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#signed by rich fucker─ ・ 。゚☆
hunnylagoon · 2 months
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Take Me to War
PT1 Friendly Fire
Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader
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A writer, I think is someone who pays attention to the world. We are observers, it is in our nature to be off-putting and turn shallow things deep.
Premise: Your neighbour is becoming increasingly loud and you decide to do something about it.
PT 2 Here!
Two things I hate the most?
My neighbour and New York City.
They shared something in common, they never rest. I liked my quiet life in my small town until I was convinced that all of the greatest writers lived in the city, what a joke. I sold my virtue to move to New York and now my body burned with the shame of not belonging.
I worked as a journalist and in advertisement but it didn't fill the gaping mass that consumed me, I felt like a sellout so I quit to do freelance, and now I feel like even more of a sellout. Freelance is making me think that I hate ghostwriting more than I hate my neighbour and New York City.
It's like you do all of the work and get zero reward but I'm desperate to pay the bills and all that stuff I've been telling myself all my life 'I may never be a rich man but the rich man will never have me' well, the rich man most certainly had me. I was paid an almost criminal amount of money to pour my soul into art just for it to get stamped beneath a new name and make a gross income six times the size of what I sold it for.
I look for happiness everywhere but I do not find it. I search for it in things everyone seems to pry joy from; I go clubbing, walk in Central Park, and date around, but happiness doesn't seem to exist there for me.
I plead for it in my morning cups of tea with a spoonful of honey, the sunshine glittering in a puddle after a rainstorm, for a brief moment, it flickers in the light of my cinnamon-scented candle. The truth is I am almost comforted by my sadness and it is in my lowest moments that my creations are the most beautiful, it is like I am dead and I despise those who aren't for I enjoy the company of my silence more than anyone I have ever met.
It was my dream for my name to be above 'New York Times Best Selling Author' but instead, it is just my work beneath it and maybe that's why I'm so bitter.
Right now as I am trying to salvage the bits and pieces I was given by a washed-up pop star for her memoir my neighbour is screaming and laughing incoherently in their apartment, it makes me miss living in an actual house.
The noise usually started up when I would finish up my writing and get ready for bed, then it would go all the way through the night. The dumb fucker probably threw parties every single night; my roommate never faced an issue with this as she worked at a club and was usually working when the deafening noises would begin.
I on the other hand who lived in that apartment and worked from that apartment was always cursed to listen to the random thumps and spats of laughter that sounded all through the night. At least once a night when I'm sound asleep, I hear a bang against the wall and each time without fail, I'm brought awake with my heart thumping.
Trust me, I have retaliated.
On occasion when I'm sleep-deprived and at my absolute limit I'll bang on the walls, that only stops the noise for a minute. I've even complained to my landlord and that one week was heaven until it eased back to the clamour that I've almost grown used to.
Almost.
I still hate it.
I'm broken from my thoughts when my phone rings, it vibrates till it's almost at the edge of my desk and I feel for it; don't worry buddy, I wanna jump too. I read the caller ID and I almost wanted to gag, it was a woman from the publishing company who reached out to me and asked me to write Nicole Elliot's novel. Despite wanting to throw my phone against the wall to stop Noemi's constant checkups and get back at my neighbour while I'm at it, I answer the phone "Hey, Noemi!" I glance out the window where the winter sun has long set, leaving nothing but billboards, street lamps and neon signs to light up the New York night. Under the unforgiving lights I can barely make out the gentle snowfall.
"Hey," She draws it out and I can hear in her voice that she is smiling "I know it's a little late, just checking in, how is the draft coming along?" A loud thump sounds against my wall along with intolerant cackling "What's that?"
"Just some street noise," I dismiss "Anyways, the draft is coming along great, I'm a couple thousand words away from finishing it. I will of course send it to you and I would really love it if you could reach out to Nicole and ask for her opinion on it before I carry on with the final copy," I give a middle finger to my wall, even if my neighbour can't see me, it makes me feel a little bit more formidable "I did follow her outline, which was difficult but I think I salvaged it pretty well."
This time there is a yelp from my neighbour and what sounds like someone slamming their hands down onto a table, Noemi thankfully ignores it "You haven't been in touch with Nicole?"
My eyebrows furrow "She hasn't responded to any of my emails and she's been turning down all of our scheduled Zoom calls, so no, I have not been in touch with her."
"Weird," Noemi comments and there is a brief break of silence between us "She's been M.I.A on our end too," I could hear her scribble something down. "So can you get the draft to me by Friday?"
Two days? If I lock myself inside and don't see the sun then I totally can "Absolutely!" I do work better under a deadline.
"Great," She sounds almost relieved "We will hunt down Nicole, it would be nice to get her greenlight with this but whether or not she approves it, she has already signed off and it will be going to print."
"Okay," I fight the urge to respond with 'sick' or 'aight' because I'm an adult now and someone who is masquerading as a professional.
"Sorry, what was that you mentioned about an outline?" Noemi asks, she sounds more confused with each word "I wasn't aware Nicole made any-
She is swiftly cut off by a crash from the other side of my wall, when I say crash I mean it. It sounded like someone just bodied their car into drywall. My eyes went wide as I saw a crack splitting up my once pristine white wall. I hold my phone against my collarbone as I get up and pound my fist against the wall, giving it a kick for extra measure.
"Is everything alright?"
"Certainly," The nice thing about phone calls is that the person on the other end can't see your awkward habits or subtle outbursts (Or neighbours breaking through your shared wall). After I hit the wall, everything went silent for just a second before laughter sounded heavily from multiple people. "Noemi, thank you for sourcing me out to write this, I am really grateful for this opportunity I will send you that draft on Friday." I try to wrap up the call but she speaks up.
"Well, I've read your work and I was very impressed, I trust you will do well with this. Sorry to have called you so late-
"Thanks, have a nice night now!" I'm talking faster than I can even think, the only thing in my head is the fact that my neighbour is slowly deteriorating my wall.
"Wait-
Before Noemi can finish her sentence, I've hung up the phone. I'm leaning back in my cushy office chair, hands gripping my hair as I stare down the newly formed crack in the wall. I don't entirely like to be confrontational, even in school I hated drama, but I was beginning to think it was necessary.
I saved the progress I had made on the memoir and pushed myself up from my desk. I was clad in nothing more than a t-shirt and some plaid pants, it was my writing attire and in the moment I didn't care much to make a good first impression. It was fucking freezing the second I got up from my desk.
The moulding on my bedroom window was broken which allowed the frigid New York air to slip into my room and make me shiver with each breath. At my desk, I would usually have a throw blanket to shroud my freezing body but the moment I discarded it, I felt regret. I almost wanted to wrap myself in it to confront my neighbour but the pyjamas alone didn't help me look tough.
I did however shove my feet into some cow slippers and march right up to their apartment.
Apartment 2D stood in front of me, the pastel blue door making me angrier with every second that I looked at it. I rapped my knuckles on the wood and crossed my arms to stop me from shuddering.
My nerves built up as I slowly heard a door within the apartment shut followed by footsteps leading to the door. I would just ask them politely to quiet down and calmly work on a way to fix the shared wall that they are slowly ruining.
The door opens and staring me down is a woman. I had expected it to be a man to be truthful. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the colour teetered on the verge of auburn and brown. The woman is clad in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, it's almost parallel to my outfit.
"You need to be quiet," I say the first words that come to mind "And stop assaulting my fucking wall."
She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "Are you apartment 3D?" She asks to which I nod "I knew you would be stopping by soon." She has this sheepish and almost sardonic smile on her face and despite the amusement she's portraying I can see sadness brewing in her green eyes like a storm.
"I don't know what you're doing in there where you are up all night, I don't even have a clue how you sleep and work with all this time to spare to be a nuisance." I say and then swiftly feel the urge to backtrack "I'm sorry, that was a little rude, but mate, I can't sleep or work when you're being loud doing whatever you do."
"Fuck," She mutters looking back into her apartment and then at me "I'm sorry, I'll keep it down."
"What about the wall?"
Her eyes look me up and down, settling on my cow slippers "I'll find someone to fix the wall."
I press my lips tight together, looking dead into her eyes, scraping my brain for something else to say. It was almost like I wanted to fight. I had expected this to be a full-out conversation that ended in yelling but god she was pretty and she was telling me just what I wanted. "Okay."
"Okay?"
I regard her once more with what I assume is a cold glare before ushering back into my apartment and slamming the door behind me, the whole time, my neighbour watches me from her doorway.
That was the first night of uninterrupted sleep I'd had in a month.
-
I woke up earlier than I would've liked when my roommate Margot came home from work at 4:56 on the dot. She made sure to slam every single door and cupboard before throwing herself onto her bed in all of her makeup and musty clothes that had to endure whatever happens at a nightclub between the hours of 8 pm and 4 am, which I can't imagine is very clean.
Still, even though I was a little ahead of schedule I fell into my morning routine. It started with ignoring my phone, this was followed by a mug of Bengal spice tea with a teaspoon of honey and a splash of cream.
Sometimes I would curl up on the couch, though it snowed last night and I loved fresh snow. Freshly fallen snow absorbed sound, it was like soundproofing for the earth. There wasn't anything like the rare peace you could find in New York. I figured I would have my morning tea on the fire escape.
My peaceful image was destroyed the second I pried my window open and crawled through I was hit with the intense smell of pot. "Shit," I mutter, instinctively wafting the scent away from my nose.
"Sorry, man," I see my neighbour leaning against the railing of the fire escape, nursing a joint. It hadn't crossed my mind that I shared a level of the fire escape with her, I had never seen her out here but now the smell of weed that drifted through the damaged moulding on my window made sense, I had always assumed it to be Margot.
"Joint for breakfast?" I ask, half-joking. A dusting of powdery snow adorns each step and railing, creating a delicate layer of white that contrasts with the industrial gray of the metal though it looks like my neighbour has pushed all of the snow off the platform.
"Nah, for dinner I guess, it helps me sleep," She's in the same outfit from last night, except her hair is now loose around her face and she threw a hoodie over her tanktop.
I furrow my eyebrows "You've been up all night?" The slight tension from the previous night has dissolved completely.
"Yeah," She says it like it was a stupid question and it partially was but I hadn't stayed up that late since New Year only because I was the designated driver and was in charge of getting everyone home safe. "I don't sleep much, that's probably why I keep you up all night."
I mean, I'd let her keep me up in other ways "Honestly, I've gotten used to it, it's almost like white noise." I try to sympathize even if it isn’t necessarily true.
"Next time I'm loud, you have every right to bang on my door and chew me out." She takes a drag from her joint and I watch as the smoke escapes her lips, her cheeks tinted pink from the cold.
"Good to know," I glance behind her at the open window and all I see are purple LED lights cutting through the darkness of her apartment. "Now I know that we share a fire escape I'll just crawl through your window and yell at you that way," I joke, taking a sip from my snoopy mug.
This makes her laugh in the slightest, she crushes what remains of her joint on the cold railing and tosses the bud into the pot of a dead plant that's covered in snow and has lived on this fire escape long before I moved in; one time I just about removed it but I felt bad, it's like I was evicting it from its rightful home "Feel free."
"Am I allowed to ask why you're up all night breaking the sound barriers?" I ask, pulling my fuzzy robe tighter around my body to fight the bitter air. "Are you the leader of a cult? Would it be better for the world in the long run if I push you right now?"
The corners of her lips curl up into a smile once again "You've figured me out, just know I've got some big plans with Koolaid," She plays into my teasing.
"It was flavour-aid, actually." I don't know why I said that.
"What the fuck is flavour-aid?"
"Koolaid basically," Silence stretches between us "So what do you actually do all night?"
"It's a bit complicated," She says, of course, it was complicated. "I work from home," She couldn't do something normal, she probably did voice acting or ran a podcast or some weird shit like that.
"Sick," Don't worry, I made myself cringe when I said that too "I work from home too."
"Yeah, you said something about work last night, are you in marketing?"
I shake my head "I'm a writer," every time I tell someone that, I feel a twinge of embarrassment. I know it wasn't a noble career like my parents had hounded me over, but it felt noble to me. I had two absent parents and was raised by a pack of wolves, I would devour as much food as fast as I could because I didn't know when I would be eating next. I was far too emotional to be around all of the narcissists who preferred their own faces to my company, the only friend I had was the written word.
Since then I have been serving my soul up to strangers through word documents.
The thought makes me homesick for the arms that did not hold me and I truly expect my neighbour to make a mockery of me, the way others have. The way they've told me 'It's a tough industry but hang in there!' and pat me on the back like I'm a hopeful child clinging to her mother's skirts.
"That's really cool," She smiles while she gazes out to the skyline, I can see her perfect side profile and ski-slope nose "I wanted to be a writer, I thought myself to be a poet, and then I thought myself to be a scientist and wanted to be an astronaut. Now, I'm here."
"Where's here exactly?"
"Working things out, figure it out as I go," She shrugs like she is unsure of her answer.
I think it's beautiful how everything around me has been touched by human hands and carries so much history. For a quick moment, my mind wonders to those who built this building, the calloused hands that crafted the iron railing and now my neighbour who was leaning against it. "What's the end goal with this whole freefall thing?"
"To make it out alive."
"And your name?"
"It's Ellie."
-
That night Ellie stuck to being quiet as she promised. The next night was a different story. I was so close to finishing the draft of Nicole Elliot's memoir and was praying that the deadline would pass with no issue.
However, the noise began again. I was coming around to like Ellie and I didn't want to go yell at her again so I shoved my headphones in and turned up my playlist as loud as I could. There is no song I can blast in my headphones to drown it out.
She did say that the next time I was loud I could come and chew her out, I wouldn't do that; I would just knock on her door and quickly tell her that she was being too loud, and then we would both carry on with our respective work.
I stopped in front of the smooth door and raised my hand to knock. Ellie slips the door open just a crack, when she sees that it's me she opens the door. "Hey, Ellie."
"Hello," She smiles "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She had a very nice smile.
We both know the circumstances of my visit but I spell it out anyway "Dude, you're way too loud, it's disruptive and I'm working under a deadline."
"I know, I'm sorry." She looks genuinely apologetic.
"I don't know any office job that needs you to scream for hours on end," Alright, that blows what could've been a simple visit where she apologizes and I leave, I always had to add on.
"Right, sorry," She carries herself with so much confidence that it is like she is wearing armour made of gold though she has these subtle awkward tendencies of someone who has never been loved and was forced to improvise. "It's hard to explain,"
"Yeah, you've said-
"Do you wanna come and see?"
I'm taken a little aback and for a minute I think this is all a ploy for Ellie to lock me in her her apartment and kill me because she is sick of her neighbour banging on her door "What?"
"Well, you've asked a couple of times and if you have a minute I can show you."
I pause, mauling over her proposal. I think of my laptop on my spruce desk, open to the final pages of the memoir and I make up my mind "Alright, just not too long."
"If you say so," Ellie opens the door wider for me to move past her and then shuts it behind us.
Ellie's apartment is what I had expected from her even though it is surprisingly nice. She has a large L-shaped sofa in the living room adorned with throw blankets and pillows and a huge flatscreen with a coffee table in front of it. The layout is exactly like mine but inverted, her open kitchen has some odd knick-knacks that looked like they belonged on an Amazon must-haves list.
I don't go into her bathroom and the door leading to one of the rooms (What is equivalent to Margot's bedroom) is shut. The apartment itself is pretty sparse aside from little bits and pieces as she only moved in a month prior.
On the left side, I see that purple LED spilling out of what I assume to be her bedroom.
She walks in ahead of me and the second I follow in after her there is one question I have to ask "Ellie, are you a porn-star?" There are entirely too many computers in here. Her desk is set up with one of those fancy triple-screen PCs and she has a laptop placed seemingly randomly on a white loveseat that's pressed against the right wall.
There is one of those galaxy lamps that projects that trippy shit onto your walls and ceiling. The screen of her PC is facing our shared wall and I can see a huge hole where I assume that a loud crash from the other night occurred. Plastered all over the walls are posters from video games and movies, many of which I hadn't seen.
"What?" She sounds nearly offended "No," she grabs a folding chair from the corner of the room and unfolds it beside her black florid office chair. She sits on the folding chair and motions for me to sit in the office chair. "Come, sit."
I hesitantly sit in the chair "Are you going to attack me now?" I ask, getting defensive for no particular reason other than it was in my nature "Because I've read The Outsiders and I'm pretty sure I can fight."
She chuckles "I'm not gonna fight you."
"Because I'd win?"
She furrows her eyebrows but has this look of amusement on her face "Yeah, definitely."
"So what is this?" I motion around at all of her equipment.
Ellie puts one earbud in then hand me the other "Chat," She says, looking dead at the camera clipped onto her PC "This is my neighbour who came to yell at me for being annoying, she has every right."
"Who are you talking to?"
"I'm streaming," She said, clicking something on the screen so it changed, instead showing Ellie and I in front of the camera, I looked absolutely lost next to a rolling chat bar full of jokes that I didn't understand and people saying hello to me.
"So I was right," I turn my attention to Ellie "You are an internet person."
"Yeah, I'm an internet person but you weren't right, I don't do porn."
"Not yet," I shrug "Times are desperate," To this, the chats come in even faster than before. "So do you just sit here all night and scream at people?"
"I play video games and do challenges, sometimes I do just sit here and scream at them."
"That makes so much sense," I say "If there's any job that needs you to be obnoxiously loud and annoying, it's a youtube personality."
"Okay, well-
"So you're like Logan Paul?"
Her eyes go wide "No-
"What explains why your eyes are so bloodshot."
"You are a writer," She says it like it's a fact I wasn't aware of "You are in no place to judge, you probably spend as much time in front of a screen as me."
I nod "I hate to say you're right," My attention shifts to the hole behind me "Can you explain how playing video games put a hole through the wall?"
Ellie looks almost embarrassed, she doesn't say anything in response, instead, she just clicks something to screen share with us in a little box in the corner and then goes into YouTube. She types in 'Ellie Williams falls through wall' My eyebrows furrow as I read it, and she clicks the first video that pops up.
The video starts off strong; Ellie is cackling at something that her friend off-camera is saying, her friend then makes a comment that makes her laugh even harder and she throws herself back in her chair. This act breaks it, you can hear the chair snap beneath the pressure and Ellie just lets it happen as the chair crashes against the wall. Her eyes go wide when she realizes she's just put a massive hole into the wall and seconds later you can hear me on the other side banging my hands on the wall. Her eyes go wide and she stares at her friend off-camera, all of the laughter stops abruptly before her friend can't hold it in anymore and erupts in chortles, and the video cuts off.
My hand flies over my mouth to fight back the laughter I so badly want to let out. Ellie and I sit wordlessly, the only sound being donations on the screen and my giggles slipping through. Eventually, I manage to compose myself and look to Ellie, I don't have much to say except for "Oh my god."
A/N: Streamer! Ellie won the poll so here we are. As I was drafting out the other chapters for When I Was Your Girl, I decided that it is most likely to be discontinued unless I do a rewrite which will not be in the near future. I’m not rocking with the plot and there was a lot of mixed feedback, sorry if you were invested I guess, but you have this series to be invested in now!
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asbealthgn · 1 year
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Eddie loves funerals.
Despite what some may think, it has nothing to do with an interest in death or the supernatural—though he does have that—and it has nothing to do with loving seeing everyone dressed in black—though that is always a plus. It doesn’t even have anything to do with that phase he went through in elementary school where he got obsessed with learning about burial rituals from different cultures and recreating them with his stuffed animals (that eventually ended when his teacher called Wayne to say that Eddie really needed to stop trying to embalm his friends). 
No, Eddie’s affinity for funerals has everything to do with the fact that they’re a guaranteed source of free food. 
It’s become a bonafide pastime. He keeps an eye out in the paper for obituaries and makes note of when the funerals will be. He reads through the obituary and may do a little extra research if necessary so he has an answer ready if anyone asks him about the dearly departed. When in doubt, he can always fall back on “He was such a fixture in the community” or “She always reminded me of my grandma.” 
Of course, he only goes to funerals for old people. Anything else would be too depressing. But for old people he can show up and hang in the back while some priest or family member makes a few remarks and then hit up the buffet without raising too many eyebrows.
Eddie strikes metaphorical gold when he cracks open the obit section of the paper and sees the name Maureen Harrington—apparently, one of those Harringtons, someone’s great aunt or something. She’d been living in Chicago but she’s getting buried in Hawkins next to her parents. The name alone is a good sign; the Harringtons are rich as shit so they’re definitely gonna swing for a good spread at the memorial. Eddie’s not even worried that she was from Chicago so he shouldn’t have any reason to know who she was, because the obituary says she was a romance novelist. He’s just gotta skim one of her books so he can pass himself off as a fan.
The day of the funeral is nice and overcast. Those are the best funerals. So atmospheric. He rolls up to the funeral home with his best mourning outfit—dark button-down shirt tucked into black slacks under his most serious black coat that just so happens to have plenty of deep pockets that are great for stashing food in. He claims an empty seat at the back of the funeral home chapel so he can listen to the service. 
As memorials go, this one is remarkably formal. Guess the Harringtons are all about appearances even in death. Eddie’s favorite remarks are from Elaine Harrington, wife of infamous businessman James Harrington, who manages to both artfully brush away nonexistent tears and work in that Maureen was never married and has a bastard son. God, Eddie loves rich people.
After the service, Eddie lingers in the chapel for a few minutes so it doesn’t seem like he’s only interested in the food. Then he falls in behind a couple of old men as they head for the buffet. Decent spread—there’s some sandwiches on croissants, overly fancy crackers with spinach artichoke, a frankly bizarre amount of shrimp cocktail. The dessert is the real star of the show with multiple overflowing tables. Eddie dishes up a little of everything, surreptitiously slipping things into his coat when no one’s looking. 
“Munson,” a voice says. Shit, did someone see him shoving all those brownies into his pockets? He turns and finds himself looking into the disconcertingly beautiful honey eyes of Steve Harrington. He doesn’t actually know Steve that well—they went to high school together but they didn’t run in the same circles. He just knows of Steve because he was the most popular kid in school, the King. And Steve probably only knows of Eddie because he was the weird fucker who climbed on lunch tables to yell at people. They haven’t ever spoken.
Eddie’s not gonna pretend like he’s never lusted after the King though.
“There’s no way you knew my great aunt,” Steve says. There’s no suspicion in his voice, which is a good sign, just confusion. 
“On the contrary,” Eddie says, “I was a big fan of her work.” It’s actually not even that much of a lie anymore. He tracked down a few of Maureen Harrington’s novels and they were surprisingly good for pulpy romances with shirtless dudes riding horses on the cover. 
“You were a fan of her work,” Steve repeats, clearly disbelieving. “I’m pretty sure the target audience for those books was ‘middle-aged women in loveless marriages.’”
Eddie grins. “Okay, first of all, how dare you insult middle-aged women in loveless marriages. Second of all—” He reaches into one of his coat pockets and pulls out the book he brought. “See?” he says, tapping the cover. “I like this one because the guy looks like me.” 
He doesn’t. The only resemblance is that they both have long dark hair. But cracking half a smile, Steve nods. “It’s uncanny,” he says.
“And the girl looks like you,” Eddie says. Weirdly, she really does. She has the same slightly droopy brown eyes and pouty pink lips. Her hair’s even the same color, her bangs swooping like Steve’s do. 
“Nah, she looks like Maureen,” Steve says, “And Maureen looked like a Harrington.” He points over to where there’s a display of pictures of the deceased, including one where she’s probably in her thirties. Sure enough, she looks a lot like the woman on the book cover. Looking around the room, Eddie realizes that he’s able to pick out who the family is because they all have those same eyes. Weird.
Eddie turns back to Steve. “My point still stands.”
He shrugs. “Actually though, what are you doing here?” he asks, “Funerals are the worst.”
“I couldn’t disagree more,” Eddie says, tucking the book back into his coat pocket. “Funerals are a great place to meet people.”
Steve lifts his eyebrows. “Not sure I agree with that.”
“That hurts, Harrington,” Eddie says, clutching his hands to his heart.  “Here I thought we were really hitting it off.”
That makes Steve laugh. “You’re right,” he says, “I was just gearing up to ask if you wanted to come to my dad’s old business partner’s funeral next weekend.”
Whistling, Eddie takes a step closer, resting his hand lightly on Steve’s arm. “Second date already? You move fast.”
“What can I say?” Steve spreads his hands out to encompass the funeral around them. “Life is short.”
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inkyquince · 7 months
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please inky, continue w your thought about ex-husbands and divorce.. pleaseee expand omfg your mind is so big i just wanna chomp on it 😞
ASJODDJAIJS
characters. Avery. Remy. Bailey. (Degrees of Lewdity)
yeah, so content warning, toxic behaviour, mention of sex after some wine so that's hinted to be dubcon as hell, angst, especially with mister Hay Bales. also bailey's section has a shit ton of coercion, and its implied reader is remarried.
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okay, so camp "I signed, but I'm mad now" of divorced husband is very much Avery, Remy, Bailey vibes.
So, Avery didn't MEAN to sign the papers. He was just so fucking seething that he did it out of spite. Fucking throwing the papers at you and tells you to get the fuck out of his house. What I love about Avery, at any moment, he could be in either camp, ngl. Either he'd fight for his reputation, and would never even let you show him the papers, or you get him so riled up, he does it out of pure anger and wanting revenge.
Anyways, his rep does take a blow, but he doesn't care, mans is running off pure spite for the entirety of the divorce proceedings. The moment he realises he needs to pay alimony? Wishes that he could go over to you and throttle you.
But when that anger simmers down? When he's gotten his fill of booze, whore and spite?
Mans is fucking LONELY. He's still angry, but its just general anger at the situation. Look, if you were still an orphan, he'd just get a new sugar baby. Who give a shit. Yeah, it undoes the work he did on you and he doesn't look as forward to date nights as he did, but this is different. You were his spouse. His ex-spouse now, but his spouse. He bared his fucking soul to you. You two had a good fucking life. Just had a few issues he refused to look at. You two were the perfect couople in the town's eyes, how would they have reacted to you two going to counselling?
It's too late though. He swings widly between being a fucking monster of an ex, forcing you to go back to the house to "pick up some stuff" and telling the town that you cheated on him, that's why you two divorced, to sending you gifts on your anniversary and your birthday. Phones you at night, and his voice is so low and sweet, and murmuring that he misses you.
Worse than Avery? Remy.
Remy is the rich bitch town icon that Avery wishes he was. He has you sign a prenup, then you get to live his fucking wealthy ass life. He's a cold ass fucker, so when you want to work on the marriage, he snidely mentions if you don't like it, leave him. Then he's shocked-face when you do. Then to get back at you, he's the one who gets the divorce papers. To get back at him, you sign them. To get back at you, he signs them. To get back at him, you file them.
To get back at you, motherfucker makes sure you get nothing from him in the divorce.
After all the stupid ass shit he pulls, he's fucking annoyed now. You were his other half, the only person he'd ever kneel down for. So, he's a frigid little bitch of an ex husband. But he's also such a fucker.
Like, he's will be so aloof and cold with you, and then idly offer a glass of wine to share when you have to come over to sign for some stuff. Evening ends with him three fingers deep in you, stroking you the way you like it, sucking at your neck greedily.
The treatment he gives you, when its just the two of you, is like the shiny red apple he would hold up to your lips. This is what you could have. But his behaviour away from those times is the stick. This is what you get for leaving him. Trying to usher you back into the estate and spread your legs for him, and only him again.
Bailey? Bailey. Bailey gives the vibes that you two married very young. When there was a spark of hope, and with very few good things in his life, he made sure to put a ring on the one thing that did.
However, he changes over time, becoming the ruthless caretaker of the orphanage, a terrifying criminal, and a worse man. You weren't a soft spot, you were a vulnerable one. Bailey would have had to have some sort of gentleness to him if you were a soft spot. You were a weakness, an achilles heel had had to smother and keep hiddden.
And sadly, that is no way to live.
So seperation. Then divorce. Then he doesn't show up to the court appointment. He pays alimony. He doesn't blink at anything, just takes it in stride, sometimes sneering at you.
But he isn't explosive. He isn't cold. He's just Bailey.
You see him once a month, coming to deliver your half of the money each time. You doubt it's just to see you again, even when you move on with your life and he stays in the orphanage you two always used to hate, and plan to escape from. Maybe its because he enjoys the looks the bankers give you when you have to pull out a shit ton of ironed out bills, taken from his orphans' hands, and put directly into yours.
But, you're still his. Your life hasn't changed at all from when you two were together. The only difference is that he no longer spends two or three nights sleeping next to you anymore.
Because you can't say no to Bailey.
You could be wearing a wedding ring, you could be tired from staying up with your baby, you could be so far into a new, happier life, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't trust whores, paid or not, he hates clubbing, and even with the most tender of sore spots, all they need it a slow, gentle massage.
So you have to drop everything for him. He doesn't give a shit what you could be doing. Bailey has an ache that needs seeing to. Fuck it, he'd go to your house, or get a room, but wouldn't force you back to the orphanage, at least for a long time.
You let him into your body again and again, his rough thrusts no different than when you two still shared a wedding ring. He bites your shoulder, he presses your face into the pillows, and spanks your thighs with his belt.
You never dared to tell him that you won't be able to join him for this stress relievers he seems to rely on. God knows what he'd do. Not to you, you don't take a screw driver to your knee when your sore spot acts up, but everything around you? Your spouse, your job, your life?
So you let him in.
One day he does demand that you go to the orphanage again. You could fight it all you want, but you have to go. There, he fucks you in the attic, just like that time all those years ago, and you decided he was the one you wanted to give your virginity to.
It's the closest he gets to whispering that he wants you back.
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spider-starry · 1 year
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When you first heard about them (Oscar Isaac Character Headcanon Series)
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A/N: WHAT? I WROTE ANOTHER FIC??? I can't believe it. JK. But seriously, this shit never happens. Thank the fucking gods/universe for winter break!!
Warning: Swearing, I guess slight angst, first impressions, and slight fluff??
Word Count: 662
Poe Dameron: You saw his photo on a resistance poster, and you found yourself signing up to join it that same day. It had nothing to do with the fact that Poe Dameron was fucking hot. Okay, it slightly did have to do with that. BUT seriously, the galaxy can't fall to whiny, wannabe emo. Nobody wants shitty grandpa issues in charge.
Santiago "Pope" Garcia: You were at dinner with Frankie and his wife when Frankie jokingly said that he should set you on a blind date with his friend Santiago. Frankie's wife then said that Santi was a player, and you thought that was the end of it. But Frankie wasn't done playing matchmaker.
Nathan Bateman: You saw his picture in a magazine and thought that he was a fucking douchebag in the article about him. Yet you enjoyed the fact that he mocked Zuckerberg and Musk in the article. Overall, you just thought he was another rich fucker.
Llewyn Davis: You heard one of his songs in passing. You didn't think much of him except that his voice was soulful, and you enjoyed it dearly.
Blue Jones: You heard stories about Blue's underground club. You thought the man was an absolute bastard.
Orestes: Hypatia complained about him to you one day. She had been teaching you about philosophy, and in the middle of it, you asked if something was the matter because she seemed sad. She then went into a rant about Orestes and his constant attempts of trying to win her over. You found it amusing yet felt bad for her.
Miguel O'Hara: You first heard about Miguel when his name started making news headlines. It seemed like no matter where you turned, you heard the name Miguel O'Hara and Alchemax at every turn. You didn't have any opinion of him at first, but you found him brilliant and a genuine genius. As for Spider-Man, you always loved all Spidey people and found them to be the greatest of heroes.
Duke Leto Atreides: You first heard about him when your father told you that you were engaged to Duke Leto. You were only twelve (at the time), and you were not permitted to meet him until you were seventeen. That didn't stop you from wondering about your future husband. You'd often find yourself daydreaming of what he would be like. You were pleasantly surprised when you met him.
Laurent LeClaire: Your friend from work (in this headcanon, you work in a factory because of the time period) mentioned him. You had never heard such lewd things before, which intrigued you. Especially when she spoke of how Laurent used his tongue. You weren't sure what you'd do if you met him. He sounded like a scoundrel. Yet still, the part where your friend mentioned he used his tongue truly inflamed you. It haunted your nights.
Steven Grant: Donna kept complaining about your shared coworker. It was getting kinda annoying that each and every time you saw her, she'd bitch about some guy named Steven. You assumed he wasn't as incompetent as Donna said he was. After all, she did over-dramatized things. It was getting so bad that you decided that you might as well meet this Steven that she kept complaining about. He couldn't be that shitty… could he?
Marc Spector: You first heard about Marc when Steven mentioned him once. You and Steven were only friends (at the time), and the name Marc just slipped out of his mouth when you asked about his family. You just figured he was Steven's brother. Nothing more.
Jake Lockley: Khonshu briefly alluded to him once before you had ever heard the name, Jake Lockley. He simply said, "Don't worry. I always have someone else in mind to do my bidding. And unlike Marc and the worm he enjoys the mayhem." You didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, but you definitely knew you didn't want to meet this other guy.
><><><
Thank you for reading! Also! To everyone who has been sending Oscar Isaac Requests, thank you!! I will get to them as soon as I find inspiration!!
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wandafiction · 1 month
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How Much?! - Just Us Chapter 3
Warnings: Suggestive themes
Word Count: 1644
Series List | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4
================================
The elevator ride was calm compared to the car ride, Wanda was lent against me with one arm wrapped around mine and the other holding my bicep of the same arm. Her head was leaning against my arm just below my shoulder, now I could take in how tall I was compared to her, a relaxed smile on her face as we both looked at one another through the reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. 
I also don't feel like slamming her up against the wall and making her cum once again. I think she feels the same, as she seems more relaxed than when we were in the club and the car. Maybe I should offer her a drink and chat before anything else. No, I will offer her a drink, and we will do this at her pace. She has never been with a woman before...well now she has...but I want to make sure she is comfortable this whole night. So her pace.
"Penthouse suite?" Wanda's gaze moved from looking at me to the sign in the elevator letting us know we had arrived.
"Uh, yeah this is my floor. Well two floors." I shuffled on my feet a little, I always hated showing off my wealth too much. Nothing screams rich fucker like a 2 story penthouse at the top of an already expensive apartment building practically made for the richer people of New York. 
"Do you mind me asking what job you have to be able to have a two floor penthouse?" Wanda's voice wavered a bit trying to gauge what I would do. 
The elevator bell dinged, the doors opening straight into the entrance hall. And before you think 'oh surely anyone can access the penthouse then'. No. The building has an interface system where you have to have a key card, or if you're like me and sometimes forget your key card, a password as well to be able to access past a certain floor. However, even then the cards and passwords are linked to a particular floor number so you can't access anything but yours. The only way someone could possibly get into my pent house without any of that is with a guest password, and each one of those is different so you know who accessed your place and when.
Pretty neat if you ask me. My friend Tony Stark came up with the idea when building this place, making sure I specifically got the top floor and allowed me to design my penthouse myself. He is a good friend.
Anyway, back to Wanda's question.
"No, it's fine. I am a business woman, CEO of a tech company that works in the medical field and also a partner in my friend's tech business." 
"Wow, so earning the big bucks." I stifle a laugh.
"Yes, something like that. Drink?" I pull her to the kitchen area where I have a large wine fridge and then another fridge with beers and other alcoholic beverages in it.
"Red wine please." Wanda makes herself home on one of the stools at the kitchen's island. 
"Any preferences?" I turn with the best two bottles of wine I have holding them up to her. "Château Ausone 2003 or Château Lafite 2010?"
"I don't know. I've never had either before. Whatever you think is best for tonight." She looks like she wants to ask another question as I open the Ausone.
"You can ask me Wanda." I turn around with a wine glass in hand passing it off to her, as she looks slightly confused about how I knew.
"How much does a bottle of Ausone cost? Because you opened it like it wasn't that much. I mean it sounds posh and expensive. Sorry it doesn't matter." She takes a sip of her drink to stop her rambling. 
"It's okay Wanda I promise. You're allowed to ask these questions, you're just curious I get that." 
"Okay well how much does it cost?" She asks with a cheeky grin on her face. 
"That one is the St Emilion Grand Cru. So roughly $1200 a bottle." I hear Wanda choke slightly at my answer, but she quickly covers her mouth recovering from her momentary choke.
"Sorry, but that's more than my monthly rent. Wow. It definitely tastes like a $1200 bottle of liquid courage." She then takes another sip, now obviously savouring the drink.
"Well you can't blame me for that one. It was a gift, it's been sitting there a while. So why not treat you to it." I raise my glass to my mouth watching her reaction. 
"Oh so this is your saving for a rainy day wine?" She jokes.
"Exactly. I had no one to share it with till now, so I thought fuck it, otherwise it will never get drunk otherwise." She hums in response. "Any other questions for me princess?"
"Why the name princess? Also is it rude if I ask how much you earn a year? I mean I'm just curious, you know, expensive wine in a two story penthouse. You have to be bringing home the bacon right?" Wanda places her empty glass on the counter, and I move to top it up again as I think of an answer. 
"I don't really know. It was the first thing to pop into my head when trying to fluster you, which worked by the way." She blushes slightly as I continue. "I mean I don't call anyone princess, never have. It just seemed fitting. And as for how much I earn, are you sure you really want to know?" 
"Hmm, I mean I don't have a name for you. You're just y/n. Why? Is it a lot?" Wanda tilts her head in question. 
"Y/n is just fine. I don't need to go by anything else. Define a lot. What is a lot of money for you Wanda?" 
"Well I have a 2 bedroom apartment that costs me around $1000 a month. I'm not poor in that sense of the word, I always have spare money and savings and my salary is decent. But a lot would be...I don't know...let's set the benchmark at $500'000." I finished off my glass of wine, liking my lips cleaning them of wine not missing Wanda's eyes darting down to watch the movement.
"Then I earn waaaay more than alot. Like I asked before, are you really sure you want to know?" This time I tilt my head in question.
"Can I guess? And then you say higher or lower?" She shuffles on the stool excitedly at the prospect of the small guessing game.
"Of course go ahead."
"Uhmm a lot more than $500'000 so 1.2 mil?" I point my finger upwards to indicate it's higher. "2 million?" Again I point upwards. "5 million?" 
"Much higher." 
"12 million?" 
"Multiply that by five." It takes no longer than a second to do the Maths.
"60 million! A year? Holy shit!" 
"I make anywhere between 60 to 85 million. However, I put a lot of it back into the company and help start up small businesses and of course give to charity." 
"So what do you indulge in? Because every millionaire has something they spend lots of money on. So spend money on houses, cars or even islands? So what is y/ns favourite thing to spend money on?" 
"I am a car person myself, but I tend to buy rust buckets and fix them up myself. Of course I have luxury cars and that but they are more for formal events just for publicity and all that, my PR team seems to think it helps the company and so on and so forth. But in all honesty I like treating my friends most if all. What would you spend the money on if you had that sort of income?"
"I would love to say the same as you. You know, help others in need, give to smaller businesses and friends and family. However, if I jump from my salary to your salary I am spoiling myself first. Car, house, the whole nine yards." We both laugh at her honesty. "Now though I think I'm done with the small talk." Her voice is low, her pupils dilate as she speaks.
"Yeah and what have you got in mind princess?" I lean closer to her whispering in her ear, a shiver going down her spine.
"I think we should take this to the bedroom." Wanda sighs when I start nibbling at her ear.
"Oh yeah? And what do you want to do once we are there princess?" I move my hands to her thighs slowly moving them up and down.
"You tell me?"
"Well princess. I am going to make this the best night of your life. You're going to be screaming my name so loud you forget your own, your legs squeezing around my head as I bring you so much pleasure you won't be able to feel them in the morning. I'm going to find every little spot that sets you off and leave a beautiful purple bruise on them to remind you of how I made you feel." A small fuck leave her mouth, her legs closing slightly to gain some form of friction as I speak. "So princess, are you ready for me to take full control of you tonight?" 
"Fuck. Yes. Please. Just fuck me already." 
"I have your complete consent?" Just got to double check to make sure it is truly what she wants.
"Yes, now please fuck me y/n." 
"What's the safe word?"
"Red." 
"Good girl." A low groan leaves her lips as I pull her off the stool, her legs wrap around my waist as I start to carry her out of the kitchen. 
Tonight is going to be fun.
================================
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cheesecakethots · 2 years
Text
thinkin about the obey me brothers as yandere barbarians
you’ve had to watch as your quaint little village is burnt to the ground; for what reason you have no clue, but you doubt it matters.
as of right now, you’re hiding; watching from behind rubble as the people you grew up with get slaughtered.
you feel like a coward, but you can’t bring yourself to move and do anything to halt the screams, no matter how much you want to.
who will find you first?
will it be the one who seems to be the leader, lucifier they called him, his hair dark black and his eyes unforgiving as to whatever your village did to deserve this.
he seems like a sadistic fucker, and you’re sure that from his strict demeanour he’d have you bent over his lap at the first sign of trouble or gob from you.
or, will it be the white-haired man, mammon, who seems to be slacking off? leaning against the wall with a bored look on his face, eyeing up the little riches that your poor home has.
no matter, to him you’re a finer jewel than any he’s ever seen before... so fine he may have to keep you locked in a special cage for his eyes and hands and mouth only.
how about the quieter one? levi, was it? he seems shy, almost, avoiding eye contact with others despite being there to slaughter them. he doesn’t seem that upset by whatever was done to offend their tribe, and so you wonder if it was even a big deal in the first place. he doesn’t seem as cruel as the others, but you still don’t like whatever that glint is in his eyes that tells you something about him is wrong.
satan, right? the blonde one who’s currently diving a spear through your village leader’s chest? he somehow seems angrier than the black-haired one, fists clenching over the weapon and teeth gritted. however, he seems slightly more sophisticated than the other men in his outfit choice, actually wearing a shirt instead of having his chest out. still, you pray he isn’t the one to find you.
then again, the giggly one to the side of him doesn’t seem like much of a better option. his nails are long, uncaring if they dig into the skin of pretty little humans as he examines them, tilting their heads up for him too look into their eyes. he seems disappointed by his options, sighing and glancing around, almost spotting you in the process. you’re sure that if the champagne-haired male found you, you’d be in for a long and rough night in his bed. then again, it’s not as though you can assure you won’t have the same experience with the others.
your eyes shift over to the last pair you can see, a ginger and a purple-haired man. you have to hold in the gasp at the sheer size and bulk of the first; he’s probably the largest man you’ve ever seen, arms looking as though they could tear you in half. he doesn’t look as angry as the rest, in fact, he doesn’t look angry at all. instead, he’s seemingly snacking on something, paying no mind to the bloodshed before him.
the other seems almost bored by what is happening, leaning against his taller counterpart and practically drifting to sleep on the spot.
they seem... calmer than the others, but you can’t help but feel fury at their blatant disregard for the lives being taken around them. it’s almost as though this is a daily occurrence for them.
you shiver at the thought, ducking your head behind your hiding spot once more.
it doesn’t take you long to realise that the screams have gone all but silent.
something feels wrong.
you’re quick to discover what it is, glancing up to see a pair of eyes inspecting you from upside down.
you’ve been discovered.
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tlouslut · 1 year
Text
TATTOOS
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•You came to Jackson for some shelter and help, Ellie is immediately drawn to your tattoo sleeve•
WORDS: 1500
Part two
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     These god damn woods were taunting you. You swear you passed that same rock half a mile ago. Frowning to yourself you decided to perch on top of the boulder that mocked you. You sipped from your canteen of water while scowling at the area around you, summer was almost upon Wyoming and the heat was nice against your skin in this early morning.
You were on the way to a town or city, you were unsure of what to call it, but it was called Jackson. You were on the run from an old group you used to survive with. They didn't take to people leaving very well, they've hunted deserters for sport across the country. The only reason you stayed for so long was because you knew how to tattoo, an ancient art from the old world. They were going to kill you for trespassing a few years back, but once they saw your tattoo sleeve they paused. Their leader offered you safety in return for your tattooing services.
Now you frowned at your left arm, you had inked it delicately over the course of months. Letting it heal and then adding more, it took time and tons of supplies. The sleeve was made up of plants and wildlife from where you spent most of your time alone in the woods and those things were your only company. But after deserting that group, you knew you couldn't be alone for a long while. They'd be coming after you, and when you spoke with deserters about tattooing over the symbol of the group they often spoke of Jackson. A town in Wyoming with people and electricity, and most importantly, freedom.
"Here we go. It can't be far." You sighed to yourself, hopping off the Boulder to continue your trek towards where you were hoping to find Jackson. Following highways to Wyoming and from there it was taking worn pathways and passing through ghost towns. You were walking for another couple miles, no sign of that boulder you realized with no small amount of relief. All that relief vanished when you heard a couple of horses, their hooves thudding gently against the forest floor. You immediately ducked into a bush with heavy foliage that would conceal you.
"Ellie let's go back." A woman whined. Not from the group you were running from. Very few women survived them.
"I want to find them, come on. You aren't even a little curious? Men covered in tattoos. They've gotta be from a town, maybe like Jackson." Another woman said cooly, Ellie you assumed. You peaked through the leaves to see two woman on top of beautiful horses. The women themselves weren't too bad themselves.
"They sound dangerous. Let's go ba-" The dark haired woman reasoned, she paused when she realized the woods were silent. Not a bird singing or a cricket chirping. Your heart thundering in your chest was the only sound you heard.
"There ya are!" You shrieked as you were dragged out of the bush. You were yanked off the ground by your neck, being forced to stare into the leader's eyes. His horrible mouth twisted into a wicked smile.
"Let go of me." You gasped out, clawing at his fist. You were screaming for those women from Jackson to save you, help you in any way.
"You know the rules sweetie. Pity though, you always were the favorite." Another man sneered from the woods, your vision began to go black as you stared up into the clear summer sky. Savoring the sun for the last time.
"Let go of her you fuckers!" Ellie yelled into the woods. Gun shots fired and blood splattered across your face. You collapsed onto the grass forest floor, drinking in the air like it was the finest wine. A soft warm hand pulled you to your feet, you looked up at the other woman. She was stunning with rich dark skin and ebony thick hair pulled back into a pony tail. You could only stare at her.
"We gotta go." She ushered, pulling you through the woods, leading you over tree trunks and down paths. You kept up quickly, thanking whoever out there was looking out for you.
"I don't fucking think so." One of the men shouted from behind you. You could hear his footsteps, heavy and fast. Your breathing was ragged as you ran. The woman leading you didn't slow down.
You registered the sound of a gun shot too late. It felt like fire being poured into your leg. You hit the ground as soon as the horses were almost in view. The dark haired woman twisted lurching for you.
"Get out of here! Dying for someone you don't know isn't worth it. Thank you, for showing me a last bit of kindness." Tears pricked at your eyes as you urged the woman to run away.
"What's your name?" She asked instead, she was so calm as she reached for you. Regardless of the man sprinting towards you.
"(YN). What's yours?" You asked, staring at the man as he aimed his weapon at you.
"I'm Dina, the other woman is Ellie. We are from Jackson." Dina said as she pulled her gun out and aimed it back at the man.
"You don't want to shoot me." He cooed at you, you tensed as he clicked the safety off.
"She doesn't, but I do." Ellie's sharp voice came from the tree above as she fired her gun. The man collapsed on the ground as blood began to seep into the dirt. "We gotta go." Ellie breathed.
"He shot her in the leg." Dina informed, panic creeping into her voice. Ellie glanced at you quickly taking in your leg as blood soaked your cargo pants.
"Leave me. I've heard about Jackson, you guys have women and children. Please." Your voice cracked on the word. Please. You wouldn't risk them and their freedom, even if it meant the men you were running would torture you, probably worse. Ellie shoved her gun into your hand.
"No, you need help. We're not leaving you here, not to be killed by those men." Ellie said determined. You only stared at her confused as she stooped down and scooped you into her arms. She and Dina secured you on the back of Ellie's mare, and they took off, all you could do was grit your teeth and hold on like hell.
The tall gates of Jackson were in view. Relief flooded you at the sight of those gates, the promise of safety they posed. You would offer up your very soul to make it inside those gates safely.
"Open the gates!" Dina and Ellie screamed. You turned to look behind you and saw horses in the distance. They would come right to Jackson's doorstep to take you, even with their leader being dead. You inhaled sharply as you twisted in the saddle aiming Ellie's pistol firing at the men. You could see one of the horses hit the ground and the gruff man on top it topple to the ground. The gates of Jackson were hauled open, and shoved shut the minute you were through. Ellie and Dina immediately jumped off their horses, Ellie had to pause to help you off. The group of people gathered around you and the two women. You couldn't think around the swelling panic in your chest and edges of your vision going black. Two men and a woman approached and the crowd parted for them.
"What happened out there? Who is she?" One of the men demanded, pointing at you.
"She's hurt, real bad." Was Ellie said before turning to look at you, just in time to catch you as you passed out.
Ellie's P.O.V
She was probably the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Even unconscious, battered, and paled from the blood loss. Her skin was slightly freckled from where she had been in the early summer sun on her way here, to Jackson. But the most striking thing about her, was her arm. Inked from shoulder to wrist with delicate and precise artwork. A tattoo. It was a miracle Dina and I were there to help her.
     I was lounging in the chair beside her bed in our infirmary when Maria appeared in the doorframe. The blonde woman kept all emotion off of her face as she stared at me, her gaze flicking to (YN).
     "She's not going to disappear you know." Maria drawled as she plopped into the chair next to mine.
     "I know, I just. If it were me, I would want a familiar face, someone I could trust to be there when I woke up." I explained nervously. Maria sighed, concern flickering in her eyes.
     "You trust her?" Maria asked bluntly.
     "They were going to murder her, Dina and I couldn't just leave her to die." I stammered. Of course Maria wanted Jackson to remain safe, but (YN) wasn't the threat, those men out there with those tattoos were. A small noise escaped the woman, as if my thoughts of concern woke her.
     "Ellie?" (YN) asked warily, I nodded to Maria as she left the room to get our doctor. (YN) winced as she sat up, concern flared in my chest.
     "Hey, careful. You got shot in the leg, almost lost your kneecap." I informed her. Her (EC) orbs flickered with relief as she scanned my face.
     "You saved me." She said quietly, almost in disbelief. Of course I saved her, I couldn't just leave her there. Those men would have wrecked her, that sort of pain is something i wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.
     "I did." Was all I said though, all I could managed honestly. The way she tilted her head to observe me made my heart stumble. (Gay panic lmao).
     "Thank you. My name is (YN)." She gave a small smile, I returned it brightly.
     "Well (YN), welcome to Jackson."
THERE WILL BE PART TWO
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voidpacifist · 2 years
Text
strap in, assholes, I've thought of another Deaf Steve AU for your consideration
(ps the steddie on this one is very brief, I haven't thought that part out too thoroughly just yet)
this takes place in like, early to mid 2000s
so in this universe, there's no catastrophe, no major physical traumas, no sickness, etc. steve is simply born without his hearing
his parents are not only rich, but are also super super concerned with appearances and because they're negligent assholes about it, they get steve fitted for hearing aids as soon as he's old enough to realistically begin talking
the hearing aids really don't do much for him, but the harringtons don't wanna worry about more surgeries or medical stays or being held back from their business trips/work holidays. you catch my drift. they forego the cochlear avenue but still hold out hope that steve will be "normal enough" with the "help" of a pair of hearing aids
and because the hearing aids only give him back so much, his oral language skills develop differently and at a much slower pace. it's not that he doesn't have the intellectual capacity — he absolutely does, the setting he's in just doesn't accommodate his needs
I imagine by the age of three or four, a nanny starts staying with him during the long weeks that his parents are gone. I also imagine that one of these nannies knows Sign and sees steve drifting without any communication that's suited to him, so they take it upon themselves to teach him
this goes on for years until one day, there's a phone call or an in person message or something that indicates that mr and mrs harrington have been in a traveling accident. this leaves steve parentless
he's immediately put into foster care, and from there, things go downhill. he gets into fights at school, becomes distant at each new place he stays at, and continues to isolate himself. he develops a very stubbornly independent approach to things, teaching himself to sign, speaking up for himself even if he can't hear how alien he sounds to the other students or adults at school
he keeps going from home to home until he lands at the home of tim and marissa buckley. marissa teaches a special ed class at a local middle school, and tim is a general contractor. they have three kids — a girl named robin, who's a year younger than steve, and twins dexter and benjamin
and steve is shocked by the patience of the parents, and also shocked by the fact that mrs buckley seems keen on connecting with him. the rest of the family is also learning Sign, but steve latches onto marissa the quickest because she reminds him of his nanny
tim ends up being the one who takes steve to most of his audiology appointments, or just other places he needs to be, and though tim doesn't know as much Sign as his wife, he still tries to cue steve in on conversations. just small talk about school or what steve likes to do or just "boyish" banter
dex and ben don't interact with steve much outside of bugging him to play like,,fucking kickball in the backyard, but they still form a tentative bond
robin is the hardest nut of the bunch to crack, and steves not too determined about actually becoming friends with her. in fact, most of the time, he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop with these people so he can be spat out again to the next family until he's kicked out of the system for good
even when he's getting his act together, he's still just waiting for it to happen. soon like four months have gone by and there's still no sign of the buckleys kicking him out or announcing that another family would be "better equipped" for him
here's a fun fact though: middle school kids are really fucking mean. and robins one of the only openly gay people in her grade. steves heard rumors that she's been bullied, but then he sees it happening in real time and he just. is seeing absolute red about it
he seeks out the fucker who graffiti'd her locker and lo and behold, gets into another fight at school
he's so Sure that this is the breaking point, but after his suspension is declared, marissa and tim sit him down not to scold him, but to wrap his knuckles and tell him how proud they are that he stood up for robin
and speaking of robin, steve's cool status with her just tripled easily. they start to become so close that at school, gossip starts that they're an item. one day someone flat out asks and robin, while signing, just says, "oh no! he's actually my big brother."
(if steve cries about that later by himself, that's his business)
there's still one dilemma steve has yet to get over though, and that's passing eighth grade. the constant moving and fighting has finally caught up to him, and he's forced to sign up for peer tutoring
this whipsmart, firecracker of a seventh grader, nancy wheeler, not only agrees to learn Sign, but also to help steve pass his classes
he's so fucking in love with nancy its not even funny. but the more they hang out, the less he wants to be with her and the more he wants to just be friends with her. plus, he doesn't miss the way robin ogles nancy when she thinks neither of them will notice
may/june rolls around and steve ends up with solid Bs in most, if not all, of his classes. he's on track to staying on track and the buckleys are ecstatic about it. marissa and tim find a cake at the grocery and have it say, "congratulations steve!" on it in big, loopy writing. they sign it to him as soon as he gets home from his last day of school for the year
after the weekend comes and goes and the celebration dies down, the two sit steve down and his initial thoughts are, "oh shit, my stay here is over." which majorly sucks, because the buckleys are the first family he's stayed with in a while that he's actually enjoyed staying with and getting to know
he's bonded with robin. he's bonded with ben and dex. he thinks maybe the same about marissa and tim. and he really really really doesn't wanna lose that. because not only has he come to think of them in a sort of pseudo-family sense, but they also have done and continue to do so much to accommodate steve and try to help him thrive and have resources as a young, deaf kid
so you can imagine how elated he is and how surreal it feels when they ask him flat out how he'd feel about being steve buckley. about officially being their son
years go by, until steve is in his senior year. he and robin have frequented several jobs together already, and this is the first year they've let go of their overprotective sibling instincts with one another and have gone to separate venues of work
steve ends up working part time at the library, while robin ends up at the video store
and one of steve's classmates from school (who he's 99% sure is redoing senior year) comes in pretty often. they don't talk at first, but every night, steve comes home and vents to robin about this really pretty classmate of his who plays in a thrash metal band and has far too many overdue fees
(and, if we're considering the library au, maybe steve pays off those fees and eddie ends up asking him out)
((like, he takes the time to learn as much basic Sign as he can within like a week of time, and the pulls steve aside after the library closes for the evening and just flat out asks))
robin is cautiously optimistic about this new guy that steve has a thing for, but she also knows eddie from drama club, so she not only has a good radar for the kind of person he is, but also knows exactly where to find him if he fucks things up with her big brother
cause listen — steves not immune to having experienced not-so-good encounters with a hearing partner. she's seen the way he or his deafness have been treated like a burden or a commodity, and she's very much hoping that's not the case with eddie
spoiler alert: eddie's very visibly autistic, so he knows what it's like to have been treated in a similar fashion. he has no plans to be that kind of an asshat to steve (and he very much is not)
but yeah long story short, give me deaf steve with a healthy sense of family and a willingness to be cared for thank you and goodbye
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silent-raven13 · 2 months
Text
The Star and the Waiter
(AU: Hobie is a Punk Star coming into a Puerto Rican restaurant and happens to meet a certain cute waiter, Miles! No Spider-man/super powers in this world)
"You fuckers been Ace!" Hobie finished the last song with a big bang having his electric guitar smashing on stage before he jump on to the crowd. The Spider-band kept playing their music while their lead singer stage dive.
The audience cheers out loud a mixtures of joy shrills, screams and tears. They tries to touch every part of the punker, while he sticks his devil horn hand sign in the air.
After another successful concert, the manager of the famous Spider-band got all the members back on the tour bus, "Fucking nice work, guys! Another best show! Ya'll are trending on all social media! Fucking beautiful! Hobie, I could kiss you man!"
Hobie walks in the tour bus with a big grin on his face, "Oh yeah? Never knew you find me attractive, Bruce?"
"Pfft, easy fucker. Figure of speech. Anyway, best way to end the tour. Tomorrow ya'll can rest." The manager chuckles.
Riri, the bass player finally rested on the couch, "Fucking finally! I'm so fucking tired!"
"For real!" Karl, the second guitarist.
"Ugh, I'm so sore!" Mattea groans being so exhausted. "I just want to sleep." She landed on Riri being exhausted.
"Fuck Mattea! Warn a gal!" The dark skinned bass player grunts.
Hobie stood wiping off the kiss marks from his face after they dealt with the VIP fans. There were so many girls than the last time. The popularity of the punk band had grown faster in the last year.
Honestly, Hobie didn't expect his band to made it into fame. Hell, he became one of the most popular, eye candy lead singer around! Anyone would want him. Model agencies, make-up companies, other artists wanting to collab- hell, he even got rich influencers and high class people wanting to pay him to be in a "relationship" with him for the publicity.
No, he's not like that. Maybe that's why his band are so famous. They are the real deal! They never back down on what they believe in. Hobie always doing what he wants and no one can stop him. He is rawr to the core, he never believe in consistency, Chaos, no labels, staying true to his own words got him the fame he needs.
Let's not forget, his looks too! This handsome lad has all the women squealing at his feet. They would faint at the spot. "Hah, crazy you made out with that mum." Karl commented.
"Oh yeah, she was so proud about using her son's college fund to get here." Riri laughs, "Well, everyone wants to fuck Hobie Brown, right?"
Mattea laughs, "For real. Remember that popular celebrity send him a letter begging to be his girlfriend and she was willing to pay him."
"Expensive ass whore." Karl nudges his best friend, "Right, man. You turned down a multi-billion dollar relationship! You'll be set. I heard rich girls like that only into NFL or NBA players, especially black guys."
"That's so true. Didn't her sister marry a basketball player and then, divorce within the week?" Mattea asked, "I say stay away."
"For real, rich white girls like that only cares about flaunting their riches and you know how they love using black men for their sick twisted desire for a mix child. It's all shit." Riri let Mattea lay on her lap while they talk.
"Well, Hobie Brown is never going to be involved with transplants! I prefer the real thing in a person." He walks to sit on a lazy boy, his leather pants made a squeak sound. The lead singer wore all black with a spike battle leather vest jacket, leather black pants with three belts wrapped around his waist, buckled thick combat boots. The sexiest look for the singer, his heavy boots made sounds for every step.
"Hahaha, and that's why you got stalkers. That rich girl didn't take no so lightly." Mattea laughs, "She did a whole story on her social media."
"That's her problem." Hobie chuckles, "Anyway, I'm a bit famish. Is there any food?"
"We got leftovers, dude." Karl checks the fridge to find burgers, tacos, all sorts of leftovers. "I'm sure half of them are spoiled because this fridge stinks!"
"Unless you want leftover old Chinese?" Mattea hums.
"Eck, I'll go grab a bite." Hobie snorted, deciding to get his wallet and smartphone.
"Whoa. Whoa. Hobie," His manager stops his, "Your not going out, again! Last time you did, you got shitfaced and had an all out brawl!"
"Pfft, not my fault a couple of blokes wanted to fight." Hobie remembers he went to a pub to drink and ended up kisses some of these men's girlfriends or dates- Whatever it was. They wanted to fight him so he gladly fought them. That was a trend, all over social media.
Luckily, his fans and most people were on his side. Since it wasn't his fault those women didn't admit they were in relationships. Everyone loses their minds over a Star!
"Let him go, Bruce. Hobie can take care of himself. Besides, we're done with the tour." Riri was on her Smartphone seeing their concert was trending all over on TikTok.
"Hah, yeah. And we go back home tomorrow. So, let's just chill." Karl hums, "Anyway, I'ma order some pizza."
"Oh I'll take a stuffed cheesy crust with pepperoni." Mattea shouted.
Hobie was done with junk food, being on the damn road only got them eating junk. They had only beer, too. He wanted something different, something home-made? He wasn't sure. All he knows he's sick of these take out and expensive dishes that aren't good.
"Bro, you better hurry and get something to eat. Just because it's New York, doesn't mean some restaurants closes later." Riri hums.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be quick, besides I know where to look." He waves his hands away, "I'll be fine, pops." He left with a grin on his face toward his manager.
"Fucking Hobie..." Bruce groans being stressed out, "Send me your location, kid!"
"Fine. Fine!" Hobie rolled his eyes before leaving out of his tour bus, he saw how much the crowd died down. Checking his phone, he saw it was nine... shame, his band could've gone longer, but fucking Bruce warns them to follow the schedule.
Anyway, he saw an interesting spot when his tour bus pass through the city. It looked homey, warm with an interesting art wall on the side. Whoever are the owners of the restaurant, they were smart enough to have an artist to create such a beautiful artwork. Shame Hobie wasn't able to admire it long, since his tour bus speed up. He did remember the name... Morales' Kitchen.
"Hmm," He realized he needs to look it up to see what to order. Pulling up his expensive smart phone, he found the restaurant is Puerto Rican basis. It looked appealing and the reviews shows positive reviews.
Reviewers:
BunnyFox: OMG I loved coming here since I was a kid! Best Puerto Rican FOOD EVER!!!
ShyGuy23: Man, this place is soo good. If you want to taste Puerto Rico, it tastes just like home! I missed my mom's cooking, so this comes close to it.
PuertoRicanGirlie: BEST PUERTO RICAN PLACE EVA!
And it went on with that. Many recommended the traditional plate which contain tostones, arroz con habichuelas (rice and beans), and a choice of chicken, pork, or beef. Many recommended pork or chicken with a side of salad. He'll probably get that, he never had Puerto Rican food.
Now, this might come a surprised from the Punk-Star with his family descendants of Jamaican and Haitian ancestry, he always loves trying Caribbean food. By now, he would've tried Puerto Rican, but nope. So far, he had Mexican and Dominican food as far as he knows.
Well there's a first time for everything.
He chuckles at his own thoughts, he never thought he would say that, again. The nineteen year old had been through every sexual, adventurous experience so his first times were long gone.
Walking in the slight cold night of the city, he pulled out his cigarette to smoke. His wicks bounces from every step he takes, enjoying his walk.
Ahh, this is nice.
Hobie isn't gonna lie, he so far hates being famous. He didn't think their whole life would be on watch.
Figures
In a capitalistic world, only Corporate Greedy, big evil money hungry businesses like the music Industries would leech the blood out of their artists. Do this or don't do this. Hobie thought if he can go back in time to prevent his seventeen year old self to sign his soul away from the contract... would he? Maybe. So far, he hated the constant fans budding in his personal lives, annoying blokes challenging him as they act he never threw hands.
It's funny how the PR teams always work overtime to fix his imagine for the sake of their record labels. There always something with them. That's why he lash out so much the last year, yet his soul takers still try to force him into this mold. A mold of being a basic Poster- HIM A POP STAR?
He would rather eat glass off the subway station floor. Or they try to make him be a rapper or join a Hip Hop reality television show to make a career out of it. They always say, Punk is never forever. Hobie conquer on that, he and his band worked too damn hard to stay true to themselves.
He threaten his bosses that he will make sure he's not going down a fight. There was many "scandals" like nudes, sex videos, drug use, and all to remain trendy and down right fucking true to himself. Controversy can be a powerful weapon, inconsistency is him! All the videos of him kissing men, women, none-binaries- ALL OF IT! He wouldn't care, he never believe in labels and believe in his voice.
His inky eyes saw a poster about Saving Gaza being torn or written. "Hmmm," He knew one of the main reasons to be famous was the amount of power his voice is.
The Punk Star took a photo of the poster, then posted on his Social Media with massive words, "SAVE PALESTINE! FUCK GENOCIDE!" He put the watermelon logo, Palestine flag and rock hand sign.
He's never one to back down for what's right. As he put his Smartphone in his pocket, his phone started to blast with notification of massive people liking, comments good or bad. A smirk on his face knowing the haters will write him a lot of slurs, curse words, but he didn't care. He laughs at them. His voice is POWERFUL!
Now, his record label... his bosses might not take it, too lightly. He didn't care. They got nothing on him and his band.
Then, a savory smell of tomatoes, garlic and cilantro tickled his nose. Huh, I'm here already? He saw the restaurant seeing the warm color scheme of brown, yellow and red. There was a massive Puerto Rican Flag next to the name of the place.
Hobie slowly walks to the mural at the most badass piece. It's a massive mural of black and brown people showing Empowerment with their hands raised into a fist, some figures had face covers wrapped around their mouths with different country flags. A lot of Latin American flags, especially Caribbean flags. There was an abstract city with so many small indication of past racist and discrimination history. What Hobie loves the most about the mural was the massive words that spread on the top, 'We are the People! We have the Power!'
"Fuckin' hardcore." Hobie decided to take multiple photos of the mural. He loves art like this. Art about empowerment in the black and brown community. People of color works on politics, installations about Capitalism ruining this damn world. He looks at the graffiti signature... "MGM?"
Maybe he can find the name on his social media. Hobie can already tell he's going to be a massive fan. The artists already checked off from his list on the art works: Empowerment, check! Representing POC, check! Different from the basic art, CHECK!
His stomach growls, "I should eat." He said to himself, he went to the front door to find the place closed at midnight. "Nice."
When he enters the shop, he saw a very homey restaurant. The walls painted of beautiful scenery of Puerto Rico with people dancing, food, and instruments. The lights were warm, the shades of brown and tiles brick color gave it a very mom and pop restaurant. There was a bar and television up high on the corner next to the bar and other places. So far it's empty.
The punker's inky eyes look down at the Wait list; so far a decent amount people came by through out the day. Then he hears someone coming out of the back of the kitchen, it sounded like two people speaking Spanish.
The person walking out the kitchen to the main floor, his footsteps light which got Hobie to glance up. When he did, he never thought he saw someone so beautiful in his life.
The hostess smiles at him, "Hello, welcome! Is it just you?" His eyes are colored of Honey brown with big doe like eyes.
Hobie had to take a moment to analyze such a beautiful man. He had a tapered short afro with a fade on the sides and zig-zag design on the side. His ears are pierced, nose wide and plump lips with such shimmer warm brown skin tone. Oh shit, Hobie was awestruck.
"Um.. Umm, yeah. Just me." Only a few words came out of his mouth. He wanted to stare at this Host, he had such a beautiful smile it felt like sunshine sending warm kisses.
The host nodded, "Okay, come with me. You want booth or a regular table?" He asked going to the side of the desk to take out a menu.
"Booth." The Punker's voice low like a mumble.
"Okay, I'm Miles by the way. I'll be your waiter." He turns to Hobie with a soft smile.
Miles...
Such a cute name for a cute lad. Hobie stares at Miles' behind seeing his rear, nicely thick. The young waiter had a basic white and black waiter outfit, the collar white sleeves rolled up showing off his left arm with tattoos.
A sleeve tattoo ain't too shabby.
Hobie couldn't tell what it looks like, but he can tell it looks unfinished from the elbow to the wrist. Then he saw Miles showing him a booth in the middle. "Here's the menu, for now do you care for water or your ready to order a drink?"
"I'll have a water, luv." Hobie casually said being a flirtatious, he sat in the booth looking at the menu.
"Okay. I'll give you a few minutes." He let out another smile. Hobie study those big beautiful plump lips, they were moisturized looks like chapstick.
Miles happily went to get a glass of water for the punker. Damn, he's so cute... Hobie didn't look at the menu but had his eyes on the waiter this whole time.
When Miles came back to place a glass water, "Ar-are you ready?"
"Hmph?" Hobie looking stupid.
"To order?" His waiter arched his eyebrow.
"Oh, um... actually." Hobie felt a bit embarrassed for wasting time. Staring at Miles got him feeling like a little lad. "What's your popular dish? Or what you recommend?"
"We have the traditional plate; it got rice and beans, tostones, salad, and choice of meat. I prefer pollo guisado." Miles flips the menu to show the poplar dish being serve, "But if you want something more meat, pernil with a side of tostones. These are our popular dishes for..." He eyed on Hobie, "new customers."
"Heh, because my accent, mate?" Hobie did have a thick cockney accent.
"Hahaha, pretty much, man. Unless you tried Puerto Rican food." Miles giggles.
Damn, even his giggles are cute.
Hobie felt his cheeks warm. If he can turn pink, he would. "No, luv. Never."
"Then I say pick the first one." He gave another smile this time his eyes seem to be gleaming at the punker.
"Alright, the first one. The way you said it. I'm not into pork..." He casually said.
"Okay, coming up." Miles wrote it down, then took the menu. "Any drinks besides water?"
"I would say beer but I'm underage." Hobie chuckles.
Miles' blink a couple of times being surprised, "What? Really!"
"Yup, I'm nineteen years old. I know I don't look like it." Hobie chuckles.
"Oh wow, you do look like you would be around twenty one. Awe, too bad, man. Can't serve you alcohol if you're underage." Miles look side to side with a small whisper, "Don't worry, I'm nineteen, too!" Then winks at him.
Hobie blinks at couple of times, he felt his mouth dry. "Really?"
"What? I look too young?"
"Nah, your tattoos gave it away." The punker said as he took a sip of water.
Miles arched his eyebrow with those Amber eyes gleaming at the punker like enchanted gems. "Oh yeah, how do you know I didn't get when I was sixteen?" He gave an amusing grin.
"You look like a good lad who follow the rules. Something about you seems like the type to never take risk." Hobie grins at him.
"Hahaha, well you're right I do follow the rules but I wouldn't say I don't take risks." Miles winks at him being flirty.
Oh, he's flirting with me?
Hobie felt stupid for giving a weak response, "Hah, risk taker?" He added, "What kind of risk you take?"
"Well, this tattoo." He lift his left arm showing his sleeve, "Not an easy project."
"What is it about?"
"Many stuff. I design the tattoo myself and went to a tattoo artist to do it." He got closer to show a beautiful collage works of graffiti characters, stars, clouds, sun and moon, and florals. A lot of Sunflowers.
"Bloody hell, mate. You design this? This looks fucking amazing. Maybe I should ask you to design me-self a tat." Hobie admires the work. "I got a spot empty at my right side."
"Nah, you wouldn't want a design from me." Miles chuckles in amusement.
"Come on, Miles. I'm being for real. Look, to show how of honest man I am," Hobie pulls out his Smartphone letting all his accessories from his clothes clank and click together, "give me your social."
"Wow, showing social. You're pretty forward, huh?" Miles giggles feeling his cheeks warm by the punker.
Then the other teenager realized he's basically demanding Miles' social. "Ah, my bad, mate."
"No! No-no," Miles chuckles, "It's cool man. Look let me give you my social. But don't be too surprised about my selfies." He gave a mischievous smirk.
Hobie felt the color from his face drain being replaced by a warm shade of red being so damn bashful. Luckily his dark skin tone didn't reveal anything, but maybe his wide eyes did and the way his mouth slight hang open. "Huh?" He could only say then handed his phone to Miles.
The waiter happily gave him his social, "Here's my art account... it's also my personal account." He hums giving some indication about himself.
Hobie took his phone back to look through, "MGM? Wait, are you the lad that did the mural outside?"
"Yeah, that's me." He admits holding the menu close to his chest.
"Mate, that's a fucking fantastic piece. It's bloody powerful!" Hobie said to him being so impressed. Miles is cute, and an artist! So far, he's peaking more of his interest.
"Awe, you're making me blush, man." Miles giggles with one hand hiding his shy smile.
Cute.
"Mijo, ya esta!" The two stop hearing a woman's voice from the kitchen.
"Oh your dish is ready. I'll get it." Miles said as he went over to put the menu away and rush into the kitchen.
Hobie had time to look through Miles' social, he found out the teenager likes to read comics, watch cartoons and anime, and cosplay. He had photos of Anime-Con or Comic conventions. His mouth watered when he saw photos of the cute waiter cross dressing, some with complete makeup with a beautiful design wigs.
He's very talented...
Then, what got Hobie very hype was a photo of Miles having two hip tattoos, showing them off with his sweats low enough his happy trail showings, and if any more probably show more than just hair. Sharply inhaling as he saw Miles wearing a crop top with some booty shorts. He's not afraid of being himself that's for sure.
Hobie really likes that, even seeing Miles' at Pride Parade with a group of friends. They were huddle together wearing the skimpiest of outfits. Miles wearing fishnets with bright yellow top with sunflower ankle jeans and converse shows. He certainly knows how to dress colorful, too.
"OKay, here's your meal. Enjoy." Miles came by with a massive plate of food to set down. Those golden honey brown shines over at the punker looking through his phone. "Enjoying my pics?"
"Hmph? Oh um..." Hobie quickly set his phone down seeing the massive plate filled with rice and beans, chicken smothered with a special tomato sauce, hot tostones and salad. "This looks delicious." He sniffs the delicious aroma of Puerto Rica spices like garlic, tomato, cilantro, and so on. With such deepen scent, it reminded him of his mother's Caribbean spices.
"Thank you. Hopefully your'll like it." Miles nodded with a soft smile on his face, "Enjoy your meal. If you need anything I'll be over there." He pointed by the host desk to wait.
Hobie pouted for the moment, then quickly grab Miles' wrist which cause the waiter to look surprised. "Sorry, luv. Um..." Damn, normal Hobie is such a charmer, he can flirt his way through anything or anyone, but Miles sure left his tongue tied. "How about you sit here? I'm curious about your art."
"Well," He took a moment, "I would but-" Hobie being desperate, he let his hand go, "There's no one here, darling. Come, sit by me, Sunflower."
That looks like it worked because the nineteen year old gave a shy almost flustered smile. "Sure, normally it's not busy around this time anyway. My dad will be fine with me talking to our customers." He sat across the punker with his face resting on both his hands, "Demi lo, Papí. Cómo te llamas?"
Ohh, he speaks Spanish, too. Did he call me, Papí? Maybe I can...
"Mi nombre es Hobie." He finally answered as he took his fork to dig into his dish.
Miles' smile widen showing his teeth, his eyes seem to sparkle. "You know, Spanish?"
"I know about five languages."
"Wow, look at you. I only know English and Spanish." Miles giggles being impressed.
He will be the death of me.
"I'm a bit choppy with Korean."
"Oh wow, you know Korean? I know a lil bit, my best friend is Korean." Miles explained, "I wouldn't put it on my list. What else?"
"Let see, Patios, Haitian Creole, French, Spanish, English, Korean, Chinese, a bit of Japanese.... and I'm trying to learn Sawhili and Arabic." He counted with his fingers as he took a bite of his meal.
"Dude, that's more than five languages." Miles giggles having his eyes on the punker who's eyes widen after taking the first bite.
"I mean, English and Japanese don't count." Hobie said while chewing.
"It's still more than five."
"I know a little Swahili and Arabic." Hobie hums, "Not on the list like someone mentions."
"Hehe, still six, Hobie." Miles giggles with amusement.
"I don't believe inconsistency."
"Really? So you mix your info a lot?"
"Yup!" Hobie got a piece of chicken then let out a satisfying sound, "Mmm, this is fucking good, mate. Finally something good! Tastes like home."
"Good, huh?" Miles grins widely.
"Good? This is bloody amazing. I tried a lot of stuff before and this," He nodded with approval, "Tastes the fucking cake."
"I'm glad. I'll let the chef know." Miles hums happily, "So, Hobie... where ya from, man? You got a British accent and what's Hobie short for?"
Hobie grins widely, "Hobart and I come from good ole' London, luv."
"Hmm, Hobart? I never heard a name like that before. It's kinda foreign."
"Haha, not many have this name."
"But it is cute," Miles saw the way the punker look at him, "Hobie. That's a cute nickname."
"Not cute, mate. I'm dangerous." Hobie chuckles, "Look at me."
"Then what should I say? Handsome? Dangerous? Sexy?" Miles flirted being more bold.
"Sexy? I do like the sound of that." Hobie slowly chews with his eyes on his waiter.
"Hahaha, I prefer cute." Miles gave a smug smile, "Your cute."
"Stop, mate. Ya makin' me blush." He wasn't lying.
"Awe, that's cute." He laughs.
Hobie snorted before eating slowly. He wonders if Miles knows who he is. "So, Miles. What's does MGM mean?"
"Miles Gonzalo Morales. That's my full name." He answered rather quickly. "MGM keeps it fast and neat."
"And your works?"
"Mostly the struggle in living in New York, black and brown empowerment. Sometimes about my sexuality, or how we're often silence. You're lucky you got to see this painting. It's fairly new. Last one, I did a Free Palestine and- Oh Boy, the amount of hate we got. I mean, the tagging and pure hateful groups were making threats." Miles winced, "I don't think I'm strong enough for that kind of stuff... it's pretty scary."
"Fucking nazis. Nothing terrible happened?" Hobie asked.
"Thank god nothing did. My dad use to be a the Chief of Police so many cops respect him and we got lucky with that sort of protection." Miles rubs his neck about his latest work, "I know, it's risk making works like that. So this time I play it safe now with murals for empowerment and aesthetics for this place, but my personally gallery works I go crazy."
"You got a gallery?"
"Eh, it's a small one not far from here, but I do make works here and there." Miles shrugs, "It's my passion."
"Good, you should keep it that way. Trust me, nothing beats creativity, bruv." He took another spoonful, to his surprised he was eating the plate clean. Normally, he'll take a few bites and leave the rest for his friends. Never much of eater, but this meal was too damn good.
Thanks for the advice, man." Miles nodded.
"Also, how did your pops work in a place like this? You say he was a pig?" Hobie commented.
Miles noticed the insult for cops, it makes sense. Nobody likes cops in this day and age, especially with all the shit they been doing. "He retired early from an incident and uses the money to built this place. It's actually my mom's dream, so that food you're eating is from my mami." Miles hums.
"Well, your mom cooking is perfection." Hobie took a bite of a tostones with a loud crunch sound, "Mmm, normally I don't eat much."
"I can see, your very skinny."
"But my height balances out, Sunflower." Hobie added.
"Yeah, you're very tall and this is from someone who's six' two"."
"Ah, I'm six'five"." Hobie chuckles at Miles' expression, he couldn't believe it.
"Dude, you're so tall. I think my uncle is the tallest in my family and you passed him." Miles said being in shock.
"I'm always been the tallest around my family." Hobie added as he lift his glass of water.
"Oh let me get you a refill." Miles got up.
"Oi, um... what about a soda pop, luv? Anything Puerto Rican drinks?" Hobie asked.
"We have Good Ole' Kola, it's a popular Puerto Rican soda." Miles said.
"One please, Sunflower."
"Coming right up." Miles went over to the bar to get a freshly cold can, "Say, why do you call me, Sunflower?"
"Your tattoos and your social." The other teenager said seeing Miles handing him a cold can of soda, he opens it hearing the hissed sound from the soda. "Does it offend you, Miles?"
Miles sat back down with his head shaking, "No, it's actually my favorite flower."
"Really?" Hobie could use that. "Why?"
"You know that Post Malone song called Sunflower?" Miles asked.
Hobie took a moment, "Maybe... not into pop."
"Well, that's one of my favorite song, and I like how pretty Sunflower looks. They always make me smile." Miles leans over to rest his face on one hand, "And fun fact, when there's no light or sunshine, they turned to each for energy. Isn't that cute, hm?"
Hobie sips his soda giving a nod, "So you're saying I'm a Sunflower since I'm cute?" He flirted back having to give a slight grin.
"Hmmm, I wouldn't say you look like a Sunflower. Maybe a Moonflower." Miles hums, "My second favorite flower." His honey eyes seem to glisten at him.
This lead the singer awestruck almost too flustered, he never felt like this in years. He didn't know what to say instead he shove rice and beans into his mouth. "Did you know Moonflowers only open at night and closes during the day?"
"No, I didn't know it existed."
"Maybe I should call you, Moonflower since you call me, Sunflower." Miles seems to be very interested in him.
"Oh yeah? Heh, nobody ever called me something nice like a flower."
"First time for everything." Miles added, "So, what got you coming here so late?"
"Oh... um... I was in that concert not too far from here?"
"Oh I heard some punk band, right?" Miles asked being clueless, "That place was packed! What's the band called... Spider Punk? Spider... hmm, Spider Band!"
"That's the one." Hobie nodded, "Listen to them?"
"Nah, I heard one song from them and it was their latest single." Miles shrugs, "I'm very into hip/hop, rap, R&B, Reggaeton, um... hmm a lil bit of pop. My little sister seems to like the song, it got her to sleep through it."
"Oh cool, she's a Spider-head?"
"Hahaha, she likes chaos." He play with hands together, "She's two."
Hobie never laughs so loud, "What, mate? You're pulling my leg?"
"I'm serious. One time I played a song and she started to sleep through it. I dunno I guess it's her Puerto Rican side loving loud music."
"Well, I'm honored a two year old sprog loves m- punk music." Hobie added, "Though, I hate labeling it punk."
"Oh, your that kind of punker? Hate labels?"
"I don't believe in them. I hate the AM and I hate the PM." The punker shoves the rest of his meals into his mouth then wipe his hands with a napkin. Man, he should've ate slow to keep talking to Miles, but the food was so good. "Never believed sticking to one thing."
"That's punk of you." Miles giggles, "Sorry, terrible joke."
"It's fine. I'll let it pass since this food- Mwah, chef kiss." Hobie kisses his two fingers together into the okay hand sign.
"Awe, good thing, too. I don't wanna piss you off." The waiter saw the plate being so clean, not a crumble left behind. "My mom would be so happy to see this plate so clean."
"It was so good, I want a second one to go."
"I can make the order if you want?"
"Please, do." The punker being very polite with him, never did he become so polite to people he's attractive.
"Alright. It'll take a few minutes." Miles got up to pick up the dirty dishes and utensils, the he went back to the kitchen to submit the order. Hobie nervously sat up straight then he sniff his breath wondering if it smell bad.
Smells like cigarettes... shit.
When Miles come back, all he did was giggle to himself while holding a dessert, "You got my mom super happy. She told me to give some tembleque."
"What now?"
"It's coconut pudding. It's really good." Miles places it in front of Hobie with a spoon next to it. "Trust me, you'll want to lick the plate."
"That's kind of your mum to give me a free dessert." He never experience such kindness before.
"Don't worry about it. She does it all the time when a customer being sweet and cleans off the plate." Miles winks at him, again.
"Can you tell her, thank you. I appreciate it." Hobie got a spoon to try the dessert, "Mmm, this is amazing." He mumbles with awed.
Miles could only smile at him, "You know, I really think you're cute." Slowly sway his upper body being a little shy to say.
That caught off the punker, he nearly choked on his pudding, The had to drink his soda then let out a low, "Wha?"
"I think you're cute. Your eyes grew wide like a kid. It's cute." Miles shrugs as he went back to sit down.
"Um... thanks." Hobie didn't know how to react.
"Oh sorry, didn't mean to weird you right." Miles frowned for the moment seeing how the punker looked uncomfortable. "Oh great, Miles. You thought you met someone else that's into the same team. I'm so sorry if-" Hobie quickly said, "No! Nono! I'm just- I was told many things but not cute. Sorry, for being weird about it, Sunflower."
"Oh, so you're gay?" Miles asked, "Sorry if that comes off rude. Normally, straight guys give me that look."
"Haha," Hobie sat back with a low deep chuckles, "Remember I don't believe in labels, luv. I play all the teams. I believe in connection."
"Oh very pansexual." Miles teased a bit.
"Maybe. Never consistent. Also I jump around with multiple partners."
"Ah, I'm bi-sexual and monogamous. To be honest, I don't like share my partners." Miles shrugs, "But that's just mean. Whatever float your boat, y'know?"
"Don't like sharing, huh? I'm into that." Hobie smirks widely at him this time being bold.
"Oh yeah?" Miles' eyes gleaming, his left leg shakes from being a bit nervous.
Hobie nodded with his hand placed on Miles' hand, "Yeah." His thumb gently massage into Miles' soft hand, it felt so tender. Miles couldn't help but let out a boyish giggle.
When the punker finished his dessert, Miles placed him the bill and brought out the take out.
"Say, this is a little heavy?" Hobie noticed two containers.
"I left you a slice of cake. Maybe you'll like it." Miles' voice went to a whisper, "Shh, don't tell my dad." Hobie let out a low chuckle.
"Cheeky minx."
"Shh. Anyway will that be cash or card?" He asked placing the plastic bag with take-out in it.
"Card, Sunflower. Maybe next time, I can DM you?"
"Sure. Anytime."
Hobie pulls out his black card which got Miles tilting his head to the side. He never seen a black card before. Aren't those for rich people? Anyway, he went ahead charging the card and placing it back on the table with two receipt and pen. Miles went to clean up the tables getting ready for closing time.
Before Miles went over to pick up the receipt from Hobie's table, "Miles, mi vida. Can you help me?"
"Sure, mami." He pouted over to Hobie, seeing the punker is going to leave soon.
Hobie could only give him a small smile, watching his Sunflower go to the back of the kitchen. He thought about waiting for him until his manager is blowing up his phone like crazy.
Bruce: Where are you asshole? Get your ass back to the bus.
Hobie: 🖕🏿 fuck off. I'm busy here.
Bruce: Hobie.
Hobie: 🙄 fine. I'll be there soon.
He cursed himself at his manager. Fucking Bruce. Always ruining his game. The punker went into his wallet pulling out a wad of cash, then leaving Miles a wonderful tip.
Hopefully we'll meet again.
Just like the wind, Hobie was gone from the restaurant. With beautiful thoughts of his Sunflower and hoping for the next time to meet... maybe go on date.
When Miles came back after helping his mom put somethings away in the fridge, he rushes to the main floor to find no one around. He pouted, slowly going over to the receipt. To his shock he saw a five hundred dollar tip. "What?" He almost chokes on his gasp.
Then his hand saw the receipt with Hobie's number and note.
See you later, Sunflower 😉
Hobie's number: xxx-xxx-xxxx
Text me when you want to hang, luv. I'm open this week.
The teenager put the number into his smart phone never feeling so bashful.
Miles felt his cheeks warm, "Wow..." For the first time, his heart was beating so fast and palms were sweaty. To think this cutie Punker would give him, his number. Who is this Hobie Brown? And how he got so much money? Miles' curiosity is getting to him, maybe that's why he found the punker so attractive. He's so mysterious, sweet, beautiful like a Moonflower.
He wants Hobie Brown.
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freyrmichokolatte · 10 months
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Rooftop Squad headcanons because they deserve the world (plus Alive!Oboro)
Shouta is the shortest while Oboro is the tallest (Shortzawa)
Oboro's fashion style is Art Hoe, Summer, and Vintage Pilot Aethetic. Hizashi's style is Neon and Daft punk while Shouta's is soft grunge or anything with sweaters, hoodies, and other baggy clothes. You already know Nemuri's, Tensei would dress up like those responsible smart rich dads
Other than cats, Oboro would also bring other small critters in his cloud like birds and puppies (He brought a ferret with him once, where did he find it? Only God knows)
Shouta and Tensei are the most responsible, thus claimed as "The parents" by the rest (despite their protest)
Shouta and Tensei are platonic soulmates and are in a queerplatonic relationship u can't tell me otherwise
Hizashi is a youtuber and twitch streamer, they all moved into a large apartment and the first time one of the squad accidentally interrupted his streams is when Shouta came back from patrol and went face first to the couch (Hizashi had to stream on the living room because his room hasn't been properly renovated yet)
Shouta has a younger sibling the same age as (baby) Tenya. He and Tensei would schedule playdates for them
Tensei likes fruit salads
All the boys carry a menstruation bag with them incase Nemuri got her period unexpectedly
Nemuri and Oboro likes to make crotched cat clothes and gived some of them to Shouta
Hizashi drinks Monster Energy
Shouta and Tensei are hardcore book nerds and would spend hours talking about Percy Jackson and Magisterium
They're all multilingual; they use this skill to talk shit about everyone and everything in front of people just to fuck with their heads and make them go mad
Oboro has a collection of crocs and limited additon crocs in a small special room
Hizashi has hard hearing so they all learned sign language for him
Shouta is clingy when either drunk or he didn't get any sleep for days. He'll cling onto the closest person he knows like a koala. This first happened when the boys finished their final periodical test on 3rd year and he clung into Hizashi like his life depends on it
^^^The class took some pictures for memories because that is a fucking rare sight right there
They have movie nights every Wednesday and make a pillow fortress for the fun (It was Nemuri's idea)
It's normal for Nemuri to be catcalled but a guy took it too far so Shouta smashed his head with a tray
^^^The guy got concusion and almost got expelled for catcalling. Shouta didn't got into detention because that fucker is good at acting
Oboro, Tensei, and Nemuri are theater kids
Shouta doesn't look like it, but he's the most hyperactive kid alive. Bro's so talented he did parkour at a young age and knows how to shoot a gun at 11
They call eachother nicknames :) Nemuri: Nemi, Uri Shouta: Shou, Shouchan (Courtesy of Oboro and Nemuri) Hizashi: Zashi Oboro: Boro, Obi (Courtesy of Shouta) Tensei: Sei
Shouta and Tensei bought 3 dog leash for the 3 hooligans. You don't fucking know what those three might do if the other two aren't there to supervise
Hizashi came up with a dumb idea that probably got them arrested and Tensei just said what the hell let's do it. Shouta during the scene: FUCKING TRAITOR-
Nemuri planned an after graduation party for the boys by giving them free tickets to Hawaii
Even as adults, they still cause trouble. But it's very minor now
Since Tensei is paralyzed from the waist to down, most of their hangouts would be at cafes and malls just so he wouldn't feel left out
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vaguely-yandere · 2 years
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hi its me again (also you should totally make a twitter acc, id follow:D)
im thinking abt how playboy yan would react to you giving romantic attention to someone other than them, or how would they react to someone asking you out literally infront of them (THE AUDACITY)
they would totally say some shit like “do you know who i am?” or “talk to them- no- breathe around them ever again and i’ll rip your vocal cords from your throat.”
or maybe someone of the same social and wealth status flirts w darling? id just love to see them squirm and think so hard abt how to kill their new love rival.
also them not being able to get even a smidge of pleasure from sex w others because as they said “you ruined sex for me, i cant even cum if you’re not touching me. seriously, do you have any idea what you do to me?”
and maybe they’re usually a dom top but you just make them melt so much that they are nothing but needy little puppy in your hands i just- 😫
eeee playboy yan whos always so cool, so collected, so suave because they literally have zero worries! if they embarrass themselves at a party or whatever, its no biggie, everyone signed an NDA anyway! so when they end up smashing a glass because they saw you flirting with someone, a giant smile on their face despite eyes screaming with rage, everyone just awkwardly laughs and tries to diffuse the situation, breaking some bottles of their own, just trying to keep the party going!
of course, the glass breaking startles you but youre a touch oblivious. you didn't know theyre going crazy because of you! so you continue talking to this sweet, attractive, rich socialite that seems very touchy and show offy but hey! they have the same interests as you and theyre kinda sweet!
playboy yan gets fucked up. drinking, smoking, injecting, anything to get their mind off the extreme rage they feel every single time you smile at that fuckers, every single time you laugh, touch their arm, share a fucking joint with them, it isnt fair. they try to console themselves (and make you jealous) by inviting someone else into bed, loudly and obnoxiously flirting with them but without your presence near them, they just cant seem to remain aroused but theyre still pissed, theyre blood is still rushing, a cutie is still kissing their neck, so fuck it! they try, they really fucking try to cum and they end up roughing up the poor stranger more than they wanted to but they do end up cumming after a good while of straight edging. the strangers face hidden with a pillow, ass up, probably gagged, anything to keep their identity hidden so playboy and imagine its you under them instead of this fuckin asshole (apologies random background character)
and if you post a selfie with this rival? even if theyre just in the background? mention them anywhere? playboy yan will absolutely kidnap you and try to show you how perfect they are for you. it doesnt really feel like a kidnapping at first, because playboy yan is just letting you do whatever you want under the guise of 'hanging out' but if you try to end it? theyll suddenly suggest going to your favorite store, going to a club, having dinner at your favorite place, anything to keep you close to them and if you keep refusing, their intentions finally become clear and well, youll have no choice but to go to a hotel or house with them. theyll insist on taking millions of pictures with you, sometimes just of you and its kind of flattering but still.
if you go to a hotel, its fucking fancy. multiple rooms, fully stocked everything, private hot tub and pool, giant bed, closet full of clothes exactly in your style, the fridge is only full of your favorite foods no matter how expensive they are, if you have a habit of making wishlists and stuff then everything is there. skincare products, clothes, shoes, perfume, gadgets, books, a gaming set, plants, art supplies, literally everything. its perfect. and playboy yan gets room service, the TV is already playing your favorite show and playboy yan is just staring at you, squirming in their seat in front of the giant walk in closet, begging you to give them a little fashion show.
and who are you to refuse?
each outfit leaves playboy yan more and more desperate, teeth sinking further into their bottom lip, eyes basically vibrating from trying to take in every inch of your being, nails digging into the arms of their chair, an absolute, desperate mess. eee so so cute!!! <33 just imagining them on their knees in front of you, begging you to just fuck them with expensive fabrics draping across your body, hugging all the right places.
and you KNOW playboy yan is protective. if yall have any sort of relationship, platonic or even just acquaintances, and someone flirts with you or makes you smile for too long or worse, annoys you, playboy yan will be right in their face in seconds, fists bleeding from their manicured nails digging into them, an insane and dark look in their eyes as they ask if this idiot even knows who the fuck theyre talking to.
"do you know who i am? do you know whos boat your on? do you- actually, let me answer these questions for you! you dont! clearly, you dont know a fucking thing because otherwise, you wouldnt be talking to them! haha, who the fuck do you think you are, huh?! tell me! i wanna fucking know what kind of ASSHOLE does this shit at my fucking party!" theyll screech, laughing loudly the entire time, grin never faltering while they back this stranger into a corner before trying to beat them up, only stopping if you pull them away or yell at them to stop, security having to escort the stranger off the boat. if you and playboy yan are 'involved' at this point, theyll banish everyone else off the boat and spend the rest of the day begging for your approval and praise, throwing glasses and a giant fit if they dont get it.
i just love it when yanderes go fuckin crazy!!!
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newcreatures-update · 6 months
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I'm sick rn so here's some fun facts about fauns and DerCo industries that I either forgot to add to a whole post or need to remember for a more detailed post (a sneak peek if you will):
DerCo industries (the parent company for DerCo and NuaLo) was founded in Ireland, they started selling livestock feeds then branched out to veterinary with NuaLo, then they got into human medicine
Bloodletters where the first type of faun to ever exist, and where never announced to the public. Everyone working with any fauns for the company had to sign a NDA up until the great lawsuit (more on this later)
It was suggested to them to use the fast regenerating properties of the bloodletter to create "the perfect livestock"
So yeah all fauns are part human, spooky
Once lab grown and artificial meat substitutes started taking off (but they were still very expensive at this time) DerCo released their own lab grown meat (*wink wink). They became the top of the market very quickly because they were the only ones to get the taste,smell, texture and different cuts of meat to be nearly identical to the real deal
Swinelike meat tastes like something between lamb,pork and turkey. Heatherhorn meat tastes like a mix of deer, horse and mutton with a slight burnt tire aftertaste. Heatherhorn meat is typically used in pet food and never fed to humans.
DerCo industries also had to genetically modify microbes to live in the fauns gut to digest what they eat
Feral fauns mutate and evolve much faster than other animals because all members of any licenced breed are genetically the same individual, turbo incest up to the nines
Diggerhorns have extra cartilage between their joints to absorb shock when they jump over tall things
Diggerhorns coats come in two colours, chocolate (which is a deep rich brown) and silver (a mousey greyish brown)
The most common colourd spots you see on a painted urban are yellow, white and red. This is so they blend in with road signs
Patchwork bantams come in three styles, classic(every body part is a different colour), clown(mostly sticking to colours like red,blue and yellow with face markings usually around the eyes, usually piebald) and scene(black markings that clash with very saturated coats, can have multicoloured hair and/or raccoon stripes in it, smokey eyes like other feral breeds, unlike the other two styles of PB's who have black eyeliner)
Patchwork bantams are usually called sirens, not only because they're pretty and can mimic human speech and words (not kidding about that last one, they will deadass come up to you and say "hello", not in the parrot way either they literally sound identical to humans. One reblog=one faun we will teach to say fuck), but also because they can mimic the noises of cars. Diggerhorns can also do this to communicate with other groups that are far away, but these fuckers will stand directly on people's windowsills on the 7th floor at five in the morning on a Saturday so of course they'd be know for that.
Diggerhorns like in groups of 20 at most
More about the great lawsuit! The great lawsuit happened when the EU sued DerCo industries due to the injuries and illnesses that fauns caused
DerCo industries won the case because they changed the legal classification of fauns from lab equipment to actual animals, making them loose the genetic patent in the process
Before they lost legal rights to fauns, DerCo industries would take down any post whatsoever showing or mentioning fauns. The streets would be absolutely infested with ferals to the point that people couldn't leave their homes without being attacked or worse! And they couldn't post about it!
The most information people got was a 30 second segment on RTE telling them to call a number about "strange occurrences" every day
Then people started noticing the DerCo branding on the vans and PPE of the people coming to round them up and take them away...then the videos that where getting copyright claimed by "DerCo industries and working partners" left and right...
People then started wrangling ferals to keep to make breeds of their own independent of DerCo (last post shows one of these off)
After the lawsuit DerCo made the "primary palette collection" for breeders. They add no genes but colour to the fauns bloodline. Have a doe what has the genes for a brindle coat but doesn't show up because the brindle colour is the same as the undercolor? This is where the primaries come in
Fauns are all hermaphrodites, but different traits can show if they get pregnant, or they get another faun pregnant. In breeding terms, a faun that usually is the one who gets pregnant is called a beoir(pronounced "bee-ore"), and a faun that usually gets another faun pregnant is called a fíon (pronounced "feen"). This is because selectively breeding unlicensed breeds started in Limerick, Ireland
Ferals are very friendly with waste collectors, janitors and homeless people. This is because they're more likely to be fed by them
Feral fauns (especially painted urbans) are instinctually aggressive to neon reflective surfaces and people wearing PPE. Because these are colours often worn by people trying to harm them such as DerCo faun wranglers and the police
They're able to distinguish the make, model, paint job and sometimes licence plates of cars. If they see a police car they immediately tear it apart along with the people in it
Feral breeds are technically considered an intelligent species because they can start and use fire and use tools (like emotional manipulation in the case of sirens)
Many police forces started using robotics dogs to try to heard the thousands of ferals but you can guess how that turned out
When diggerhorns are threatened their growl sounds like the noise a lawn mower makes
Unlike other feral breeds of faun, feral crosses are very timid
Fauns carry an insane amount of internal and external parasites
Diggerhorns in the UK and Ireland have started taking the ecological neice of wolves by hunting deer, getting their numbers back to stable levels
Most ferals hate the texture of long grass (except diggerhorns) so lawn mowing has been banned in some places
Diggerhorns get most of their fibre intake by eating wooden structures like fences and picnic tables
Fauns will eat each others brush hair when it gets too long
There's a group of fauns that lives in the great Pacific garbage patch made up of millions of individuals. They're literally just all in the fucking ocean eating plastic and dead seagulls
I'll probably add more to this when I feel like it but yeah, there's a bunch of fun facts
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Note
Stuff like Zayn’s comments always reminds me that yes, Harry Styles did set up a pap shoot on a rich mans yacht, to capture his solo contract signing in the most obnoxious, cringeworthy piece of performance theatre PR ever seen.
If Zayn saw those photos I bet he laughed his ass off at the ridiculous arrogance on display. I bet they hit others in the band a bit differently though. Sadly.
“Greedy fuckers.” Enough said about how some of his bandmates feel about displays of wealth.
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bardinthezone · 5 months
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Rewatching the 9th Doctor after this marvelous video, and I have so many thoughts already. So prepare for an unfiltered string of thoughts about Doctor Who like it's the early 2010s again
S1E1:
I never gave Rose enough credit as a kid. I loved the cool settings and the wish-fulfillment of "run away from your responsiblities into fun sci-fi worlds." I saw myself more in Donna, the sardonic, no-nonsense not blond and pink and lame and feminine companion. But Rose is so wonderful. She's a 19 year old retail worker, with a normal relationship and normal mom. Not a genius, but she's surprisingly quick to act under pressure. And where she truly shines is her heart.
Because the Doctor is the brains. He's quippy and pragmatic and carries so much experience with him that he's become a bit distanced from the people he's trying to save. He's come to view people as dumb apes who just get in their own way and need someone like him to help him.
But the show doesn't portray this as a good thing!!! We don't start with the Doctor being Cool and Sarcastic, and Rose isn't introduced as some dumb bimbo. Rose is our POV character, the one we follow without a sign of the Doctor for the first 5 and a half minutes of the episode. She's the everyman, the one asking the questions for the audience, and the Doctor is seen as a whirlwind man of mystery, one whose only constant companion is death. The Doctor has to learn to trust Rose, but the audience doesn't.
Rose is so compassionate. She gets caught up in little things the Doctor doesn't, like finding out if her boyfriend is dead and getting her mom to safety and evacuating a restaurant full of people. She cares, she brings the Doctor back to earth when he gets too in his own head, and the show supports her for it from the start. This is one of my favorite New Who episodes, I think
Side note, I feel so bad for Clive. Poor bastard was just an average guy trying to figure out something strange (Like Rose), but he got shafted HARD. I'm glad they included Mikey and Rose both showing caution when meeting him, but also didn't turn him into a complete joke. Again, it really adds to the theme of "everyone has rich internal lives and its not up to any one person to decide if they're important". Also so does the Doctor not jumping straight to "poison the fuckers an kill em dead!!"
Also I'm never gonna get over "~pete-zzaaaaaa~"
Or the Doctor being so ace
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comforthouse · 1 year
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𝐀𝐧 𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝
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Synopsis: oh no! Your master has fleed! Now you are stuck with the job of making clothes for 11 killer clowns!
Paring: The fatui harbingers x gn!reader
About Reader: Check here
Genre: Platonic, Angst
Includes: Crack, spoilers for the harbingers, curses.
Note: I once saw a oneshot about it. Thought it would be funny lol
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" Mother fucker..." You spoke, looking at the letter in your hand. On the small paper there was a elegantly written note. If only the content were pleasant too.
It was from your teacher, a random guy who knocked on your door one day when you are 12 after your father's death proclaiming to be your god parent.
It was bullshit, you knew it. Your father wasn't religious.
I fucked up. Am on run now.
The shop is yours
Food for the next 3 years is in the basement
These were the content of the letter. Much to your dismay, you knew they was being serious after taking a look at the basement: which was definitely filled with food worth 3 years.
Hopefully they didn't mess with someone elite.
✧༝┉❅┉༝✧
"Fuckkk..."
You said while you stared at the tall man infront of you. His clothes yelling rich dilf. Hair gray and one side of his face covered with a mask.
You knew exactly who it was and you didn't like it.
" By the look of it you already know who I am. Hence I will get to the matter"
Ofcourse you did. Hell no one in Snezhnaya wouldn't know this man.
"..Lord Jester... to what do I owe this honour. "
" Are you xxx's apprentice? "
A simple question, a simple answer.
" No"
You lied. Your hands formed a cross as you vigorously shook your head.
From your master's letter you figured that saying yes will just seal your doom.
"No?"
"No i have never heard of that name in my life."
The Jester looked at you suspiciously. His brow raised before he spoke again.
" However.. You are now this place's owner, yes?"
You bit your tongue. This was a question you could not say no to. Your master had already given you the authority of this place before they ran away. And from the look on the harbinger's face. He knew it too.
"..yes"
You reluctantly answered. The Harbinger nodded, seemingly happy with the answer as he took out a scroll from this cloak.
Talking about Cloak, the one he was wearing looked similar to the one you were wearing. Just a fancier and longer version.
He handed you the scroll. Before signing you to open it; which you reluctantly did.
" By the Contract between Xxx and the fatui. If they were to run away or leave without informing her majesty the Tsaritsa or The Jester; Their apprentice is to be held accountable till he is found. If his Apprentice is not found. Then his nearest friend or family is to be taken into custody "
You looked at him, and back at the fancy scroll in your hand. You looked at him, and then at the scroll.
Saying that you wanted to find your mentor and drown him in a river would be an understatement.
" It seem that you understand the situation you are in"
The Jester spoke. His eyes drilling holes into your head. Alas, He handed you yet another scroll. Which you took not so hesitantly.
How worse could it get?
After opening the second scroll, you realized.
Alot apparently.
✄┈┈┈✄┈┈┈✄┈┈┈✄┈┈┈✄┈┈┈
.....next
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ctrl-alt-bucky · 5 months
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If The Winter Soldier was in Task force 141 — Headcannons
(Aka: can somebody teach these dramatic bitches some communication skills)
Be warned, this has a lot more words than I was aiming for (around ~739). Feel free to send me an ask if you want me to expand on certain scenarios, or send a prompt with these two and I might make a oneshot/drabble!
Contains a brief mention of SoapGhost. This version of Bucky is post Endgame. SFW.
♡ Headcannons below the cut ♡
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Nicky Fury, the therapist— and most importantly, the government— come to an agreement with the former Winter Soldier: with the Avengers fizzled out, the world needs heroes now more than ever. And so, finding an excuse to use Bucky's highly trained skills, they stick him in with Task 141, hoping the structure and team bonding will help aid his fractured mind, and hopefully dampen his grief in the process.
Ghost isn't keen on a new recruit. He doesn't like extra men to babysit, and he especially doesn't like being unsure of the rookie's capabilities. It doesn't take long for a silent feud to form between him and the newbie, who refers to himself as "Winter" for a call sign or just "Bucky" if he favors you.
Bucky, on the other hand, admires the leadership and protectiveness Ghost shows to his team. But despite that, he's just as cautious of his abilities— and more specifically: where his trust lies, between Bucky, who hasn't entirely yet merged himself with the team, and between the rest of 141, who share a rich history with the Sergeant.
In the first couple missions, Bucky finds himself frustrated with Ghost's orders. He's held the Sergeant title too, once— Hell, climbing the ranks practically required acting on command without any question. That is, until he was able to make his own decisions again. But Bucky had become accustomed to leading himself, or often following behind Steve (who knew more than anybody that telling him what to do didn't guarantee anything), not to mention the mess of Hydra and everything he did to detach himself from that life— So, he struggles with Ghost's authority, and begins to learn very quickly that challenging the non-red, skull-faced fucker is a bad idea.
On one particular morning, just a few days after their last big mission, Bucky wakes up with no arm. Fortunately for him, it's a familiar feeling of emptiness on one side. He later finds it on a shelf in the common room, displayed like a mantelpiece alongside various weapons, with a little skull etched into the bicep with black grease paint. The worst part? Ghost is the first person to sneak past him in decades. Dramatic motherfucker.
After that, Bucky finds a balance of respect and displeasure for Ghost, and works alongside him in unison. The rest of the team doesn't question his sudden change in attitude: some of them, too, had to get over that barrier, after all.
They bond over a share of books. Bucky spent a lot of his downtime before and after the army reading, and likewise with Ghost. Bucky owned a first edition of The Hobbit before he became a pawn for the Soviets, and Ghost is secretly jealous of it, having lost himself in fictional stories all the time growing up.
They also bond over their shared magnet for idiots. Specifically, idiot teammates with a tendency for causing trouble. Bucky ribs him for not making any moves on Soap, whereas Ghost defends himself with a quiet grunt and often changes the subject to something else.
The biggest thing they oppose on, however, is the subject of masks. Ghost is never seen without his, but Bucky almost never has it on unless they're on a mission, and even then, he occasionally opts out, mostly to blend in when necessary (and to help keep his memories at bay, not that he'd ever say it).
Typically, their favorite past time is sparring. Bucky has never found a non-human that can almost match him strength for strength, and Ghost likes knowing he can throw his all at Bucky without having to worry about the damage it could cause. It's the best training for the both of them; allowing their energy to drain, their skills to improve, and their banter to escalate until one of them is on top of the other, holding them down until a forfeit is called.
More than once, Bucky has been the one on the ground with his arms pinned. He claims he only admitted defeat to, "boost Ghost's ego so the miserable bastard can smile for once," but they both know it's not quite the truth.
They work as a good team and even better rivals. And though Bucky would never admit it out loud, after everything he's lost, he enjoys having an equal again. And Ghost, well... Ghost wouldn't mind keeping him around for a while, that's for sure.
That's all I've got for now! I have a NSFW headcannons draft for these two soldiers' x reader. Lemme know if that's something I should post ;D
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