Tumgik
#i am probably gonna get flamed but whatever
emotionalcadaver · 9 months
Text
Considering that Oppenheimer is made by Christopher Nolan, the man so hardcore about historical accuracy that he got on Harry Style's ass for having his shoes laces laced wrong on the set of Dunkirk, I have no concerns about Oppenheimer being a propaganda piece like a lot of people are saying.
Also, if you have read American Prometheus, the biography that the film is primarily based on, you would know that the motivations around building the bomb, at least from the scientists' point of views, were far more complex than just "lol let's kill some people."
I don't want to say too much because I don't want to potentially ruin the film for anyone who wants to go in blind, but it is spelled out very clearly in the biography that Oppenheimer felt that the government very purposefully misled him about the situation in Japan. And that's just the first of many terrible things that the American government did to him, especially following the years after the bomb was made. There is a very minimal chance that the U.S. government is coming out of the film looking good.
14 notes · View notes
backwzzds · 2 months
Note
absolutely need a plug!zoro cheating on his gf with u nsfw …
no bc y’all are on a roll w these plug!zoro requests! position is based off this video btw 😩
ೃ⁀➷ what you want, roronoa zoro
thinking about the way that man would literally hate his girlfriend fr. like, he’s sure he’s only with her because his family loves her, but he just doesn’t. and i mean he proves that when he ends up outside your door in the middle of the rainy night, somewhere around 3 AM.
everyone would always ask him—why not just break up with her? and zoro never had an answer. his girlfriend was too fragile of a person and he hated that crying shit honestly. the only person he ever cared about making cry was ironically you.
his relationship was anything but secure. zoro was chill with whatever his girlfriend did. he trusted her, at first. she wanted to go to a party, he’d let her. she got a ride from some guy friend who was maybe his level of attractive? he didn’t care. but the same rules didn’t apply to him. zoro could be getting ready to go to work and his girlfriend would be up on him with accusations.
“i feel like you’re gonna go and fuck that bitch,” his girlfriend spat with venom, referring to you as he slid on his jeans. the green head couldn’t help but roll his eyes as she rambled on about disliking you. he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself lightly when he realized how crazy she was behind closed doors.
“well now i’mma go do that just cuz’ you said it,” he muttered, just trying to get underneath her skin. his girlfriend thought he was bluffing, but not with the way blood rushed to zoro’s dick at the thought of just being in your arms to cuddle tonight.
zoro doesn’t think twice either when it comes to pulling up to your crib. he parked in front of your cute little car, something he did to express his dominance over you in the way your cars together looked like a ‘his and hers’ pair. he was weird like that, but that’s just how much he felt for you fr.
by the time he gets to your door, his heart is already thumping in his chest. not in fear of getting caught, but instead at the sight of you in your tiny nightdress, two sizes to small to barely contain your wide hips and busty breasts.
you give him a blank look as you leaned against the threshold of the door. “ian call you for no weed.”
zoro gives you his million dollar smirk. “you should know that’s not the only reason i come over anymore.”
“yeah yeah to cheat on your girl, sure zoro,” you roll your eyes.
the green head kisses his teeth, “not cheating if i don’t want her.” with a step to the side, you helplessly let him in, and he wastes no time in kissing your lips. “missed you so damn much.”
“missed you too,” you can’t help but mutter against his lips. zoro wraps his hands around your waist and pulls your smaller frame against this larger own. his hands shamelessly wanter down to the fat of your ass as he grips it, giving it a reddening smack and repeating his actions.
zoro pulls away with one last peck to your lips. “how was your day mama?” he grabs your hand and drags you to the couch.
“fine,” you muttered with a bored expression, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv.
zoro furrows his eyebrow and snatches the remote from your hand. “what’s up wit’ you? you okay? talk to me.”
you shrug your shoulders. “i’m straight,” but your tone wasn’t convincing him otherwise.
zoro gives you a suspicious hum before pulling you into his lap. “what you doing tomorrow night?”
“probably homework,” you admit. “why?”
zoro can’t help but grin at you, flashing his gold canine pieces. “got us tickets to see that standup you been wanting to go to.”
your eyes can’t help but brighten at his words. “you lying.”
“i’m so deadass,” zoro laughed.
you kiss your teeth and slap his chest. “you don’t even like comedy!”
the greenhead gives you a shy shrug with a small blush flaming his tan cheeks. “they have an open bar, free sake so,” with a playful roll of your eyes, you kiss your teeth but smile. “so you gon’ stop giving me this bratty ass silent treatment?”
“whatever. you’re a whore for sake.”
“nah,” zoro shakes his head. “you ain’t hit me all week. you know what i had to go through not talking to you.”
you give him a sarcastic frown before pecking his lips. “aw, poor baby.” you move to pull away but are shocked when zoro grips your face and forces you back into his orbit.
how you found yourself half naked on his lip with your legs spread for him—you don’t know. damn mosshead was just that good.
“i got you,” zoro’s voice is all you hear as he steadies you on top of him with your back facing the tv. his one arm is all he needs to steady your body against his lip while he uses the other to start rubbing at you clit. “just touch me baby.”
a breath escapes from your throat as you find the courage to wrap your hand about his hard cock. his tip is an angry peach color as it oozes out pre cum, already excited from your touch. “like this daddy?”
“fuck, just like that mama,” zoro’s own breath hitches in his throat as he fights not to buck up into your grasp. “love the way you touch me. just like that baby. make me feel so safe.”
you’re almost shocked by the words leaving your mouth as you continue jerking him. the two of you hold an intimate scope of eye contact as you touch each other’s body, nothing being heard but the soft moans and breaths from your arousal.
“make you feel safe?” your voice is soft and sultry as you run your thumb over his tip. zoro can’t help but groan at his sensitivity, too late to even catch himseld. “feel safe when im loving you like this papa? you like that?”
“oh fuck, yes,” zoro whined, fully submitting to you. his girlfriend had never seen this side of him. every time he had sex with her, if he ever did, it was quick and to the point. no one was able to milk out this soft and vulnerable side to him but you. oh how you had his fucking heart and dick in the comfort of your pocket.
your legs are spread in front of zoro, giving him a complete view of what you were working it. somehow wanting to see you spread more, he grabs you by your thighs and opens you up more, practically salivating at the sight of your pretty clit glistening from his touch.
“you make me feel safe too,” you breath out with a blushed smile, trying to keep your pace with jerking zoro off. it was hard to do so when he was rubbing you nice and slow, just the way he knew you liked it.
at this point? it was all more than sex. zoro meant every word he uttered out, especially how you made him feel safe during his most vulnerable moments. only you bought this side out in him.
“fuck i’m almost there, zee.” you throw your head back and grind further into his touch.
“me too baby,” zoro breathed out, watching as cum oozed from his tip by the second. “you fuck me so good, no one does it like you—shit.”
you lick your lips as you lean over and spit on zoro’s cock, adding more lubricant to your already slippery movements. “like it when i stroke your fat cock papa? like this?”
“zoro bites his lip and nods his head. a whine fights to break through from his mouth as he lets out a broken “mhm. fuck, mama. keep going and you’ll make me cum.”
you take this as a challenge and speed up your movements with hopes to overstimulate him. zoro’s mouth falls open, and the tables inevitably turn when he’s shaking beneath you, watching you milk every drop of cum out of him. you hold your tongue out as he shoots his load upwards, droplets of his semen landing on your taste buds.
a greedy smile graces your lips as you continue jerking him off, more and more cum flying out from his sore tip by the second. “fucking hell—just like that just like that, fuck!” zoro moans loudly as he feels himself get drained.
you didn’t mind the fact that he came before you this time. watching this hard man come undone before you was enough to have you creaming all over his fingers right after. you too begin to breathe heavily as zoro maintians his circular movements against your clit.
when you’re both fucked out from your intimate session, zoro slides you onto his lap, your clit begrudgingly grinding against the base of his still hard dick. with his face in your neck, he breathes out, “i’ll break up with her. your eyebrows raise at his words. “if that’s what you want.” you waste no time in giving him a stern response.
“it is what i want.”
1K notes · View notes
ordowrites · 7 days
Text
When You Are Sick
because i am sick, i am gonna be self indulgent with this.
cw: fluff, mostly. afab reader but no pronouns are used, some pet names (precious, my fire). mdni, minors dni. purely self indulgent. i want diluc to fret over me ok
characters: diluc & arlecchino
Tumblr media
diluc
he's worried, needless to say - you spikes a fever pretty quickly and he's trying to remain calm and stoic. hay fever is common or perhaps, it's the flu or something else. either way, he starts to worry when you reject food offered to you and he considers calling all the best doctors he can. whatever you wish at this point, it will he his command. medications, tea, softer blankets. anything to make sure you're comfortable and on the track to recovery.
"diluc," you mumble as you crack open an eye, his pacing giving you a worse headache. you cough a bit. he freezes, looks at you, probably mentally preparing for the worst. "if you want to help, stop... moving around in here." you roll over and sigh, coughing again and groaning.
"is there something i can get you? perhaps i can fetch a medic? run you a bath? my fire, please tell me what you need."
you let out a breath. a groan.
"can you cuddle with me?" you finally ask. he runs warm and right now, you feel cold. "play with my hair. anything to get you to stop pacing."
he thinks for a moment - you two have shared a bed many times but he still hesitates. but he finally climbs in, and you sigh, relaxing in his warmth as his fingers softly start to stroke your hair and rub your back. he revels in your soft hair, always finding new ways to think of you as perfect.
"how's this, my flame?"
"mm, perfect. as always."
ever the one to please you, he continues until he hears you breathing deeply - finally asleep, although fitful.
Tumblr media
arlecchino
to say she is unhappy is incorrect - displeased? you're not sure. you can't read her, but her hand is cold against your clammy skin and she clicks her tongue.
"how do you feel, precious?"
"...horrible."
she sits down at the side of the bed, weight causing some movement. "unfortunate. i suppose we'll have to put our dinner plans on hold until further notice."
"'m sorry." you mumble, too tired to actually care. you sigh and lean in when she rubs her thumb on your cheek. "really. this is stupid."
"we all get sick, no need to fret." alrecchino says and your eyes slide shut briefly. you're awoken later to a smell and you groan, sitting up. she's back in your guys room with some soup. "can you sit up, precious? you need to eat."
oh, you'd actually fallen asleep. it's darker than before - save for some lit candles.
when you do sit up - hit by dizziness and nausea - you consider laying back down. you don't protest as she chooses to feed you, savoring each bite. afterwards, she makes you take a sip of some water and tells you to rest again. she'll be back in a little bit.
so you do, grateful for arlecchino's pampering and coddling. you think, briefly, that she's kissed you on the lips but brush it off as a feverish haze.
"we'll talk about your silly choice to be outside in the rain without being properly dressed when you feel better." she says before she leaves.
maybe you can play up being sick for a few extra days when you start to recover.
235 notes · View notes
mowu-moment · 21 days
Text
ranking food tokens by how much personally i want to eat them
- Throne of Eldraine -
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i have reason to distrust this meat pie thing, not only because of its wails of anguish but it also seems to have burst a bit in the oven. still not honestly opposed, at least the dishes are clean. 5/10.
how does one unpeel a curly banana? why are there sliced-open fruits on what appears to be a stone in the woods? where is the light coming from? i'm going to be taken by the fae and it's not even gonna taste too good while i'm at it, these things look dirty. but idk i don't mind someone else taking the wheel of my life rn. 2/10.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
again, concerns about the floor food, but at least it looks more like some deliverygirl got eaten by a wolf and dropped her basket than a trap. someone already took a bite, though, maybe i should leave it be. 4/10
i have been invited to the Goblin King's Feast and while i don't fully agree with his choices i will certainly partake. boar looks wonderful apart from the hair. 7/10
- Commander 2020 / Strixhaven Commander -
Tumblr media
i'm pretty sure cattails are poisonous to humans (not to mention the actual poisons in there) so i unfortunately can't oblige gyome's swamp soup. that crusty bread looks pretty nice though. i'll pick this thing apart like high school cafeteria lunch. 3/10.
- Modern Horizons 2 -
Tumblr media
i at least know who cooked this one, and i trust asmor a decent bit, but this is still food for demons, so maybe it's not too good for me. goddamn do i wanna know what it tastes like though. 4/10.
- Unfinity -
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i'm considering these two together. as a filthy american, i am allured by these fat-filled foods, but as a lad with a tiny stomach, i doubt i could eat enough to feel good about not wasting it. astrotorium's about excess, goddamn. the only funfair burger i've had was the best thing i had eaten in months, but it also made me ill the rest of the day. i really do want some infinity fries though, those look like the golden mean between a steak fry and a curly fry. 6/10.
- March of the Machine Commander -
Tumblr media
meanwhile this looks like a texture nightmare. like i respect it, i imagine it's filling and fulfilling, but i don't think i ever could eat more than a bite or two. bread looks a little worse than gyome's but only a little. 5/10.
- Lord of the Rings: Tales of Middle-Earth -
Tumblr media Tumblr media
my white ass loves a charcuterie board. and i'm not going to be intimidated out of it by not eating enough, since it's all in snack-sized bits already. definitely gonna overindulge this sucker. i'm nervous about some of those spreads though. 9/10.
this looks like i'm in a dream, is it actively cooking? or still hot? i can't identify what's in that pan anyway. i'm leaving it alone out of respect. wouldn't mind a drink though. 2/10.
Tumblr media
this is not food. for humans. 0/10.
- Wilds of Eldraine -
Tumblr media Tumblr media
this is a king's feast i am properly intimidated by. i'm more into it than the Goblin King's, particularly that triple-layer blueberry pie or whatever that is, but i'm going to have to be as polite as possible lest i get a face full of flaming beer. 8/10
i'll probably be eaten before this can eat me, and it barely looks like food, but at least i go down with sugar in the mouth. 1/10.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
ogh. that egg looks divine. the bread looks amazing, there's a full glass, i've got like beans or mermaid tears everywhere. we've even got seasonings back there. the best damn breakfast i'll ever have. 10/10.
i would still probably eat this over nothing. there's onion, at least. i will either be hexed or violently ill, but like i could at least get it down. and maybe the witchmother is testing my strength and she'll reward me after slurping an eyeball. a convenient lie to tell myself. 2/10.
- Doctor Who Commander -
Tumblr media Tumblr media
y'know, four, i think i would like a copyrighted candy. they look sad and british, which is on point. but like it's not actively killing me like half of these. i think anyway. i don't know doctor who. 6/10.
what is this? i have no idea. custard? raw batter? giant dunkaroo? is he dipping fishsticks? it doesn't look like it's done cooking, like do we need to put it in a fryer again? i'd say it's inedible but it's not poison stew so i have to be nice. 4/10.
Tumblr media
get AWAY from me. this is a PERSONAL vendetta. i would rather try to eat spiderwebs. plus he's already eaten half of it. -10/10.
- Fallout Commander -
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i can't be too mean since this is literally apocalypse food. i think i prefer this over poison stew? like i recognize it at least, even if it's foul and moldy. man has to eat something. 3/10
i'm not convinced there's actual soda in here. is this just a perspective shot or is this a giant prop soda? i don't like cola anyway. again, worth it in an apocalypse i suppose. 4/10
Tumblr media
this soda i trust even less. it glows? does this give me magic powers in the fallout world or does it just kill me slowly? i think it'll kill me slowly anyway. i need fluid to survive in apocalypseland but damn i hate for it to come to this. 2/10.
169 notes · View notes
eddiemunsonw · 4 months
Text
Like a dog
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Gator Tillman x fem!reader
Summary: Happens after Gator gets his ass kicked in episode 2. He clearly needs some help, but he's independent, right? He can take care of this himself, for sure.
CW/Disclaimer: A bit of angst? Gator is having some inner struggles and you're doing your best to accommodate him. And yeah, a bit of misogyny in there too, nothing too strong though I would say. Also some fluff and humor, I barely can do without.
Author's note: The title is misleading, but it'll make sense once you start reading it.
Words: 2319
Tumblr media
Gator
His ears were ringing, but apart from that no sound seemed to be coming in. He vaguely noticed his cheek was warm, realized it was blood and tried to not freak out. It wasn’t that he was scared of blood, not at all. Sometimes he even got a little kick out of watching things, people bleed. Just not himself.
Then… there was his arm. That was a problem for sure. He had felt the snap, heard it, even, before that asshole used his gun right next to his ear. Last but not least, his groin. His balls and dick felt like they had grown thrice in size in the bad way. He didn’t think there was any enlargement of balls in the good way anyway. But… Yeah. It really fucking hurt.
Getting to the ER was a challenge too. His father was occupied and he didn’t want to ask for his help for something so insignificant. He was independent. He could just walk. Once he stood upright, he felt like dropping to his knees again, his vision swimming. Everything hurt so much it was nearly blinding. He would’ve thrown up if… wait, had he thrown up? He tasted blood but he had also bitten his tongue, so… Whatever. One step at a time. And fingers crossed that shitbird wouldn’t find him.
Tumblr media
You
The crash, followed by a yelp and a cry of pain startled you as you were restocking supplies. You rushed to the front and found a guy, a familiar guy, on the floor, holding his arm as he groaned in pain. Quickly, you kneeled down on the floor next to him, gently touching his shoulder.
“He—”
“Don’t touch me!”
His whole body tensed up and he twisted away from your touch. In the moment, it didn’t register to you as funny even though a bystander could probably see the humor of it as he wiggled away from you, groaning and moaning in pain as he did.
“I assume you’re here for a reason. How about we get you upright and in the chair, so I can check you out?”
Gator finally lifted his head to look at you and squinted. You noticed he was sweating, which wasn’t good. His eyes narrowed even more and a scowl pulled the corners of his mouth down.
“Are you even qualified?”
“Do you want help or not?” you deadpanned.
He managed to lift himself up to lean against the door and tried to cross his arms but remembered one wasn’t really cooperating and winced.
“Are you qualified?”
“To take care of dogs? Yeah, I am.”
Gator’s eyes flamed and you could tell he wanted to lurch forward, probably grasp your throat to shut you up. It didn’t help that you were smiling at him. Lucky for you, he was in too much pain to act on his deepest desires. Instead, he nearly spat the words out he said next.
“What are you calling me?”
You laughed dryly. Gator Tillman. He hadn’t changed a bit since school.
“Funny you immediately assume I’m talking about you. You’re at a vet. This isn’t the ER, Gator.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, taken aback. Only now he actually properly looked around. He seemed to have a hard time focusing his vision still. “What kind of bad business are you running here? There’s no one! Also that’s Sheriff Tillman for you.”
You looked at him, rolled your eyes and walked to the back to make yourself some coffee. He could wait. If he wanted to act like an entitled brat he should have gone to the actual ER. You knew barking dogs rarely bite. After a few minutes, he called out.
“Hey! Are you gonna help me or not?”
“Depends,” you shouted from the back, “are you gonna stop acting like a dick or not, Deputy?”
A silence. One that dragged on long enough for you to walk back to the front with your coffee in hand. Maybe you hadn’t heard the door open and close? Wrong. His eyes met yours immediately when you looked down, lips pressed tightly together, whether out of pain or annoyance with you, you weren’t sure. You gave him a pointed glance and a quip of your brow, waiting.
“Yes.”
With some help, you got him to sit on the examination table, which immediately required a remark from him, of course.
“Can this thing even handle my weight?”
You eyed him up and down slowly, a slow smirk forming. His frown deepened as you let the silence settle between you and he shifted uncomfortably on the table.
“Yeah. You look like you weigh about the size of a chubby golden retriever.”
“I workout every day!” he spluttered, as if that was the point.
“Okay? Point is, it can take you. No need to worry your little head over it. Anyway… let’s see.”
You could feel Gator’s eyes following you as you gathered some supplies, knowing you wouldn’t be able to help him with everything. The best you could probably do was give him a ride to those that could. You turned around and lifted your hand to his face, gently wiping away the blood that had leaked from his ear. His hand grabbed your wrist tightly when you came closer to his ear and he hissed out in pain. His grip was painful, but you could tell by his ragged breaths that he wasn’t doing it out of malice. He was scared.
“Hey…” you started softly, leaning back to look at him. You stood between his legs and while you were smaller than him, were able to see eye to eye due to the height of the table. “You do need to go to the ER. Get you checked out. I can make you a temporary splint for your arm but I don’t wanna mess with it too much as it’s not my expertise to work on humans. I can give you a ride? Is there anything else that hurts?”
He mumbled something incomprehensible and avoided your eyes.
“Sorry?”
“My junk. I think I need to like, cool it or something,” he said reluctantly. You nodded and walked away from him to grab a gel pack from the freezer, but the hand around your wrist stopped you. As you turned around he was quick to avoid your gaze once again and dropped your wrist.
“You might want to take your pants off.”
“Hah?”
“For the gel pack,” you mumbled as you placed a gel pack wrapped in a towel next to him. He frowned but started fumbling with the button of his cargos anyway. You already wrote a note to stick on your door that you’d be out for a bit and added the emergency number of the nearest vet just in case.
“Fuck!”
His voice startled you and as you turned around you noticed he was still struggling with his button. His vest was slightly in the way as well as his belt, which didn’t help.
“Need help?”
“No.”
He continued to try, frustration rising. The soft whimpers and groans made you pity him a little. After a while he looked closer to crying and you couldn’t just stand by and watch. You made your way back, standing between his legs again and gently swatted his hand away. To your surprise, he didn’t object. Instead, he softly gasped, stammering softly as your hand accidentally grazed him. You were unsure whether it was out of pain or… something else. A quick glance at his face confirmed that he was focusing on your hand, lips parted slightly. His usual slicked back hair was messier than usual and only now you noticed the dried up tear streaks on his face. You pulled down his zipper and stepped back so he could get off the table. He slowly lifted his gaze, cheeks slightly flushed and if you weren’t mistaken, his lower lip trembled a little.
“Can you stand?”
Quietly, Gator pushed himself off the table and stood in front of you, taller again. Except, he looked rather small, looking down at his feet like that. He sighed shakily, making no move.
“Do you need help, or…”
He shook his head and pushed his pants down just enough to reveal his boxers before getting himself back on the table and covering himself with the gel pack. A sigh of relief was heard but other than that, he made no comments, no snarky remarks. Very uncharacteristic really. Or maybe it was just him without the forceful mask on his face.
“I’ll grab something for your arm, I’ll—”
You turned away from him again but before you could step away you felt his hand enclose around your wrist again. The gel pack fell to the ground with a soft thud.
“Don’t.”
“I…” you hesitated on what to say.
“Please.”
His voice sounded fragile now, shaky. You nodded and slowly bent down to grab the gel pack and handed it back to him as he let go of your wrist again. While you weren’t sure what he wanted, you made sure to stay. There seemed to be a lot going on in that head of his. Suddenly quite aware of your close proximity, you didn’t know where to look. Even though his crotch was covered with the gel pack, it was still weird to stand between his legs as his cargos dropped below his knees and slowly sagged down. Your gaze was focused to the side, which is why you didn’t immediately notice how he slowly bent forward until his forehead rested on your shoulder. It sounded like he was holding his breath, anticipating your reaction nervously. 
Without thinking, you put an arm around him, your hand soothingly rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. A shuddering breath left him as he relaxed against you. A few minutes in, at least it felt like some, you felt him tense up again. Not much later you felt something wet dripping down your collarbone. He was crying.
“If it’s hurting that badly, maybe we should…”
“No,” he croaked out, arm reaching out to clutch at your hip.
“Okay. Take as much time as you need. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I’m weak,” he managed to grunt. You weren’t surprised that a guy whose father was Roy Tillman had some deep self-loathing to deal with. In school it had always been obvious he felt pressured about living up to his father’s expectations. To be deserving of the Tillman name. He was as cocky as he was insecure. Still, no amount of pain justified being a grade-A dick to others. And yet… here you were, comforting the classic example of a grade-A dick.
“I don’t think you’re weak at all. Weak people don’t call themselves weak,” you told him softly, continuously rubbing his back. His breath shuddered when you gently readjusted the gel pack for him as it was slipping again.
“As if you know anything about weakness or strength,” he bit out, “you’re a female.”
“Right,” you mumbled, unimpressed. “Guess you’re weak then.”
A silence followed, apart from his soft sniffs, a reminder of his earlier crying. You felt him lift his forehead from your shoulder, breath tracing your jawline before his lips followed in its path. Your breath hitched, heartbeat quickening. Suddenly, his lips crashed on yours, demanding intimacy, taking it with some desperation. His lips felt chapped and for a second you were tempted to meet the roughness of his kiss but something in you held back.
In one quick move you pulled back and slapped him in the face. On the sensitive side, no less. He winced and looked betrayed, hand flying up to grab your wrist once more, tightening his grip until it hurt. You watched him closely, careful but not scared.
“Better not try that again without asking,” you warned.
“Or what?” Gator mumbled, his mouth curled down. Clearly not used to not getting his way. Well, too bad for him it had been you he wanted to kiss.
“Or I’ll squeeze your bad arm as hard as you’re squeezing my wrist right now.”
As if forgotten, Gator looked at his own hand and let go immediately, huffing a response you couldn’t make out clearly.
“Well then, shall we go?” you offered, not wanting to drag this out any longer. His injuries needed to be taken care of already. With clear disappointment he got up from the table and he let you help him get his pants back in place. The moment his hand reached out for your wrist you quickly pulled away and he looked up with genuine remorse. Hmm, interesting.
“Sorry,” he sighed and this time you let him take hold of your wrist, surprised when his touch was gentle as he rubbed his thumb over the most sore spot. “You’ve been all nice to me and I’ve been…”
“Yourself,” you finished with a shrug. Hurt crossed his eyes only for a second and you followed his gaze down to your wrist, where his touch was still so gentle.
“I’m not always like… that. I’m not.”
You cocked your head and watched him until his eyes met yours. There was a hesitance in them, but also determination. A soft smile graced your lips, which was met with the subtlest widening of his eyes.
“Maybe you could tell me more about that other you then, after we’ve patched you up.”
“Oh,” he said softly, followed by a nod. “Okay.”
“Come on, Sheriff Tillman.”
He smiled at your sarcastic, teasing tone and moved his hand down to yours to give it a light squeeze before letting go.
“Gator,” he corrected softly. “Just call me Gator, Y/N.”
“I was wondering if you’d remembered my name,” you chuckled.
“I always remember the pretty ones.”
“Flirting now, are we?”
“Maybe.” 
He tried to play it off cool. Until curiosity got the best of him. 
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.”
It was.
Tumblr media
If you enjoyed this fic, please comment and/or reblog! It spreads my fic to other people to enjoy whereas a like does not, as much as I appreciate those too :) It would mean a lot <3
313 notes · View notes
ju1cyfru1t · 7 months
Note
hey!! if you are taking requests, i wanted to request the tmnt mm! boys having a crush on a fem! reader who’s EXACTLY like raph. she loves fighting, may or may not have anger issues, cursed with resting bitch face, BUT, she’s actually really sweet and outgoing. never afraid to speak her mind, so, she may come across as rude sometimes, but, she never really means to be. (lowkey a biased request but SSSHH, we’re not gonna talk about that)
MUTANT MAYHEM REQUEST⁉️⁉️ AYO THANK YOU
Mutant Mayhem! Mikey, Leo, Donnie, Raph x crush! fem! reader
tmnt mutant mayhem x reader
reader with a Raph-like personality
fluff! :D hcs, fem! reader, cursing
PSA: I HAVE ONLY SEEN THIS MOVIE LIKE TWICE SO I TRIED MY BEST 🤞🤞🤞
Tumblr media
Let’s just set this up by saying you have a class with them in school and you get partnered for a project or sit next to each other or WHATEVER YOU WANT. Any class you want bae; math, English, science, idc. all of them IDC
Mikey 🍉
- the moment he met you, he made it his goal to make you laugh or at the very least smile
- “*insert dumbass joke here*, am I right? HAHAha…hah..ha…”
- Lowkey intimidated at first, he doesn’t really know what to say
- will not stfu tho
- ^not in like a bad way or anything. he’s just outgoing
- and when you finally show your outgoing side? pure relief for him
- really starts to like you after seeing your sweeter, softer side. he appreciates that you seem to trust him.
- again, he is not giving up until he can make you laugh or at least smile just a little bit, no matter how long it takes. 5 minutes? 5 days? NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER GIVE UP ‼️
- talks a lot, but is also a fairly good listener while you talk about your interests
- lots of compliments from him
- still a little intimidated by you and really does whatever you tell him to
- ^ “yes ma’am.”
- it’s giving golden retriever + black cat. sunshine + midnight rain. or a tornado or something
Leo
- You know that moment when he saw April in the movie? Shhhhh just pretend it was like that when he saw you
- except with your RBF
- nervous af but he’s trying his best
- “your number? for the project? uh, I mean, yeah that’s cool-“
- really wants to impress you in some way
- “I mean not to brag or anything, but-“
- AND you’re opening up to him? have mercy
- shocked at how actually nice you are despite your intense demeanor
- admires your confidence more than anything as he gets to know you
- “you like wrestling? yeah, my brother does that…it’s cool.”
- speaking of his brothers, they are FLAMING him
- him??? with a girl like YOU?? preposterous
- the type to agree with almost anything you say so you’ll like him. esp if you’re really outspoken and opinionated.
- if he ever saw you get into a fight, he is freaking tf out and not in a good way
- asks to borrows pencils or paper just to have an excuse to talk to you when he can’t think of anything else
- SIMP. he will walk you to class, would offer to carry your books, the whole shabang.
Donnie
- your RBF is really catching him off guard
- like, why are you looking at him like that???
- lowk scared of you but would never admit it, not even to himself
- the only way you’re really speaking for the first time is if you’re partnered for a project or if you talk to him or wtv, but he is not starting a conversation with you on his own
- IMMEDIATELY recognizes that you seem eerily similar to someone he knows really well…
- heaven forbid he find out you have a common interest. whether it be k-pop, anime, comics/manga, technology, ANYTHING. he is info dumping whether you want him to or not
- really prefers your nicer, outgoing side over your anger any day
- it would take a really long time for him to recognize that he’s interested in you
- I mean, it’s kind of unexpected for him to like someone who’s so…rugged? tough? intimidating?
- probably easy to argue with if you don’t agree on something
- thinks it’s hella funny to see you put someone in there place and thinks it’s so amazing to be able you can stand up for yourself like that
- unsure on how to express his emotions properly, but he’s trying his best. I mean, he’s not exactly experienced-
- videos any fight you get into while shouting “WORLD STAAAR”
Raph
- what a dream duo /sar
- being so for real, you would probably not get along at first. angry + angry does not mix well.
- he would start to like you after getting to know you better
- you know when you meet someone and you just have so much in common that it just like clicks???
- feels like you won’t judge him for his issues bc you’re the same way. not that he cares what others thinks, but it’s still nice yk?
- even though it is easy for you to get into stupid arguments but shhhhh
- DENIES DENIES DENIES
- “ ew, I do not like her.” even tho he totally does
- lowk rlly wants you to come to his wrestling matches after you talk about liking fighting
- “yeah, you could come watch sometime…or whatever.”
- utilizes the ‘playing it cool’ method. tries to at least.
- you’re getting into a fight? hit him up. TRUST he will be there
- ^cheers you on
- brags about all the crazy shit he and his brothers do to impress you even if you’re really not all that impressed
329 notes · View notes
goosetheluce · 7 months
Note
WAIT OKAY gwen stacy/fem!r smth smth seeing her band and like developing the BIGGEST crush on her from just watching her and bumping into her after the show and her asking u out 🤭🤭
Do I Know You? (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)
requested by @meredarling
warnings: mentions of underage drinking and drug use, crowded show, use of y/n, pet names, non-sexual flirting, fem reader
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Wherever the crowd went, you went. The mass of punks and curious outsiders swayed and undulated, creating one hive-minded motion that flowed into you. Your ears were under a constant assault of missed guitar notes and strangled screaming that was probably wrecking the vocalist's throat. You didn't care, though; the point of coming to these shitty basement shows filled with late teens and early 20s was to ignore everything outside.
So you stayed there, taking in the combo of sweat, sour fermentation of beer, and the sharp scent of weed.
Not my favorite.
Truthfully, you didn't care about any of these bands except for the final act.
"The Mary Janes," you read off the poster to your friend, Amy. It had been laying on the concrete sidewalk leading up to the academy. Your brain put together the familiar name. "Wait, like, Mary Jane Watson? From school?"
Amy shrugged. "Guess so. I had no idea she had a band." She sipped her coffee, the chilled air nipping at both of your fingertips. You raised your eyebrows and folded the poster, slipping it into your backpack.
"We gotta see this! Especially you, Ames," you teased, elbowing her gently in the arm. She pulled into herself a bit more.
"I can't tonight, but I think if I saw MJ Watson live, I'd faint and die happily on the ground," she whispered dramatically, a smile creeping across her face. "I wish she'd dump that douchebag guy, I'm literally sending out radio-clear signal that I'm into her."
"Lending her a pen and staring at her when she's not looking isn't radio-clear, but whatever you say," you sighed. Amy was hopeless.
"What? I think it's a great tactic. Anyway, we should get to class. We're gonna be late."
You nodded and zipped up your bag. You were buzzing with excitement when you hopped off the bus later that afternoon. You had a show to catch.
And here you were, taking a swig of your bottled cherry Pepsi, sweat beading on your hairline. Outside, the sky had bled into a deep indigo ink. The music stopped, and the vocalist's thrashed voice cracked into the mic, reiterating the band's name and stumbled off.
The lights dimmed a bit more. The house had been modified to have more resemblance to an actual venue. Impressive, you remarked to yourself.
It was silent for a few moments, the crowd whispering excitedly. You caught MJ's name here and there. You wondered to yourself how you never knew she had a band, because she was clearly popular in the scene. You recognized another name.
"MJ's vocals are great, but I'm telling you, the drummer is fucking amazing. Gwen Stacy or something. She goes to our school, too. I think she's a senior."
"Huh," you muttered out loud.
A line of girls suddenly streamed out from the other room where the bands got ready. MJ's flaming locks of hair bounced over her shoulders and she ran up onto the stage, grabbing the mic and breathing heavily into it. The other girls ran out behind her and settled into their positions. The lights fully dimmed this time.
"Give it up for Glory Grant!" MJ yelled into the microphone, pointing to a dark-skinned girl with locs on keys. She dragged her fingers across the board to produce a bright shriek of notes. The crowd hollered.
"Give it up for Betty Brant!" This time it was a pale brunette on bass. She plucked the thick strings with her pointer and middle fingers with a jazzy melody. You nodded to the beat. The crowd celebrated.
"Give it up for my best friend, Gwen Stacy, on drums!" This time MJ trotted to the back where the drumset was, putting her arm around the blonde.
"Play something, Gwen!" someone in the crowd suggested.
Gwen laughed into her microphone. "Sure, random stranger." You noted her smooth, relaxed voice.
As quick as lightning, she began pounding on the drums, the cymbals crashing deafeningly. The sequence was immaculate, filling the house with energizing ruckus. Her arms moved impossibly fast, and your heart began to beat faster. Was it the tempo, or was it the way Gwen smiled with adoration for her instrument?
The crowd began to jump around, and MJ sprinted back to the mic. "I would give it up for myself, but the band is literally called The Mary Janes."
"So, face it, Tiger, you're not leaving this fuckin' show till we burn the fuckin' place down!" She played a riff on her guitar to match the drums and the show started with a bang.
Amy would have loved the show, and so did you, but your eyes were trained on Gwen the whole time. The way you could tell she was panting and screaming along with the lyrics despite not technically being a backup vocalist; it was powerful. Her bleach-blonde hair danced along with her vigorous movement as her body sang with passion. Your eyes were wide with awe. You pushed your way to the front to watch.
Her eyebrow was pierced and the side of her head was shaved, adding more to her bold presentation. Her nails were cut all the way short, but still painted maroon. Her leather jacket framed her thinner hourglass figure wonderfully, and her somewhat worn turquoise converse stomped on the bass drum. She was a beautiful force of nature.
Disappointment coursed through you when you realized that the long pause at the end of the song actually just the end of the show.
"The place didn't burn down, but I don't have the money to pay for rebuilding anyway. Have a good fuckin' night, Queens, New York!"
The crowd whooped and started talking loudly at each other when the lights came back on. The girls left the stage, yet you felt unfulfilled. You wished desperately that you'd recognize Gwen in school the next Monday as you bought another cherry Pepsi.
As the rest of the concertgoers filtered out of the house, you looked around to find an excuse to stay. Without looking in front of yourself, you took a few steps forward and crashed into someone.
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry-" you quickly apologized only to be cut short.
Holy shit. Gwen motherfucking Stacy is right in front of me.
The drummer smirked. "Careful there. What if I was some drunk asshole? Could've started a fight for yourself, there, babe."
Your cheeks lit on fire. "Yeah, no kidding," you laughed nervously. She's just a person, calm down. "That show was amazing, by the way. I'm (Y/N)."
Gwen tilted her head to the side, crossing her arms and smiling at you.
"Wait, do I know you? You're from school, right? I've seen you in the halls."
"Yup. I'm a senior," you confirmed. "That's actually why I came. Didn't know that Mary Jane had a band, never would have guessed." You took a second to think before making a move. "But I think I found someone even better."
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to your earlobe while whispering.
"You know, if it weren't for 97% of the population being straight or whatever, I think I'd ask you out right now," Gwen rasped into your ear. You felt her lips pull into a grin over your skin. "...(Y/N)," she finished, clearly trying to fluster you. It worked.
You let out a breath of air, pulling back to look at her. She was taller than you by a good half foot, and her fingers would probably be longer than yours by an inch. You found your words.
"Lucky for you, you don't have to worry about that. And definitely not after that performance," you assured charmingly. "So, are you gonna ask me?"
"I have to go help the band get their shit in the van, but..."
Gwen grabbed your palm and flipped it over to the top side. She pulled out a sharpie.
"Will this work, sweetheart?"
You nodded, pulse racing.
She went to work and wrote her number down on your hand. She left a message at the bottom.
call me xx -Gwen
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
thanks for reading!
188 notes · View notes
pedrito-friskito · 1 year
Text
strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader
Tumblr media
during - part seven
series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3
tommy takes care of joel as best he can, and you try and make a break for it.
a/n: y’all I am having way too much fun writing this story. part 7 earlier than planned, and tbh I’ll probably post part 8 tomorrow if I can. the inspo is REAL and thank you all for the comments and reblogs and messages and general love and support - you have no idea how happy it makes me!! 🤍
word count: 4.6k
warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, canon-typical violence and injuries, death, blood, near-death experiences, questionable decisions on the military’s part
✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters!✨
Tumblr media
Tommy watches his brother fall apart.
It’s one thing after another, and he can’t blame Joel. The world’s ending; everything else is falling apart, it only makes sense that he would too. But still, it hurts. Watching his big brother — the only constant in his life for as long as he can remember — break down, it makes Tommy hurt in a way he can’t fully comprehend. It’s not fair.
He thinks about the soldier, in the days that follow. He’d come up the ridge just as the gunfire sounded, already looking for his brother and niece, never expecting to find them the way that he did. Joel was pleading, already hurt, his hands in the air, as good a white flag as any, and the soldier just didn’t care. It went against everything in Tommy, but when the soldier lifted the gun again, Tommy fired first.
But then…Sarah.
There was so much blood. He should be used to it, being who he is, seeing what he’s seen. But it’s different, it feels different, it sits in the back of his mind and haunts his every step. She was so young. So bright, so good. And then just, gone.
“Tommy, help me!”
He’d never heard Joel like that, so desperate, so lost. The only moment that rivalled it was when they’d been in the truck, Tommy driving, Joel with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Talking to you, asking where you were, if you were safe.
“It’s everywhere,” Joel had said, and Tommy had felt a distinct feeling of helplessness wash through him. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t just in Austin. He focused on the road, tried not to look too closely at the chaos in the distance. Shit was hitting the fan, in every sense.
He tightened his grip on the wheel as Joel continued talking to you. You were hurt, Joel telling you to patch yourself up. “I’m not hanging up until you do.”
Tommy could hear the ache in his brother’s voice. Joel had never let you go, not completely, and Tommy knew it. He didn’t blame Joel for it; having you around was the happiest he’d seen his brother in a long time. He liked you, too, liked your laugh and your sense of humour, the way you looked at Joel like you were seeing him for the first time, every time.
He had to swerve the truck as another car barrelled down the road in the opposite direction. Joel grabbed for the dashboard, phone still glued to his ear. “I’m gonna find you, you hear me? Just get out of Boston and I swear to you, I’m gonna find you!” A pause, and Joel stared at the phone. Tommy could see his brother’s hands shaking. “It’s dead.”
A moment later, the radio — which had been spewing news reports since Joel had picked Tommy up — went silent. Joel tossed his phone onto the truck floor, slammed his fist into the dash a moment later.
“Fuck!”
“She okay?” Tommy asked, and Joel scrubbed a hand over his face. “Joel?”
“Boyfriend attacked her,” Joel grumbled, rubbing his forehead again. “Tried to fuckin’ bite her. She said he’s dead.”
Tommy had balked. “She did that?”
“Dunno,” Joel had replied, and huffed a humourless laugh, the noise almost flat. “Is it fucked up if I say I hope she did?”
Tommy had pressed the gas a little harder, the truck speeding down the road. “Everything’s fucked up, seems like.” Silence hung over them only for a moment, punctuated a moment later by the loud whoosh of flames as a car down the road collided with a telephone pole. Joel cursed under his breath, Tommy kept on driving. “What are we gonna do, Joel?”
“We get Sarah, and we go,” his brother replied, and despite the waver in his voice, he sounded sure. Surer than Tommy felt. “East.”
East, Tommy thought. Boston. You. Like he’d expected anything different. “You really think you can find her?”
“I can sure as hell try.”
The conversation feels like a year ago, instead of the handful of days it has been. Maybe a week; he’s starting to lose track, already. They’ve been holed up for a few hours now, tucked in the garage of an abandoned house. They crossed the state line a few hours back, and so far, Arkansas looks the same as Texas: fucking ravaged. Joel sits on the floor, knees up to his chest, face buried in his arms. Tommy feels antsy.
“I’m gonna go look inside, see if there’s anything worth taking. You good?”
“Yeah.”
Seems like every neighbourhood they come across has been evacuated, the houses all empty. They have guns; he already had his own, and he’d swiped the rifle from the soldier that had attacked Joel and Sarah. Though he was quick to give Joel his, take the soldier’s for himself. Something about Joel touching the weapon that had killed Sarah made Tommy’s gut twist. He didn’t like it either, but it was out of necessity.
The house has obviously been picked through, toppled furniture and broken glass as far as he can tell, but they get lucky: a first aid kit, a mostly full bottle of whiskey, and some cans of beans. Tommy grabs it all, heads up the stairs. Clearly an older couple, but there’s a few men’s jackets in one of the closets, a pair of work boots, plain t-shirts. He takes the lot, offering the boots to Joel when he gets back to the garage. “These your size?”
His brother takes the boots with a flat expression, pulling the laces to peer at the sole. “About there, yeah. Don’t need ‘em though.”
“Take ‘em with us, for when you do,” Tommy counters, offering Joel one of the t-shirts next. “You should change.”
“M’fine.”
Tommy hooks the gun over his head, setting it on the ground beside him as he crouches in front of Joel. “You’re covered in blood,” he says, and his brother snatches the t-shirt. “Need to change your bandage, too.”
“And what exactly do you want me to—” Joel starts, but shuts up when Tommy tosses the first aid kit to him.
“Need help?” he asks as Joel gets to his feet, pulls his stained t-shirt off, tosses it aside. They’d found a half empty kit in a cafe back in Austin, dressed Joel’s wound before they took off completely. Joel was lucky, just a graze, but Tommy knows it must hurt like hell, and it’ll leave a scar, a reminder of that night, of what was lost.
Joel winces as he pulls of the old bandage, tossing it in the same direction as the t-shirt. “Don’t suppose you found any water in there?” He digs through the first aid kit. “No antiseptic.”
“No water,” Tommy confirms, but holds up the bottle of whiskey. “Just this.”
It’s not ideal, using the alcohol to clean the graze — and Joel nearly puts his fist through the wall despite the healthy sip he takes before Tommy wipes a piece of gauze damp with the whiskey over the wound — but it’ll work. They have to make do.
Joel sinks back onto the concrete floor once the wound is redressed, the new t-shirt pulled over his head. He takes the whiskey with him, and Tommy sits beside his brother, both of them with rifles in their laps. They sip the bottle in turn, and Tommy savours the burn as it slides down his throat, warmth spreading through his chest. It loosens his tongue, makes him regret the question the second it’s out of his mouth.
“You think she made it?” He knows he doesn’t have to call you by name. Not now.
“I have to,” is his brother’s only response.
+
They stop you at the gate.
You don’t know what you’re thinking, but after staking out the giant metal fence for a few hours, you at least know that trying to sneak over is only going to result in a bullet finding a home somewhere it shouldn’t. The soldiers were firing at anything that made a break for the gate, and running full-force didn’t make you brave, it made you stupid. It made you look like one of them. Infected. Mindless. Blood-thirsty. A few have come sprinting up to the post you’ve been watching, and the soldiers have put them down without batting an eye.
As you’ve watched, a few groups of people have approached the post. All the same, their hands in the air, desperation in their voices, carried to you on the smoke-tinged breeze. Please help us. You’ve watched them get directed away from the post, towards a still-standing building a few yards from the gate, where a military-issue tent is set up. Some of them walk back out, are directed towards an armoured truck parked along the gate, and then the truck disappears, only for a new one to reappear in its stead a few minutes later. It’s like clockwork, but only some end up in the trucks.
Others are carried out the back of the tent, bodies dumped into one of the pits left by the bombing. It makes your skin crawl.
It takes a while, lacking the confidence to put yourself in the line of fire when you could just keep hiding in the city. The soldiers might find you eventually — if the Infected didn’t find you first — but if you could just keep going, maybe there was a break in the fence somewhere, a way out besides what lies ahead of you. But finally, after a few hours of squatting in the rubble, your limbs aching from staying pressed against brick, you step out of the alley, and put your hands in the air. You’ve pulled down the sleeves of the hoodie you’re wearing, letting it cover the bandage around your arm, and you grip the cuffs with your fingers as you raise your arms.
“I’m not infected!”
A flash of movement, and the barrels of at least ten rifles are pointed directly at you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, bile rising in the back of your throat. A suitable reaction, you think, and you swallow back the fear that makes you want to run. It’ll only get you killed that much faster.
“Name!” one of the soldier’s shouts. You can’t tell who; they’re all wearing helmets, visors covering their faces, turning it into a sea of darkness staring back at you. Your fingers flex, and you call you name back.
“I need to leave.”
One of them starts laughing. Another two look at each other, sharing a look you can’t suss out. A few lower their guns, and the prickle along your spine fizzles slightly. A visor lifts, revealing a soot-streaked face, a grim expression. “Why on earth would you wanna do that?”
“My family is in Texas,” you say, your voice surprisingly strong, if not a little thready from the smoke. “I have to go find them.”
“You’re gonna walk halfway across the country,” a faceless voice asks, “with a baseball bat? Girl, you don’t have a hope in hell.”
“Beats sitting around here, waiting to die,” you throw back, and the soldier that had lifted his visor lifts his brow. “Let me pass.”
“Can’t do that,” he replies, and steps up in front of you. He’s got a strange face, eyes a little too dark, hair hidden by the helmet, a scar on his mouth. Something about him reminds you of Dean, but a much harder version, his face more angular, the voice slightly deeper. “No one gets out of the city, we have orders.”
“You can’t hold me hostage here,” you start, stepping towards him. Your hands are still in the air. “My family is out there, I need to—”
“No one gets out,” another soldier interrupts. “FEDRA’s orders.”
Your brow creases. “FEDRA?”
“Federal Disaster Response Agency,” the strange-faced soldier answers.
“So the military is taking over?”
“I never said that.”
You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Just let me go, please? I can’t stay here, my family—”
“Is in Texas,” the soldier replies, nodding along. He hefts his gun slightly, adjusting his grip, and you don’t miss the meaning, the silent threat behind it. “And you’re here, in Boston. Now you don’t have a car, or any real weapons, and we have orders. You’re not going anywhere.”
You bite back the protest that crawls up your throat. If you’re getting out, it’s not through here. “Then where am I supposed to go?”
“There’s a shelter,” he tells you, “in the mall. There’s food, water, beds. It’s temporary, but it’s safe.”
“Temporary, like the gate?”
He gives you a long look, then gestures towards the tent you’ve been watching them shuffle people through. “Let’s get you checked out, and then we’ll get you there.”
You match his stare, setting your jaw, digging your heels in slightly. The muzzle of his rifle dips just slightly, and his eyes pinch, narrowing at you.
“I’ll only ask nicely once.”
Heart in your throat, you drop your hands, and when he gestures towards the tent again, you go. Every single part of you is shaking as you head for the canvas structure, and once you’re inside, it’s no different. It’s shockingly clean, a metal table in the middle, a smaller one to the side. “Put your bag there,” the soldier orders, that familiar stern military tone, pointing to the bigger table. “The bat, too.”
You do as you’re told, seeing from the corner of your eye that he’s still got both hands on his gun. “I’m keeping the bat,” you say over your shoulder, pulling it out from where you’d slid it between the straps of the bag, resting against your lower back. The metal rings when you set it on the table. “For the record.”
“Never said you couldn’t keep it, did I?”
“You want me to go to that shelter in the mall,” you say, sliding the bag off your shoulders, placing it next to the bat, and then turning back to the soldier, “with every other terrified person in this city, and you expect me to believe you’re gonna let me walk in with a weapon?”
The soldier’s jaw goes tight, eyes even tighter. “Strip.”
“Excuse me?”
“Take your clothes off,” he says, clearly getting exasperated. “I might let you keep the bat, but there’s no way I’m letting you into the mall shelter knowing you’ve been bitten. Strip.”
“Bitten?” you repeat, your mind sparking at the new information. “Is that how this is spreading?” To appease him, hoping he’ll give you a bit more information, you pull the hoodie off, disentangling your arms slowly. “That’s what’s turning people into those—”
The hoodie comes off, revealing your bandaged shoulder and forearm, and the gun is pointed back in your face again, a soft click reaching your ears. “You’re injured.”
“Y’know, I usually like to at least know a guy’s name before he sees me half-naked.”
He ignores you. “You’re injured.”
You heave a breath, tucking the edge of the gauze around your arm back into place. “You dropped bombs on this city. I dare you to find someone out there who isn’t injured.”
The soldier just stares at you. You just stare back.
“Take the bandages off,” he orders, and your hands curl into fists. “I need to see.”
“Tell me your name first,” you counter, still holding his gaze.
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
“I’m aware; you’re the one holding the gun. But I also know you’ve been taking bodies out of this tent more than you’ve been sending people to the shelter. So, again, tell me your name.”
He leans back slightly, takes a deep breath, eyes darting to the side before meeting yours again. “Corporal Nicholas Cowan, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” you repeat, almost laughing. “That’s a bit much, but—”
“The bandages.”
“Okay, okay.”
Carefully, you peel back the gauze on your shoulder. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches or anything, and you’d slathered it with some kind of ointment in the first aid kit. It still looks pretty awful, and the tape along the edge of the bandage has left little indents in your skin, but it’s definitely healing. Your arm is next, that wound fresher, and it starts to bleed as soon as you pull the gauze away. Cowan gives you a new piece of gauze a moment later, tossing it onto the table between you rather than handing it right to you. “What happened?”
“I was in the bookstore, down on South Street, when you all decided to start dropping bombs. Fucking lucky a bookshelf didn’t fall on my head.”
He still has the gun pointed at you, though the grip is slightly more relaxed, and he circles you slowly, eyes glued to your shoulder. “Those look like claw marks.”
“That’s because they are.”
“So that happened before the bombs.”
“It did.”
“I’m supposed to shoot, the moment I see anything like that. I have orders.”
“It’s not a bite.”
“I know that.” He swallows so hard you can see his throat bob. “They haven’t figured it all out. The bite seems to make it happen faster, but I don’t know if—”
“I’ll tell you what, Corporal,” you interrupt, reaching for your bag, pulling the first aid kit out and fishing out new bandages, “I start to turn into one of those things, and I give you my full permission to blow my fucking brains out.” Cowan balks, his eyes widening for a moment as he stares back at you. “But for the record, it’s been seven days, and I’m still here, faculties intact. So, politely, go fuck yourself, and just let me through the gate.”
+
He doesn’t.
Cowan lets you redress, once your bandages have been hastily rewrapped; you’d protested and he told you they’d give you proper treatment at the shelter. Once that was done, you grabbed your pack — and the bat, which Cowan barely seemed to notice — and he grabbed you roughly by the arm, dragging you out of the tent and steering you towards one of the armoured trucks parked at the fence.
You’re all but stuffed inside, and Cowan gets into the passenger’s seat, a masked soldier behind the wheel. “The mall,” he says simply, and the soldier just nods, and the engine rumbles to life, pulling away from the chain link and heading back into the city.
You keep the bat in your lap as they drive, your eyes glued to the window, to the mess that now only partially resembles Boston. You’d seen enough of the destruction running through the streets, but the truck takes a few pathways you hadn’t. Some roads aren’t as destroyed, obviously not targeted by the bombs, and the asphalt is even, still intact. There’s no getting past the bodies, however, and that pulls your eyes away, staring down at your bruised and dirty hands, wrapped around the bat.
When the truck stops outside the mall, the driver doesn’t get out. You lift your head then, taking in the space around you. It’s more of the same, but the mall looks mostly undisturbed, except for the broken windows, the burned displays. Cowan slides out of the passenger’s side, pulls open your door a moment later. “Let’s go.”
There are three more soldiers standing at the entrance, and as Cowan starts to lead you through, one of them stops you, lifting a hand. “You can’t take that in there,” the soldier says, pointing to the bat. “Give it here.”
“No.”
Cowan sighs, turning back to you, waving off the soldier. “C’mon, just—”
“No,” you say again, your voice harder. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m walking around this city without it.”
“You’re safe in the mall,” Cowan says, nearly rolling his eyes at you, but you just lift a brow. “It’s a shelter, and we’re patrolling from the outside.” He points over his shoulder, and sure enough, you see a few more armoured trucks rolling across the street, armed soldiers trailing behind it. Like it makes a difference.
You almost laugh. “Nowhere is safe anymore.” You tighten your grip on the bat. “You really think your chain link fence is gonna save us from those things?”
He gives you another one of those hard stares, but relents, waving off the other soldiers and grabbing the handle on your bag, all but dragging you through the entrance. “If she attacks someone, it’s on you, Cowan!” one of the soldier’s shouts, and he just grumbles under his breath.
“Do me a favour,” he says to you as he releases you, making you stumble a step before he falls into step beside you, “don’t be more trouble than you’re worth.”
“And what am I worth, Corporal?”
“You’re alive, and you’re not one of them,” he says, and you don’t miss the thread of…is that hope, in his voice? “So that makes you worth something.”
He’s quiet, the rest of the way. There’s no electricity, the overhead fluorescents dark, and Cowan clicks on a flashlight, lighting your path deeper into the mall. There’s the whir of generators, as you get closer, big lights that looks like they were taken from construction sites. You see the food court has been turned into a makeshift hospital, and Cowan tells you the big department store on the main level is where you’ll sleep, for the time being.
There aren’t that many people, which makes your throat go a little thick. How many people have died, how many have turned, how many made it out of Boston before they put up the fence?
Cowan takes your arm again as you walk towards the food court, calling for someone as you get closer. “Deanna! I got one for you.”
An older lady, maybe late fifties, pokes her head out from behind one of the triage curtains. Her face is both kind and harsh at the same time, bright green eyes, grey-streaked hair pulled into a long ponytail, blood-stained scrubs and a tool belt around her waist that’s filled with medical instruments instead of actual tools. It almost makes you laugh.
“Must be special,” she says, her voice a little gravelly as she approaches you, wiping her hands on her pants. “You don’t usually escort them all the way down here, Nicky.” Her eyes drop to the bat in your hands and her brows raise. “Or let them come in armed.”
Once she’s close enough, Cowan releases you and takes Deanna by the arm, steering her off to the side. You stand there awkwardly, the bat banging against your leg. Your forearm is a little sore, and you’re half-sure it’s soaked through the bandages you’d haphazardly retied after Cowan’s inspection. You glance over at the pair a few times, seeing them both shooting you looks before turning back to each other. Deanna looks confused, then upset, then almost forgiving. You can’t quite figure out Cowan’s expression.
After a few minutes, she just nods, and Cowan turns on his heel, heading back in the direction you came, leaving you alone. Deanna gives you a once-over as she walks towards you again, putting a warm hand on your back and starting to steer you towards one of the curtains. “Let’s get you cleaned up, honey.”
She leads you behind one of the curtains, then another, and once you’re in the little makeshift room, she pulls another curtain into place. “Nicky said we need to be quick about this,” she says, leaning up on her toes to peer over the curtains, assumedly to see if anyone is coming. “And quiet.”
“Okay.”
You let her take your bag, set it on the chair that’s set to the side. You’re reluctant to let go of the bat, but when you finally let her take it, she puts it beside you on the cot. “You’ve been out there this whole time?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper. You nod. “Even the bombs?” Another nod. “Show me where you’re hurt.”
You hold your breath as you peel off the hoodie. You were right, your arm has bled through the bandage, and your shoulder aches with the movement. Deanna doesn’t say a word at first, her brow furrowed as she looks you over.
She tends to your arm first, wiping the blood from your skin, using some sort of glue to close the wound before she wraps it in fresh gauze. She circles you slowly, just like Cowan had, and you hear her sharp inhale when she sees your shoulder. “What have we here?” She wipes at more of the blood, and the sting makes you tense, your hand twitching towards the bat at your side. “What did that?”
“…boyfriend.”
You look over your shoulder to see her staring at you, a look that toes the line between sympathy and fear on her face. “Was he…”
You give a slight nod. “He was.”
“And is he…?”
“Not anymore.”
Her brows raise. “You did that?”
Another nod. “I did that.”
She blows out a breath, shaking her head side to side. “Damn, girl. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
It’s the first time you’ve actually laughed since your birthday.
They give you some clothes, stuff that actually fits, pilfered from one of the stores. Toiletries even, and you spend far too much time brushing your teeth. No showers, unfortunately, but the pack of baby wipes you’re offered instead makes up for it. It nearly makes you cry to see your skin clean of the dust and ash and blood.
They give you food, too. A grocery bag filled with non-perishables, more granola bars and cans of soup and whatnot. You try not to chug an entire bottle of water when they give you a second bag filled with drinks; not just water, but sports drinks, random cans of pop, clearly raided from the mall vending machines. And a hot meal, courtesy of one of the food court hot plates. It’s some kind of stew, noodles and meat and veggies, and for a moment, all you can think about is the Thai food that was waiting on your kitchen counter.
Feels like a lifetime ago.
Deanna walks you to the department store, gives your name to one of the soldier’s standing guard. He points you in the right direction, and she goes with you, a steady hand on your back, until you find the cot you’ve been assigned, tucked in the corner of the section where all the towels would have been, the displays still up on the walls. “We took them all already,” she tells you, giving you a half-grin as she picks up the blanket on your cot, unfolding the fabric. “Those extra-plush suckers make great bandages.”
You’re quiet, tucking your bag and your food and clothing under the cot. They’d refilled your first aid kit, too. Your knees are almost shaking as you lower yourself onto the edge of the bed, and the relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. Tears spring in your eyes, but you don’t have the energy to wipe them away.
“Get some sleep, honey,” she tells you, and puts a soft hand on your shoulder as you slip sideways, collapsing onto the pillow. “You’ll be safe. Sleep as much as you need.”
She pulls the blankets over you, and it’s silly, but you clutch the bat to your chest. You’d wiped it down, too, cleaned the blood and dirt from the metal. Sleep takes hold as soon as you let your eyes close, and you pray no nightmares follow.
PREV | NEXT
519 notes · View notes
beanghostprincess · 2 months
Note
Roger really DOES have mad girldad energy and I am feral.
Welcome to my walls btw, it's hot af in Florida, so lmk if you need a popsicle/hj
Just. Omfg imagine Toki and Buggy bonding SO MUCH and Toki is the one who helps Buggy find Her Style and Her Confidence. Oden also has Big Himbo Dad Emergy too, so I bet he'd just be like ":000 a GIRL! WONDERFUL!!! I shall have TWO daughters!"
Roger ofc takes big offense to that and it becomes a shipwide brawl over who gets to be her dad, and Buggy is just laughing, crying, pickpocketing everyone. Only like. Three fellas even have the driving NEED to call her their daughter, they just love the chaos. Shanks is just left GAPING bc ofc he loves Buggy, he always has, always will, but the way she was smiling, the way she's just beaming at the acceptance, no matter how dramatic it is - by Davy Jones, it steals his breath away.
Whatever you do tho, don't imagine Toki dressing Buggy up in traditional Wano attire. Don't imagine Toki taking on the role of aunt or big sister and sharing this culture with Buggy. Teaching her the ways of warriors from her homeland, the codes and dress and recipes. Don't imagine Toki telling Buggy "family secrets" like recipes, fighting styles, etc. Don't imagine Toki just easily saying that of course Buggy needs to know these things! Blood is but the fluid of life, and love is what makes a family - and Buggy has so much love to give, so much to receive, and Toki calls her a child of Wano in heart and soul, in all the ways that matter should Buggy want that.
And Buggy, who has only ever wanted to BELONG, oh she accepts without hesitation.
Leaving Toki behind was hard, but she gifts Buggy an heirloom of sorts, a hair piece that she keeps either tucked under her beanie or safe in a chest, anchored to the floor of her room ((or hidden carefully with Devil Fruit powers)).
The day Toki manages to make/get a suitably sized kimono for Buggy, maybe for a party on the ship, maybe a birthday celebration ((and here I insert my Wano Culture Headcanons, that there's a birthday where children transition to young adults, and it's similar to a quinceñera but different, partially because it's done at 13, and then a second one at 18, a five year period of growth, life compared to butterflies, and so Toki convinces the crew to do these for the Cabin Kids-))
Buggy comes out, hair done, kimono flawless and bright and bold and so very her, a quiet joy on her face, and the crew is FLABBERGASTED.
Roger is sobbing.
Rayleigh has suddenly aged 20 years because oh shit oh gods she's going to be beautiful as an adult, oh damn it all he's gonna have to beat men off of her-
Shanks is caught between swooning, wanting to tackle her, and remembering just how the heck breathing works.
((Roger, Rayleigh, Crocus and Oden do rock paper scissors to get the first dance with her, and it dissolves into a fist fight somehow. Shanks gets involved and bites them. Toki takes the first dance.))
I have. So many emotions about transfem Buggy, bestie, send help it's all my brain can think about.
It's okay, I miss hot weather because here in Spain I am freezing and I am a spring child. My spiritual flower is a sunflower. I need the SUN. I NEED TO GO INTO THE FLAMES. So I'll stay there happily.
Please, Toki would so adopt Buggy. And Oden would be THRILLED. He'll see them getting along and he'd instantly say they look like mother and daughter. Buggy would be shy about it but Toki would probably laugh and say "Oh! Do we really? What do you think, Bugs?" and it's just,, So sweet,, Oden loves her a lot and he can't wait to see his Hiyori grow up too. Roger would be FURIOUS when he hears that because he "found her first" which, you know, true, but it's a weird way of saying that's his daughter. Anyway- Rayleigh would be so fucking done with everything. They'd fight about it and Buggy would actually have the time of her life because she feels important and flashy for once in a long time, and she'd laugh oh so beautifully at them when talking with Shanks about it in their room. Like she'd just laugh at the situation and Shanks is still not getting used to his very very not platonic feelings for his best friend. But he'd enjoy his time with her. He's just going a bit insane.
I can't stop thinking now about Buggy finally finding a place to belong. She's been lost for so long,, Feeling left out. And now Toki has gifted her with the most precious treasure there is: A home. Belonging. And I am so so emotional right now. Toki would be so proud of her and Buggy would just be so thankful. If Buggy called her 'mom' at some point, she'd feel embarrassed right away, but Toki would probably fight the tears and hug her close. Going crazy, really. All the men in Buggy's life fighting for her first dance,, Rayleigh just knows he'll have to fight all the men that hurt his precious star. And Shanks is starting to think about that too and the thought of Buggy dating somebody else makes him sick, so perhaps he needs to start with a plan to confess finally (he's so asking Toki about it. I'm gonna cry). Roger crying because he wants to enjoy every second he has left with her... It kills me.
I just know that to this day, Buggy still thinks about Toki as her mom. She never mentions it to anybody, but she feels such a strong connection to Wano and she's dying to go there finally someday. She might have not been born there, but her soul belongs there. And it's just so sweet. I am sobbing, thank you. Every time she does her hair, she feels Toki's hands instead of hers and she remembers everything she taught her,,,
Now I have on my mind a very silly Shuggy thought about Shanks trying to flirt with Buggy but failing miserably (because he's a kid and he only knows how to tease her or follow Roger's advice which are, um, not good) and Buggy just being so done and exhausted. She can't stand him! He's so annoying! Sometimes she doesn't know if she wants to punch him or kiss him! And she doesn't even know if Shanks likes her back because he keeps acting stupid. And she goes to Toki for advice and she's like "oh, darling... Men are stupid. Do you know why you felt smarter than them when you were unaware of being a girl? Well, one of the reasons is that Shanks is a kid. He's dumb. But he loves you and cares so much for you... He's just having a hard time trying to make his way to your heart" / "But he-! He's so damn- Ugh. He's such an idiot. He already did, and he just doesn't know because he can't see it and I can't stand him-" / "Well, maybe you should be the one telling him, huh?" / "What?! No! And give him the satisfaction of thinking I fell first?! I'd rather die. No. He has to make the first move". And now Toki is involved (like the rest of the crew because Shuggy is a whole teen drama) in their love story because Buggy keeps complaining about men being stupid and Shanks keeps saying he doesn't get how Buggy can't see he's in love with her.
107 notes · View notes
lovethatmakingcoffee · 3 months
Text
So!
how many more content creators are going to be accused of being called a pedophile with no hard evidence, a police warrant, anything physical and it's by an anonymous tweet from some stranger online who would rather tell social media than I don't know... HAVE THEM GET ARRESTED BY THE POLICE?!
How many more creators, huh?! How many?! How many more YouTubers, twitch streamers, singers, animators, artists?! How many of you are gonna jump on them???? And it's so easy if it's a guy, right? So easy! And no matter how they react, whether it's calm and calculated, shutting down their channel as a whole, or answering immediately yet obviously angry about it- they are always ALWAYS GUILTY. what happened to innocent until proven guilty? And eo is this person? That they are willing to fan the flames and accuse someone of something so terrible online??? Who are u?????
Why do this now? Why do it how at the HEIGHT of Forever's popularity? Why not do it before so he was never on the qsmp or even long before that? Or in the middle at all???? Why now? That is my question? If this is all true, why now? And why use social media? Why not go to the police if he really did a crime? You are accusing someone of a very terrible thing. Why not do it properly instead of searching for Internet clout? What're we supposed to do? The only thing we can, huh? Cancel. Because that's what u want. Is to cancel him. When he was obviously so loved by the masses yesterday. When he had all those cruise pic photos showing how good his life was. Yeah, I don't think u want him arrested or lynched. No, u want to cancel him. Making me wonder if there was ever a real çrime.
Which I wonder quite often with these cases.
And GUYS. HEADS UP! You know whose next? Hm? It'll probably be Wilbur, probably being said that he approached some underage girl on tour or whatever. Or maybe it'll be quackity or hell, even Philza! Oh, Etoiles got cancelled not so long ago, let's cancel him again! Oh what about Bagerha or Cellibit? Let's throw Charlie into the mix. Ironmouse will be hard to cancel cause she's been locked inside of her room all her life and has a very dedicated fanbase, but I'm sure you bastards will find something.
So mhm, everyone is nexted because antis have proven it to be so easy to get rid of someone they don't like. Gone the next day. All of them are suspectable to it. Cause u know why? Cause they are stupid humans who have said stupid shit! And you will just take anything they said and did and run with it!!! Every time! So it's only a matter of time until someone new gets targeted. And depending on how tough skinned they are, they will disappear in a matter of seconds.
Let's just throw all of qsmp away while we're at it! No more eggs, no more community, blah blah blah! Something problematic will happen and you all will jump on it and say 'oh, I never liked them anyway'. Which is such a lie! Such bullshit, u are all bullshitters.
And I know for a fact that y'all aren't saints. We have all said disgusting jokes. Race, lgbt, whatever! We've all done it- don't lie! Here, I'll go first. I joked about a school shooting the other day with my friends. There, cancel me. I gave you the ammunition, now take your fucking shot.
This happens every god damn time someone u enjoy gets popular too fast. They get called a pedo, or a racist, or a transphobe or anything easy to spark the mob. I have seen it time and time again with creators running away because theyve been chased off their respective platforms. I saw an artists make the most beautiful art ever, get accused of being a pedo by one person, everyone joined in for some reason and chased her away. I will never not be bitter about that. I HATE ALL OF YOU WHO DID SUCH A THING AND IF I EVER GOT MY HANDS ON YOU I SWEAR TO GOD. But I am sick of people 'finding' or bringing shit to light or whatever and then just post it online! Like fuck! If he really did a crime! Arrest him! But he didn't, did he? Cause that's the fucking game we are playing rn.
Such hypocrites, it's fascinating. Literally yesterday you were kissing this mans feet and exhaling him, but one anon person saw that and chose violence. And you just.... changed your minds???? Like that? Like a switch of a button? Crazy, actually crazy, and childish.
How come everyone flips and flops so easily on the internet??? How is it so easy for you????? And how can u other supposed fans just accept it so easily??? I will never understand and I will bite and claw at all of you. You all loved him 24 hours ago and now with the bare minimum of evidence you flip? You all would be terrible on jury duty. I hope none of you ever get on jury duty.
Anyway, I'll probably get a ton of backlash from this post and delete it later, waking up in the morning with tons of hate. But I don't care. Prove him guilty. Get the hard evidence that he is a pedo and I will believe it when I see it. Have him be in damn cuffs. Get the mugshot. If that is at all true! But I'm not putting my life and art on pause for conveniently timed discourse.
Maybe I'll delete this post tomorrow. But now I'm fuming at all of you.
And yeah, as for me, I had a shit disgusting last year, qsmp and especially forever was one of the few things that got me out of it and calmed me down. And you guys are going to be talking about how wrong and problematic the things he said that was (what was it?) 8 years ago!!! Then guess what, I love a very problematically spoken parent that would make all of you quake and vomit the moment she opened her mouth. But also, that woman saved me from being homeless. For giving me a place to stay after being DEPORTED. So, if u need a little kindergarten lesson today, internet, is that people will say all sorts of horrible cancelable shit, but it's what they actually do, that really matters.
Goodnight.
78 notes · View notes
thirsty-flygirl · 1 year
Text
Do Better
Steve Murphy x f!Reader
About 2800 words. Not proofed or Beta-read. Good luck.
I don't know what happened here. I haven't written anything for months, this was sitting in my WIPs and I just decided to finish it.
Contrary to what this suggests, I am NOT a Steve Murphy girl. Javier Peña for life. But if Steve showed up, I probably wouldn't kick him out of bed. Not surprised, just disappointed.
OVER 18 ONLY! Warnings: oral (m and f receiving), PIV- no protection (use a condom, kids), slight degradation, Steve being a southern boy with an attitude, some language, a Reader much sexier and confident than I could ever be, my overuse of commas and italics.
“Just this once,” you panted, the pair of you stumbling through your doorway. 
“Never again,” Steve agreed, his hot breath fanning across your skin as his mouth traversed the column of your throat. You moaned in response, tilting your head so he could have better access, and let his strong hands push you back against the door until it closed. 
“Fuck, you smell good,” he muttered, letting his nose trail across your collarbone, “always smell so fuckin’ good.”
He pressed his thigh between your legs and you eagerly rolled your hips against the strong muscle, the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit and stoking the flames of arousal in your belly. 
“I should, it’s expensive,” you moaned, dropping down over, and over, and over to feel the delicious friction against your folds.
Steve huffed out a laugh, pressing his hot mouth against the swell of your tits as his hands came up to grope you through your blouse.
“Such a fuckin’ smartass, always runnin’ your mouth,” he emphasized his words by roughly squeezing your nipples between his fingers. You cried out and rutted harder against his thigh, feeling your slick dampen your panties. Steve groaned his approval and pressed against you harder.
“That’s right, baby, rub that sweet pussy on me...get you nice and wet so I can just slide right in.”
Reached up, you grabbed a fistful of blond hair and jerked his head up, slanting your mouth over his in a bruising, sloppy kiss. He growled, urging you on, and you let your tongue tangle roughly with his for a moment before pulling back and nipping at his pouty bottom lip.
“Let me show you what else I can do with my mouth,” you purred, dropping down to your knees right there in your entryway. You made quick work of his belt, palming him through the rough denim and squeezing lightly. 
“Well, fuck, Murph,” you laughed lightly, “looks like you’re finally happy to see me for once.” 
He braced himself against the door with one hand, dropping his head to look down at you like an angel just before the fall. 
“Quit talking and just suck my dick, honey,” he rasped, reaching with his other hand to rest on the back of your head.
You grinned and pulled him from his boxers, long and thick, ruddy tip weeping. Letting your tongue dart out to swipe against the tempting swirl of precum, you moaned lowly in the back of your throat before wrapping your lips around his shaft. 
Bobbing along Steve’s length, you used one hand to stroke whatever wasn’t buried in your mouth, listening to his gasps and growls in order to guide your movements. You let your tongue laze against his frenulum, slowly running it back and forth and driving him insane.
“Not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” he gritted out, his fingers knotting in your hair and urging you forward. You let him guide you, hollowing out your cheeks as he pumped his cock into your hot, eager mouth, trying to take as much of him as possible on each pass.
Your own arousal roared within you, pussy fluttering at the thought of finally getting him between your legs. Your panties were completely soaked, your position at Steve’s feet with your knees tucked together making them bunch up against your clit. You writhed around, trying to find that same sweet friction that you had on his leg, but you needed more, more of the man gazing down at you, like a merciful god absolving you of all your sins.
“Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes shining appreciatively in the dim light. “Such a good girl, gettin’ down on your knees for me. Taking that cock so well…..”
His praise made you blossom, your eyes wide and acquiescent, lifting up to meet his. You whimpered around his length, moving your hand faster, bobbing enthusiastically. 
“Yeah,” he continued, nodding his head as he watched his dick disappear between your plump lips, “you like gettin’ your pretty face fucked, don’t ya?” You moaned in return, your eyelashes fluttering as his words alone made you soar.
Steve smirked crookedly down at you. “Looks like someone enjoys being on their knees for me . . . you like me using you like a whore?”
Fuck, he’d found your weakness without even trying. As assertive and confident you were in your professional life, there was something about being on your knees in front of a sexy man and letting him just control you, defile you, just absolutely fucking use you that made your cunt throb.
“Get up here, honey,” Steve ordered, pulling you up against his body, cock hard against your stomach, and taking your mouth roughly. He gripped your chin tightly as he kissed you, the sharp bite of pain making you moan wantonly.
He tore his mouth from yours, panting as he pressed his forehead against your temple. “Bedroom, now,” he demanded. You slipped past him, leading him down the short hallway and into your room. He grabbed you the moment you crossed the threshold, twirling you in his arms and walking you backward to the bed. 
“Let me see those tits,” he ordered, his deep voice hoarse with lust. You met his eyes and began unbuttoning your blouse, watching his pupils dilate as you exposed the lace of your bra. “Yeah, that’s it.” He reached out and ran his thumbs over your nipples, admiring them as they hardened under his touch. “So pretty,” he mumbled, tweaking them until they ached.
You whimpered, arching your back and  thrusting your chest further into his warm hands. “Steve, please,” you begged, letting your head loll back, “please fuck me.”
That deep, cocky chuckle rumbled through his chest as he regarded you. “Damn, honey, you do know how to make a man feel good. Let me take care of you.”
Steve slipped his hands behind your back, deftly unhooking your bra and letting it drop down to the floor, forgotten. He bent his head to lick at one perfect nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud until it tightened, then sucking it sharply into his mouth. His other hand drifted down between your thighs, rubbing unceremoniously against the thick seam of your jeans with his long fingers.
“I can feel you,” he mumbled against your breast, “soaking fuckin’ wet.”
His words thrummed through you like live wires dancing across your skin. You felt absolutely electric, overstimulated, nerve endings sizzling wherever Steve touched you. Keening, you bucked against his hand, letting a breathless whisper tumble from your lips.
“‘S’all for you, Steve, my pussy’s ready just for you.”
Your filthy words spurred him on, a low, gritty laugh escaping him as he shoved you gently back on to your bed.
“God damn, honey, keep talkin’ like that and I’ll fuckin’ blow my load all over those beautiful tits.” He crawled over you, hovering there while he slowly unfastened your jeans and slid them down your legs, leaving you nearly bare in your bra and panties. Once he had you where he wanted you, he leaned back on his heels, running a hand appreciatively down your body.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re gorgeous?” 
You arched into his touch, his long fingers tracing over your throat, your breasts, your stomach, finally to the ache between your legs, where he dipped them under the elastic of your panties to tease at your heated folds. 
“That’s right baby, you are drenched, aren’t you?” His voice was soft, intimate, but his tone was rough with need. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, meeting his icy-blue gaze and nodding as touched you. “Yeah,” he continued, a smirk sliding across his lips, “that pussy’s all mine tonight, isn’t it? You gonna let me do whatever I want to you?”
“Yes,” you moaned, arching into his touch, urging his fingers to slip inside your soaked cunt. Steve obliged, sliding them inside you and curling them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made your pussy clench.
“God, that’s nice,” Steve murmured absently, staring down at the spot where his fingers disappeared inside you, “you got such a pretty pussy, honey. I bet it tastes sweet, too.”
He pulled his fingers out and licked them clean while you watched, his tongue dancing over the digits. You felt like you would burn up at the sight, right there in your bed, the flames of your raging fucking need for your partner to just fuck you, torching you right where you lay.
“God damn, I was right,” Steve smiled at you when your essence was cleaned from his hand. “Now I’m gonna eat that pussy while you lay there for me, okay? You gonna be my good little whore and cum on my fuckin’ tongue?”
You whined in response, writhing your hips involuntarily, seeking out the friction you needed. Steve placed a large palm against you, fingers splayed against the softness of your lower belly while his palm pressed firmly on your clit. A whine left your throat at his touch.
“Fuck me, honey,” he swore, “those pretty sounds make me want to get inside you.” Looking down at his hand, he contemplated his next move while you waited breathlessly. His eyes flicked up to yours, pupils blown out in anticipation. You let your hand drift to his lap, once again roughly massaging his dick through his jeans and feeling a victorious surge of arousal when his own groan cut through the silence, long and low and deep. 
In a flash, Steve moved away from you to stand next to the bed, tearing off his pants and boxers to reveal his cock bobbing proudly against his lower abdomen. The slick spot of precum trailing from the tip had you licking your lips hungrily; as much as you wanted him buried deep inside your pussy, you’d take him down your throat again, too.
“You’re gonna have to wait,” he warned, dropping to his knees and pulling you to the edge, “I’ve been thinking about gettin’ my mouth on this pussy for months.” 
With that, he dove in, licking a long, hot stripe from your soaking folds to your clit, then again and again, urging you toward your release. His tongue pressed just right against you, earning cries and moans that spurred him on more.
“God, you taste good,” Steve mumbled against your skin, alternating long and slow licks with quick flicks of his tongues, praise and filthy declarations falling from his lips as he worked you.
“That’s right, honey, you’re such a good girl, lettin’ me taste you like this.” He wrapped his lips around your clit for effect and sucked lightly, the sensation nearly sending your body off the bed in blinding ecstasy. “Yeah, that’s right,” he whispered against your swollen bud, “you’re gonna cum for me right? Right here in my mouth? ‘Cause I’d sure like to drink you up . . .”
He returned to sucking you, applying just the right amount of pressure to get you off, and slid three fingers into your dripping cunt.
“Fuck, Steve!” you cried, arching your back off the bed. You heard his low laugh from between your legs. 
“You’re gettin’ close, aren’t you, honey?”
“Mmmhmmm.” You were beyond words now, unable to form a coherent response at the onslaught of Steve’s mouth and fingers working you. His tongue was magical, sucking and licking you just right, as if he somehow knew exactly how to get you to shatter. You felt that sweet, electric heat start to spiral right from your pussy throughout your body, your limbs growing tense at your nearing release.
“Fuck, Steve - fuck - right there, yes,” you babbled, words tumbling from your lips as your climax roared through you. You cried out, again, over and over, relishing the feeling of your lips circling the sound of his name, and he stayed with you through it all, licking and moaning as you flooded his senses with your delicious orgasm. 
Steve pressed his face against you, lapping your cum as it trickled over his fingers. It was almost enough to make him cum, right there between your legs, his mustache and chin drenched. 
“My god,” Steve uttered once you had come down from your high, trailing his tongue lazily up your slit again to capture anything he’d missed, “you taste better than I could have imagined, honey.” He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh before rising from the floor and flopping beside you on the bed. 
“C’mere,” he pulled you over to roll on top of him, watching you with hungry eyes as you settled your still-aching core over his pulsing cock. “You’re beautiful,” he said, almost reverently, reaching up to brush a thumb over your nipple. Smiling bashfully, you rolled your hips slowly against his cock, the tip nudging your entrance on each pass. 
“I want you inside me,” you whispered down at him, smiling softly at the glazed, sexed-out look in his eyes.
“Nothin’ I want more,” he smirked, guiding you up so that he could hold himself in place, a low groan escaping him as your pussy swallowed his dick inch by inch.
“Fuck, honey.”
You began to move, slowly, your pussy clenching against him on every stroke. He felt better than you thought possible, like you were made just to take him like this. 
“Steve,” you whimpered, your pace quickening already, the sensation of him sliding over your g-spot bringing you closer and closer to your climax. 
“What do you need, baby? Tell me,” he urged his big hands resting against your hips, helping you move against him. Unable to express what you needed in words, you planted your hands against his chest and rolled your hips down roughly, taking him as deep as possible so that you could feel every delicious inch of him.
"Fuck, I'm not gonna last long," Steve breathed, hips rising to meet yours. "So pretty, so perfect," he mumbled, "wanna just fuckin' make you feel good."
"God, you are," you sighed, bending over to kiss Steve softly. He responded eagerly, his mouth slanting against yours, tongues tangling languidly. You felt that fire building throughout your body and moved faster, harder, his hands gripping the flesh of your ass to help slam you down on his cock.
You sat up straight again, your fingers traveling down to where you were joined and rubbing tight circles on your clit. Steve watched, open-mouthed, as you helped him bring you to the brink.
"Touch that pussy, honey," he ground out, his own thrusts becoming sloppy. His balls tightened and he pushed his fingers against yours, both of you sliding through your slick to stimulate your clit. "Fuck, I'm gonna come soon," he growled, "need to you tell me where, pretty girl."
Your cunt clenched around Steve, your orgasm sparking down your spine, lightning heat growing low in your belly. 
“FIll me up,” you managed to moan, bright white flashing behind your eyes as you came around his cock, hard, your release soaking the coarse blond curls beneath your pussy.
Steve groaned, his dick locked in your grip. He managed to thrust once more up into you before his own orgasm tore through him. Pressing you down against him in a bruising grip, Steve let your pussy milk his cock, jets of cum pulsing up into you.
He groaned through his release, a whine in the back of his throat sending you over the edge again. You whimpered, head thrown back, your fingers tangled with Steve’s where they clutched your hips. 
Reaching up, Steve cupped the back of your head and brought you down to him in a searing kiss, your breasts pressed against the sheen of sweat coating his chest. His tongue twisted with yours, devouring your mouth possessively. 
“You’re fuckin’ amazing, honey,” he whispered roughly, breaking the kiss you rest his forehead against yours. Gently, he rolled you over so that you were tucked under him, his cock still seated deep inside of you. He kissed you again, deeply, sweetly, his hand coming down to cup your cheek.
Despite being bone-tired, you responded eagerly, letting your own fingers twist in his hair. Your cunt clenched around his length, now hardening again. Rolling your hips experimentally, you broke away and grinned up at him.
“You wanna try again?”
Steve smirked above you, a roll of his blue eyes making you giggle. “You just don’t know when to fuckin’ stop, do you?” His forearms rested on either side of your head, his mouth hovering over yours.
“I thought you said ‘just this once,’” Steve teased, his lips brushing against yours. 
Your stomach gave an odd flip as you looked up at him, that cocky smile lighting up something warm inside you. Offering a little shrug, you responded with a smile.
“I just think you can do better.”
477 notes · View notes
joedirtymadre · 16 days
Note
Hi cam you please do a Inumaki x reader where all of the jujutsu students has a party and plays truth or dare and someone dares you to kiss inumaki but his tounge accidentally slips in.
Truth or Dare
YES I CAN. My prayers were answered cause I GOT MY FIRST REQUESTTTT 🤩 I hope I did you good cause if I didn’t I’m so sorry 😭
“Oh come (Y/N), it’s just a silly game,” Nobara laughed. “Uhh… alright, alright,” I said, finally giving in to playing truth or dare with them. We all celebrated after winning the baseball game between Tokyo Jujutsu High vs Kyoto Jujutsu High. Now, all of us are sitting outside eating and drinking, along with some of the students of Kyoto too, about to play truth or dare.
“Ok I’ll go first!” Nobara said. “Mai, truth or dare?” she asked evilly. “With that ugly look, I'll just choose truth,” she sighed. “Heh, I knew you were too chicken to choose dare,” Nobara scoffed. “Huh?!” Mai yelled. “You heard me,” Nobara smirked and the two glared at each other. Forgetting about the game. “I guess I'll take charge instead,” Maki said, as she rolled her eyes. Everyone else turned their attention back to the game.
“Alright then, Megumi, truth or dare?” She asked. “Dare,” Megumi said. “I dare you to try and… steal Sensei Gojo’s mask,” she said. “What the-?” Megumi scoffed. “It’s a dare Megumi! So that means you have to do it!” Panda laughed. “Alright whatever, if I get caught I’m not going down alone… and before I go… Panda! Truth or dare?” Megumi asked. “Truth!” Panda smiled. “Is the reason why you’re so clumsy is because you’re a panda?” Megumi asked. “W-Wha- I am not clumsy!” He shouted. “Ok, ok,” Megumi chuckled and walked off, probably to try and do his dare. “I’m not just any regular old Panda, I’m Panda!” He said proudly. “Alright next!” Maki shouted. “Ok…” Panda said as he scouted the group. Then his eyes landed on me, that look, looks real suspicious.
“(Y/N)! Truth or dare,” he said, mischievously. “T-Truth?” I questioned. “Sorry, but we just did a truth. So, you’re automatically doing dare,” he smiled. “O-Oh…” I stuttered. “I dare you to…” he ended as he stared at me, oh man this is gonna be crazy… “Kiss Toge!” He said. “H-Huh…?” I blinked and looked over to Toge who was as red as a tomato. My face is probably matching. “Kiss him! Kiss him!” Panda started chanting. I felt my cheeks heat up even more and slowly walked over to Toge. “S-Sorry Toge,” I whispered as I stood in front of him. I reached out for his shoulders and leaned in. Right before I could kiss him, I heard “You bitch!” And Nobara pushed Mai into Toge, pushing him into me, causing both of us to fall. Once hitting the ground I felt a pair of lips hit mine. Then once Toge fell, I felt a tongue pass through my lips. Toge immediately pulled away, and we stared at each other while still on the floor. My mind started racing once I noticed he was on top of me with both his arms on either side of me. “B-Bonito flakes,” he whispered and quickly got up. I quickly stood up too and avoided any eye contact from anyone. Then Maki awkwardly coughed, “Maybe it’s time to call it a night.” Everyone nodded and we all went our respective ways.
I sat in my bed, still pondering over the kiss. “His lips were soft, but I can’t believe his tongue-“ I stopped myself as I felt my face flame up. I fell back into my bed, “Oh man, this is going to be so awkward between us now… He probably knows I have a crush on him now. Cause my stupid face wouldn’t stop blushing,” I sighed and stared at the ceiling. I was brought out of my thoughts from a knock on my door and went to go check who it was. I slowly opened my door and saw Toe there, standing in his pajamas. “Oh! H-Hi,” I stuttered and moved my gaze towards the floor. I can’t even look at him… “Salmon,” he said. “Uhh…” I mumbled. “Would you like to come in?. I asked. “Tuna Mayo,” he nodded and stepped inside. I quickly shut the door and turned around to see Toge facing me. “So w-what’s up?” I asked nervously. “B-Bonito flakes… salmon, kelp,” he said. “Umm…” I was confused, as Togue was mumbling on and on. Suddenly I saw Toge pull out a small letter from his pocket. “Salmon…” he mumbled as he handed me the paper.
I opened it and read it:
Dear (Y/N),
It’s hard for me to say it, but I’ve always thought that you were a sweet and beautiful person. One day, I realized that my feelings for you were more than just a friendship. That kiss earlier proved my thoughts and I’d like to be more than just friends, if you’d give me the chance.
I looked up and stared wide-eyed at Toge who had a light pink tint on his cheeks. “Toge!” I smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. I felt him tense up, but quickly relaxed into the kiss and cupped my face, deepening the kiss. We slowly pulled away and I smiled. “I’ve always had the same thoughts too,” I said softly. “Tuna mayo,” he smiled and pulled me in for another kiss. Maybe Nobara picking a fight wasn’t so bad after all…
29 notes · View notes
sadhours · 3 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
scumbag blues • battery acid
gator tillman x f!original character
previous chapter • masterlist
cw: 18+minors dni, unsolicited dick pics/videos, mean texts, drinking, kind of smut??? Gator tries
Daisy’s depressed. She’s been turning away clients left and right. The money from Roy keeps the bills paid but it’s tighter than before and her pops has noticed. Says something about it when Daisy’s cooking him lunch.
“I don’t know why things have taken such a turn, Daisy,” he sounds stressed. “We haven’t had a single guest in two weeks.”
“It’ll turn back around,” she assures him, “always does.”
Her mothers voice rings in her ears. Same mantra about how women have to take care of things. How women have a magic money maker between their legs and they’d be fools not to take advantage.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket, she pulls it out and looks down at the notification. Gator. Hasn’t had the guts to block him like she should. She slides it open and is met with a photo of his cock. Hard as hell. He’s on his bed, she can see his cargos bunched up around his ankles and his combat boots. He’s sent You can’t quit me, baby along with the photo and she hates the way it ignites a flame in her stomach. She locks her phone and shoves it back in her pocket, resuming the can of tomato soup she’d been heating up. She wishes Gator would just give it up. There’s plenty of other women for sale in this county. But she knows he likes her. Their sexual chemistry is undeniable. And she’s certain Gator hasn’t been with any other woman. Yet, she doesn’t even know how many men she’s been with. It’s unfair. She can’t quit this. And that’s what Gator deserves, so she’ll have to quit him.
She butters up the bread for grilled cheeses, determined to get out of this funk and start taking clients again. Her mother would tell her she’s pathetic. Gator’s always been a client, he started out as such and it’d be laughable to think they could be more. It’s a god damn pipe dream and they both know it.
When Daisy reads his message but doesn’t respond, Gator gets furious but his cock is still hard. The arousal mixed with the anger facilitates in a bit of harassment on his end. He records himself jacking off, mumbles about how he knows she wants him. How she’s gonna watch it later and play with her pretty pussy. Which he fully believes. Records himself cumming, muttering, “Wish I was cumming in your tight hole, baby.”
Again, Daisy opens the messages and doesn’t respond. And now that Gator’s cock is softening, the anger takes over and he sends a handful of messages.
Whatever, bitch. Ur not even pretty. Just fucking easy.
Ur used up.
Probably should get tested. God knows ur fckn infected. Nasty slut.
Fuck u bitch
Then, Gator realizes these won’t help his case in any way so he sends another.
I’m sorry. Just miss u and I ain’t good at controlling my temper
The last message never delivers and Gator’s feeling like a pathetic loser with his cum drying on his stomach. Cleans himself up and grabs his keys. He needs to get as drunk as humanly possible. Fuck, he doesn’t care that it’s only noon. This pit of dread filling him needs to be released and alcohol can dull it. The Esquire Club opens at 10 am. He’ll be with like minded company. And well, if it’s two blocks from the Inn, that’s just a coincidence. He isn’t hoping that Daisy’ll wander in desperate for money. Definitely not.
The place is dead when he gets there aside from a couple of dudes rambling about sports. Gator doesn’t keep up with football anymore. Too bitter about high school. He would’ve been scouted, out of this shithole and never would’ve touched Daisy Way if that prick hadn’t busted his ankle. Swears if he ever sees that fucker again, he’ll kill him.
The hours drone on, Gator filling his belly with cheap whiskey and countless beers. Is absolutely stumbling around when the sun goes down. There’s girls in here tonight. Ones that know Gator’s the sheriff’s son, girls that touch his biceps and ask if he’s ever had to shoot anyone. He tells grandiose stories, fibbing on the extremities. Yeah, he sees a ton of action. Yeah, Gator’s a fucking badass. He’s a fucking winner.
He gets one of the girls in the bathroom, a brunette with heavy makeup and a short skirt. Has her leg propped up on the graffitied toilet. Limp dick in his hand as he tugs it, pleading internally for it to fill out but it just fucking won’t. He knows it’s the whiskey, his whole body is fucking numb. But he can’t help but think that if this were Daisy bent over for him, he’d be hard as a rock. It’s pathetic and it’s weird, but he grabs hold of the girl's hair and tugs her head back so he can grunt into her ear.
“You want me to fuck you, Daisy? Huh?” he laughs, “Want me to stretch you out so bad?”
“My names not Daisy?” the girl replies, confusion dripping in her voice.
“Shh,” he hisses, pulling on his cock and focusing on the fantasy, trying to will his dick to life. Nothing. He balls his fist up and slams it against the stall, “Fuck!”
He shoves his flaccid length back into his cargos and barrels out of there. Leaving the girl stunned and exposed. He’s a fucking loser. If he goes by the Inn, it’ll be pummeled into his head what a fucking loser he is. Somehow, he winds up at Faye’s apartment building. Hits the buzzer. Over and over until he hears her sleepy voice.
“Who is it?”
“Faye, it’s me— er,” he hiccups, “Gator. Can I come up?”
“Gator, it’s the middle of the night,” she sighs, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Please,” he whines, hates how pathetic he sounds, “I have nowhere else to go. I won’t be fucking weird. Okay? I just… please, Faye.”
A beat of silence. Then the buzz and a green light. Gator tugs the door open and stumbles inside, looking down the hall until a door opens. Faye steps outside, rubbing her eyes and she’s wearing a long, flowy nightgown. She lets him inside and because of his intoxicated state, he clings onto her and fucking cries. Like the pathetic loser he is. But she wraps her arms around him.
“Gator, what happened?”
“I’m… I’m such a fucking loser,” he sobs, “I ruin everything.”
Faye squeezes him tighter, rubs his back soothingly. “Oh, Gator…”
She pulls back and puts her hands on his face, “I’m gonna make some tea. Sit on the couch and we’ll talk about it. Okay?”
She’s so good. So pure. So sweet. Gator hiccups and nods, moving to rub his fists against his teary eyes. Then he trudges to her living room, waiting for her to return.
31 notes · View notes
awaytobeunshaken · 4 months
Text
Ashrym Week Day 3 - What the Fuck is Up With That?
It’s unsurprising that the Ruby Vanguard’s base is trapped to hell and back. Still, it’s nothing they can’t manage between Orym’s uncanny skill at spotting the traps and Chetney’s deft hands at disarming them. So they creep down the corridor, the rest of the Hells following at a safe distance. It’s slow going, but it’s the best way to get them to their foes all in one piece.
Still, even Orym’s keen eyes aren’t going to catch everything, and the *click* of the floor plate seems to echo in his ears even as he steps away and rolls backward in an attempt to avoid whatever he just set off.
And before he can even fully register what just happened, Ashton is on top of him, throwing him to the ground and catching the full impact of the jet of flame pouring down from the ceiling.
“Ash!” The Genasi is coughing and choking, which at least means they’re breathing, and Orym is grateful for that much, but Ashton hasn’t gotten back up, really, instead rolling off of Orym and dragging themself away to sit against the wall. “What the fuck are you doing? Letters!”
F.C.G. was already on his way over, and tapped Ashton for a measure of healing.
“Don’t.” Ashton gasped. “You know what we’re heading into. Save it.”
He’s right, much as Orym doesn’t want to admit it. They sure as hell can't continue like this, though, not with the state Ashton’s in. “We’ve been going at this for a while, we should probably rest for a bit, collect ourselves before we keep going. Hopefully avoid another miss like that.” And give Ashton some time to recover from taking that blow.
“Sounds good.” And as F.C.G. rolls away to give word to the rest of the group, Orym settles into the spot against the wall beside Ashton and waits for his breathing to calm.
“So what the fuck was up with that?” His breathing might have steadied, but there’s no disguising the tension in his voice as he bites out the words.
“I was trying to help; I could tell you had tripped something, I was trying to get you out of the way.”
“So you could take the hit instead? I was getting out of the way on my own. You promised you were gonna take better care of yourself, not do stupid shit that almost gets you killed.” He stands and moves a short way down the corridor, looking away from Ashton but staying in earshot.
“And when do I get the same promise out of you? How many hits have I seen you take that you didn’t have to?”
Orym doesn’t answer. He can’t. He knows Ashton has a point, that he takes risks that he maybe doesn’t have to, because the bigger risk is seeing someone else fall and wondering if he could have done more. But before he can tell them that it doesn’t matter, that he’ll drop it, Ashton speaks up again.
“Besides, I am doing this for me.” His voice grows quieter. “I don’t wanna face a world without you in it.”
24 notes · View notes
tismrot · 4 months
Text
BENTLEY PLAYS SONG MESSAGE FROM AZIRAPHALE
I had a theory that Aziraphale sent the Nightingales song to the Bentley as a message of hope or something. But then @cant-really-remember heard a miracle sound before the song started playing and damn - if this doesn’t just prove my theory, I don’t know what could.
So. We know(ish) now that Aziraphale sent the song. We just do, okay? Now I want to investigate what the song means.
I think Aziraphale’s facial expression in the elevator is a mixture between his ‘brainwashed angel’ face (the one he has to wear every time he goes back there in order to send out heavenly good vibes. Nobody likes a worried look on an angel’s face, shit like that probably gets you sent to Hell) and a ‘vengeful, furious and ready for carnage, but patient enough enact his Ineffable Plan’ face.
What the plan is? I think he’s gonna destroy/disable Heaven. And I think he understood how when he was kissed. Neil is all about misdirection and double or triple meanings, repetitions and so on, I think the kiss wasn’t just desperation from Crowley’s end. I think it revealed some things to Aziraphale, and not just in an emotional, metaphorical sense. Yes, I am writing a fic about that, thanks for asking - I think something happens in the Final Fifteen that we don’t know about.
And while I do love a heartbroken Crowley drinking himself to death while Nina, Maggie and Muriel try to get him on Grindr or whatever until Aziraphale returns with more than one flaming sword, I think that take kinda weakens both Crowley and Aziraphale. I think this is more likely:
Crowley isn’t standing by the car (just) to get a last glimpse at his lover, now possibly lost forever. Maybe he’s not sure what he’s looking at, until he gets in the car. The song starts playing. He looks heartbroken, he turns it off. Sure, it hurts to hear it, but maybe for many different reasons. Perhaps the message in the song is something like this: “I remember the plan now. I’ve got this under control. Do what we talked about, be patient, etc.”
And Crowley drives away, knowing it’s go-time for the most dangerous stunt they’ve ever pulled. Maybe that’s why he’s looking so broken? He just wanted peace with Aziraphale until the Big One - and here it is already. They’re immortal, after all, it probably feels like they averted Armageddon just yesterday.
Plus, perhaps the plan they had didn’t take into consideration that Aziraphale would be supreme archangel, that Beelzebub would be gone. Perhaps that changes everything. Perhaps they’re both very afraid now. And perhaps Aziraphale is angry at Crowley as well, for not letting him remember sooner, for 1941 (all of it, now that he’s allowed to recall it all, even what happened after the harrowing apology dance). And perhaps Crowley thinks they’re all so fucked now he decides to accept the position as Grand Duke of Hell, just to do what he can on his end, even if it wasn’t in the Ineffable Plan. Now everything’s a mess.
How will our heroes cope?
Tumblr media
50 notes · View notes
voidartisan · 1 year
Text
Clone Wars characters as things i've heard in class
you have no idea how long i've been saving these up
Fives: Stop licking my dryer sheet!
Ahsoka: Yeah, he transferred to the Senate guard, he doesn’t like it there. He says they smell like pencils.
Ahsoka:*Walking in* Barriss, what’s the average life span of a woman? Like 70-80 years, right? I need comfort. I need to know that I will die eventually.
Anakin: Just get a giant hammer, name it kindness, and then BAM.
Palpatine: Yes, taxing the peasants, very good!
Obi-Wan: I am begging you, stop spamming the cringey Twitter account I made in high school.
Anakin: How much Spanish do you you speak?
Kit Fisto: Enough to know all the cuss words.
Leia: Thus, philosophy’s flaming razor sword: It doesn’t matter.
Riyo Chuchi: I actually blew a couple of fuses in my room last year, so maintenance says I’m not supposed to plug in five waffle irons at a time any more.
Rex:*Swears upon knocking over something hot and heavy, looks up* In case you didn’t hear that — KRIFF.
Ahsoka: Just eat the frog already!
Ahsoka: You know what’s worse than freshmen? Freshman boys.
Obi-Wan: *As Korkie walks past in the hallway* Hello, mini-me.
Quinlan Vos: Anyone here watched the movie Jaws? Well, I’m writing a book, and it’ll be kind of like that, but with fantasy Puritans and a giant spider. I’m calling it “Puritan Spider Jaws”
Later: I haven’t decided who’s gonna die yet, but I’m thinking the spider’s gonna get set on fire.
Young Obi-Wan: Qui-gon’s a cool teacher, he’s so laid back. I think he might be high like half the time, but his class is really fun.
Mace Windu: Anyone else going to answer? Alright, then. Go ahead, Ben. You could probably teach this class better than me anyway.
Anakin: You know what would solve all of Coruscant’s population problems? Lab babies.
Han, to Luke: You were at that school for three years and didn’t memorize the camera locations?
Leia: Look at my other mask
Han: Why?
Leia: Because it’s black, like your soul.
Kix: I don’t like fighting. Sometimes Rex gets frustrated and yells “Hit him!” Then I hit him once and Rex’s like “Yeah!” and the other guy’s on the floor crying and I’m like “AUGHHHHHH!”
Padmé: Just because I have money doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.
Ahsoka: Are you going to have any chocolate milk, Rex?
Anakin: Ahsoka, he’s lactose intolerant.
Ahsoka: Oh, sorry—
Rex: Nope. Only for you, Ahsoka.
Rex: *proceeds to pour and chug an entire glass of chocolate milk.*
Obi-Wan: *sarcastically* Didn’t you know? Gingers control the sun.
Korkie: *panicking* Well, no one told me!
Anakin: You know, Master Fisto. Really super buff. Looks like he would run a 5K at the drop of a hat.
Obi-Wan: Anakin, stop making pterodactyl noises.
Din Djarin: Sometimes people ask me about my pronouns. I say that I don’t care what they call me, but it’s not true. I just want to be pronounced “dead.”
Anakin: 4’11”!
Ahsoka: Hey, Master
Anakin: I’m so glad she responds to that. It’s the highlight of my day.
Fives: What are tootsie rolls, anyway? They’re not chocolate, they’re not taffy—
Jesse: It’s better not to ask
Waxer: I got—
Cody: Got expelled? Welp, get your stuff, see you never, nice knowing you.
Ahsoka: Madame Nu don’t care
Jocasta Nu: She don’t
Bail Organa: I have only ever had one person in my life who actually liked banana-flavored Laffy Taffy. And I no longer speak to them.
Obi-Wan: Be careful with these, they’re fragile and expensive—
Anakin: Like my heart
Barriss: The afterlife should be Communist
Hamsters: *frenzied squeaking*
Anakin: *pulling out a small pail* awww…you guys want some Nutella?
Obi-Wan: Stop offering them Nutella
Ahsoka: Is that WHOLE THING filled with Nutella?
Anakin: I mean, not anymore…
Luke: What does a kilogram weigh in American?
Luke: Legally, I can say whatever I want
Han: And I can legally fight you
Boba: Actually, I’m asexual. My son will look exactly like me.
Leia: Han’s got a rough life. Already colorblind, now he’s going deaf at seventeen.
Luke: How do I cite my brain in APA?
Din Djarin: Costco is a cult
Obi-Wan: Can anyone tell me what this is called?
Anakin: A diagram
Obi-Wan: It starts with a k
Anakin: A kdiagram
Ahsoka: *holding up energy drink* Look, Master! Third one today!
Obi-Wan: You are going to die.
Obi-Wan: *checks nutrition facts* 800 mg. Less than a cup of coffee, not too bad. Maybe you won’t die. But you probably will.
Anakin: Master, what if we each brought you a thousand dollars? Then would we still have to take the test?
Mace Windu: I mean, I guess would be better than bringing me… disappointment—
Fennec: It was overhyped
Boba: You just have no soul, that’s what it is
Luke: Eight! Y’know, the devil’s number.
Jango Fett: Why wouldn’t you clone yourself?
Ahsoka: So, when will the grades be in? Tomorrow, or… when should I expect to be depressed?
Padmè, during a mock senatorial campaign: Would you like some of The People’s™ lip balm? It has sparkles.
Luke: Are you okay?
Han, without looking up from his work: I’m straight.
Luke:…
Luke: Well, congratulations on coming out—
Ahsoka: The only one of these I can apply for is the poetry scholarship
Anakin: Roses are red, violets are blue…
Rex: …please give me money.
Ahsoka: Hey, what’s that? Are you planning how we’re all gonna die?
Cody: Yup
Luke: You should play Abba!
Han: You sound like my mother.
Cara: Who’s the main character in your life, Mando?
Din: Uh… my cat, probably
Fives, spinning across the room in a rolling chair: Bounty. The quicker picker upper.
Hondo: No scams for me please, I like money.
Anakin: I’m gonna do a patriotism
Waxer: What is it…
Boil: What’s what?
Waxer: That thing Commander says we’re not allowed to do to the shinies.
Boil: Initiation?
Waxer: There was another word for it.
Boil: Hazing?
Waxer: Yeah! That’s it.
Kix: Fives, if you drop those donuts I will drop YOU
167 notes · View notes