back to where she wants him. he gives no resistance. watches her while he continues, blue eyes making it more than obvious that he enjoys it as much as she is, lapping at her like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to get his mouth on. and she’s so wet, fuck, he’s hard as steel in his denim but he doesn’t want to get his cock out. not yet. later. it’s too distracting now. one hand rubs at himself, though, right through his jeans. the other snakes up along sara’s leg, grabbing onto the thigh against his cheek for a moment so he can take his lips off of her sex to indulge her inner thigh with a few lovebites. teeth marks are dented into the skin, nails leaving small crescent-shaped dips to match. the hand slides away and a second later he’s pressing two fingers inside her, all the way up to the knuckles. her sounds make it worth it, and the quiver that goes all the way from her toes up to her expression when he sucks on her makes even warren’s cheeks a little red. fuck, this is why he does this. what the fuck are dudes even doing when they don’t do this? weak fucking punk-ass bitches, that’s what those are. boys. this is what men do. he dirty talks her. he does it with his face buried against her folds and she can’t hear a word he’s saying probably, but she knows he’s doing it and she knows where he’s doing it and that makes the thrill. that makes her lean hear head back with a lewd moan that has him squeezing tight at his own groin. fingers hook inside her, rub at that pad he knows to find (he’d like to award himself something for this, but hey, he’ll take a girl cumming on his face too) and he closes his eyes, licking, fingers dragging in and out of sara only to effortlessly rub little circles right where she wants it. he’s listening. to her racing breath, her moans whenever he hits her really good, but mostly he’s listening to that sound she makes on his fingers. wet. filthy. exactly what he likes. ‘you gonna make me wait?’ her head snaps down. she heard that, her eyes half-lidded and a lazy, fucked look on her face. he’s got her good. she doesn’t answer, just shakes her head at that goddamn attitude from a boy who’s on his knees, eating her out like it’s his last supper. and while she watches him he slides another finger into her, her lips parting in a silent groan. she’s fucking hot and war doesn’t wanna be anywhere else than where he is right now, witnessing that look that tells him she’ll grant him his wish soon enough. the pace of his hand increases, faster, wrist twisting ever so lightly to hit her from every angle she allows. he gets a little rough, the strokes harder like he wants to get deeper than his own hand can, but they’ll get to that if she’ll let him.

a bit of that, teeth dragging across her clit a few times to overstimulate, and then she’s coming apart in his palm, pulsating around his fingers. it deserves a strenuous bending of his neck just to get his mouth on her, licking her through an orgasm he hopes lives up to all her expectations. he sucks at her, pushing his tongue in alongside his fingers like he’s parched and she’s the only well in a desert. only when her thighs stop squeezing him between them does he finally let his fingers slip free, licking at her until the grip of fingers in his hair loosens as well, and he helps her to get her leg off his shoulder so he can fall back to sit on the floor, sucking at those three fingers while he looks at her. she looks like the loveliest mess, red-cheeked, puffy-lipped beauty, one slender hand going down to touch herself as if she can’t quite believe warren was practically buried inside her only a few moments ago. not that warren looks much more dignified, though: his hand glistens as well as his mouth, nose, god, it’s along his neck, warm droplets sneaking down into the v of his half-buttoned shirr.

and he looks at sara like he’s far from done, the wet hand grabbing hard at the front of his jeans. a suggestion, a question. he’s hard, and god, he just wants to be even more of a mess than he already is, apparently.

#look im feckin happy with this so enjoy this novel about eating a girl out #sunday tag.#southern-belle-outcasts #; answered

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newstfionline · 3 years

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Monday, April 26, 2021

California ponders slow growth future (AP) In 1962, when California’s population of more than 17 million surpassed New York’s, Gov. Pat Brown celebrated by declaring a state holiday. In the coming days, when the U.S. Census Bureau is expected to release the state’s latest head count, there probably will be no celebrations. Over the past decade, California’s average annual population growth rate slipped to 0.06%—lower than at any time since at least 1900. The state is facing the prospect of losing a U.S. House seat for the first time in its history, while political rivals Texas and Florida add more residents and political clout. The reality behind the slowed growth isn’t complicated. Experts point to three major factors: declining birth rates; a long-standing trend of fewer people moving in from other states than leaving; and a drop in international immigration, particularly from Asia, which has made up for people moving to other states. California is in the throes of a yearslong housing crisis as building fails to keep up with demand, forcing more people onto the streets and making home ownership unattainable for many. The state has the nation’s highest poverty rate when housing is taken into account. Its water resources are consistently taxed, and the state has spent more than half of the past decade in drought. Freeways are jammed as more people move to the suburbs, and worsening wildfires are destroying homes and communities.

Armenians Celebrate Biden’s Genocide Declaration as Furious Turkey Summons US Ambassador (Newsweek) Armenia celebrated President Joe Biden’s recognition of the massacres of Armenians in the Ottoman Empire during World War I as genocide on Saturday, as Turkey summoned the U.S. ambassador and strongly condemned the move. In acknowledging of the deaths of 1.5 million Armenians as genocide, Biden went further than his predecessors in the White House after years of careful language on the issue. The move risks fracturing America’s relationship with Turkey, a longtime U.S. ally and NATO partner. Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan sent Biden a letter praising his statement. Meanwhile, officials in Turkey quickly denounced Biden’s remarks and summoned the US Ambassador to Ankara. In a statement, Turkey said its foreign minister, Sedat Onal, has told ambassador David Satterfield that Biden’s remarks caused “wounds in ties that will be hard to repair.” Onal also reportedly told Satterfield that Turkey “rejected it, found it unacceptable and condemned in the strongest terms.”

Ahead of Geneva talks, Cypriots march for peace (Reuters) Thousands of Cypriots from both sides of a dividing line splitting their island marched for peace on Saturday, ahead of informal talks in Geneva next week on the future of negotiations. With some holding olive branches, people walked in the bright spring sunshine around the medieval walls circling the capital, Nicosia. The United Nations has called for informal talks of parties in the Cyprus dispute in Geneva on April 27-29, in an attempt to look for a way forward in resuming peace talks that collapsed in mid-2017. Prospects for progress appear slim, with each side sticking to their respective positions. Greek Cypriots say Cyprus should be reunited under a federal umbrella, citing relevant United Nations resolutions. The newly-elected Turkish Cypriot leader has called for a two-state resolution. Cyprus was split in a Turkish invasion in 1974 triggered by a brief Greek-inspired coup, though the seeds of separation were sown earlier, when a power-sharing administration crumbled in violence in 1963, just three years after independence from Britain.

World’s Biggest Covid Crisis Threatens Modi’s Grip on India (Bloomberg) As India recorded more than 234,000 new Covid-19 infections last Saturday, Prime Minister Narendra Modi held an election rally in the West Bengal town of Asansol and tweeted: “I’ve never seen such huge crowds.” The second wave of the coronavirus has since grown into a tsunami. India is now the global coronavirus hotspot, setting records for the world’s highest number of daily cases. Images of hospitals overflowing with the sick and dying are flooding social media, as medical staff and the public alike make desperate appeals for oxygen supplies. The political and financial capitals of New Delhi and Mumbai are in lockdown, with only the sound of ambulance sirens punctuating the quiet, but there’s a growing chorus of blame directed at Modi over his government’s handling of the pandemic. “At this crucial time he is fighting for votes and not against Covid,” said Panchanan Maharana, a community activist from the state of Odisha, who previously supported Modi’s policies but will now look for alternative parties to back. “He is failing to deliver—he should stop talking and focus on saving people’s lives and livelihoods.” Modi is seen by many as a polarizing leader whose brand of nationalism that promotes the dominance of Hindus has appalled and enraptured the nation. Whether the pandemic will dent his appeal remains unclear.

ASEAN leaders tell Myanmar coup general to end killings (AP) Southeast Asian leaders demanded an immediate end to killings and the release of political detainees in Myanmar in an emergency summit Saturday with its top general and coup leader who, according to Malaysia’s prime minister, did not reject them outright. The leaders of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations also told Senior Gen. Min Aung Hlaing during the two-hour talks in Jakarta that a dialogue between contending parties in Myanmar should immediately start, with the help of ASEAN envoys. Daily shootings by police and soldiers since the Feb. 1 coup have killed more than 700 mostly peaceful protesters and bystanders, according to several independent tallies. The messages conveyed to Min Aung Hlaing were unusually blunt and could be seen as a breach of the conservative 10-nation bloc’s bedrock principle forbidding member states from interfering in each other’s affairs. But Malaysian Prime Minister Muhyiddin Yassin said that policy should not lead to inaction if a domestic situation “jeopardizes the peace, security, and stability of ASEAN and the wider region” and there is international clamor for resolute action.

Sunken missing Indonesian submarine found broken into pieces (Reuters) A missing Indonesian submarine has been found, broken into at least three parts, at the bottom of the Bali Sea, army and navy officials said on Sunday, as the president sent condolences to relatives of the 53 crew. Navy chief of staff Yudo Margono said the crew were not to blame for the accident and that the submarine did not experience a blackout, blaming “forces of nature”. A sonar scan on Saturday detected the submarine at 850 metres (2,790 feet), far beyond the Nanggala’s diving range.

At least 82 die in Baghdad COVID hospital fire (Reuters) A fire sparked by an oxygen tank explosion killed at least 82 people and injured 110 at a hospital in Baghdad that had been equipped to house COVID-19 patients, an Interior Ministry spokesman said on Sunday. “We urgently need to review safety measures at all hospitals to prevent such a painful incident from happening in future,” spokesman Khalid al-Muhanna told state television, announcing the toll.

Struggling to stay afloat during the pandemic, people turn to strangers online for help (Washington Post) The pandemic has been disastrous for millions of families across the United States. Roughly 8.5 million jobs have not returned since February 2020. Meanwhile, more than 564,000 people have died of the coronavirus, and 100,000 small businesses closed permanently in just the first three months of the crisis. The government has provided help, including through multiple relief packages that sent out three rounds of stimulus checks and extended unemployment benefits. But for many people it hasn’t been enough—or come quickly enough—to avoid eviction, put food on the table and cover a growing pile of monthly bills. Enter crowdfunding, which has taken off more than ever in the past year as a way to supplement income. Sites like GoFundMe, Kickstarter or even Facebook allow people and businesses to establish a cause—or set up a page laying out why they (or someone they are raising the money for) need money, and what the cash will go toward. After demand spiked last year, GoFundMe in October formalized a new category specifically for rent, food and bills. More than $100 million had been raised at that time year-to-date for basic living expenses in tens of thousands of campaigns during 2020—a 150 percent increase over 2019. But a year into the pandemic, some individual crowdfunding campaigns are reporting little success raising donations to cover basic expenses. As pandemic fatigue worsens, it’s getting hard to raise cash for basic expenses this way. Daryl Hatton, CEO and founder of FundRazr said when he browsed through the campaigns for basic expenses, most were getting little or no donations. “I saw a whole bunch of zeros,” he said. Crowdfunding still tends to work best when people have a compelling story to tell.

Older people are the one group egalitarians discriminate against (Quartz) Young people have always been critical of their elders. What’s noteworthy about the way millennials and Zoomers talk about Baby Boomers today isn’t their disdain but its particulars: They resent the older generation because they feel shortchanged, deprived of promising futures. Gen Z, for example, famously channeled their frustration with the generation they hold responsible for issues like climate change and wealth inequality into the simple, sarcastic meme “OK boomer.” Vaccines aside, these economic frustrations are grounded in reality. At the same time, younger people’s systemic objections to the distribution of wealth and power in the US can wind up curdling into ageism. A new paper, published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, highlights the importance of guarding against this bias. Over 80% of Americans between the ages of 50 and 80 say they experience ageism in their everyday lives, according to a 2020 poll from the University of Michigan. “I think many people overlook ageism as a form of prejudice in American society,” says Ashley Martin, an assistant professor of organizational behavior at Stanford University, who co-authored the paper with Michael North, an assistant professor at New York University. “It is often overlooked as an “ism” altogether, not only being condoned but often even promoted.” The paper identifies a surprising link between ageism and egalitarianism. The more participants in the study supported the principle of equality for all, the more likely they were to be biased against older people.

#headlines #news

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ayastronaut · 4 years

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AU where Amelia stays in NY

I have the best idea: Amelia/Rebecca. It is the perfect jock/nerd pairing and I have made so many hcs in the past 15 mins. I was maybe thinking of writing a fic about them (Amelia is obviously gay and that stuff with Larry never happened). Here’s a little teaser(?)

Larry and Rebecca were walking up the steps to the Museum of Natural History across from Central Park. The grand edifice cast a long shadow down the stairway and across the street, the sun minutes away from sinking below the horizon.

“I think I’ve reached the end,” sighed Rebecca, clutching a stack of books to her chest.

“The end of what?” asked Larry, walking into the revolving doors, “Are you really thinking about quitting the museum?”

“No, of course not!” she laughed in return, “It’s my dissertation. I think its gone on long enough. Its time for a change.”

Larry stopped in the lobby. “But, that thing... its been your baby, metaphorically, for the past four years of your life,” he said, “and judging by how long you and Sacajawea talk, it seems like there still so much to tell.”

“That’s true, I probably could add another thousand pages and still not have everything but that’t the point. There are so many other women who’s stories I want to tell.” Rebecca sighed as the museum lights flickered on, one by one. “I came here tonight to think.”

“I’ll leave you to that then,” replied Larry, grabbing his flashlight and walking further into the lobby, “I’ve got a job to do.”

The last rays of sun shone through the window as Rebecca sat down at the central desk. Watching the museum come to life never ceased to take her breath away. Teddy’s arm lowered by the tiniest bit before he stretched them out, a little swish traveled all the way from the tip of Rexy’s tail down his spine to his head and the sounds of dozens of animals and figures could be heard echoing through the halls. She hadn’t had the chance to stop by the museum during the night since Larry took the job of full time night guard again. Outside of work she was talking to professes and publishers, adding the finishing touches to her dissertation. It was nice to have a night off here.

The lobby was quieter than usual tonight, which gave Rebecca time to leaf through the history books that she had brought with her. After an hour of sitting in the char, she decided to move to one of the benches. She was so engrossed in reading through a list of pioneering women from the early 1900′s that she didn’t hear a polite “excuse me” coming from behind her. “EXCUSE ME PLEASE,” the voice repeated again.

Rebecca finally noticed when another voice hollered “GEET OUT THE WAY! MOVE IT LADY!” By the time that Rebecca turned around and saw what was going on, it was too late.

Jed, Octavius and a figurine that Rebecca didn’t recognize were barreling down a makeshift zipline stretching across the whole lobby. Rebecca stood up and tried to dodge but it was too late. The three riders plowed into her, sending Jed and Octavius flying off of the figurine’s shoulders and into the glass of the doors while the to normal sized people fell to the ground.

“Oh my goodness are you all right there?” said the new figurine dusting off her jacket and removing and aviator's cap and goggles off her head, “Do you need help up?”

“No, I’m fine,” said Rebecca through gritted teeth, feeling bruises starting to develop on her elbows. She looked up at the person above her silhouetted against the lights in the ceiling. She wore pale khaki pants and had a blue scarf tucked into a tan leather jacket. The cap and goggles were tucked under one arm and locks of curly red hair fell around her face. “Who are you?” said Rebecca slowly, as she lifted herself off them ground, “You look familiar but I’ve never seen you around here before.”

The woman above her extended a hand. “The name is Amelia. Amelia Earhart,” she said proudly, “and I’m very sorry about knocking you over,” she added with a sheepish grin.

Rebecca stammered. “Oh no, that’s fine. I’ve, uh, had worse first encounters here.” She collected her books off of the ground and put them back on the bench. “I’ve never seen you in the museum before. I work here during the day and I know all of the exhibits.”

“Oh, me?” Amelia smiled, “I am ‘on loan’ from the Smithsonian. Larry’s keeping me in the security room during the day until he can convince the director to keep me around here.”

“Hey, you all right there partner? Sorry about thumpin into you like that.” shouted a voice from behind Rebecca. Jedediah and Octavius were standing right behind her. The little Roman general, was trying to get a dent out his helmet.

“I did try to warn her,” muttered Octavius under his breath.

“Excusey me ain’t a proper warning for that situation, Octo,” said Jed, turning to his friend.

Rebecca turned her attention away from the argument that was developing below her. “Well it’s probably more fun being around here than gathering dust in some basement,” chucked Rebecca, tucking her hair back behind her ear.

“I’ve only been here a few weeks and haven’t gotten to see everything, but it seems like there a pretty significant lack of aircraft here.” Amelia said, gazing about the lobby. She paused for a second before a wide smile broke out on her face. “You did say you work here. How’s about a tour?”

Rebecca glanced to the floor and felt a little blood rush to her cheeks. “Ok, if you want to I guess.”

Future ideas: - Jed and Oct trying to act as wingmen (haha punny) - Drama about Amelia being discovered - Rebecca being a dorky and gay mess - Feminism and flight (I hc rebecca as that femmist brain vs. lesbian brain meme)

#I will sail this ship my self gosh darn it #natm #night at the museum #Amelia Earhart #Rebecca natm #jedediah #octavius #Amelia x Rebecca #Larry Daley

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bookshelf-imagines · 4 years

Text

It’ll Bounce Off, I Promise

Pairing/Fandom: Catradora/SPOP

Summary: Catra finds a gun and shows Adora

Warnings: There’s a gun in it, tad bit of violence

Note: Written as a meme and based off some art I saw It was a peaceful day at Bright Moon. The sun was shining, the plants were green, and the people that inhabited it were enjoying a well deserved late morning sleep. Well, most of them.

Catra lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes were wide, her body motionless as her heart raced a thousand miles a minute. Sweat droplets lined her forehead, but she made no movement to wipe them away. The dream she had awoken from had been less than pleasant, but it did evolve into something that left her shocked and confused.

What exactly, you ask, was it about?

It all started as a normal nightmare, whether it was about one traumatic event or another. Yet the green and white and the red and black shifted, twisting into purple and blue.

The Whispering Woods.

Catra frantically scanned her surroundings, wanting nothing more than to wake up, but something felt off. The colors, the wind rustling through her bristled mane, even the obnoxious chirping of birds. It felt unfamiliar. It almost felt safe.

That is, until she spotted something glowing.

Sucking in a breath, Catra pressed forward toward the light. It was a light blue, and the closer she got, she could hear it buzzing, like it was calling to her.

When she came up to it, the glowing died down to where she could see the cause of the aura. It was not an object she had ever seen---nor heard of. It was small, a noir color, and seemed to have different slides and clicks. A hand weapon, perhaps?

With curiosity gnawing at her like a teething baby, she picked up the supposed weapon, having it dangle between two fingers. It was heavy, but not enough to warrant the use of both of her hands.

It had to work somehow, right? She poked and prodded at it, but nothing seemed to work. That is, until she wrapped her hand around the shorter part and slipped a finger in front of a trigger.

Her eyebrows rose, then furrowed again as she smirked, clearly proud of herself. The position her hand was in felt comfortable, it felt right.

So, she kept poking. The stationary finger on the trigger pulled, hearing a click. Nothing else happened. She reached around with her thumb and felt a button, pushing it. A long slide fell from the bottom of the grip, nearly hitting her unsuspecting toes as she stepped back just in time for it to instead create a dent in the grass.

Okay...Maybe if she just put it back in?

She crouched and positioned the weapon on top of the slide, pushing down until there was a satisfying click. Job accomplished.

Now, how do you work this thing?

With a few more minutes of uncharacteristic patience, Catra finally discovered that she could pull back the top of it, so she did.

Another click.

"Well...That wasn't so hard." She said, grinning and waving the mechanism around.

It didn't last long.

She spun the object on her finger, and then...there was a loud bang followed by black. Black, a hazy feeling, and the smell of smoke. Catra didn't know what she had found, but she was still intrigued even if it left her feeling more out of sorts than a cat living with prairie dogs.

Now, back to Catra.

Catra stood from the bed, her legs wobbly. Her breaths were becoming deeper in an attempt to calm down and not wake the blonde still sleeping some what soundly. They both have nightmares, some are just worse than others.

Tiptoeing across the room, she gathered articles of clothing and threw them on, planning to adventure out and discover this object she had seen in her dream.

Just like she had seen, it was right there: the blue aura, the black color, the sense of safety. Except this time, the hair on the back of Catra's neck stood as stiff as a board. The sense of safety was quickly washed away by power and danger.

She gulped once. She blinked twice. This was it.

Catra grabbed the object, this time more familiar with it. However, instead of inspecting it, she shoved it in the bag she brought along with her, not wanting a repeat of the dream.

She refused to admit it, but it felt as if she had...died.

She would definitely not admit it.

A week passed. Catra would sometimes sneak out and admire her new discovery, occasionally even using it on innocent trees. It was absolutely thrilling when she pulled the trigger. The kick, the adrenaline, the force.

She named it "WOMBLD," pronounced "wombled", but she calls it "Killer." Why? Ask her. She was the one that dubbed it "weapon of mass but little destruction."

Well, one thing led to another, and after two months, Adora finally found it in one of the drawers in their bedroom. She was confused, but asked Catra about it later. The feline had been acting strange lately, especially after dodging Adora's questions about her running off at certain times. The blonde had attempted to tail the other, but her girlfriend had disappeared between the thickets faster than a mouse in the walls.

So, tell me, how did it lead from Catra finding Killer in the Whispering Woods to her aiming it at the aforementioned girlfriend?

Technically it was She-Ra and not her girlfriend, but details, details.

"Why should I shoot you, again?" Catra asked, pulling back the slide on the top of the WOMBLR.

"Because...It'll bounce off of me." Adora replied, already in She-Ra form and looking super determined.

Meanwhile, Glimmer and Bow were strolling through the halls, on their way to the outer garden when they saw the two yahoos pointing things at each other. It was too late to stop them anyway.

"You promise?" Catra half raised Killer, turning her head away as her arm lifted it to face level.

"I promise."

BANG!

Clink.

"...I told you it would bounce off." Now Adora said, reverting her form.

"That's another thing to add to the list of "Things Adora's always right about."" Catra placed Killer back into the holster she fashioned for it before running over to Adora and hopping just enough to be carried bridal style.

"At least now we know you're invincible." Catra purred.

"At least now we know they're both idiots." Glimmer pointed out, face palming. Bow shook his head and mirrored her action.

The WOMBLR strikes again.

#she ra #spop #catradora #oneshot #catra #adora #crack fic #she ra and the princesses of power #my fics

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eugeniedanglars · 3 years

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finally picking hannibal back up despite getting increasingly sick of s3 and my very first episode back has a scene about teeth and it uh. bothered me. and that turned into me ranting about all the other things in this show that bother me. so maybe don’t click the read more if you like the show hannibal and/or don’t want to read me pedantically nitpicking about teeth for 13 bullet points

bite mark analysis is known bullshit but i’ll let it slide since it’s a cop show

but even if bite mark analysis was legit i don’t think you could make THAT detailed a replica of the teeth from a bite mark

like i can see bite marks telling you something about the occlusal/incisal surfaces, alignment, and angulation of the teeth (again, if bite mark analysis worked, which it doesn’t), but that is a full-on plaster cast of a set of teeth complete with details that could not even theoretically be left in a bite mark, like the different clinical crown lengths, a super varied gingival margin, and little divots on the facial and buccal surfaces of the teeth? i guess the last one you could make a case for being just accidental dents in the plaster but the first two are bothering the fuck out of me

“pegged lateral incisors” it’s peg laterals

he pointed at the air next to the mandible (??) and then at the mandibular right lateral

peg laterals are only found in the maxilla

there aren’t even peg laterals in that model

“central incisor’s got a corner missing, and the other central incisor’s got a groove in it” okay and what about the other two central incisors

there’s a shadow over the central incisors in the close-up and the incisal edges of the maxillary ones are partly hidden behind the mandibular teeth but none of them looked like they had a corner missing

the right maxillary central looked like it maybe had a shallow groove on the facial surface but again, even by the fake standards of bite mark analysis how on earth would you figure that out from a bite mark on a soft surface like skin

"snaggletoothed son of a bitch” seems like a bit of an overstatement. like yeah they could use orthodontics (if these teeth were actually in a person’s mouth and not just set into a model by that weird chinatown dental office-slash-tattoo parlor from earlier in the episode) but their teeth are intact and don’t have any major defects that i can see?

otoh maybe my standards are just different because i’ve seen so many photos of tooth diseases/deformities even before getting to any sort of diagnostics course. maybe non-dentists really think “just needing braces really really badly” is the worst a mouth can look

and finally, both because it’s somehow the last thing i noticed and because it’s maybe the most egregious mistake in this scene: how the fuck are this mouth’s nonexistent incisor defects the identifying characteristics and not the fact that it’s missing its goddamn molars?! that’s twelve fucking teeth! over a third of the mouth! an entire class of tooth missing and none of the characters comment on it!

is this how real forensic scientists feel all the time watching crime dramas because if so i salute them all

anyways the following started out as tags but they got WAY too long so here are my non-tooth-related complaints:

i’m sorry for bringing up paul blart mall cop 2 for the third time in less than a week but this show is really starting to feel like that bad scene where neal mcdonough and kevin james yell about how crazy they are

“you think YOU’RE crazy, hannibal?? i’m a DRAGON WEREWOLF who keeps a MURDER SCRAPBOOK because i’m so TWISTED” like just..... stop.

i mean the show always had a huge element of “look how ~edgy~ and ~twisted~ this is, aren’t we so ~sick~” but it’s really getting unpalatable in s3. not in an “i can’t handle their ~twisted visions~” way but in an “i’m really not impressed by it or enjoying it and it’s making it hard for me to take the show seriously” way

like the last episode before the time skip was i guess supposed to be super tense and serious and show how dark all the characters had gotten, but it was about mason verger wanting to wear will’s face and secretly having his sperm harvested?? face/off with prostate milking isn’t scary, it just sounds like a fake episode you’d make up as a meme like “pearl hates the irish”

i’m still so fucking furious at them for brutally murdering beverly AND fridging abigail TWICE, the second time literally IMMEDIATELY after bringing her back even though it would have been so much more interesting to explore the repercussions of this plot element that drove the entire second season turning out to be a lie???

like i literally got so excited when i saw she was alive cause i was like “hell YES what’s gonna happen to will and alana’s guilt and their parental-like relationships with her, how has abigail been changed by months with no human contact other than hannibal, how does this complicate hannibal’s relationship with the rest of the cast, how does this affect the public’s perception of everything that’s happened, how—” and then none of that fucking mattered because she got murdered again in order to give will the exact same emotional pain we literally already saw him go through at the beginning of the season

yall i think hannibal might be a bad show, or a show that has lots of individually great elements that it doesn’t always know how to pull together, or a show that’s so far removed from my personal tastes that i should just stop watching it

but like.......... i wanna see margot and alana’s baby and “is hannibal lecter in love with me?” and the cliff scene so >:(

#hannibal

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