#greta please hook me up

[itsceliac]

#this fit tho #bro with the $800 mpx goretex fishing trousers #greta please hook me up

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Best 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your shift comes to an end and you heave a sigh of relief as you leave the hotel. You’re tired and slightly irritated. That guest Thor mentioned wasn’t friendly when you dropped of fresh towels. Not even a thank you.

Oh well, you’re free now. To do… absolutely nothing. Your agitation grows. Usually you’d call up Greta and waste time together but you’re not doing that anymore.

So what do you do? Go home and sew? Watch some soap operas with your mom? Maybe you could go for a nice walk…

Sure. Your feet are sore from your shift, you wouldn’t make it very far. You huff and roll your eyes. You’ll just hang out in your room or whatever. It’s par for the course in Hammer Ford.

You come to the bottom of Thunder Lane and turn onto one of the longer country roads. Your parents’ house isn’t terribly far, not when the weather is nice. You grip the strap of your slouch bag and yawn. A nap is tempting but with you’re luck, you’ll oversleep and end up awake all night.

The noise of an engine and mulching tires approaches. You don’t look back as you sidle over on the apron. There’s more than enough room for them to pass, you always make sure of that. Yet, you notice how the vehicle slows and the bumper pokes out just along your peripheral. As you walk on, the car keeps a snailish pace with you.

You glance over and withhold a cringe. Just what you need. The sheriff rolls down his window as he taps on the gas. He hooks his elbow through the door as he keeps his other hand on the wheel.

“Hey, darlin’, need a ride?” He drawls.

“No thanks, sheriff,” you turn your head straight and pick up your pace.

“You ain’t live far, I can drop ya off no problem.”

“Like you said, it’s not too far,” you agree, adjusting your grip on your bag.

He snickers as the gravel grits beneath the tracks of his tires, “I see,” he keeps his slow crawl, “you one of those ladies who don’t need no man, huh?”

“I… guess,” you shrug, keeping your eyes ahead of you.

“How’s that? Don’t you live with your daddy?”

You wince. That’s a low blow, even if it is true.

“Sure do,” you answer dully.

“I’m not sayin’ it to embarrass you, I’m just wonderin’,” he coaxes, “don’t mean nothing at all.”

“Thank you, sheriff.”

“You gonna look at me, huh?”

You peek over again. You don’t say a word as you keep walking. He watches you as you watch him. His gaze makes your blood run cold.

“Come on, get in,” he says.

You frown, “I said, I’m fine.”

“You sure are stubborn,” he clucks, “I thought an old man like yours would teach ya some respect.”

You face the horizon again, keeping one foot in front of the other, “I haven’t been disrespectful, sir.”

He huffs and doesn’t respond. You press on as he pulls ahead. You watch him drive off, picking up speed as he rolls away. You exhale and bite your cheek. That was weird.

You watch him stop just down the way and reverse. He veers his back bumper around and swerves back to face you. He must’ve got a call. You don’t think too much of it. He slams on the gas, revving back in your direction.

He gets closer and closer. You expect him to drive past but you realise, he isn’t following the lines. He’s driving right at you!

You stagger and jump to the side. You hurdle yourself off the apron across the ditch and hit the grass on your knees. Your bag swings up over your shoulder and weighs you down. You twist onto your ass and pant at him as he stops just short of the divet in the ground.

He laughs through the open window as he flicks his lights on and his siren whoops, sending your heart to lurch again. You scramble back on your hands and stand up shakily. He backs up again and steers the car straight.

“Better be careful on the backroads,” he idles just across the ditch from you, “lotta careless drivers around here.”

You gape at him. He didn’t just try to kill you. He wouldn’t. He’s the sheriff. And for what? Because you didn’t want to go with him and Greta? Or because you didn’t want a ride?

“See ya round, darlin’,” he taunts and spins the wheel, speeding off in the other direction. His tires kick up rocks and send a cloud of dust into the air behind him.

You reach down to wipe off your pants and try to shake off the adrenaline. You still can’t believe what just happened. It just doesn’t make sense.

You sniff and look around. It’s just you, out in the middle of nowhere. He did all that but he could have done more. You’re lucky he didn’t.

You stay on the far side of the ditch, edging close to the trees as you set back towards home. You’ll cut through the forest, just to be sure. You’d almost rather face a black bear than chance another run-in with the sheriff.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #drabble #series #backwoods au #second best #au #the devil all the time

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

bound for n.y.c - g. van fleet

a/n: hi everybody! i’m back with a cool 3.6k fic about the one, the only, greta van fleet! i am seeing them at msg next week and am so excited that i just wanted to write a quick fic. please note that there’s no set ship and that it’s sort of implied that reader is in love with all members of the band and all the band members are into reader and NOT EACHOTHER. except maybe sammy and danny. let me know if y’all want anymore of these types of fic, idk maybe it’ll flop. also this is kind of fast paced and i am very sorry for that warnings: kissing, physical touch, mentions of anxiety and stress, complicated love triangles, food mentions, reader has a stepdad and a good relationship with their mom, reader being from ny, i think reader is fully gender neutral with maybe a few feminine traits but no real descriptors. also reader has tattoos and mentions of a dog that is no longer with us! no use of y/n, one mention of drugs, a bunch of references to sex, and cursing :0 word count: 3.6k summary: as tour manager, it's your job to get the boys to new york city, your home town. just don't fall in love with them, or anything. now playing: runway blues – greta van fleet

Being tour manager for America’s favorite Led Zeplin cover band, or at least, that’s what your judgmental bitch of a landlord called them once, was surprisingly difficult.

You were constantly running around after the four of them, feeling often more like a nanny than a tour manager. Especially at first. You had started meeting with them a few weeks before their World Starcatcher tour had begun, where you wore these professional, stuffy outfits. They had been referred to you by their makeup artist, who you had known from when you were an assistant to the tour manager of Phoebe Bridgers’ 2022 reunion tour.

You had been working for a producer when you got the call. Truthfully, you missed touring. It was a great way to see different parts of the country and the world, and you thrived in the chaotic environment. And you had heard of Greta Van Fleet, mostly from your grandfather, who was a huge classic rock fan, and always exploring new music via his iPad.

But you started out rather cooperating with them, wearing these stuffy outfits—Mostly long button ups and pencil skirts, while the boys showed up in comfortable casual clothes, always joking about you having to loosen up a bit.

And one notoriously hot day in early July, you showed up in shorts and a muscle tee to meet with them to go over the final dates of the tour before you all gave your go ahead to the social media manager.

You didn’t do much talking about the tour that meeting, opting instead to answer questions about your tattoos, your taste in music, your life to this point. And in exchange, they gave you pieces of themselves.

“I’m from New York,” You had answered over some late afternoon drinks. “I haven’t been home since Christmas, So I’m excited to see my family when we’re there.”

Josh’s fingers traced your upper arm, over a tattoo of your long-gone dog. “Will we get to meet this little guy?” He asks.

You only chuckled, “No, this one died while I was in college. Best dog I ever had.” You said solemnly.

And that was it. One comment about your dog and the boys were hooked on you forever. And when the tour started, you only grew closer— Sharing with them parts of your childhood, Jake teaching you the very basics of guitar, Josh taking shots with you before shows, Danny bringing you coffee to cope with those shots the next morning, and Sam holding your hand when he’s anxious, or when you’re anxious—or both.

So, by the time you make it to the boys’ first show at the Garden, you’ve developed a routine.

The bus leaves by seven a.m. from the hotel in D.C. to get to New York by nine, nine-thirty-ish. You’re craving a sausage, egg, and cheese on a bagel from your favorite deli near where your mom lives, about an hour outside of the city.

So, you wake Jake up first, as he takes the longest to really wake up, and you’re sure you’ll have to shake him awake at least twice before he really gets up for the day. Then, you go to make sure Josh is up, and hear his shower going by the time you get to it. Good.

Then, you head to Sam, who is snoring away with Rosie. You almost don’t have the heart to wake him up. Almost. But Rosie senses your presence and stands up in bed, starting to lick his face. He groans, mumbling a soft, “I’m up, Rose, I know.” You feel good when you head over to Danny.

But thankfully, he’s already up. He’s in bed, writing in his notebook when you get there, sipping his coffee and all packed up for the road. His hair is tied up in a bun, and you’re entirely grateful that he’s so good at this whole thing.

Usually, you don’t need to wake each of them up, but every few shows, the five of you, as well as other crew members, indulge in the after party. And last night was your turn to be the D.R.O. Designated responsible one.

Eventually, you get all four of them downstairs and on the bus, no real difficulties. You all climb onto the bus and begin the drive to your home state. And you can hardly take the anticipation. Seeing your family again, visiting your favorite spots, and getting a homecooked meal was keeping you going. You had moved to California for school, before traveling on a few tours, and then settling for about a year in Nashville. But you ached for New York.

While your boys busied themselves with talk, games, and music, you stared out the window, biting your thumb and ignoring the reruns of Daredevil that played on your laptop in front of you. And apparently, you were bouncing your leg intensely, because the only thing that snapped you out of your thoughts was Rosie’s head on your thigh to relax you.

You scratched her head, sighing as you closed your computer, before glancing up to the boys, who had gone suspiciously quiet.

“What?” you asked, giving them a concerned look.

“You know we’ll make it to New York, right?” Sam asked, “You’ll be there soon.” He said, holding your hand, just like he always did when you were anxious.

“I know, I’m just—I miss home. And I love touring, and usually I’m never like this, but when I realized I’d be seeing my mom after months, I just... It made me start focusing a lot more on the fact that I miss it.”

You knew they’d get it. Michigan had been their home for years, and although they loved Nashville just like you did, you knew they left a part of themselves in Frankenmuth, just as you had in New York.

Danny tossed you a blanket, “Get some sleep, Sugar. You’ll need it.” he said softly. You nodded, too anxious and tired to argue any further than that. You cuddled up to Sam, Rosie finding her way in between your legs to further comfort you.

As you drifted off, you thought about your relationship with them. Things like Sam’s holding your hand and cuddling, Danny’s very often kisses to your forehead, Jake’s gentle hugs from behind, and Josh’s well—Josh’s everything, he’s a very affectionate young man—had been, for the most part, strictly platonic. You had thought about it. Kissing one of them, asking to break the professional lines of your relationship, however blurred those had become.

But it was more than that. Over the past few months of knowing them, it had developed from you getting them from place to place, into a softer, more tender relationship. The relationship you had formed with them was something you had been desperately lacking and needing. You had only realized that you missed it when you got it from them.

You were all real true soulmates.

You woke up to the sound of a loud series of honks and yelling from outside the bus. You peeked out of the window to see people screaming at each other, thousands of people making their way to work, and tall skyscrapers overhead.

“Jesus Christ, it smells like someone died!” Jake complained, as the rest of the boys agreed on the smell being horrid. It made you grin. You were home.

You stretched and pulled out your phone, checking the itinerary for the day that you had written out in your note’s app the night before. And you were right on schedule, since you accounted for traffic getting here. It was around noon, so you decided to head over to the hotel to get settled in before the show.

Except when you got there, the lady at the front desk informed you there were no rooms booked under the name you had given them. Which was insane, because you booked a room months ago knowing how expensive and unpredictable the city was.

So here you were, a show that night, with no hotel room, and a group of hungry twenty-something year olds. You were going to scream. And they could see it on you, your muscles tense, as you struggled to not start shaking.

Josh rested a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb gently against it as he wrapped his other arm around your shoulders. “Deep breathes, Baby. You made that reservation; these guys are just a bunch of fucking fucks.” And it made you laugh, enough to relax you. You took another minute to think, before turning back to the rest of the guys.

“Okay, here’s the plan. We must be at the Garden for soundcheck and costumes, hair, and makeup by five thirty. We’ll go there now, drop off our bags and we can go grab pizza and garlic knots at this spot I know, good and are very cool with service dogs.” You said, unable to think of a scenario where you leave Rosie anywhere except with Sam. “While we’re there, I’ll make a call, since I think I know where we can stay if you guys don’t mind a bit of a drive after the show.” No one objected, they simply got back on the bus as instructed, and headed to enact that plan.

After dropping off your things and making it to the pizza place, you step outside for that call, telling Jake to just order you a soda. The phone rings. Once. Twice. And on the third call, your mom answers, excitedly saying your name.

“Where are you guys? Did you make it to the hotel okay?” she asks, and your face melts at the softness.

“Hey, Mom, we’re in the city, getting some lunch. Listen, the hotel messed up our reservation, and now we’re looking for a new place to stay... I know it’s last minute, but—” And before you can ask it, she cuts you off.

“Well, you five can stay here! We have the guest room, your room and your brother’s room.” She decides. “I’ll cook, do they like sausage and peppers?”

“Mom, you don’t have to, it’s gonna be late when we get in.”

“And you still need to eat. I’ll see you tonight, okay? I love you baby, break a leg tonight.” She advises, even though you aren’t the one preforming.

“Alright, I love you, mom.” You hang up and head back inside, settling into your seat next to Josh, just as the waitress comes back to take your order. “We’ll have a large cheese pizza with half mushrooms, please. And a dozen and a half garlic knots.” You say coolly, not giving the boys a chance at all. You love this restaurant. It’s best you order anyways.

They all stare at you for a few seconds before you smile. “You all get to meet my mom tonight.”

“Don’t you think we should have a couple of dates before we meet your mom?” Danny asks, and it makes you giggle.

“What do you think this is?” You tease.

Lunch goes really well, and after a bit of tourism and some drinks around the city, you make it to Madison Square Garden to get them ready for the show. For a brief few hours, you have a break. Usually, you spend it catching up on some work, having some quiet time, or anything of the sort. But this is their debut at the Madison Square Garden, in your hometown. You feel an obligation to watch the show.

Before the show begins, as Josh and Jake are getting their makeup done, you relax with Sam and Danny on a couch somewhere backstage. When Jake is done, he steals your phone off the table, and holds it up to take a photo of the three of you. Sam and Danny lean in and each kiss one of your cheeks, and it makes you roll your eyes for a second before you smile at the camera, letting them be all lovely dovey and affectionate, like a bunch of freaks. Your freaks.  

When the show starts, you watch from the sidelines, cheering for them and generally enjoying the show, because you just know how important this is for them. And you eat it right up, watching your boys perform at a dream venue for so many artists.

Before they start Highway Tune, Josh starts speaking to the crowd. “This is a very special show for us. Our debut at The Garden. The Garden, how about that?” He hums. “And we’re also playing in our tour manager’s hometown... So, we have some special surprises for you in their honor.” The crowd goes wild, and your face flushes, giggling at the idea of them performing a special show just for you.

The show goes by quicker than you would like it to, because you’re enjoying it too much. And you’re really understanding suddenly why so many people are down bad for them online. They look really fucking good. When they get off stage, you just want to cling onto them or make out with them or worse, and then they go back on for the encore and it leaves you longing, wanting for more.

What the fuck is happening to you?

You get caught up in this feeling to the point where the next hour or two—Waiting for the crowds to clear out, for them to get undressed, for the bus to get there—fly by, and before you know it, you’re in the bus again, heading to your moms. Josh lays his head on your lap, and Sam has found himself cuddled up against you. Danny is leaning against Jake across from you, and Jake is just staring at you. He has a familiar look in his eyes, and you just stare back.

When you make it to your home, while all the houses are dark and quiet, the kitchen and living room light is on when you make it to your home. The bus driver has family in the area, so he’ll stay with them for the night, and pick you up early on Thursday Morning, giving you all a break from the crazy travel days.

Your mom is in the kitchen when you come in, having late night coffee and tea with your stepdad. She hears you come in and gets excited, greeting you all at the door. She pulls you in for a hug and a kiss, holding onto you for a little while, just excited to see you. When she pulls away, she grins at the boys.

“And who are these lovely young men?” she asks, teasingly.

In a deadpan voice, you respond, “The cokehead rockstars I’ve been traveling with. I’m their groupie.” You say, and she scoffs at your sarcasm.

Josh smiles, “That’s us, Baby!” He opens his arms to your mom, and she gladly hugs him as a greeting, despite this being their first meeting. And there it is again, that aching feeling you had, when you watched them perform tonight, the same feeling that followed you home. After hugs and introductions, you’re all at the dinner table, gobbling down the dinner your mom made for you. You can almost cry, enjoying the taste of her cooking after months without it.

And the boys enjoy it too, loving a filling meal after a busy show. When you have all finished eating, you make your way up to your respective rooms. You stick Danny and Sam in the guest room, Jake sleeps in your brother’s room, and Josh in your bed, with you. You could almost die.

You take out your earrings and then you lay down. Your arms are exposed, showing off the tattoos you have once more. Josh sleeps in his boxers and a tee shirt, even though your room is chilly. He lays next to you and begins tracing his fingers over your tattoos.

“What’s this one?” he asks, tracing over a ghost that’s on your forearm, right above your elbow.

“Got it during the final show of Phoebe’s tour. She has a similar one somewhere, and I guess it was my way of commemorating the tour.” You explain. He hums, and moves to a different one, asking you the origin of that one. This goes on for a while, before you kiss his palm and tell him to get some sleep.

He falls asleep quickly, and you just stare at him through the darkness. ‘Are you dreaming of me?’ You want to ask, a hand reaching out to run your hands through those vicious curls. Before you know what, you’re doing, you cuddle up to him, laying your head on his chest. When you feel his arms wrapped around you, you begin to drift off, confident that you did not overstep any boundaries.

When the morning strikes, you get up and realize Josh is still asleep. You wiggle out of his arms and leave the room. You must be lost in thought because you bump flat into someone without even noticing. It’s Danny. His hair is wrapped up in a towel, and he only wears a towel around his waist.  

He reminds you of that one video of Slash from the golden age of Guns N Roses, and it stirs something deep inside of you.

But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead gently. “Hey, sweets.” he says softly, in that raspy morning voice.

“Good morning.” You respond. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything; you don’t have to apologize.” He advises. “See you downstairs.” You take a cold shower just to get out of your own head before heading downstairs, where you meet your mom, Jake, Sam, and Danny laughing and eating French toast, as your stepdad cooks in the kitchen.

You love his French toast, but a pang of disappointment hits you as you think about your sausage, egg and cheese on a bagel, with hashbrowns. You quickly eat to dissipate any of those needs. But you’ve been talking about that sandwich for months, so it haunts you.

The rest of the day, you spend pretty much doing nothing. You nap, lounge, and catch up with your mom. It’s the perfect day. Just you, your mom, and your boys. And of course, Rosie. Your mom makes pulled pork sliders for lunch, and you order Chinese food for dinner. Real, good Long Island Chinese food.

And really, the day is over before you really want It to be. Sam asks you to join him on walking Rosie. You happily oblige, planning on taking him to get ice cream along the way. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you keep your head leant against his shoulder. Rosie trots in front of you happily.

“I could get used to this.” He says suddenly.

“Huh?” It catches you off guard. What does that mean?

“This. The quiet life. Walking my dog in the suburbs...” He says shyly. You get the sense there’s something on the tip of his tongue and you long for him to say it. “I love touring, but these domestic moments... You can’t beat ‘em.” He decides.

You want to kiss him so badly.

Instead, you just hum, and snuggle closer to him, wondering what the hell you’re doing. And that’s a super valid question.

The night goes the same as the last, except you kiss your mom and stepdad goodnight, not wanting them to have to get up in the morning to say goodbye. You suspect your mom will anyways. And she does. As the boys file out of the house, she’s handing them homecooked meals for the road, and you give her one more hug and kiss goodbye, before heading to the bus yourself. The others are on the bus, but Jake stands there, his hands behind his back. You narrow your eyes to him suspiciously.

“You’re an amazing tour manager, you know that?” He says gently.

“Yes, I do. What are you scheming at?” You ask, not totally trusting him.

He just grins as he reveals a brown bag he’s holding, handing it to you. Your confusion only grows as you take the bag and open it only to smell the best thing you have had in months.

A sausage, egg, and cheese on a bagel. With hashbrowns. From your favorite deli.

You almost scream.

“What?!” You gasp, “How did you—”

“I borrowed your mom’s car this morning and got it for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that...”

“Yeah, I did. I meant what I said. You hold us together, and we couldn’t be more grateful. Plus, you’ve been talking about this sandwich for months and—” You don’t let him finish. You kiss him. It’s full of all this pent-up passion you’ve held in, and Jake just wraps his arms around you, deepening the kiss. He wanted this just as much as you did, you realized. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you both lean into the kiss, fully enjoying the moment. Then, he pulls away, saying your name quietly.

You don’t know what to say. Then, the bus honks twice, scaring the shit out of you.

“C’mon you two! We got things to do, you sorry shits!” Josh yells. You can only laugh before you both climb onto the bus. Now, a new lust has overcome you. The lust for the sandwich you hold in your hands.

The lust for the four boys that surround you doesn’t dissipate either.

But as you head for Boston, your boys in tow, your shift as Greta Van Fleet’s tour manager begins once more, and you resume your position easily.

Until Sam kisses your neck. Then you melt again.

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet x you #danny wagner #daniel wagner #danny wagner x reader #daniel wagner x reader #danny wagner x you #daniel wagner x you #josh kiszka x you #josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fic #daniel wagner fic #josh gvf #josh kiszka gvf #gvf #danny gvf #danny wagner gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiszka gvf #sam gvf #sam kiszka x you #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fluff #jake kiszka #jake gvf

[renatogpadilla]

Things I hope to see in future Seasons of "Castlevania Nocturne" in no particular order:

(SPOILERS AHEAD!)

- Richter learning more spells.

- Juste flashback or any excuse for him to wear his old outfit.

- Juste throwing a SHITLOAD OF KNIVES!

- Acknowledgment of Juste stealing Dracula's furniture.

- Maria crushing HARD on Alucard.

- Alucard learning to smile again thanks to Maria and Richter.

- The Phantoms of Trevor, Sypha and Grant Greta showing up as a boss fight for Alucard like in SotN and all the old cast reprising their roles.

- Dracula. OBVIOUSLY. Hopefully Graham McTavish comes back!

- "Die Monster!" The whole thing. Please. I'm BEGGING!

- Maria's green ninja outfit (probably made using Eduard's old clothes?) and "Rock Daddy" Richter.

- Quincy Morris and how he and Richter become friends.

- Juste and Richter tag-teaming somebody.

- Alucard maybe learning about Summons from Maria, and thus getting his Fairy companion from SotN.

- More game music! That "Divine Bloodlines" Remix was EVERYTHING!!!

- Somebody singing "I Am The Wind" from SotN, wether it's Edouard or Maria or Anette or whoever. I NEED IT.

- Alucard quoting the Bible before a kill.

- Alucard vs Olrox.

- EXPONENTIALLY MORE Himbo Richter.

- Alucard's Vision where he kills another succubus. (Tera??)

- Richter getting the Vampire Killer, hopefully. If not, the Morningstar is fine too.

- Post Timeskip Maria and Alucard.

- "Al Lecarde" and the Lecarde family. Eric MIGHT be too much to hope for...

And finally,

- ANY Mention of the other protagonists. Maybe something about Simon, or maybe something about Shanoa or the boys from Circle of the Moon or the Morris Clan from the time Richter dissapeared.

- Richter giving up the whip to the Morris Clan and leaving to live his life happily ever after.

Needless to say, this Show has me HOOKED!

#castlevania #Castlevania Nocturne #Castlevania Nocturne spoilers #nocturne spoilers #castlevania spoilers #cv

[helenofsimblr]

Stella: Mom, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better political pawn for you to get what you wanted, but this is my life here, you’re going to be a grandmother! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t you care?

Anabelle: You want me to be excited about a child that you had on some fling with some island boy who probably can’t barely speak the common tongue!? I would have loved to be a grandmother Stella, to a kid you had with NIGEL! So how dare you!?

Stella: Oh give it a rest Greta with the “how dare yous!” What does it matter who the father is?

Anabelle: It matters to me! I don’t want some child from an island savage!

Stella: That is incredibly racist. Can you just back off mom, I came here for help! And all I am getting is shouted at! 

****

Anabelle: I have helped you Stella… I got you into the law program, I got you hooked up with Nigel, I got the Oakmont’s on board with our family. Years of careful planning, and you’ve made a huge shit of it in just a few weeks. Well done, you really are a destructive force of nature. 

Stella: Alright, if that’s what you think of me, fine. Can I at least get the spare room tonight? Nigel kicked me out.

Anabelle: He did the right thing.

Stella: I’m pregnant with your grandchild. I need you mom. I don’t need this shouting and bad vibes. I need somewhere to stay, please.

Anabelle: What’s wrong with getting the boat back to Sulani? You can go and shack up with your island boy.

Stella: You know, if it wasn’t for the fact that what happened to Maisie was my fault… and I felt I had to make it right, I might have just done that!

****

Stella: I should have known I’d get no help here!

Anabelle: You are lucky I’m even shouting at you, you little whore!

Stella: If I am, I learned from the best, didn’t I?

Anabelle: Shut your mouth Stella, I’m warning you!

Stella: You want to talk about Whores, what about if I mentioned one name: David Richards!

Anabelle: Don’t you dare mention that name again! David was a friend, nothing more!

Darren: What the hell is going on here?! What is with all this shouting! 

Anabelle: Your daughter is stupid, that’s what the shouting is about.

#ts4 #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 story #Tales From The District #Season Two #Stella #Flashback #KSU #collab #sparkiekong #crossover #TAC #Morrigan #Ozen

[iincantatorum]

@gretaphasmatosmartin from (X) [Ulysses/Greta]

Greta already sat at the bar contemplating the mysteries of the universe after drinking two glasses of red wine and currently nursing a third. She felt a little tingle run over her skin and drew her eyes across the bar where she spotted Ulysses, her friend. He was staring. The edges of her lips curled in acknowledgment and she nodded her head toward him.

Having seen her, he rose and made his way across the room. She turned her body to greet him, her smile growing as the tingling sensation grew with his approach. She blinked, ignoring the sensation, licking her lips as the heady scent of warm oils and butters, hit her nose. Her stomach rolled pleasantly.

"Ulysses ..." she hissed in greeting as she slid from the barstool placing a hand on his shoulder for balance. She'd dismounted a little gracelessly and her body collided with his solid frame, jostling her a little. Her hand slid from his shoulder and wrapped down around his back, fingers curling near the base of his spine. He felt nice and his voice sounded lovely to her ears. She wasn't quite sure of the meaning behind his words but it sounded like a lovely idea.

"Yes, please, let's get out of here..."

Even as their bodies abruptly collided, whether inadvertently or not, he was not bothered. If anything, holding her like this was preferable and there seemed to be nothing wrong with his balance today, and his trance remained fixated on the darling witch. Ever since she had kissed him on the cheeks, and dangerously close to his lips if he recalled properly, he felt the ball was on his court to give his proper rebuttal. The longer he was around her, the more he felt gravitated towards her and wanted to get closer. 

“Hope you have enough time, I plan on seeing the sunrise with you,” he made his intentions clearer as they left the nosy tavern behind them, and held her close as they made their short trip into the woods. Following a creek, he went to his home, the secluded and cozy cabin where they’ve hung out before. 

 As they stand close to one another, the warlock hooked a finger and tenderly lifts Greta’s chin, tilting it up so that they can look at one another, and ran a thumb across her skin lightly.

“Such cold cheeks... hope the cold didn’t bother you too much. Come settle near the fireplace with me, Greta.” On the mantle place were his newest glassworking creations, his mushroom sculptures. There was an eerie glow to them, but overall they were smooth and designed so they were pleasing to the eyes. “What do you think of them?”

#gretaphasmatosmartin #threads; ulysses/greta #/he wants to warm her cheeks O.O

[emeraldcitynerdfighter]

Carson let herself sleep in until at least seven in the last two weeks of her summer. She had a routine she needed to reacquaint herself with.

An arm jutted out of the comforter to shut off the blaring of the alarm. Carson rolled over to deliver her good-morning kiss to Greta, before slunking off to the kitchen to start the coffee pot.

"No…" Greta whined, snuggling closer to Carson.

Carson exhaled a laugh, capturing Greta's lips with hers.

"Stay," Greta nuzzled her face into Carson's neck, tickling, alighting something that always lay dormant. Carson hummed in response.

"I have to go to in today," Carson reasoned. Despite her words, she slipped her arm back under the covers, snaking across Greta's waist, mooring them tighter.

Greta looked up to her, eyes still cloudy with sleep and something else entirely. "But you don't have to…"

The light had already changed, everything brighter in the late summer morning. The window into the back yard was on Greta's side of the room. Golden sunlight backlighting her figure, catching stray, mused hairs, turning them honey-colored, she looked positively ethereal.

Carson could resist many things to uphold her routine. Sleeping in after a late night writing or grading. Skipping a run when the weather skirted the fine line between drizzle and downpour.

The one thing she could not resist, ever, was Greta.

Especially not a Greta who was officially, for sure, carrying their child.

Starting every day pleasuring her wife was never going to get old.

Greta let her hands travel over Carson's waist, lingering on the exposed patch of skin between t-shirt and shorts. Carson shivered, feeling goosebumps erupt in the wake of her fingers, everything suddenly awake and alive and thrumming.

"Please…"

Carson smirked, relishing the desperation dripping in Greta's voice. Her wife wanted her, always wanted her. She shifted to hook a leg around Greta's, anchoring them together, pressing her heat against another. She lay a hand against Greta's cheek, pulling their mouths together. Greta sighed against her mouth, as Carson kissed her, opening an invitation to tongues to linger, for a moment, before Caron craved other parts of her.

She did have favorites.

Greta whimpered as Carson teased along her jaw and neck, timed with her hips grinding against her.

"You don't get to beg me to stay in bed and then whine about it." Carson pressed herself up, shifting to straddle Greta's lap. As she lay prone and vulnerable beneath her, Carson reached for Greta's hands, loosely entwining their fingers.

"This okay?"

Through the haze, Greta nodded.

They would have to accommodate soon -- for energy and comfort and physicality -- but for now…

They still had time.

//

Read the rest of some other beginning's end on ao3! Next chapter will be up soon!

#aloto #a league of their own #gretson #modern au #aloto fic

[trippingbrokenbawls]

Won’t you love me so tender?

Summary: You just moved in with your bf, Danny Wagner, but he’s been occupied with recording recently.

Tags/warnings: Just angst and fluff folks~

Note: This is my first public fanfic so please go easy!

For half a year, you’ve been dating Danny Wagner, the drummer of Greta Van Fleet. While you loved their music and Danny as a drummer, you were able to manage snatching him without constantly mentioning the band itself. Not that he would have cared, but Danny was a sucker for some conversations about classic rock bands like Pink Floyd and Van Halen.

Just a few days ago, you fully situated yourself at Danny’s fairly large home in a more secluded part of Nashville. He couldn’t have been more ecstatic when you had asked to move in with him. It meant you truly wanted to this relationship to work and Danny loved commitment.

There you were, only a few boxes left to unpack. Majority of the left over shipping boxes were clothes and your many trinkets. Danny wasn’t opposed to a few of them being used for decor in your now shared room. He was a little more minimalistic and you were prone to clutter. Before going off to record with the Kiszkas downtown, Danny had set down the boxes with ease per your request.

Walking into the bedroom, you approached the box resting on the massive king bed against the left wall. There were several of your sweaters, most stolen from Danny’s collection, and band t-shirts folded neatly and compact in the box. You began placing the shirts in the long wooden dresser in a drawer cleared out by Danny. He also had shifted his clothes around in the walk-in closet for yours to fit too.

For most of the day, you hung up and put away your clothes. You also decorated the room with some picture frames, crystals, and other objects that you insisted needed to be set out.

“Ok babe that’s fine,” Danny had chuckled. “We just can’t over-do it or else we’ll suffocate.”

Many of the photos you put on the wall were of you and Danny on different occasions from touring to dates. With the lengthy days of recording music, you missed being able to talk alone with Danny about different topics that interested you that day. He was a perfect listener because he loved listening to you ramble on about your favorite things. However, Danny was an exception because he’d immediately become flustered when you cooed at him.

It was about 7 o’clock, which was what Danny set his curfew as because he promised you with dinner. However, the minutes went by and it was almost 8. You could understand why he was late with recordings going longer than usual a lot. But, you desperately just needed him with you and he had made a promise to be at home by 7 o’clock.

You were in the living room, curled up on the couch with a flannel blanket Lori bought for Danny a few years ago as a housewarming gift. You were watching Tik Toks on your phone when Danny texted you:

“I’ll be home super soon, I’m so sorry :(”

“That’s okay”

You didn’t mean to be agitated with him, but you were. He promised to be home with you after two weeks of long studio recording sessions, sometimes going into the late night. The only reason why you didn’t attend many was because you were unpacking. Danny helped when he could and you understood.

After about 20 minutes, the front door at the end of the hallway by the dining room quietly closed. You could hear Danny’s keys jingle as he placed them on one of the key hooks on the right wall. His shoes scuffed as you heard him shrug them off.

“I’m home,” Danny called as he walked into the kitchen, which connected with the the dining room through a large opening. “Let me set these groceries down real quick, babe.”

He shuffled into the living room with on of his grocery tote bags hanging low at his side. You wrapped the blanket draped around your shoulders tighter, just barely looking up at him.

Danny parted his lips to speak, but closed them. He placed the tote bag in front of you on the glass coffee table. Quietly walking away, your boyfriend went back into the kitchen.

While Danny was putting away groceries, making loud slams of the fridge and cabinet doors, you grabbed the beige tote bag. It was the one with a painting by Claude Monet on it, which you bought for him when you two were still friends. Opening the bag, you looked inside:

There was a Pink Floyd album which both of you didn’t have in your collections. The copyright confirmed it was vintage, but the cover was crisp and clean. You pulled out a small box held together with an emerald green, tied ribbon. You untied the bow from the black, velvety smooth box and uncovered a set of beautiful rings. Nothing from a jeweler, but they were gorgeous. You adored wearing and collecting rings, especially ones that were celestial themed. The six rings were antique gold and had bejeweled stars on them.

Your heart felt less bitter and you wanted to run to Danny with full confidence, but your attitude created a thick atmosphere between the two of you. You sat and tried on the rings, which were swapped out with the ones you were wearing already.

From the entrance to the large living room, Danny leaned against the door frame. You noticed and flushed a warm pink. Fumbling with the gifts by pushing them away, you finally met Danny’s eyes. You always melted when you made eye contact, but this time he didn’t hold his gaze for long when he quickly looked down at his calloused hands.

Danny’s expression was apologetic and wounded by his tardiness and your response. He ran his hands over one another and sighed.

The atmosphere was suffocating the two of you and your face finally crumpled like paper. You squeezed your eyes shut to prevent the hot tears from streaming out. It was unbearable to see Danny so hurt. You wanted to stay frustrated but you always gave in so quickly.

“Y/N,” He finally spoke.

You shook your head and trickles of tears escaped down your cheeks.

“Y/N,” Danny said softly, coming over and crouching next to the couch. “What’s the matter? Is it because I’m late?”

You pulled him to your chest and buried your face in his curls that delicately covered his shoulders. The tears came pouring down your cheeks, soaking the dark locks and knitted sweater Danny had on. Your hand came up and clutched the hair on the back of his head. Danny’s head now rested on your shoulder as well as you cradled it.

“I forgive you,” you hitched. “I just couldn’t stand to see…you hurt by my stupid attitude…”

Danny let you keep him in your arms, rubbing circles on your back. “Oh Y/N, I get it. I made a promise and didn’t make it back in time—“

“I know now that you were just trying to make tonight special, but still I need you,”

Danny let out a trembling sigh. “I’m here, baby.”

He pulled away and stood up. Wiping the tears from you face with a calloused hand, Danny lifted your chin up to meet his eyes. You sniffled and gave a half scowl when he placed a kiss on your nose.

Danny walked away to the instruments on the other side of the room; an acoustic guitar, keyboard, and bass huddled in a corner. He picked up the tan guitar and slung it over his shoulder. Danny came over and sat in the recliner next to the far side of the matching sofa.

“I was thinking about you during the studio, about how much I wanted to be home with you to help unpack,” he told you, meekly smiling. “I decided to come up with a little something during a bit of free time. I don’t have a title, but I know it’s for you.”

Danny began strumming on the guitar, filling the room with a sweet melody. He began singing a short piece with his soft vocals:

“Gorgeous and sweet,

There’s nothing that keeps me from smiling

When you’re here with me,

Won’t you love me so tender,

Take me by the hand

As we go across the land,

How did I get so lucky,

Being here with you

Traveling this Silk Road

Where the greatest treasure is you,

I don’t need much

Just my baby

It rips me to pieces to see

My baby fade away

I wish she would stay”

When the song finished, Danny’s tan cheeks were tinted with a warm Carmel. He grinned with you as you dried some leftover tears with the collar of your t-shirt.

You discarded the blanket from your shoulders and approached your curly haired boyfriend. Taking his guitar and laying it on the couch, you then bent down to kiss him. Your lips intertwined for a moment, drinking in each other.

“Thank you, angel,” You said, pecking Danny’s lips again and sliding into his lap. “I’m going to have to find a way to make it up to you.”

“I have a few ideas,” He smirked.

The End :)

#greta van fleet #danny wagner #danny gvf #fanfic #Danny Gvf fic #Danny Wagner fic #Gvf fic

[battlestar-royco]

Hello Maxine! What do you think of the new genre of "sad girl" literature (ottessa moshfegh, sally rooney etc) esp. with relation to white femininity and the popularity of such authors when compared to authors of colour writing on similar themes?

Hey!! I admittedly haven't read any of it, but that's only because the concept bores me to tears. It just really turns me off, sorry. This is probably going to sound condescending as fuck so I'm sorry for that but like. I simply do not derive life's meaning from books about hooking up with guys in ramshackle apartments and feeling depressed. It's just not relatable to me nor does it make me intellectually curious in any way. And I think therein lies the issue, with regards to how these books are currently positioned relative to women and white femininity.

I certainly understand why there is a space for these books and I can see why it resonates with, like, mid-20s white women living in cities. I'm sure the books are well-crafted or at least propulsively written, since they are so big. But the stans are insufferable. They talk about these books like they're the narrative of Modern Women and Feminism. It's like Greta Gerwig and Sofia Coppola in book form. Like. Do more please

#answered #papenathys #white feminism #sorry i already have my depressed white girl fave and that is fleabag #and gone girl. there's simply no topping that

[transpidergwen]

Generation episode 3 thoughts:

This show really has the insane chaotic cold open down pat.

Cool so Nathan and Naomi's parents are awful. Wtf was that conversation his dad had with him, that's not normal right that was creepy as fuck?? I would say launching himself off the boat was the correct fucking reaction to that and the rest of the night's events. Also gotta say that while accidentally outing himself while stoned was horrifying, it was also lowkey iconic as hell. Glad we didn't get the textbook "you wronged me so I out you" trope, Naomi had me sweating.

Also both their speeches were just so terrible and cringy I wanted to throw myself overboard. But they weren't half as bad as watching their mom demand attention and validation from all her guests.

Loved that Chester Riley and Greta got stoned in an aquarium that looked so fun. Really pulling for Greta but so far Riley seems uninterested :/ I also now want 200% more Chester and Greta scenes please and thank you.

Riley's story about signing up the douchebag she hooked up with for the Scientology newsletter had me SCREAMING! I love her.

Great episode, much enjoyed despite the last stretch on the boat being the worst thing ever

#generation #genera+ion #generation hbo #tv thoughts #generation 1x03

[deep-hearts-core]

2012 - semifinal one

originally posted june 8th, 2020

Thoughts before watching I'm back! (Not that anyone reads these...) 2012 in my opinion wasn't a very strong year, and I have a whole lot to say about the hosting, postcards, and especially that abysmal stage design.

Montenegro The performer said it himself - he's not aiming to place well. That much is clear. This song is absolutely a political statement and doesn't even try to disguise itself. It's bad rapping - honestly, it's not even rapping, I'd qualify it as somewhere closer to slam poetry. This song does not try to be good, and it is not good. Iceland There is no such thing as a good staging decision in the 2012 contest, but Iceland didn't make entirely poor decisions either. Never Forget is a well-written song, and the staging did its best to keep up with the drama of the music. Greta and her violin were definitely used really well.

Greece The dance routine was a good choice because it kept me engaged and not focused on how bad the stage is. Good job, Greece. This song is definitely a callback to Secret Combination and the rest of its cohort but Eleftheria does a fair job of making it her own. It's not a standout song but it's nonetheless fun. Also, I'm impressed by how well Eleftheria can dance in those heels. Latvia I can't tell if this entry takes itself seriously or not. It does actually have a nice tune to it. The lyrics, though, do make this seem like something out of a musical about Eurovision rather than something actually from Eurovision itself. Anmary isn't a bad singer or perfomer, this was just cursed by the 2012 stage the same every other entry was. I can't find it in my heart to hate it. Albania It's a darn shame that some of the best stage work in 2012 had to be for this entry. Rona has a strong voice and she's good on the choruses but her vocal style in the rest of the song is just so off-putting to me that it entirely cancels out her belting and the staging. I guess I can see how it got to 5th but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Romania This song has a nice hook but the stage performance is remarkably low-energy. Like, it's not bad, it's just not very strong.  Switzerland I feel like I used to hate this - I don't actually remember for certain, but this actually isn't bad. I strongly dislike the singer's voice but other than that it's a solidly medium song with solidly better-than-awful staging.

Belgium Staging is actually pretty good here (relatively). The staging, background, and costumes are all pleasing to look at which is more than I can say for some entries. The song is nothing special and Iris does take a good third of the song to really settle into it both vocally and in terms of her stage presence, but once she's done that she does pretty well. Finland I had forgotten how competent the staging actually was here. Better than anyone else's except Albania so far. That said, I really hate the verses, and this song is so repetitive. This is another of those songs the fandom always brings up as being robbed in the semis, but I solidly and firmly believe that it deserved to stay there. Israel Hey wait, this was good actually. It's weird, certainly, but it's fun and I really enjoy the song, especially after the Belgian and Finnish entries that were much less good song-wise. San Marino I think this might be the best Valentina entry relative to the other songs in its year. It's fun, Valentina is performing well, the song actually doesn't suck, and it had okay staging. It's weird seeing Valentina so young though - like not young necessarily just to see her before she'd made Eurovision San Marino her career.

Cyprus This is fun and energetic, and I think it was probably really modern for its time. Cyprus and Greece sent really similar entries this year and to me, Cyprus really came out on top. I like the aesthetic of the staging and the dance routine, and Ivi's vocals were maybe not great but they were at least good, considering that she was 1) a teenager and 2) doing this energetic dance routine at the same time. Denmark This is unironically one of my favorite songs from 2012. I don't know what it is about it. Shoulda Known Better is a really lovely song, and Soluna and everyone on stage with her was really jamming out, lending a very chill feel to it that really endears it to me. Russia I don't know how to feel about this one. It's weird. It's fun to listen to and the grannies are definitely cute to watch onstage, but also I really do prefer entries that are entirely serious both in performance and in production and I really do not believe that the Russian broadcaster was serious about this one. Hungary Hungary actually did pretty OK with the staging here, and I really like the song. Those two things put together mean that I enjoy this song a lot more than most people do - I just vibe with it.

Austria This is probably one of my favorite joke entries because it doesn't pretend to be serious and also because musically it just goes hard. Woki Mit Deim Popo is by no means good, but it's lighthearted fun sung in heavy Austrian dialect by two dudes just bouncing around on stage. Moldova Moldova is never afraid to be quirky at Eurovision, and that's why I enjoy so many of their entries. Lautar is no exception. Yes, the staging makes the girls look like they're bugs scuttling around, but like, whatever, classic Moldova. Pasha is also very showy and enjoyable to watch. Ireland I am not really a fan of Jedward or this song, but I really love the fountain here. The energy of the twins is really off-putting as is that outfit, and the song doesn't outright suck but it's really not good, especially compared to Lipstick.

My personal qualifiers Cyprus Denmark Israel Moldova Iceland Latvia Greece Hungary San Marino Ireland

Miscellaneous thoughts I actually don't hate these hosts so much. Leyla is kind of annoying, but all in all this is a pretty decent effort. People make it out to be worse than it is because 2012 was sandwiched between the fantastic German hosts and fan favorite Petra.

#esc reviews

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Third of december, i dont know if youre a conan gray fan at all, but im gonna blast "heather" all day (i just want to say, a personalized coraline doll??? Omg thats so cool, we really have so much in common. I love coraline)

Now to the questions:

When and how did you discover gvf?

What is your favorite holiday treat or meal? And do you like to cook those meals yourself?

What is your favorite christmas movie?

What are the most devestating pics or even edits of the boys in your opinion? (Im gonna be honest, maybe i just wanna see some devestating pics or edits of them myself😊)

A bit short today, but i cant use up all my ideas at once. Have a great day

-Secret santa🎅🎄

Hi again Santa! December is going by quickly no?

1. I first heard about Greta in March this year because I was watching Bad Omens edits on TikTok and there was one that had Greta song edited over them or something so I went on a little dive of their DIG shows on TikTok but didn’t think anything of it until for a few weeks TikTok kept showing me more and more Greta. Then on March 23rd I actually sat down and watched the Heat Above music video on YouTube and immediately text my husband ‘I found a new band to obsess over’… two Starcatcher shows and lots of new lovely friends later here I am!

2. I don’t have anything specific I like to cook all the time but my family makes me bake a snickerdoodle cheesecake every year. One of my friends is gluten intolerant and vegetarian so I really enjoy finding new recipes to try out that fit all of our wants/needs. This year we’ve been talking about doing a soup feast because I make a really good minestrone and my other friend makes a fuckin delicious butternut squash soup and we want to make a polish pickle soup!

3. My favorite Christmas movie has to be either Jim Carey in The Grinch cause that’s iconic… or The Nightmare Before Christmas (she’s versatile okay)

4. You are so real for this. I am still disturbed by what happened in the group chat the other day…

Please go easy on me or I fear I might fall in love with you 😭

I almost forgot! I’m not a huge Conan fan but my bestie is and she got me hooked on Heather 🫶

Happy Sunday everyone!

#I couldn’t believe they did Jake dirty like this #that’s my wife

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Love Grows (demon!Bucky and pre-serum!Steve omegaverse au)

28

THEY WERE SITTING over cups of tea at the kitchen table when the front door unlocked and Hodge hurried in. Both men looked towards the kitchen entryway in surprise. Steve wasn't expecting his husband for another few hours at least. But what really surprised the men was how disheveled the beta appeared.

"What a surprise!" Hodge announced, breathing ragged as though he ran up the twelve flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. On his way to the sink, he clapped Abraham on the shoulder, "How've you been, old man?"

"Fine, just fine," Abraham smiled. Winking over at Steve, he directed his greeting to the younger beta, "How's it going for you, pops?"

Pausing in his guzzling of his glass of water, Hodge looked over at Steve, "You told him the good news?"

"Of course," Steve shrugged, taking a drink of his tea.

"I really am happy for you," Abraham told the larger blond. Then, teased, "Even if I don't agree with raising a baby here."

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes. Meanwhile, Hodge asked, "What's wrong with here? It's the most sought after building in all of New York."

"And to Hell if I know why," Abraham winked at Steve again.

Steve tried to soothe his husband, by nudging Erskine's shoulder, "Superstitious old fool." Then, redirecting his attention to Hodge, Steve asked, "How'd it go?"

"How'd what go?" Hodge's brows furrowed as he set down his empty glass.

"The callback," Steve bit back his grin, not wanting to get too excited if it didn't go the way he wanted it to. "How'd it go? Are we celebrating tonight or what?"

"Oh, that."

Steve's chest clenched and so did his womb. He dug his nails into the meat of his thigh to stop himself from screaming from the pain. It felt as though nothing was going ri–

"Baby, pop the champagne because I'm going to be a movie star!"

Jumping out of his seat, Steve threw himself at Hodge. Thankfully, the muscular blond caught him and twirled him around. There was so much joy filling Steve that he could almost forget about the excruciating pain. Almost, was the key word. Because the pain was there. A constant nagging at the back of his mind.

"This is wonderful news," Abraham congratulated, offering a hand to Hodge once the beta put his husband back on the ground.

"Isn't it?" Steve beamed. Poking Hodge's side to make him squirm, Steve said, "I knew you'd get it. What did I tell ya?"

"You were right, honey." Hodge smiled, dropping a quick kiss to the top of Steve's head.

"And don't you forget it," Steve teased.

Checking his watch, Abraham stood from his seat at the kitchen table and said, "I should probably get going. Greta's expecting me."

"Well, you better not make her wait," Steve said.

Hodge grabbed the older beta's coat from the closet and said, "It's a shame we haven't seen more of you lately. Y'know, with me so busy and Steve being the way he is, we really haven't seen anyone."

"Perhaps we can have dinner together soon," Abraham suggested as he shrugged into his coat.

"Sounds like a plan," Steve decided for them, leaning against the entryway to the kitchen. "And please be sure to tell Greta the good news."

"I will," the older man assured. "Have you thought of names yet? Or is it too soon?"

"Emmett or Franklin if it's a boy," Steve said. "Macy or Eloise if it's a girl."

"'Eloise?'" Hodge questioned, "What happened to 'Ellie'?"

Steve hugged Abraham and the old man said, "I do hope the pain stops soon."

"It will," Steve smiled, "Don't worry."

Hodge offered, "It's a pretty common condition."

Abraham felt his pockets. Showing the pair a plain brown glove, he asked, "Is there another one of these around?"

Steve looked around at the floor while Hodge went to the closet and looked down on the floor and up on the shelves above. The blond beta said, "I don't see it."

"Nuisance," Abraham muttered to himself. "I probably dropped it outside when I was fiddling with my phone."

"Maybe you should have Greta get one of those strings that hook 'em together like what kids have," Steve teased.

Playfully, the older man narrowed his eyes at Steve and joked, "It's things like that that makes him –" he pointed at Hodge with his thumb "– my favorite."

Steve chuckled and gave him one more hug.

"Let's really get together for that dinner, shall we?" Abraham opened the door.

"Definitely," Hodge subtly dismissed while Steve solidified, "Next week."

They watched him head for the elevator, waving when he turned back to see them standing there. The two blonds waved back. And once the old man was in the elevator, they stepped back inside and closed the door.

"That was a nice surprise," Hodge said. "Was he here long?"

"No, not that long, not really. But guess what he said."

"What?"

"I look terrible."

"Good old Erskine," Hodge scoffed, "Spreading cheer wherever he goes."

"Oh, stop," Steve waved the bitterness away. Defending him, "He means well."

Hodge blew a raspberry at him and reminded, "Yeah, just like how he, 'meant well,' when he heard we were moving in here?"

"Yes, he meant well then too," Steve said, taking care of their mugs. "In his own way."

"I just wish he could be more like the Sousas," Hodge admitted. "Those two actually mean well."

Not wanting to argue whose pseudo parents were better, Steve busied himself with cleaning the dishes that he and Abraham had used. Knowing that it was easier on him when he did a little at a time instead of letting them all pile up.

Behind him, Hodge opened the fridge. Then, he said, "I better get some more milk. You need anything?"

"I'm good," Steve assured, gripping the edge of the counter until he was white knuckling it as the new spike of pain made him want to drop into the fetal position.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few," the beta shrugged into his jacket.

As soon as the door closed, Steve slid down to the floor and cried. Grasping his abdomen, he felt so helpless. There wasn't anything that he could do. He just hoped that the baby wasn't feeling any pain as their tiny lemon-sized body grew bigger every day in his small womb.

[green-tinted-sixties-mind]

My love for Jake has grown so much recently, so here’s a little appreciation post❤️

#jake kiszka #greta van fleet #someone hook me up with a date with him please and thank you #😍😍😍 #rock n’ roll #rock n’ roll band #photo set #rock band #rock music #anthem of the peaceful army #modern rock #sam kiskza #josh kiszka #danny wagner

[greta-van-fics]

heat above

author’s note: y’all. this may be the worst thing i’ve ever written. it’s a long overdue present for my angel chey @stardustschords​ and i just. this is porn. love you so much baby!

taglist: @thatiloveyouso @brokenbellsos @greta-van-yeet @alwayzthere​ @gretavanhoney​ @weightofdreams-gvf​

warnings: A LOT OF SMUT (18+ ONLY) lord have mercy this gets dirty. unprotected sex, slapping, hair pulling, degradation, spanking, thigh riding....i’m going directly to hell.

He’d been making eyes at you all night. You were sure of it. Normal glances, like you’d received from the rest of the band, didn’t linger like that. They didn’t stick to your skin and slide off, leaving a sugary-sweet, sickly burn behind. Your stomach had been in confused flips all night. Was he looking at you? Surely not again.

You raised your eyes to check, and there, like clockwork, was his doe-like gaze. Large eyes the color of burnt caramel that you swore could see through every last scrap of clothing you were wearing. 

Your cheeks colored uncomfortably and you fidgeted against the wall, trying to listen to the story his brother was telling you. Something about high school theater camp, and a missing pair of underwear, and wow, his gaze was searing you. You looked down at your exposed décolletage, expecting there to be red burn marks left behind. 

Finally, mercifully, you found yourself not engaged in conversation with anyone. Slipping away to the parking lot behind the bar, you sat down on the curb, let out a frustrated huff, and tried to cool yourself down. The hot, heavy air clung to your skin and did nothing to help. 

The interview had gone well enough. You were expecting it to be just another run of the mill question-and-answer, with you feigning surprise and utter interest at the musicians’ run of the mill responses. Instead, you met what was quite possibly the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life. And to make matters worse, he had been seemingly unable to tear his gaze from you since.

“No chance you have a lighter, right?”

You just about jumped out of your skin at the voice next to you. Jake was standing in the back doorway of the bar, looking down at you. His full lips quirked into a faint smile at your obvious shock. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You mumbled back a barely-audible “N-no!” and wiped your damp palms on your tights. They slid off the sheer fabric uselessly. 

“You ok, sweetheart?” Jake’s voice was raspy, and the overhead lights of the parking lot cast half of his face into shadow, but the Cheshire smile and glinting teeth were always visible. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled. A sudden burst of confidence overtook you. “Is it my imagination, or have you been watching me pretty much all day?” Jake laughed, and the sound was delicious. He looked like sex in a dark t-shirt with black jeans so tight they left incredibly little to the imagination.

“Oh, I have been looking at you,” he replied unabashedly. You both stared at each other for a moment, clearly trying to gauge the other’s intentions. “Do you live around here?” 

“I have a hotel room.”

“Well, that’s alright. Have you ever made out with a perfect stranger in the back of an Uber?”

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest, but a smile pulled at your lips nonetheless. “Do you wanna take me home, Jake Kiszka of Greta van Fleet?”

“Maybe I do.” He crouched down so he was eye-level with you. “I want to do a lot more than just take you home, though.”

You leaned forward so you were and inch away from him, his nose almost brushing yours. “Are you gonna throw me around a little bit?”

Your brash confidence wavered when Jake’s hand shot up to grip your face by the jaw and he whispered, “You’re a mouthy little slut, aren’t you?”

The Uber ride to your hotel slid by in a flash of hot, slick skin sliding against teeth and lips that pulled and kissed at everything in reach. You vaguely remembered feeling sorry for the driver, but then Jake had his tongue in your mouth again and everything else melted away. Even the elevator ride up to the nineteenth floor was a mess of steamy hands tangled in increasingly-messy hair.

Once you had successfully fumbled your key card into unlocking your hotel room door, Jake backed you against the wall and slid his hands from your hips up to your breasts. “Fuck,” he whispered, leaning into kiss you once more. A moan slipped out of your lips.

“Jake,” you panted, and half slumped against the wall, unable to support your weight anymore as his wandering hands made you weak. 

A sharp sting across your face made you cry out in pain that was immediately replaced with pleasure. “You fucking slut. Try again.”

Your mind raced, trying desperately to comprehend what Jake was talking about. Try again? You’d never hooked up with him before, how were you to know—he gripped your throat with one hand and yanked your hair so hard that you were forced to fall to your knees, and suddenly it all made sense. You knew exactly what he wanted. 

Your clit was positively throbbing with need as you gasped out, “Daddy!”

An animalistic snarl escaped Jake as he looked down at you, panting between his legs. "Here’s how tonight’s gonna go, my little whore. First—” He slapped you again, but you swallowed your cry even as your eyes watered, “—you’re gonna suck me off and let me cum all over your pretty face.”

“Then,” he continued, now unzipping his pants to reveal rumpled purple boxers and an erection that made you want to moan just looking at it. “You’re going to get a nice reward and ride daddy’s thigh until you cum.” 

Saliva pooled in your mouth at the thought. Those fucking jeans looked downright perfect for getting off on. Jake ripped your hair downward again until you were face to face, him bent over you like a king lording over his subject.

“And to finish it all off, I’m going to fuck you into that bed like the dirty girl you are.” 

Without any time to think, he had pulled out his rock-hard cock and nudged it into your mouth. Your jaw ached as you tried to adjust to this size, gagging hard as he hit the back of your throat. “Come on baby, take daddy’s cock. Take it good. You don’t want me to slap you again, do you?” You managed to send him a smirk with your eyes even as his cock filled your mouth that made him falter for a moment, breathing out, “Fucking perfect.”

He began to fuck your mouth gently, your nails digging into his thighs. The tough fabric of his jeans sent electricity through your body as you thought about what was going to happen next. You took him as deeply as you could, but he was so large you struggled. You moved your hands to wrap around the inches of Jake that you couldn’t hold in your mouth and he gasped and dropped your hair, moving to push his own out of his face.

The image of him with his head thrown back, mouth open in ecstasy as his hips thrust into your mouth made your cunt ache, and you began slowly snaking your hand down to reach between your legs when—

“Fuuuuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” Jake choked out, and you pulled off of him, kneeling back on your heels and presenting your face obediently. He held his dick in his hand and came—a lot—on your face. He backed away from you, breathing hard and looking like he’d truly just ascended to the stars. 

You waited patiently for him to walk back over to you and wipe his thumb through the cum that had landed on your cheek. He inserted the thumb into your mouth and you cleaned it, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Thank you for fucking my mouth, daddy,” you said, giving his thumb a small kiss as it left your lips. Jake bit down on his lip, perfect teeth gliding across it into a smile. His forehead was shiny with sweat, and you could feel your own hair sticking to the back of your neck. 

“Do you wanna ride daddy’s thigh now, beautiful?” Jake asked, pulling you gently to your feet and guiding you over to the bed, where he sat down and patted his left thigh. Having spent all day fantasizing about that very thing made you drop all pretenses and nod your head so fast you thought your neck might snap.

Jake chuckled indulgently and brought you down onto his knee. You immediately ground as hard as you could into the black fabric. Thank God you had decided to wear a skirt today. The friction of his jeans and your tights made you let out an unholy moan. Jake placed his hands at your hips to help steady you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair. 

“You wanna take those tights off, don’t you, you filthy whore?” Jake plucked at the sheer black fabric on your legs. “You wanna show me how wet you are?” You nodded again, unable to form any words as you rode his thigh mercilessly. 

Another expertly applied smack across your face and a growl of “Use your words, princess,” had you involuntarily screaming out, “Yes, daddy! Oh, daddy, please!” 

Jake smirked. “Good girl.” He lifted you briefly and pulled your tights down your legs, ripping them several times in the process. “Fuck. These are impossible.” 

You would have giggled at his adorable frustration had you not been so drunk on lust that you couldn’t think straight. As soon as you were extricated from the tights, you sat back down on Jake’s leg and rolled your hips, the new found skin-to-denim contact causing you to throw your head back and moan. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, and you came hard all over Jake’s thigh, fisting your hands into the hair at his neck. 

You fell to his side on the bed and panted, still sensitive from your high. Jake didn’t move for several seconds, so you lifted your head to inquire why. You were met with the sight of him staring at the evidence of your orgasm on his jeans. 

“Fuck, you’re the sexiest goddamn person I’ve ever met,” Jake breathed, still looking at the spot you had left behind. You colored and apologized for ruining his pants, but Jake cut you off to roll over and pin you down to the bed, kissing you passionately. He slowly pulled your shirt over your head, seemingly reluctant to break the kiss to do so. 

You could feel him remember that he was supposed to be dominating you as he tensed his back and sat up, straddling your hips. “Do you want to be fucked now, needy little slut?”

“Yes, daddy,” you cried, clawing at his shirt to indicate that you wanted it gone. He complied and removed his and your remaining clothing. Completely naked, he dipped to kiss you one last time before flipping your onto your stomach and pulling your hips up so his were flush with your ass. He spanked it hard and another moan escaped you. 

“Yeah, you like that?” His deep was raspy with desire, and you felt his once again hard cock pressing at your once again soaked entrance. He spanked you again, then leaned down to whisper, “Tell daddy how you wanna be fucked.”

A string of profanities that you were certain were intelligible left your lips, but you had no time to wrap your mind around what you were actually saying before Jake had slid into you fully, his fingers pressing into your hips. 

“Shit!” You gasped, then Jake began moving and fucking you relentlessly. The sound was dirty and lewd, sticky skin against sticky skin and you craned your neck to catch a quick glimpse of Jake, hips pounding into you and hair flying wildly about his face. It was more painful than if he had allowed you a few seconds to adjust, but you wished it could have hurt even more. The pain drove you toward orgasm in equal measure as the pleasure. 

You felt Jake’s thrust began to get sloppier and suddenly you heard him groan, “Gonna cum, fuck, baby,” and attempt to pull out, but you threw a hand back to grip his wrist and stop him.

“Come deep,” you moaned, and that was all the both of you needed to hit the peak. You tightened around his cock and he let out a growl that mingled sinfully with your scream. 

He finally pulled out and fell onto the bed, panting. The air was thick and scorching. You collapsed onto your stomach, feeling his cum leaking slowly out of you. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling you into his side and placing a hand on your ass. “I can’t wait ‘til the next time you interview us.”

#lord please forgive me #jake kiszka smut #gvf fic #jake kiszka fic #gvf smut #by liv

[ravennm84]

Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches

I’ve seen a few fics where Lila reports the bakery to the health department and then plants bad pastries and pests just as the inspector arrives and gets the bakery shut down. I started wondering, what would happen if she got caught doing that? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Lila kept watch as she waited for the health inspector to finally arrive. She had made multiple fake reports about the bakery over the past week to get someone to come out, but no one had come yet. And she had found the perfect spot to make sure she saw the man arrive, too! She was in disguise in the park, on a bench that had a clear view of the bakery entrance, the side entrance that went to the Dupain-Cheng home, and still let her stay hidden. She didn’t have to worry about school at the moment since her stupid class and teacher thought she was visiting the royal family in Spain, and her gullible mother thought school was out for another akuma attack. Both of which gave her an alibi so no one would suspect her when Maribrat and her goody-goody parents were humiliated and lose everything.

She was almost too distracted by her daydream of Marinette crying and homeless to see a very professional looking man step out of a taxi in front of the bakery. He looked at the display with a very critical eye before writing some things down on his tablet. That had to be the health inspector she had been waiting for. Once she saw him entering the front, Lila hot footed it to the side entrance to sneak in. 

The door was locked, but she had come prepared with a lockpick set she had gotten a couple years ago. It was really too easy to get inside. In fact, it had been much harder to get the fake evidence she would need to shut the place down. She discovered while going through the dumpster for old pastries that the bakery didn’t throw away much of anything. They sold out most of the time, and the things that didn’t were donated to a local homeless shelter. It took three days of dumpster diving to find anything, which ended up being a single batch of croissants that had burned in the oven. Heck, collecting some cockroaches from a restaurant dumpster down the street had been easier; albet, a lot more disgusting.

Once inside, Lila crept towards the door as she heard Mme. Cheng speaking to the man. He was, in fact, the health inspector. A malicious grin stretched across her face as she put the first moldy croissant on the counter next to the-

“What are you doing here?” A deep voice growled behind her.

Lila froze for a moment, suddenly realizing that she had heard Mme. Cheng speaking with the inspector, but not M. Dupain. She couldn’t let herself get caught! She was facing away from him and he hadn’t seen her face yet, so there was still a chance. Grabbing the first thing she could, she didn’t even look to see what it was, she swung it around at the towering man before trying to run past him. 

Despite hearing him curse in pain, Lila didn’t make it two steps before the man grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and lifted her off of the ground. She swung her object at him again, only for the enraged man to grab her wrist and twist, forcing her to drop it with a shout as it clanged to the floor. 

The noise drew Sabine and the inspector to the back where they say Tom holding Lila off the ground. Furious and still trying to escape, she tried kicking at him only for him to release her wrist, grab her ankle, and then release her jacket so she was hanging upside down. More items hit the floor as her hat fell off, a couple of croissants and the tupperware container of cockroaches fell from her pockets, and landed next to a bloody knife…

Uh-oh.

Looking up, she saw that his right arm was bleeding from where she had slashed him with the knife, which had her fingerprints all over it. She was going to be in so much trouble unless she could think of a way out of this!

“What happened, Tom?” Sabine asked, worried when she saw her husband’s bleeding arm and was slightly confused by the girl hanging upside-down in their kitchen. It took a moment before she seemed to recognize Lila as the girl that had gotten her daughter expelled a few weeks before.

“I was coming down to meet Inspector LaStare with you and caught this girl putting bad pastries with the others.” 

“That’s not it!” Lila yelled in a panic and she wiggled in his grip, resembling a fish on a hook. “I-I-I was- I was getting rid of them! I was taking them off the counter to throw them away!”

“And your container of cockroaches?” Asked Sabine, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring dubiously at the girl.

“Those aren’t mine! I swear! If you would just let me explain-”

“I’ve already heard enough to recognize your voice, young lady,” the inspector snapped as he stepped closer to glare at Lila. “I bet you weren’t paying attention when you called the health department all those times and the recording told you that your call would be monitored and recorded. And when a single business gets over twenty complaints in less than a week, it gets some attention. But when we listen to the recordings and hear the same voice for every message, we figure it’s someone with a vendetta against the establishment. Still, we do our do-diligence and inspect the establishment, but I had no idea how stupid a person would be to attempt to plant fake evidence while I was here, in full view of the security cameras.”

She couldn’t help her surprised gasp as she, while still hanging upside down in the hulking baker’s grip, looked around the kitchen ceiling until her eyes landed on the cameras. One pointed at the side door she had picked open and the other pointed at the counter where she had put the moldy pastry.

Sabine leaned in close, glaring straight into Lila’s upside-down eyes. “Young lady, what is your mother’s phone number?” It was clear that it was more of a demand than a question, but she was still trying to think of a way out of trouble before Sabine grabbed her face and forced Lila to look at her. “You can either tell me her number now, or you can tell the police so she can go pick you up at the station while they tell her all the crimes you’re being charged with.”

Angry at being caught and forced to call her mother, Lila thought of what she could do as she tried to look and sound pitiful as she recited her mother’s number. Not difficult since she was red-faced from hanging upside-down for so long. She might not be able to get out of trouble, but she’d be damned if they didn’t pay for humiliating her.

After Sabine stepped into the front of the bakery to make the call, Lila tearfully looked up at Tom. “Can you please put me down? I’m getting really dizzy.”

She could tell that the man was tempted to drop her on her head, but he was too much of a goody-goody like his daughter and he eased her gently to the floor. As soon as he let go of her ankle, Lila’s uninjured hand snapped out and grabbed the tupperware of cockroaches, ripped off the lid, and flung the insects across the floor. 

Tom and Inspector LaStare yelled in surprise and disgust as Lila attempted to escape, this time running for the front of the bakery. She actually made it out of the kitchen, but ended up face to face with Sabine. Without a word, the woman grabbed Lila’s by the arm, flipped her over her shoulder to the floor, and twisted her arm to where she couldn’t move.

“Are you okay, Tom?” Sabine called, her voice eerily calm to Lila’s ears.

“She flung those cockroaches across the kitchen! They’re everywhere!” Tom yelled as he and the inspector scrambled to try and kill or capture the insects.

“I’ve already called her mother and the police, they’ll be here any minute.”

Lila’s struggles doubled when she heard that. “You said you wouldn’t call the police if I gave you my mom’s number!”

Sabine merely twisted the girl’s arm a little more, halting her struggles rather than letting her arm break. “I said no such thing. I only said you could choose whether to talk to your mother here or at the police station. And I promise you, young lady, your mother is going to hear everything you’ve been up to. Including what you’ve been doing Marinette.”

~oOo~

The fallout had been epic after the police and Lila’s mother arrived at the bakery. 

Greta Rossi had been in denial at first, not wanting to think that her daughter was capable of such terrible behavior. But it was hard to argue with the video evidence and eyewitness accounts of Lila attempting to plant moldy pastries, vindictively releasing the cockroaches in the kitchen, or attacking Tom Dupain with a knife, which would require stitches. 

It got even worse when school let out for lunch and the majority of Lila’s classmates came rushing over when they saw the police and ambulance at the bakery. Mme. Rossi had asked them why they were all out when there was an akuma on the loose. The class asked her why they were back in Paris since she was supposed to be in a meeting with the royal family of Spain. It became apparent after a few more minutes of back and forth that Lila had been lying for the entire time they’d been in France and Greta would have to meet with M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier soon about her daughter’s absences and failure to contact her.

When the police were placing handcuffs on Lila, she started shrieking. “You can’t do this to me! I have diplomatic immunity! Let me go or I’ll get you fired and Italy will invade France for what you’re doing to me!”

“Wrong!” Greta spoke over Lila as she approached her daughter. “I’m a secretary at the embassy, not a diplomat. Only I have immunity, you don’t. I was lucky to even be able to bring you on assignment rather than leave you with your Zio and Zia in Italy. But I see that was a mistake, and now both of us will have to pay for that mistake!”

Lila continued to shriek and curse as she was forced into the back of the police cruiser and taken to the police station. 

In the end; Lila was charged with corporate sabotage, breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon, and slander by Tom and Sabine. She was also charged for truancy, forgery, bullying, slander, and cyber bullying for what she’d done to Marinette at school. Lila’s mother was forced to pay for an exterminator to take care of the cockroaches, as well as all of the supplies and pastries that had been at the bakery and had to be thrown out due to the infestation that Lila had attempted to cause. But the worst was having to pay restitution for the time the bakery was closed. Turns out, Tom and Sabine’s bakery really was the top bakery in Paris and had the receipts to prove it.

There had been some worry that the temporary shutdown would hurt the bakery’s reputation, but Inspector LaStare, with the help of Nadja Chamack, had seen to it that none of the problems would blow back on the Dupain-Chengs. Inspector LaStare had gone on record stating that it was a rare occasion where an establishment was completely innocent of the accusations brought against it, but this was one of those times. He then showed footage of Lila planting the moldy pastry, assaulting Tom with the knife, and flinging the bugs into the kitchen before attempting to escape. He also stated that he was personally working with the Dupain-Chengs to make sure that the bakery was up to code and open as soon as possible so all of Paris could get back to enjoying their favorite pastries.

Viewers all over Paris were appalled at the actions of the teenage girl,discovering her vendetta was against Marinette since she knew about Lila’s lies. While laughing at her as they watched Tom hold her upside-down by her leg and Sabine flip the fleeing girl over her shoulder via security footage. The footage ended up being shared by people all over YouTube and gained millions of views, showing their support for the Dupain-Chengs and humiliating Lila on a now global level.

There was also sympathy towards Marinette and outrage towards the Francois Dupont administration when Nadja reported how Lila had also been bullying Marinette without receiving any help from the school. This would result in both Damocles and Bustier being suspended from their jobs until they completed training in regards to handling bullies.

With all the publicity against Lila Rossi, Gabriel Agreste had been left in a difficult position since Lila had only recently been named a new spokesmodel for his brand. Adrien, however, offered a solution to save face and help the brand in the future. So, when Nadja was doing a followup on the story the following week, Gabriel did a video interview where he very publicly announced Lila’s termination from the company for her actions and announced that he had offered Marinette an internship and a scholarship to the fashion university of her choice, so long as she was accepted. This caused a slew of universities to scout Marinette themselves, as it wasn’t every day a fashion mogul does a public shout out to a girl in college. And just like that, sales and public opinion of the Agreste brand went up.

Lila watched all of this unfold from her prison cell outside of Paris. She had been tried as an adult and was caught committing perjury during her trial, which prompted the judge to give her the maximum sentence for her crimes. She couldn’t even enjoy the pleasure of being akumatized anymore since she was so far out of the city. All she could do was sit in her cell eating moldy bread with cockroaches as her only friends as she sulked on the fact that she had failed, and the entire world was laughing at her.

Taglist:

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#lila lies #lila karma #lila salt #lila gets exposed #marinette dupain cheng #tom dupain #sabine cheng #badass parents #mlbjustice #ml fic #ml prompt