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aide-falls · 4 months

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😂😂😂 y’all I’m at the dentist and I’m waiting on my crown to be made

I’m minding my own business working on my story and

“Hey Jude” starts playing over the loudspeaker!

I think it’s a sign 😂

💕💕💕💕

#ikemen villians jude #ikemen villains jude #jude jazza #ikevil jude #ikemen games #ikemen cybird #cybird series #cybird games #cybird ikemen #cybird #ikevil #ikemen series #ikemen villains #i love jude so much #hey jude :)

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judehatesmaths · 5 months

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FT ask game

7, 10 + 15 (apart from the main couple cause I assume they're the fave!)

(from @feelingpure)

Hiii!!

7. A crack question: which food represents every character of Fellow Travelers?

Oof idk if this is gonna make sense jgjgkd

Hawk: Pastrami on rye (I actually have no idea for this one, it appeared to me)

Tim: sweet milk caramel toffee (my boi is sweet and sticky (clingy))

Marcus: Mac and cheese (the kraft kind of)

Frankie: spicy ramen

Lucy: a crème brûlé (she's got fancy european girl taste probably okey, don't come at me)

Mary: idk why, but a strawberry cheesecake always pops in my mind when I think about her

10. If the show had one more episode, what would it be about?

Okay, so I really liked how the show ended, I think it wrapped up perfectly, but if there was a 9th episode I'd like it to show what ends up happening to Jerome bc like we get thrown that he is positive to HIV but then nothing else?? That's one thing, then it'd be about what Hawk does after, he won't go to Milan and will stay around idk if san Francisco, but maybe he does and helps with Tim's legacy with fighting for aids bills and that! I honestly would love maybe some flashback to young!Hawk like the first times he found out he liked men and more with his parents idk more backstory (I'm a sucker for Hawk okay)

15. What is your favorite relationship from the show (could be romantic of platonic)?

Besides Hawk and Tim, I think my favorite relationship romantically would be Marcus and Frankie!!! They're just so sweet in the 80s with their little family and holding eachother up, plus the development Marcus more than Frankie had to make to finally have a stable relationship was great in the show. Now, a platonic relationship that I adoreee has gotta be Tim and Mary! Cmon, they're adorable together and their friendship was beautiful back in the 50s and we know they kept touch until the 80s.

#fellow travelers #ft ask game #hawk fuller #tim laughlin #hawk x tim #jude speaks #i love getting asks #the food one tho #took my mind to places itd never been

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gravedigg · 5 months

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WORKING UP THE COURAGE TO ASK VIRGIL QUESTIONS:

What were the most intense emotions he'd ever felt outside of the Urge, before the tadpoling and after?

Hi Myc this is a fantastic question ily.

I think pre-tadpole, it would be the major beats of Virgil's life.

When Enver was sold to Raphael, his confusion and anger and sadness that was far too overwhelming for a kid.

The moments after Bhaal compelled him to kill his family, once the urge had faded and he was left to face what he had done alone, absolutely unfathomable horror, shame, and grief. And then there were the dark times after that where he didnt feel much of anything at all for a long time.

There was the shock, disbelief, relief, and utter childish delight that Virgil felt when he saw Enver again after the House of Hope, having believed him dead for so long. He kept these feelings inside as best he could in the moment, the Temple having taught him to temper his emotions as they didnt serve his father's will.

The slow build of trust, love, and sick bloody devotion over the years working together, coming to an apex at their trading of vows on Bhaal's altar, hearts connected by affection and the cold steel blade shared between them.

And then post tadpole, I would say,

Waking up on the nautiloid, head empty except for absolute, unending, blood-curdling rage with no discernable source.

When he found out he was he a child of Bhaal, the deep shame, hatred, and fear knowing his companions would scourn him.

And when he saw Gortash again, not knowing who he was or how he knew him, but that he felt right and good and why did he feel right and good hes supposed to be their enemy, but all Virgil wanted to do was cup Enver's face in his hand, to pull him into an embrace and never let go. I think for him it felt like he had been holding his breath for weeks and he was finally able to exhale, but there were people staring at him, judging him, and he knew how he felt would be seen as wrong, which made him so so angry which he channeled directly into smashing his shitty sister like a bug.

#i wont go past that cause like #the games ending doesnt exist to me #sorry #something else happens actually #anyways #love this freak #was pondering while typing how much of Virgil's character is i think accidentally inspired by Jude in A Little Life #whumpy sad so sad #sad and angry and broken #virgil acheron #enver gortash #durgetash #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #the dark urge spoilers #ask

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rubyroses222 · 2 months

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who tf decided this was okay?

like I wanna see if my german boys can continue that masterclass performance, but then I also wanna watch my frenchies, and on top of that I wanna support our brazilian boys at the bernabéu

I’m already overwhelmed with two streams, how tf am I supposed to handle three?

#why #why do you do this to me #i want my club games back #at least there I’ve got all of them together #yes i left out the england vs belgium game #bc while i love jude to death the rest of their squad gives me the ick #don’t know why they just give bad vibes #international break #real madrid

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sonicsquid3000 · 26 days

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Broken Wings: Broken Spirit

Broken Wings AU is back! This is part two to "Broken Wings: Broken Mind" Not much of an introduction this time around just the classic fanfic warning. This is non canon and things can and will be inaccurate. This AU and fanfic will also use my MC, Belle Thompson. And as always, there will be grammatical errors. Lastly, if you really like this fanfic, please feel free to repost! it would mean a lot. With that being, It's fanfic time! TW: Violence, blood, and death (a bit descriptive)

Part 1 (thank you @ithseem for teaching me how to link)

*Three years later*

"No! Please! Spare me! I beg you!" The man cried. The air was filled with a stiff, deafening silence that was only broken periodic clicking of William's boots as he walked towards the poor man. "Tell me Andrew, is that what the children said as you forced them to over work in unsafe conditions?" The froze and shuddered in fear from Williams line of question. His eyes darted ever so slightly in panic. "I-I-" "Did You listen to their pleas?" William asked, his words filled with a hint of venom. "Please! I can change! I'll be better! I'll-" "I'm afraid it's too late for that Andrew. I've already made my verdict. I find you...." William walked up close to the groveling man and leaned up close to his ear. "..... guilty." He moved back to look down upon him. The man looked up in pure horror as he saw William. He gave a cruel, wicked smile that would make even the devil shudder. "No! Please!" the man begged. William gave the man a knife. "Slit your throat. Slowly." With that command, no matter how hard the man struggled and tried to free himself, he could not stop himself. The knife pressed into his skin until it pierced through. With one, slow motion of the blade, he began to make a messy, agonizingly long cut along his throat. With each inch of skin being sliced open, blood pooled out from him, falling to the ground and covering his body in it. The man tried desperately to scream for help, but was unable to as he choked and gargled until the he finally fell limp and lied in a pool of his own blood.

William smiled in satisfaction of his work. He called forth his men to clean up the crime scene and walked away to reach his coach. As the man stepped outside, he stopped as he noticed it was beginning to rain. He smiled bitter sweetly. He had always loved the rain, but it now he didn't feel the same amount of joy or freedom he felt in it as he used to. It never did feel the same. Not since his little robin flew away. He returned back to reality and stepped inside the coach as it drove off to the castle. As they proceeded to approach closer to the castle, Williams curiosity began to grow. Victor said that when everyone was done with their respective missions, he had a very important announcement. For what, he was unsure. He did seem to be very excited about it though. When the coach finally made it the entrance of the castle, William stepped out and went straight away to the dinning room where their meetings typically take place. Everyone except Victor was present, impatiently waiting.

"Ugh! Whens the old man gonna get here?! He had the nerve to call for a meeting and doesn't even show up!" Jude growled. Liam sighed. "I have to agree with Jude on this. It's beginning to get quite boring." Elbert then yawned "I'm beginning to grow a bit tired of waiting" "Me too. I wonder what had gotten Victor so excited about?" Ellis questioned. "Well, what ever it is, I say if he's not here in the next ten minutes, we leave" Harrison suggested. "Now, now. Let's not be so impatient here." William reasoned. "Ha! easy for you to say. Ya just got here." Jude scoffed. "Well then, Roger, can you tell us if Victor is on his way here?" William asked. "Hm, I don't think so. It sounds like he's talking to someone, though he hasn't said much and I can't hear the other person speak." Roger said. "He might be talking to one of the maids then." Ellis suggested. "He's wasting all of our time just to talk to some maid?! That's it! I'm leaving!" Jude said as he was about to get up. "Wait!" said Roger. "I hear him coming this way." "Tch, it's about time." Jude scowled.

"Ah! I'm so glad to see my darling cursed boys here today!" Victor cheered. "Ugh! Save yer cheerin' and tell us why we're here?" Jude grumbled. "Oh my! Someone's very impatient. Well, I won't keep you all waiting for long. I have an important announcement to make!" Victor said. "Oh, and what is that?" Liam perked up. "We have new member joining Crown today!" Everyone was who was once tired was now very intrigued. "Allow me to introduce you to Raven!" Victor stepped aside to reveal a person dressed in all black, covered with various holsters along their legs, arms, and chest. They were dressed in simple finery with a black hood that looked very capable of combat. But what really set this stranger apart from everyone was their mask. They wore a black plague mask that hid their features. Despite the strangers short height, there was something about them that unsettled the group. Especially William. He didn't like how he couldn't see their face, read their expression, make some sense of them. For the first time, he met some who was a closed book and he couldn't read it.

"They will be officially starting their position tomorrow after noon." Victor said. Liam bounced off his seat and walked up to greet the stranger. "Oh my. Raven was it? Tell me, What your curse." Liam preened. Raven just there stood there, staring at the cat like man. Liam leaned away from them, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "I'm afraid Raven doesn't really talk to anyone. To answer your question my dear Liam, they don't have a curse." Victor answered. Jude scoffed "So yer tellin' us this pipsqueak is deaf but also doesn't have a cur-" Jude was interrupted by a knife that by uncomfortable close to his face. Raven's hands began to move. "I can hear just fine. And I don't need a curse to kill." they signed in sign language. "Raven here is a remarkable assassin and is quite stealthy. I believe they'll make a remarkable addition to crown." Victor smiled as he rested a hand on Raven's shoulder. "But Victor, isn't the whole point of Crown that we're all cursed people with some sort of unnatural ability?" Harrison asked, tilting his head. "Very true Harrison, but I believe we can make an exception here. Besides, our mission is to fight evil with evil. And after seeing Ravens capabilities, I think they're a perfect fit for crown. After all, we can never bee to short of assassins." Victor smiled. Everyone at the table was very confused.

William however got up and walked to Raven. "Well, curse or no curse, I would like to humbly welcome you to Crown Raven." William outstretched his hand to raven. They just simply stared at him and his out stretched hand. "I'm going to retire for the night" Raven signed. "Ah! Splendid idea Raven. I think we should all get some sleep for an exciting day tomorrow. I will take Raven to their quarters. You all gets some sleep for tomorrow." Victor smiled. With that, everyone was dismissed. As everyone made their way out of the dinning room, William looked back at the mysterious person. There was something about them that just off about them, but he could place his finger on it.

***

Victor took Raven to the highest point of the castle that rarely anyone went up to. This was to be they're new "quarters" of sorts. "Are you sure all of this is alright? You won't feel uncomfortable here?" Victor signed as they signed the rest of their conversation. "Victor, you're worrying too much again." signed Raven. "I know. I'm just worried if you'll be alright with keeping this secret for so long. Besides, last time you saw someone murdered you-" Raven stopped Victors hands. "Victor, it's been three years. A lot has happened. I can take care of myself." Raven reassured him. They lowered their hood and took of their mask. "Some things have changed after all these years." Victor smiled sadly at the response. "I know." He sign. As he was about to leave the room, he turned back to the old friend. "Good night Belle. Sweet dreams" With that, Victor left her to be in her new room.

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mathcs · 2 months

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🌟 X2 Jude go go go!

🌟 Drop one of my characters’ names in my inbox and I’ll tell you 10 facts about them

character design facts from the x2 bipolar crossroads manga/drama cd (starring jude and alvin as the main charas): alvin helped him pick out his dress shirt (plus pants/shoes?), and his ghs and lab coat were a gift from balan! does this mean his teepo undershirt was custom made or something, I NEED ANSWERS

he likes trains a lot and can usually be found at train stations when he's traveling with ludger and the party. aside from being fascinated by said trains, learning about them and even just staring at them alone probably takes his mind off work and stress in general.

according to elle! his clothes smell good, and in a shocking plot twist, it's just due to him using fabric softener. he's so normal (type pkmn™)

his poker face is so good, it creeps leia out. fitting, because it's his calm and collected ways turned up to 100... he's probably good at the game, too.

he's really well known. and popular now. but at the same time, not so much... and is indeed just a smart and dedicated guy who works extremely hard.

from taleslations - x2 world guidance book (x2 staff comments): jude was introduced early in order to cover for ludger's lack of lines, and they considered having him oppose ludger at first (abt destroying the dimensions) and eventually join the party <- and imo, this should've happened at later/at some point CRIES

he's poured most of his money into his research... he looks so sad i'M- while he doesn't have ludger's levels of sudden and crazy amounts of debt, he empathizes with that and does what he can to help his friend out.

and despite the above, as seen in duval, he's never tried haggling before. which also makes sense knowing him, especially because back in xillia 1, a shopkeeper convinced him to buy his old outfit with all of his allowance. but despite this, of course knowledge about the local terms is his strong suit instead.

says some contrasting/scary things with a smile every so often. and no, there's no time to elaborate. bonus: another instance of his n_n ✨ + something unfitting

his ghs wallpaper and ringtone seem to be set to... default. this has been the most jude moment so far, thank you for coming

#mail .#outofthisgxlaxy #long post #thank you cat!! x2 jude always in the brain...#the amount of screencaps/vids i went through for this and booting up my game too ffffdfdlkfjk worth it #also i couldn't fit it in but doing this reminded me that eng x2 jude's voice is noticeably lower/calmer compared to his voice in x1 #i actually love this change so much [lies down] it's another way to show that he's matured a lot T_T right in the feels #probably also due to all the lecturing/explaining/professional things he does now- he's so focused #nobody: jude: [xillia 2 allium orb and other mechanics explanation 2 hours asmr]

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writing-good-vibes · 4 months

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another lonely valentine's day

💗 happy valentine's day !! 💗 what better way to celebrate than to make our favourite babygirl suffer? this takes place in an au where the accident never happened, and corey is still working towards his college dreams by mowing lawns, having affairs and babysitting.

WARNING for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, unhealthy relationship dynamics, smut (non-penetrative and oral sex), angst from a guy who is upset that his married boyfriend doesn't love him, some mildly stalkerish behaviour, and some arguable hurt/comfort. 4.5K word count.

🎀 very cute dividers by @/gigittamic 🎀

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

"Corey?"

Corey sighs and checks the time. It had only been ten minutes since he put Jeremy to bed.

"Corey?!" Jeremy calls again, louder this time, his voice high and lifting at the end of his name. It grates on Corey's nerves.

"What is it now, Jeremy?"

"I'm thirsty!"

"You've just had a glass of milk."

"I want another one!"

They had a deal -- since Jeremy had gotten in so much trouble for his silly prank last Halloween and Corey had very generously done some self-serving damage control -- that Corey would let Jeremy do whatever he wanted (within some reason, as negotiable on the night, but usually involving too much energy for Corey's liking), and stay up as late as he wanted after he went to bed, in exchange for leaving Corey alone for the rest of the night. And if he didn't, Corey would tell Mr Allen just how much of a little shit Jeremy had been for him. It was a system that worked, even if it meant telling a couple of white lies about the evening's activities.

Jeremy was always a brat, it must have been coded directly into his DNA, but he'd been extra irritating before going to bed tonight. He tended to talk Corey's ear off anyway, asking personal questions that Corey would always lie in response to whether he strictly speaking needed to or not, and tonight he had extra ammunition.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not? It's because you're so ugly, isn't it."

"No, I just don't have one. I could if I wanted to."

"No you couldn't. Girls don't like boys who are ugly and poor. That's why you're bossing me around on Valentine's Day."

The back of Corey's neck itched. Sure, that's why he was spending his Valentine's Day babysitting the brattiest kid he'd ever met. Because no one wants to go out with him. Not because Jeremy's dad says "Jump," and Corey asks "How high?"

He shuts Jeremy up by letting him watch a playthrough on youtube of some horror videogame that one of Corey's friends back in high school would talk about nonstop. Turns out the game is way less scary when some hunk just talks over it, and although some of the music starts to freak him out a little, Corey surprises himself when he laughs along with Jeremy at most of the scares, even at the rabbit.

After traipsing back upstairs with another glass of milk, warm this time, Corey leaves Jeremy with a warning not to bother him again. Our deal, remember?

"What are you doing on Valentine's day?"

"Nothing," Corey replies, much too quickly. He can hear Mr Allen stifle a chuckle on the other end of the phone. Corey's cheeks burn, "Um, I mean, I don't have any plans, yet." Yet. As if they're lining up round the block to take Corey out and he just hasn't decided who's worth his time. "Why?"

"Well, Theresa and I were wondering if you'd be able to babysit Jeremy for a few hours?"

Corey bites his lips so hard he can taste blood. He soothes it with his tongue, "Sure, no problem." He kicks himself later for being such a sucker.

Mrs Allen is flustered when he arrives, putting the final touches of lipstick and perfume on while she explains the usual ground rules. Corey knows the drill. She looks beautiful, with her hair loose and curly around her shoulders and red flowers on her dress. He tries to imagine his own momma getting dressed up for a date, but he struggles to remember Momma and Ronald ever going anywhere without him. They hadn't even had a honeymoon.

Corey hovers awkwardly, trying to keep out of the way as Mrs Allen buzzes around, from the mirror to the coat stand by the door. While she puts her coat on, Corey's eyes wander as Mr Allen comes downstairs in a pressed suit. He waves at the older man, who gives him a wink that dangerously toes the line of 'friendly', before he disappears towards the kitchen.

"Oh!" Mrs Allen starts, before lowering her voice. "There's a box of chocolates in the kitchen for you, Corey. Roger put them on top of the fridge so Jeremy wouldn't see them; a little treat for you after he goes to bed."

Corey checks the time again. He hasn't heard a peep from Jeremy for a while, which is a good sign.

But the TV isn't holding his attention tonight like it normally does, and even though the Allens always tell him he can use their Netflix, he just can't settle on a movie.

Instead he scrolls through Roger's profile for a while, looking at his watch list and what he's been currently watching, what's been recommended to him and his most popular categories. Corey makes mental notes of where their tastes are similar and where they differ, thinks of how he can subtly integrate all of this into a conversation, to show just how interesting he is, how compatible they are.

His rumbling stomach puts an end to his media-stalking for now. Momma had made meatloaf for dinner, as grainy and bland as always, and Corey hadn't been able to stomach much of it. Not with the butterflies fluttering in his gut as he watched the clock, desperate to get out of the house a soon as possible tonight.

He lets a movie start playing, some 90's thriller than everyone in his American Lit. class used to rave about, before pulling himself off the couch and wandering into the kitchen.

The Allens' fridge is always fully stocked. Fruit and vegetables in the crisper, health foods that Corey's never even heard of before, branded candy and juice and condiments fill the door, cuts of meat that they probably actually knew how to cook instead of turning them to rubber or relying on boxes of lean cuisine. They even have an ice maker. There's a couple of bottles of Heineken -- because Roger only drinks Heineken in the house -- at the very front. It feels like a trick, Corey takes one anyway.

On top of the fridge, amongst juice boxes and tin that could be cookies but Corey guesses might be their sewing kit, is a red, heart-shaped box of chocolates. Just like Mrs Allen promised. Corey holds it in his hands, rubs his thumb against the satiny pink ribbon that wraps around it.

In middle school, Corey had gotten a Valentine's candygram one year. He walked into homeroom and found the pink paper heart and a cherry flavoured dumdum sat conspicuously on his desk.

There was a chorus of hushed giggles from behind him. Over his shoulder he sees Kelly and her friends, whispering. Whispering made Corey nervous. Then, Kelly waves at him shyly, a knowing smile on her face. He waved back, face burning.

He ate the lollipop over lunch, and folded the pink paper heart and put it in his pocket, carried it around with him all week. Sometimes he'd take it out to look at it, reading the message over and over and over again -- Be my Valentine?

Momma found the heart when she collected his laundry at the end of the week, emptying out his pockets onto the kitchen table, picking up the pink paper heart with her probing fingers.

Corey didn't hear the end of it for weeks.

There's a gift tag pre-attached at the bow on his Valentine's chocolates and Corey flips it open, expecting a list of the candies that are inside, but that isn't it. It's a message, handwritten in black biro in neat print-capitals. The words start to swim in Corey's vision, merging into an inky pool until he pushes his glasses up to wipe at his eyes, trying to hide his tears from an invisible audience. He isn't fooling anyone, because his lip starts wobbling instead.

He brings the candy back into the living room with him, along with his beer and sits criss-crossed on the couch, then rips the ribbon off in one go.

Corey sinks half the box before he can stop himself.

The rest he tries to savour, rolling each chocolate in his mouth, letting them melt on his tongue until he can figure out the flavoured centre while he watches his movie. The truffles are his favourites, then the pralines, followed by caramels, vanilla cream and pecan clusters, then finally the strawberry ones come last.

Between eating, he drinks his beer like a palate cleanser, finishing it only to go get the other bottle from the fridge. Two beers down, Corey can feel the buzz under his skin, in his tear-pink cheeks, and the relief of tension leaving his unsettled self.

If he takes the candy box home, Momma would ask too many questions that he didn't want to answer -- that he didn't even want to think about -- so he throws the empty tray in the trash can in the Allens' kitchen and chews a stick of bubblegum to cover the alcohol on his breath. It wasn't fool proof, but it was the most he could do.

Upstairs, Corey listens for movement from Jeremy's room. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lamps downstairs glowing up through the spiral of the staircase. Corey circles the warm light, never quite letting it catch him, as he dips into Jeremey's room to turn his TV off, then continues on to the master bedroom.

It's dark in there too, as Corey stands in the doorway. The bed is made neatly, sheets tucked cleanly under the mattress but rumpled in places where someone had sat down to pull on a stocking or tie a shoelace. He looks around familiarly, at the contemporary beige art on the walls and at the framed family pictures on the dresser, goes through the jackets and dresses that line the closet, and the messy draws full of almost designer sweaters and workout clothes and underwear. Mrs Allen's expensive lotion sits on the nightstand, next to where Corey always discards his glasses.

Laying in their bed, on Mr Allen's side, Corey looks up into the darkness. His cheeks are wet and getting wetter, and he rolls onto his front, muffles his sniffling in Mr Allen's pillow and breathing deeply the faint, shouldn't-be-comforting scent of the older man's cologne. Dark and woody, but classic in a way that compliments the rich floral perfume Corey always smells on Mrs Allen's pillow.

Part of him hopes Roger will know, hopes he'll feel the dampness there on his pillow while he tries to sleep, hopes he'll catch the taste of salt, and know exactly what he'd driven Corey to.

It's long-past midnight by the time Mr and Mrs Allen get home.

Corey hovers awkwardly by the door while Mrs Allen kicks out of her heels, hangs her coat on the stand, her conversation slower now as she thanks him again for babysitting. Corey preferred her like this, when she no longer had to worry about making their 7:30 reservation, or whether Jeremy was ready for bed before they left. When she isn't so tense, it made it a lot harder for Corey to interpret her tension as something else, something worse.

She counts his money out for him, but as he zips his coat up and prepares to cycle back home in the cold, Mr Allen stops him.

"Hold on, Corey, I'll give you a ride." The first words he'd spoken directly to Corey all night.

"Oh, no," Corey insists, hesitating anyway. "It's okay, really. I don't want to --"

"It's no trouble. We wouldn't want you out alone at this time. Unless you've got a secret black belt you haven't mentioned?"

Corey laughs, his real boyish laugh that Mr Allen likes so much.

Mrs Allen leans up, whispers something in her husbands ear, a perfectly French-manicured hand patting his chest once. Corey averts his eyes.

Then, Corey and Mr Allen are stood outside in the biting February air.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Corey asks as they pull out of the driveway. He rubs his cold hands together in his lap.

Roger turns the heater on high. "We did, thanks."

"What was the restaurant like?" He doesn't normally ask questions, doesn't normally like to know the answers, but he's feeling just a little vindictive tonight. Curious, too.

Roger catches his eye through the rear-view mirror. He smirks. "It was nice. We've been wanting to try it out for a while, actually. We don't go out as much as we should anymore."

"I just watched a movie," Corey says with a shrug, like it's no big deal. Like it's how he was going to be spending his Valentine's day anyway. "One that my friends at college always recommend, but I never get time to watch movies. Momma -- my mom -- she's always so picky about movies." Corey can hear himself start to ramble, clutching at the straws of interest. "And Jeremy was okay tonight," he lies, then changes his mind. "Well, he said I don't have a girlfriend because I'm ugly. But he didn't get up after he went to bed."

Roger sighs, "Ignore him, you know what he's like. Theresa coddles him, but he's a little terror sometimes, same as any other boy. And besides, you know that's not true -- you're not ugly." His hand leaves the wheel and lands on Corey's thigh.

The younger man hums, suppresses how utterly pleased he feels at being told that. You're not ugly, and god if Corey won't be thinking about that for who-knows how long. He doesn't say anything when Roger takes a right turn, heading for the long route back to Corey's side of town.

A stupid, sappy old love song comes on the radio. Corey reaches out to change the channel, settling on WURG, where Willy the Kid is hosting the Anti-Valentines show till late. Heartbroken love songs for all those unlucky enough to be without action tonight.

"You liked the chocolates?" Roger says. It ends in a question mark, but Corey hears a period.

"Yeah, I ate the whole box." He did like them. They were perfect and thoughtful and he's so very, very grateful because he shouldn't expect anything at all.

They pull into the empty lot of the Dollar General and Roger turns the car off, letting the sudden silence -- the stillness of the night -- settle over them. A distant streetlight casts a sickly orange light into the car, the light and shadows chiselling Roger's features deeper, more stern. Corey chews his lip until he tastes blood.

Still, it's Corey's hands that wander first. Because he's been so lonely, waiting all night long for Roger's attention. Looking after Roger's son and drinking Roger's beer and eating Roger's cheap Valentine's present, while Roger was at an expensive restaurant, eating his $80 steak, with his wife who deserves so much better. Corey doesn't though.

And Roger, not for the first time, thinks What the fuck am I doing? when his lips meet Corey's through the darkness. The younger man tastes of bubblegum and beer, but beneath that he can taste those damn chocolates. The taste suits him; sweet and boyish, a little bit cheap.

Any lingering thoughts of Theresa, of how it shouldn't take more than half an hour to drive to Corey's house and back, of how she's waiting for him with a promise -- whispered in his ear as he picked his car keys up off the the table by the door -- are quickly replaced with thoughts of them getting caught, of one of Haddonfield's finest driving by and seeing them, of a sharp tap on the window that makes Corey look up, mouth open and eyes wide and looking every bit the pretty boy he is, of talking their way out of a night in the cells for public indecency because This isn't what it looks like Officer, I swear!

And then Corey's pulling away, twisting himself around in the passenger seat so he can lean down, and Roger can't really make himself think of anything else but the way Corey is so obliging. Undoing Roger's belt, his fly, Corey pulls the older man's boxers down low enough to free his cock, slapping heavy against his toned stomach; Corey presses a wet, pouty kiss to his tip. "I missed you."

"You did?"

Corey nods, wrapping his hand around Roger's length, his fingertips just about touching. "So fucking much."

Another kiss, kittenish licks, Corey's soft hand stroking him slowly, working him like Roger isn't already rock hard for him. Roger closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy Corey's ministrations, learnt precisely by what Roger -- and Roger alone -- likes. They shouldn't be taking their time, however Roger is downright incapable of stopping Corey's hand as it smears his own precum down his shaft, slicking the younger man's movements, but not enough to take away the hint of hot and heavy friction that keeps Roger on the edge.

"I'll make it up to you, hm?" Roger manages, and Corey finally goes down on him, mouth wet and warm and always welcoming, as if to say, Go ahead.

With a sharp inhale, Roger starts, "I'll take you out somewhere. Somewhere nice. I know a restaurant that you'll love, where they do the best desserts you've ever had in your life. You'd like that, right?"

Corey hums in agreement; the vibration makes Roger throb even harder, pulsing against the soft roof of his mouth.

Roger always sounds so sure of his words, so assertive in his thoughts. It makes Corey believe him all the more, makes him want to nod and agree to whatever it is Roger tells him he thinks. Like how he always says Corey was such a tease, all those weekends he'd take his shirt off to mow the lawn, skin glistening with sweat right where Roger could see him. And how Corey had known exactly what he was doing with his wide-eyed virgin routine, as though Roger could have ever said no to him. And that Corey's so easy, so eager, so desperate. That Corey will always say yes.

"Or we could go to a bar. Shoot some pool, have some beers, catch the game. We could have a boys night." He grabs Corey's hair, applying a pressure that is more a suggestion -- more, deeper, please -- than a command.

"And then back to the hotel. Somewhere we can get room service, of course, I know you love that. And I'll take such good care of you. You know that, don't you, baby?"

Roger's getting close and he knows it, especially when Corey swallows, his throat tight and hot and clenching around Roger's cock and he's almost --

He pulls Corey off him, a thin trail of saliva dripping from his plush lip to Roger's spit-shiny head, and watches as the younger man wipes the rest of the drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I think you feel guilty," Corey says, voice level and surprisingly measured. There's no elaboration on what Roger should be feeling guilty about, just Corey's wide eyes and swollen lips, and Roger's left to fill in the blank space that Corey leaves behind.

Guilty about making me babysit. Guilty about driving me home. Guilty about doing this with me and then going home to sleep with your wife too.

The list goes on and on and on, and Roger tightens his grip in Corey's hair while he thinks, feeling the smooth, waxy strands twisted between his fingers. Corey will fuss over it in the rear-view mirror on the way home, combing his own fingers through those locks, back into his neat side-part, and Roger will watch him for too long, wishing he could see Corey's hair in it's full glory, not just sex-mused but his natural, bouncing cherub curls, more often.

Roger's hand is still in Corey's hair but he doesn't move, just waits to be told what to do.

"Get in the back."

It's only marginally less cramped in the back seat and darker still, the warm orange glow of the streetlight even fainter as Roger pulls Corey into his lap, lets him burrow into his neck while Roger slips a hand between his legs, palms the growing bulge over rough denim. Corey keens into it eagerly, legs twitching as he tries to keep himself from clamping his thighs around Roger's hand and humping it.

When his whines get louder, a strong hand grabs the back of Corey's knee, moving him to straddle Roger's trim hips, makes sure he's settled before teasing the zipper of Corey's jeans down, once again feeling that hard swell in his underwear.

There's a growing damp patch on the white cotton, sticking it to the leaking pink head of Corey's cock. Roger thumbs the wetness, smearing it through the fabric over Corey's burning skin, and Corey doesn't want to wait. He desperately pulls at the elastic of his briefs, pulls them down and hisses with relief when his dick springs free, resting against the pudge on his lower stomach, leaving a streak of precum on his auburnish happy trail.

Roger clasps one large hand around the both of them and Corey moans like it hurts; he grips tight, squeezing just right to press at the sensitive spot beneath his tip every time Corey's length slides against his.

Corey bucks in Roger's grasp, enough that Roger doesn't even have to stroke them anymore, just holds them still and grinds up against Corey's needy frotting. The developing rhythm is less co-ordinated than Corey can usually manage when he's on top, but the newness of the sensation, the way he can never quiet repeat the same motion or hit the same spot twice is maddening.

With all their clothes still on though, it's almost like it was back then, back when the most they did was dry hump on the couch while a football game played forgotten in the background. And it's not fair, Corey thinks. This is it? This is all he gets?

Roger once told him, "More is just never enough for you, is it, baby?", and although Corey had been kind of preoccupied at the time, the thought had burrowed it's way into his mind, repeated on a loop in Roger's low voice while Corey twiddled his thumbs in class the next day. Momma always told him something similar, when she'd decide he was being ungrateful over something or nothing -- it was always nothing -- that she didn't know what more Corey could want. A roof over his head, food on the table, his mother's love, always. Did he not already have enough? What more could Corey want? Boxed chocolates, empty promises and messy back-seat fumblings.

Roger is proven right. It's Valentine's day and Corey wants more.

"That's it, good boy. Feels good doesn't it?"

As Roger's hand slips further down the back of Corey's jeans, beneath his underwear, Corey catches his wrist, slowing the movement of his hips but not pausing, and tries to direct Roger's fingers closer to where he wants them.

Roger pulls back, resumes simply palming Corey's peachy ass. "Not tonight," he says firmly, and Corey makes a dissatisfied noise against the crisp white cotton of Roger's shirt.

"Please?"

Roger chuckles, "No, Corey." Still firm, but letting Corey down gently. "I know you want to play, but we can't. Not tonight."

"But I really want to, really badly," Corey pleads, scattering kisses up Roger's neck. It's not often Corey has to do the convincing. Rutting harder to prove his point, leaning back so Roger can see that playful little smile on his lips that always get him going, "And it's Valenti --"

"Corey," and it's a warning this time, given in a tone that Corey's never heard Roger use on him before. It's a tone he'd heard him use with Jeremy, though.

Corey shuts his mouth instantly, which is what he's always done best, and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. The way his skin itches makes him want to scream.

After being told off, he can't bring himself to look back at Roger's disappointed face, so Corey looks down at their cocks instead, both wet with spit and precum, which is somehow less awkward. The spark in his gut rekindles slightly at the sight of Roger's dick, smaller than his by less than a half inch but big enough to knock the breath out of him, rubbing against his own.

Roger's hand has resumed stroking them together -- quickly, efficiently, like he's doing them both a favour.

A loud squeak breaks through the near-silence when Corey reaches out to brace himself against the window, his hand slipping in the condensation made up mostly of his own panting breaths. Another time, perhaps, it would have made him laugh, and his breathy laugh would have made Roger laugh and then --

Roger comes hard in his hand because he really can't let his shirt get dirty, and Corey follows with a shuddering groan, a half-word that could have been anything -- Fuck, Roger, Sorry -- warbles out with it.

"It's okay," Roger answers. "You're okay."

Corey licks Roger's hand clean, sucking the mess from his fingers. Tongue working between each digit till they're soaking wet. Tentative, playful nips at fingertips, biting just barely at his knuckles, never hard enough to leave a mark. No evidence gets left behind.

Feeling each ridge of Corey's teeth, Roger remembers the look on Corey's face from earlier, how his cheeks burned and he shrunk in on himself, making himself small and docile. If Corey bit down hard right now, sinking straight to the bone, then Roger would probably deserve it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Corey whispers, lips brushing Roger's wet fingertips. Even in the quiet of the car, Corey's voice is smaller than it deserves to be. His big, brown eyes are glazy when they meet Roger's cold blues.

Roger stays quiet, feeling the warmth of Corey's heavy breath between them. In, out, in, out. He holds Corey's flushed face in his wet hand, strokes his thumb softly against his cheek, feels the barely-there stubble under his palm, watches Corey's eyes flutter shut, his lip twitch with the hint of a smile, his brow crease, fat teardrops well under his lashes until they spill down his cheeks.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

Mr Allen drops him off right outside his house -- "You're coming to do the gardening tomorrow, right?" -- and watches as Corey climbs out of the car and up the front porch steps. Joan lurks at the window, the curtains twitching closed once Corey gets to the door.

With one hand on the door handle, Corey turns to wave. Mr Allen is mostly shadowed in the driver's seat, but Corey half-smiles at him anyway, still looking even as Momma pulls him into the house by his scruff for being home so late.

As Corey lies in his bed, he stares up at the darkness of the ceiling. Or maybe his eyes are just closed because his fingers, slippery with the lotion from his nightstand, are shoved down his underwear. The gift tag from his chocolates -- For my Good Boy, ❤ R -- burns a hole beneath his pillow.

#corey cunningham x roger allen #💗💌 corey's love letters 💌💗#corey cunningham #i am a sweet tooth corey truther #corey baby that married man doesnt love you !!!!!!!#and they're such a cliche 🙄 fooling around with the babysitter ?? derivative #but i will never give corey a break #and thats a bona fide anna promise 😎#canon divergence my beloved !! they need more time together to make each other worse and ruin their lives even harder #some bonuses for the dedicated readers who also read my tags:#the game playthrough corey and jeremy watch is for f/naf #corey defo had a f/naf stan friend at school who would explain all the lore as it happened. like early days f/naf #corey watched his friend go through the trenches of the 1 - 4 timeline #the 90s movie that corey watches is the tal/ented mr rip/ley #the chocolates are russell stover. i added the pink bow though because 🎀aesthetic🎀#you know that gif of jude law in Wilde 1997 ?? yeah that one.#cunningallen

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thedeadthree · 2 years

Text

— WHAT GREEK GOD IS YOUR OC?

the darlings @chuckhansen, @leviiackrman, @dihardys, @adelaidedrubman, @belorage, and @multiverse-of-themind to take this cutest uquiz for a few dears! ty so much! <3

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @florbelles, @dihardys, @jackiesarch, @yennas, @roofgeese, @unholymilf, @marivenah, @shellibisshe, @belorage, @pearlcscent, @stormveils, @aartyom, @arklay, @swordcoasts, @jacobseed, @aceghosts, @confidentandgood, @loriane-elmuerto, @bloodofvalyria, @rosebarsoap and you!

HECATE

double, double toil and trouble. yeah you don't really get much facetime in the myths but you're literally the god of magic and dogs so stay winning. mysterious goth energy, does she really do complete dark rituals or is that just her vibe. no one knows and you're not telling

DEMETER

so all the gods like to let off some steam in not the healthiest ways, but you kind of take that to a whole new level. what with inventing winter and famine and everything. However you're only like that when you're stressed, but then when you're not stressed you're equally mysterious. i mean you literally invented mysteries (go you). some people think you're cold but thats presumably because you dislike them, you can be very warm and loving when you choose

HERMES

you literally were born and then invented mischeif. like you were a newborn and you immidiately inbented theivery and then lying. go you. you are the living embodiment of chaotic neutral. Yes people are so annoyed by you sometimes, but you are so unbelievably charming that you get away with everything. who doesn't love a charming rogue

APOLLO

honestly im much kinder in all the other ones but you have... such bottom energy. I mean really. you've got the whole homosexual tragic romance thing going on. Its not bad! its just i feel like you invented tragic relationships. congrats on being good at literally everything though, its totally fair that you get music, poetry, culture, truth, prophesy etc etc etc. oh yeah and the epitome of beauty. leave something for the rest of us huh?

ATHENA

ok yes you know everything. and you're a bit arrogant about it. and sometimes when you're confronted with the fact that you don't know/aren't the best at everything... you have a little meltdown. its fine. we all do it. If you chose any of the train themed answers you should've got athena, lets face it she'd go wild for them.

#oc: iovanna dayne #oc: sérëdhiel alfirin #oc: ademarta cel tradat #oc: judicael rogarvia #oc: adda de trastamara #leg.tagged #leg.ocs #t: tag games #t: text #ty ty so much this was so cute to do! and also the way! the way! this read them was so good asjknxk i loved it sm <3 #I KNEW IT I HAVE ONLY HAD HER FOR A MONTH AND I JUST KNEWW IOVANNA WOULD GET HECATE..!#her pinterest board has a purple aesthetic her DRAGON breathes purple fire and had violet scales..!#she gained the ability to ride her dragon through the magic that the valyrians used! shes not valyrian but her mom knew the ritual! <3 #i spent HOURS reading into the lore and found that and i was like PERFECT..! and what were the odds! uquiz knew babe! <3 #JUDES KSDKALKJASNK also him being the epitome of beauty ur so right uquiz <3 further proof he's the perfect disney prince ajknxk #also i was taken off guard by adda getting athena but its so fitting? especially the first part she really loves to be perfect @everything!#THE WAY I KNEW MAR MAR WAS A CHAOTIC ALIGNMENT <3 newborn invented lying and is so charming she gets away w/everything!#ALSO SO CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY SERAS..! but also her being the divine of mysteries her being a mystery to others and to herself?#and yea! introducing iovanna! ive had her since ep 1 and in honor of the finale this coming Sunday here is she! my baby!#(and also was like AHH seeing everyone's <3)#shes a dayne! this answer nailed her psyche to the letter! and i think yall can wager who she goes for jsahxnjajk <3 #her mother was a appreciator of history (and more than proficient in the arcane) and knew the ritual to bind dragons <2 #*<3 shes not valyrian or targaryen! she rides a dragon! shes so cool! and i have a g*ot oc that is her descendant <3

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