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cryptotheism · 1 year

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Lilly: Good morning New Babel, you're listening to Screw Loose, your favorite early-morning exo rig and rig maintenance rig show this side of the white river, I'm Lilly.

The Bear: And I'm the Bear, and you- are on the air. What can we help you with?

Caller: Hello! Hi! So, uh, first time caller. My name is Zuri. I run a barley and flesh farm about an hour south of Isin. I'm in the market for a new rig. My last rig kicked the bucket. But I have an, uh, odd request that I was hoping you two could help give me some guidance on.

The Bear: Welcome to the show doll, we'd be happy to help. But first, I gotta ask, what were you running before and what happened to it?

Lilly: Yeah! We gotta know what we're dealing with here.

Zuri [beginning to laugh]: So we had an Arcadia Y-400-

[both hosts erupt into laughter]

Lilly: And it broke!?

The Bear: Doll what in the hell did you do to this thing!?

Zuri: [laughing] Listen! Listen! It was my grandfathers! We had been replacing parts on this thing since before I was born! It was its time!

The Bear: Lilly, is she dodging the question?

Lilly: I think she's dodging the question, Bear.

The Bear: Okay okay, so what exactly did you do to destroy this extraordinary museum piece?

Zuri: [laughing] Oh gosh I don't want to say it now.

[The hosts erupt with encouragement]

Zuri: My sons will play this game, where I'll be out working in the field. You know, rigged up, focusing on tilling. They'll sneak up behind me with their rigs on, jump up, curl up into a little ball, and try to lock themselves to my back-jack in the cargo position...

[The hosts are howling with laughter]

Zuri: They're- They're damn good at it too! My oldest, Zair, can do it in on solid motion. Its like one moment I'm minding my own business, the next moment I have a whole kid in a 100 pound work rig locked to my back!

Lilly: What a riot! Oh this is just dangerous to put on the air.

The Bear: Ahem, to all the parents at home we apologize in advance, please don't sue us.

Zuri: So- So one day- One day my youngest tries it, but he doesn't twist around fast enough, and the aux battery on the left arm clips an exposed spinal neurohelix. Zap! Neuros are fried. My legs and arms lock straight like stilts! Now I'm swearing up a storm, you know- "You little rats!" But I'm hobbling like a circus performer trying to chase em down and they're just dying. Musta been the funniest damn thing they've ever seen.

[The hosts continue to laugh uproariously at this]

The Bear: Doll we gotta get to advice part of the show or the network is gonna give YOU a show.

Lilly: What a way to go! You hit an aux to the spinal braid? That's fried. Done. Kaput. You gotta scrap that thing.

Zuri: Yeah, we've already gutted it. Old girl is rusting in the barn for parts now. Zair is a whiz, so I'm hoping he can get some good use out of it.

The Bear: So we hear you're looking for a new rig?

Lilly: What's your price point love?

Zuri: We've got a good chunka cash built up. We're looking at something in the 600 to 700 washer range.

The Bear: That's pretty good for a work rig. You've got a lot of choices.

Lilly: I have a sneaking suspicion that this price point has something to do with your special request?

Zuri: So, my oldest, Zair. I recently learned that he's been uh. Well gosh now I'm embarrassed about this too!

The Bear: Doll c'mon don't hold out on us!

Lilly: You called, we can handle it!

Zuri: I learned that Zair had been using the Arcadia to race on the weekends. He and some of the local kids would run street races at night. He's been rigging a grapple harness to the waist-jack, and stripping it before I need the rig for monday morning.

[The hosts laugh at this, though not as hard]

Lilly: Ha! So what you're saying is you want the biggest, slowest, beached-whale rig you can get? Something just impossible to race?

The Bear: I'm thinking an HR&R Pauldron, Heavy Industrial. With that type of money you can get the new 900 series. Ask for the high-stability option-

Zuri: No no! No you don't understand! The damn kid keeps placing last because he's been racing in a junker! What I'm lookin' for is something I can use as a work rig for the days, that's easy to strip and good to race on the weekends. I want it safe, you hear me? I can't stop this kid from racing, so I might as well get something that'll keep his skull together.

[The hosts explode into laughter again]

Lilly: You! You're a good mom! What I wouldn't give for a mom like you!

The Bear: Ma'am, one day, when I grow up, I wanna be like you. I wanna be that typea mom.

Zuri: So, can you help me?

[The hosts can be heard stage whispering for a moment, followed by the sound of cracking knuckles.]

The Bear: Okay. You've got a lot of good options here. My friend here wants you to get a sport rig, but that's not gonna have the torque you need for farmwork: Here's what you're gonna do-

Lilly: Would to! Have you seen what the Roadrunner 600 can do? Six point neuro uplink! Eighty pneumatic helices per leg! Tell me that's not good enough to rig a plow!

The Bear: The dirt Lil! We need solid-body articulation! Using a pneumo-helix for farmwork is like pouring sand into clockwork!

Lilly: You replace the dermis with a synthetic sheathe! I get no respect around here!

The Bear: Zuri, doll, here's what you're gonna do: You're gonna go to your local Post Office outpost. You're gonna ask if they have any old courier shipping rigs. You want middlegrade. Ask specifically if they have an Albatross W-500, or if you're lucky, an LH-640. These are long-haul light-load shipment rigs. They're ugly, but they're sturdy as hell, built for carrying things long distances through rough terrain.

Lilly: The kicker here is that they're both light-combat certified. Built-in medical and shock response treatment. You'll need to replace the medical gel canisters every few months to make sure they're fresh... And if a certain someone wanted to maybe engage in a little bit of light illegal street racing...

The Bear: Well the Albatross line is built to be constantly refitted for different weathers and terrains. So someone, not saying who, might have a real easy time stripping the plating for speed. That sound good doll?

Zuri: That sounds perfect, thank you so much girls!

The Bear: Perfect! Thank you for the call, you'll have to tell us how it goes!

Lilly: Please love we beg you! Call again! Toodle-oo!

Zuri: Thank you again!

[The caller hangs up, the show transitions into a commercial break]

#Amber Skies #Screw Loose

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bunni-v1 · 8 months

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Aommgg

Could I request the nrc staff + grim finding out you‘re a girl (plantonic)?

Or do they all know straight from the start?

TW: None

Info: Crowley, Grim, Sam, Cruel, Trien x Reader (Platonic)

🍓Hello lovely! I didn't want to make a whole long post about this, but I do want to talk about it. I'm so glad you asked! So the staff is... made aware of the situation, obviously. But, I think I'll go a little into depth on how each member deals with this information.

Crowley knows because... well... he sees you out of the ceremonial robes before anyone else does. He handles it as well as he does every other issue he comes across. "Just cover it up!" Famously said by Crowley. He's not unkind though, he does ensure that you get the help you need and he makes sure you keep what you need hidden, well, hidden. But... he won't do more than the bare minimum unless his hand is forced. Like... with Scarabia, he pretty much threatened the whole dorm with expulsion if they so much as uttered a word to anyone but amongst themselves. He is, unsurprisingly, not a father figure to you. He's more like... you're weird quirky uncle that you like, but only in small doses.

Grim, our little guy, finds out at the same time as Crowley... and he's a little harder to convince to keep his mouth shut to start. He doesn't like you, okay, you stole his position at NRC (like he had a chance at all). With a few well-placed cans of tuna from both you and Crowley, he keeps his little rat mouth shut. However, when you're actually granted studentship as NRC? His tune changes. It changes because Crowley holds his position as a student over his head, but it changes. Not a SINGLE person will ever hear you're a woman from Grim. He can't lose this position, not after so much work to get where he's gotten to. Besides, he grows to really love you! You're family to him, and no one out family. Seriously, he's so protective of it, once Ace and Deuce figure it out they're too scared to talk because of Grim's looming presence.

Sam is the first member of Staff to find out, other than Crowley. How? Crowley's sudden interest in pads, tampons, birth control, and all the fun stuff that comes with being a woman. Sam usually would just shrug his shoulders and excuse Crowley's quirky behavior, but then you come in looking like a lost deer and he gets it. He is genuinely so nice to you though! If you ever feel unsafe on campus, you talk to Sam and he'll handle it for you, okay? Sure, he jacks up the prices on your feminine products, but it's considerably less than his normal prices. Hell, if you're short, he'll "suddenly" remember he's got a discount on those items. He's like a cool older brother, honestly. He lets you hang out in the back of the shop and do homework when you ask, and he gives you snacks at a discount when you're there!

Crewel doesn't really treat you any differently than anyone else. Admittedly though, he's fond of you, even if you're a troublemaker. When you come into his class on your first day in a uniform six times too big for you, he feels pity for you. You didn't ask to be here, and now you have to wear that atrocious old uniform? You poor little pup. He's not exactly easy on you, but he's more understanding of your mistakes. Eventually, after you get to know him better, he offers to get you a nicer uniform and also privately tutor you. This is his excuse for keeping you busy so that you don't have as many chances to get found out, and it's also because you are horrifically failing his class and it looks bad on him.

Trien treats you the most differently out of everyone on staff. The SECOND he found out you were a girl and were being forced to hide that fact for Crowley's sake? Oh my god, grandpa was PISSED. Crowley got an EARFUL after that meeting. This man makes it his mission to make your stay as comfortable as he possibly can make it because sevens know Crowley won't be doing SHIT. After he meets you? Oh my god, you remind him of his own girls when they were little. He absolutely adores you, and everyone can tell. It's so odd to the other students because he clearly favors you, and when they ask you about it you've got no clue. He is your dad here at NRC, as out of character as that might be. You are a young woman lost in a world that is not kind to you going through so much more than you need to. He doesn't want to add more to your plate. You can come to him for anything and he will provide as best as he can.

Vargas (I'm sorry for forgetting about him lol) is a lot like Crewel in the fact that he doesn't treat you too differently from his other students. You're still made to push yourself to your upper limits for gym, still expected to keep up with your peers, and still expected to meet his general expectations. However, if it's way too much for you to do, out of fear of Crowley and Trien breathing down his neck, he'll lessen your load. Otherwise, he doesn't really have much chance to be around you outside of class. He finds you amusing and knows you've got a good head on your shoulders, but that's about it from him.

#bunni babbles 🍓#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#x reader #crowley x reader #sam x reader #trein x reader #mozus trein #twst crewel #crewel x reader #twst crowley #twst sam #twst grim #vargas x reader #twst vargas

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Lost the post but it was so good and I'd love to get your take on it!

Price getting videos of you playing from home while he's deployed, and you aren't exactly quiet. Well, the boys hear it and it leads to them watching it at some point (with your permission of course!). I thoroughly believe Price loves showing off what's his and is comfortable in your relationship to consider sharing you with his team, maybe even in more ways than 1?

Maybe Price and reader record themselves a separate time to show the boys? I don't know I'm frothing at the mouth thinking of Price showing you off!

I am slowly making my way through these asks!! Thank y'all so much for being patient. As soon as I clear out my list, I'll turn the ask button back on.

This premise is so hot! Hope this is sort of what you were looking for?

Show and Tell

Price opened your video in the middle of Ghost’s briefing presentation. Luckily, only the task force was in attendance, but as he played the clip, your lust-filled moans echoed throughout the small conference room, unmistakable. All eyes turned to him, and Ghost halted mid-speech.

“Uh, sorry…” Price muttered, quickly swiping away.

“Fuck, Cap. I know you showed us her photo, but she is damn fine,” Gaz chuckled, leaning over his commander’s shoulder to try and look at the screen.

“Eyes front, Sergeant.”

“Only seems fair to share, mate,” Johnny quipped, a gleam shining in his eye.

Ghost put his hands on his hips,

“If it was important enough to interrupt my presentation, maybe it’s important enough to share with the class… sir.”

Price sighed and sent off a quick text. He was asking you for permission to share. It wasn’t the first time that he’d asked you, but all the others had just been the odd picture here and there; a fancy neglige, or a holiday swimsuit… it was harmless. But, this was something else. To his surprise, you messaged back with an affirmative “Yes!” and a winking emoji.

“Fine.”

Ghost held his hand out and beckoned for the phone,

“C’mon. We’ll put her on the big screen.”

Reluctantly, and a little worried things had gotten fully out of hand, Price handed over the phone. Your enthusiastic response was the only thing propelling him forward at this point. He wasn’t possessive, but he wasn’t much of a sharing man.

But, then, there you were… in all of your beautiful glory. You were using your vibrator and sitting on the tile floor of your bathroom, burying a thick silicone dildo in your pussy to the hilt. Your moans echoed through the room again in spectacular 4k.

“Mmm! Oh! Fuck… John, fuck me. Please! Yeah! Mmm. Just like that. Ungh!”

And then the video replayed on its loop. Every time, your shining lips would buzz with the whir of the vibrating wand, and your pink pussy would stretch to accommodate the toy that you were fucking yourself with, slicking it with your fluids and making it gleam. Your tits were bouncing as you rode it up and down, and your head was thrown back in beautiful abandon.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Price decided.

Ghost handed him back the phone with a sly smile,

“Holy shit, Cap. She’s quite the little spitfire.”

Soap’s hand reached into his canvas pants and obviously adjusted himself, hardening like a stone. He let out a low, approving whistle.

“She let you share that?” Gaz asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Price nodded, not sure what to say.

“I want to see more,” Soap put a hand to his forehead in shock.

“Well, that’s all,” Price shrugged, and then added, “...for now.”

The whole room shifted a bit. Everyone was on edge. The rest of the briefing went by as quick as a flash, but before everyone left the room, Price suggested,

“You know, it would only be polite to send one back.”

Later that night, he got three enthusiastic notifications. In each one, his men were jacking off to her, complimenting her, talking about what a pretty pussy she had, thanking her for sharing with them. Unzipping his pants, Price decided to add one of his own.

As his hand worked him hard, he watched your video over and over again. He imagined how your tight little cunt felt around his cock, and how sweet you tasted. He imagined how you liked to whisper naughty things in his ear, talking to him about sucking him off in front of his task force, making them watch. Price knew you wanted to do more exhibitionism, and he encouraged you when he thought about how hot it would be to watch you discovering that pleasure.

His cock throbbed in his hands, and he whispered into the phone as he videoed himself,

“Such a naughty girl, you were, showing yourself to my men. We put you on the projector. You looked incredible, missus. You always look incredible. Had all of us achin’ for you. Thought Soap was gonna come right there. Ungh…”

Price tightened his grip and thrust into his palm, rubbing his foreskin up and over his swollen head, slicking himself with his precome over and over and over until it became almost too much. He told you,

“So, we decided to pay you back. For your gift. Hope you send us some more, baby. So fuckin’ hot. Mmm, fuck… my cock misses you, love. So bloody much. F– Fuck!”

Price’s orgasm erupted from his body, coating his belly in white, creamy liquid. He just kept coming and coming, thinking about how you would look with all your pretty holes filled twice. Stuffed so full with no escape.

He sent off the files one by one, starting with his own, and he waited for your reply.

The next morning, he woke up to two messages. One was a text, and the other was a video. The text just said: Wish you all were here with a heart emoji. When he played the video, he realized what you meant.

You had lined up your toys, four of them, all in a row on the bed. Price pressed pause and went to go find the boys. He decided it might be better if they could all see your performance together. He set you up on the projector again, and his men filed in one by one, eager to see what you’d sent.

“She said she wished we were all here, so I thought you lads might want to see what she sent.”

“Fuck yeah, we do,” Soap sat front and center, wiping a hand down his face, eyes glued to the screen.

Ghost chuckled,

“You’re a lucky man, sir.”

“That’s the fuckin’ truth, innit?” Gaz agreed.

Once everyone was settled, Price pressed play.

You were wearing a little black bodysuit made of silk and lace, and he could see your dark nipples through the fabric. He knew which one it was. It was crotchless, and just the memory of fucking you in it made him hard.

You sat on the bed, the four toys spread out in front of you, and you picked up the first one gently. You grabbed some lube from off-camera and squirted it all over the toy and leaned forward, squatting over it, working it into your asshole in tight little thrusts, moaning ever so sweetly as you let it fill you up.

Then, once it was fully sheathed inside of you, you reached for the two toys in the middle, using the lube that was left on your hands to make them slip against each other. You used one to rub through your pink folds, teasing your hole with the head of it, and then — inch by inch — pushed it into your wet pussy. You took the second one and, with quite a bit of difficulty, tried to fit it in next to the first, stretching yourself out even more than you had in the first video, even with these much smaller toys.

Price couldn’t believe his eyes. You were like some sort of sex goddess, showing off skills he didn’t even know you possessed, and your screams of pleasure were making him drunk with pride and lust. He heard a zipper go down and watched as Gaz started fucking his own hand, right in front of him.

“Sargeant,” Price admonished him, but Gaz just shrugged and kept jerking off his long dick,

“Sorry, Cap. Can’t help it.”

Another long moan from you drew Price’s attention back to the screen. You were reaching behind you, wrapping your arm around your body, and fucking yourself in the ass with the largest toy, calling out to him,

“John… please. I need your cock… I need all of your cocks… ungh, fuck. Fill me with your come. Every hole. Please?”

Then, for your final performance, you used your free hand to feed the final toy into your throat, gagging on it and letting your drool run down your chin. Your legs were shivering, something that Price knew wasn’t easy to achieve. You must be so damn horny. He smiled, palming himself over his jeans, so proud of you for bringing yourself such pleasure like that.

Ghost grunted, and Price looked over to see him hunched over, spilling his come onto the floor of the office.

The video ended, and in the silence, the captain heard the wet milking noises of his men fisting their erections, trying to come to your incredible performance.

Soap gasped breathlessly,

“Hit play again, Cap’n. Please…”

Price smiled, looking down at his team in all of their sex-addled joy, and pushed the replay button.

"Maybe we should all put in for some leave, hm?" Price suggested.

He was met with a very enthusiastic round of approving moans, and he felt the excitement rush across his skin like wildfire.

His pretty girl would have what she wanted, and he would make sure of it.

If you liked this story, you may also like one of my other fics: He Shows You Off! But, please heed the tags.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty

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generalllimaginesss · 4 months

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Here’s a little piece based on Megan Moroney’s song Reasons to Stay.

Warnings: angsty bf! Jack, toxic relationship (you can usually tell if I’m depressed or not based on what I post lmao), but like this is really really toxic so don’t read if that’s a trigger for you. I think I made myself go crazy while rereading it.

Reasons to Stay

I asked Jesus for a sign

And today I haven’t cried

It’s only 2 p.m. but that beats yesterday

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

The status of having an NHL boyfriend was alluring to a lot of girls. The fame was something that always felt new, thousands of people, strangers, screaming the name that you hold near and dear to your heart. The money eased the fear of bills and gave a freedom the average person would never experience in their lifetime. The influence that you hold as a WAG always playing in the back of your mind anytime your finger hovered over a button to post a picture, wondering if the caption was classy enough to hold your status.

The truth is that looks can be deceiving. The girls that threw themselves at Jack made for a constant state of insecurities to pool in your brain, sloshing around anytime Jack was home late or turned his location off. The money bought things that made you smile, a Louis Vuitton here, a Mercedes there, but the feeling of being in debt to the man that let hate spew from his mouth anytime you accidentally stepped out of line pulled at your being, anxiety grasping at the freedom, one not capable of being present without the other.

Was it really freedom?

Was it the price of freedom?

Maybe.

Maybe the price was the amount of tears that flowed when he rejected an outfit for you to wear.

“You’re not leaving in that. I don’t date sluts and that makes you look like one,” his reasoning rang, slicing through your ears and bouncing around anytime you bought clothes.

Today was a good day, though.

He had kissed you goodbye, asking if you would be making dinner tonight.

He’d be home tonight, you thought, willing yourself to think positive and fighting against the urge to dwell on the fact that he had come home with a hickey the night prior. He insisted it was a hickey, but you weren’t too sure about that.

But he’s yours tonight, that’s all that matters. That keeps you going; the possibility that tomorrow he will be yours is your driving thought. So you went about your day as if the life you were living were a dream and that you were living the life as the girlfriend of a famous hockey player who made millions.

Maybe it’s normal to have to be small. Maybe you just have to compensate for the huge platform that he had. He had earned it after all.

Seriously, what did you do other than keep the house tidy and go to his games? That’s normal….right?

You just had to tell yourself that it would be ok. It would be harder and messier to leave than try to push through.

And when you’re drunk at 3 a.m.

You don’t call your ex-girlfriend

It’s been a couple months since you

Brought up her name.

So I guess that’s a reason to stay.

The guys had gone out after a win, guys only. No girlfriends or wives. That’s what Jack said, at least. They were celebrating the guys achievements, some records broken, and it was just for them.

That was fine with you. He had an amazing game: his second hatty of his career. He needed a night to let off some steam and just be a boy.

The picture of him and Nico with Jack’s ex looming in the background was just a coincidence, yeah? Jack said she was a puck bunny, so she’s probably just going from guy to guy.

As soon as he walked through the door, the smell of bourbon wafted through the air, attaching itself to every air molecule in the apartment and meeting you like a familiar friend. This wasn’t the first time he had come home in this state. It wasn’t even the 5th or 6th.

“You’re up,” Jack’s words were slower than normal, the effort to produce the words coherently proving to be more tasking than normal. He took in the view of you curled up in an Ugg blanket on the plush cushions of the couch, noticing the lines that the tears had been drawing for the past hour. He took note, but not responsibility. He told you where he was and what he was doing, no harm no foul.

“Just couldn’t go to sleep,” Your voice was weakened, something you despised about yourself. You used to view yourself as strong and independent. Sticking up for what was right was was something you took pride in, but being in a relationship with Jack had slowly chipped away at that, so nonchalantly that you were the skeleton of who you once were before you could do anything about it.

Jack’s balance teetered from the left to the right, making a ship at sea during a storm look like a walk through the park. He stumbled as he tried to take his shoes off, a cue that you learned meant you needed to help him.

He did so much for you, so would it really be awful to just help him out?

As you slipped one AirForce off, you took notice of the bruises that feathered his legs, probably from the intense game tonight.

You could feel courage bubble, coming to a boil before you made your next statement, “I noticed your ex in a picture that Nico posted…what’s that about?”

“Baby,” He slurred, attempting to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear but pulling it instead, kissing your forehead after you winced at the tension. “You’re the only one that matters,” And with that he sucked you right back into his intoxicating blue eyes. They held a secret confession of his love for you. One that only you could see and he could feel.

But you don’t try like you used to

You don’t look at me the same

You used to say you’re sorry, now

Whiskey’s what you blame

How much can a heart take

‘Til it’s really your last chance

I’m a giver, but I’ve given all I can

We both know that I ain’t one to walk away

But I’m runnin’ out of reasons to stay

Things hadn’t always been like this.

Jack hadn’t always been like this.

He used to surprise you at work with two dozen roses, or wrote sweet love notes on sticky notes and stuck them to your vanity. He used to put in effort.

He used to want you.

What were you thinking, of course he still wanted you. He wouldn’t be in a relationship with you for the whole world to see if he didn’t want you, right?

He hadn’t bought flowers in a long time, though, and the sticky notes had slowly made their way to a drawer for safekeeping, none there to replace them. The vanity was bare, loneliness radiating from it every time you passed it, the feeling resonating in your soul.

It was as lonely as you.

Jack had come home drunk again last night, the smell of the liquor laced the words he shot at you with a poison that made them burn when they hit you. Everything that came out of his mouth felt like lashes against your skin.

“You’re so fucking boring, Y/N! You think you’re so perfect and you’re not! You think you’re better than everybody around you, but you’re not! You’re a fucking bitch, you cunt!”

He went on like that for at least an hour, going on and on about how he deserved better, how he could have anybody he wanted but settled for you.

It hurt even worse because it was so untrue. You battled with yourself for years because you compared yourself to those around you constantly. Jack knew this. He had been there for your breakdowns when your family had made you feel like a disappointment, or when you never thought you would be as pretty or talented as the other girls in the hockey scene.

Did he just forget this?

How were you going to smooth this over with him?

It felt like all you did was make excuses for him just to be able to live with him.

Why?

How did he completely change you? Wreck you? He had gutted out who you once were and left the bare beams that held you up. He had conditioned you to allow him chance after chance, no matter how bad he had fucked up.

And you just let him.

As the sun played a game of peekaboo through the curtains, you had made up your mind that you couldn’t justify the way he was treating you anymore. It was wrong.

The smell of bacon and eggs lured you into the kitchen to see him shirtless, standing over the stove as he busied himself with making breakfast. His back muscles flexed as he maneuvered about the stove. He looked perfect, as if he hadn’t verbally assaulted you and your character last night.

Before you could say anything, he had sensed that he was being watched, catching a glimpse of you as he turned his head slightly to the left.

“Morning. Didn’t wake you up, did I?” His voice was raspy, probably from partying for most of the night, but it sounded like he cared. It was refreshing.

“N-no. Um, I just felt like I should get up,” Reassuring him felt like an attempt to just keep the peace. Don’t say anything to set him off, don’t be combative. He’s cooking breakfast for you, so everything’s ok.

“Good. Hey, about last night…I’ll be honest I don’t remember what I said, but if it was bad it was just from me drinking too much. The boys may have gotten me to drink more than I normally do…” he trailed off as he plated the breakfast he had made for you, placing it on a placemat at the bar and pouring a cup of coffee for you, 3 creams and 2 sugars.

He remembered.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You walked to the bar taking a seat.

The morning consisted of the two of you genuinely enjoying the presence of the other, catching up on what’s going on in each other’s lives and promising to not let it get this way anymore.

Before Jack left for practice, he had placed a kiss to your lips ever so gently, “I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft and sweet.

How was this the same Jack from last night?

You were sure that you had to be going crazy.

If I go find somebody new

I’d lose your mom and sister too

You know me and how much I hate change

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

And I ain’t perfect either, we all make mistakes

But that don’t change

The Michigan sunset was absolutely breathtaking. The orange and purple hues painting a picture so perfect that it could never be replicated on a canvas. The distant sounds of the guys on the lake could be heard in the distance, the chill of the wind carrying the hoots and hollers from the water to you and Ellen, sitting on the deck attached to the back of the house.

The smell of the deck and the sound of the hundreds of frogs from the water felt like a dream, one that you never wanted to wake up from.

“Jack would probably kill me if he heard me say this, but I really hope you two get married soon. I’d love to have you as my daughter, you know? These boys are a lot sometimes…” Ellen chuckled as she nodded to the boys in the distance.

The comment caught you off guard, a response in favor felt forced, but how were you supposed to tell her that her son was making your life a living hell?

“You’d have to take that up with him,” You smiled at her, not revealing the relationship that was slowly eating away at you.

“I promised to never pressure them to do something that they weren’t ready for, so I’ll let him choose the right time. I just know we all love you. Anytime the other two call home they always ask how you’re doing. I know they talk to Jack about you, too. We didn’t think he’d ever be ready to settle down with a girlfriend, much less one as amazing as you,” She went on, pulling her jacket tighter around her as the absence of the sun left goosebumps on her skin.

“It’s getting cold out here, let’s head inside and you can help me make dinner. I believe we have some wine if you’d like some,” She stood up and headed to the kitchen, waiting for you to follow suite, you smiled.

It was almost a sad smile, grateful that even though Jack wasn’t the man he should’ve been for you, his family loved you. They made you feel safe and loved. They were a safe haven from the toxic tendencies that Jack had taken up when the two of you were in New Jersey.

“I’d love that, Ellen.”

The sound of bare feet padding rapidly against the blades of grass that ran from the dock to the deck made you and Ellen turn your heads towards the window, watching on as Quinn, Luke, and Jack were racing towards the house.

Luke won, his long legs giving him an unfair advantage against his shorter counterparts. Quinn came in second as Jack has tripped over himself.

“What’s for dinner?” Luke panted, reaching for a water bottle out of the fridge and attempting to sit on the couch.

“You’ll find out after you change out of your wet swim trunks,” Ellen gave him a stern look, him raising his arms in defense as he left to go to his room for dry clothes.

You felt an arm snake around your waist, the smell of lake water and sunscreen following behind it. At first you jumped, worried that you had done something wrong.

He chuckled at the sudden movement, not realizing that he was the problem.

“Jumpy, are we?”

You smiled, trying to not cause an issue with him.

“Sorry. Wasn’t expecting you to be so cold,” You felt nasty as you lied through your teeth.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to retreat to the shower to wash the day off of him. You took in your surroundings while he was away.

Quinn and Luke played the Xbox while Ellen prepared the vegetables for dinner and Jim smoked the meat outside. You had been loving this family for years now. You and Ellen had become so close, easily somebody you loved as if she were your own mother.

Jack wouldn’t be the only person that you would have to let go of if you were to leave. As much as you loved his family, it was only natural for them to take his side, something that you understood and admired. You could only wish somebody would take up for you no matter what, and he had 4 people willing to do that for him.

You couldn’t imagine the thought of having to start over with somebody new, having to meet their parents for the first time and being disappointed that they weren’t Ellen and Jim. Being disappointed that their siblings wouldn’t pay the extra money when they accidentally forgot to keep your Snapchat streak going since it was almost 4 years long. Quinn and Luke texted you almost as often as they texted Jack. You were like their sister.

The thought of starting over was enough to have tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. Whatever Jack had done, you couldn’t expect him to be perfect. He’s human, after all. You’d stay if it meant you could keep the Hughes in your life.

I'm runnin' out of patience

Damn, I hate to say it

I'm runnin' out of patience and grace and at the end of the day

Findin' last resort reasons we're okay

Ain't a good reason to stay

“Jack you have purple bruises all on your fucking neck! How stupid do you think I am?!” You barked at him as he sat on the couch facing you.

“Stupid enough to think this is the first time this has happened,” His smug smirk and body language made you want to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him as bad as he’s hurt you for so long now.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Jack Hughes. You are the most disgusting person I have ever met and I hope your life becomes a living hell that you can never get out of,” The words came out calmly despite their harsh meaning. It was eerie, making the hairs on Jack’s neck stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going,” He watched as you made your way to the shared bedroom, hearing the sound of a suitcase zipper open.

He jumped up, heading straight for you, but froze as he watched you throw clothes into the suitcase. When that one became full you found another one to shove your clothes into, until the only things left were things you didn’t normally wear.

“What are you doing?” He spat, realizing that the grip he had on you was being relinquished.

“What does it fucking look like? I’m done. I’ve gone crazy trying to love you and I want out. I can’t do this anymore!” You tried to yell, but your throat constricted as it tried its best to sob. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that, though. He had put you in this state of survival long enough.

“You’re going to regret this…” He trailed off, following you as you threw everything into your car.

“Maybe so, Jack. But I will never regret it as much as I regret falling in love with you. You are an awful person, and I hope everybody will see that one day,” You slammed the door shut and put the car in reverse.

As you made your way down the driveway and street, Jack’s figure became smaller and smaller. Nobody would ever make you feel this way ever again, and you felt sorry for whoever fell into the trap that is Jack Hughes after you.

HAHA IM SO SORRY!! Also this in no way reflects who Jack is in real life because I, obviously, don’t know him personally. This was so bad though, so I’m actually really sorry.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #jh86 #toxic relationship #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #megan moroney

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 month

Text

Greedflation, but for prisoners

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Apr 21) in TORINO, then Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Today in "Capitalists Hate Capitalism" news: The Appeal has published the first-ever survey of national prison commissary prices, revealing just how badly the prison profiteer system gouges American's all-time, world-record-beating prison population:

https://theappeal.org/locked-in-priced-out-how-much-prison-commissary-prices/

Like every aspect of the prison contracting system, prison commissaries – the stores where prisoners are able to buy food, sundries, toiletries and other items – are dominated by private equity funds that have bought out all the smaller players. Private equity deals always involve gigantic amounts of debt (typically, the first thing PE companies do after acquiring a company is to borrow heavily against it and then pay themselves a hefty dividend).

The need to service this debt drives PE companies to cut quality, squeeze suppliers, and raise prices. That's why PE loves to buy up the kinds of businesses you must spend your money at: dialysis clinics, long-term care facilities, funeral homes, and prison services.

Prisoners, after all, are a literal captive market. Unlike capitalist ventures, which involve the risk that a customer will take their business elsewhere, prison commissary providers have the most airtight of monopolies over prisoners' shopping.

Not that prisoners have a lot of money to spend. The 13th Amendment specifically allows for the enslavement of convicted criminals, and so even though many prisoners are subject to forced labor, they aren't necessarily paid for it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

Six states ban paying prisoners anything. North Carolina caps prisoners' pay at one dollar per day. Nationally, prisoners earn $0.52/hour, while producing $11b/year in goods and services:

https://www.dollarsandsense.org/archives/2024/0324bowman.html

So there's a double cruelty to prison commissary price-gouging. Prisoners earn far less than any other kind of worker, and they pay vastly inflated prices for the necessities of life. There's also a triple cruelty: prisoners' families – deprived of an incarcerated breadwinner's earnings – are called upon to make up the difference for jacked up commissary prices out of their own strained finances.

So what does prison profiteering look like, in dollars and sense? Here's the first-of-its-kind database tracking the costs of food, hygiene items and religious items in 46 states:

https://theappeal.org/commissary-database/

Prisoners rely heavily on commissaries for food. Prisons serve spoiled, inedible food, and often there isn't enough to go around – prisoners who rely on the food provided by their institutions literally starve. This is worst in prisons where private equity funds have taken over the cafeteria, which is inevitable accompanied by swingeing cuts to food quality and portions:

https://theappeal.org/prison-food-virginia-fluvanna-correctional-center/

So you have one private equity fund starving prisoners, and another that's gouging them on food. Or sometimes it's the same company. Keefe Group, owned by HIG Capital, provides commissaries to prisons whose cafeterias are managed by other HIG Capital portfolio companies like Trinity Services Group. HIG also owns the prison health-care company Wellpath – so if they give you food poisoning, they get paid twice.

Wellpath delivers "grossly inadequate healthcare":

https://theappeal.org/massachusetts-prisons-wellpath-dentures-teeth/

And Trinity serves "meager portions of inedible food":

https://theappeal.org/clayton-county-jail-sheriff-election/

When prison commissaries gouge on food, no part of the inventory is spared, even the cheapest items. In Florida, a packet of ramen costs $1.06, 300% more inside the prison than it does at the Target down the street:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24444312-fl_doc_combined_commissary_lists#document/p6/a2444049

America's prisoners aren't just hungry, they're also hot. The climate emergency is sending temperatures in America's largely un-air-conditioned prisons soaring to dangerous levels. Commissaries capitalize on this, too: an 8" fan costs $40 in Delaware's Sussex Correctional Institution. In Georgia, that fan goes for $32 (but prisoners are not paid for their labor in Georgia pens). And in scorching Texas, the commissary raised the price of water by 50% last summer:

https://www.tpr.org/criminal-justice/2023-07-20/texas-charges-prisoners-50-more-for-water-for-as-heat-wave-continues

Toiletries are also sold at prices that would make an airport gift-shop blush. Need denture adhesive? That's $12.28 in an Idaho pen, triple the retail price. 15% of America's prisoners are over 55. The Keefe Group – sister company to the "grossly inadequate" healthcare company Wellpath – operates that commissary. In Oregon, the commissary charges a 200% markup on hearing-aid batteries. Vermont charges a 500% markup on reading glasses. Imagine spending decades in prison: toothless, blind, and deaf.

Then there's the religious items. Bibles and Christmas cards are surprisingly reasonable, but a Qaran will run you $26 in Vermont, where a Bible is a mere $4.55. Kufi caps – which cost $3 or less in the free world – go for $12 in Indiana prisons. A Virginia prisoner needs to work for 8 hours to earn enough to buy a commissary Ramadan card (you can buy a Christmas card after three hours' labor).

Prison price-gougers are finally facing a comeuppance. California's new BASIC Act caps prison commissary markups at 35% (California commissaries used to charge 63-200% markups):

https://theappeal.org/price-gouging-in-california-prisons-newsom-signature/

Last year, Nevada banned any markup on hygiene items:

https://www.leg.state.nv.us/App/NELIS/REL/82nd2023/Bill/10425/Overview

And prison tech monopolist Securus has been driven to the brink of bankruptcy, thanks to the activism of Worth Rises and its coalition partners:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/08/money-talks/

When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time. Prisons show us how businesses would treat us if they could get away with it.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/20/captive-market/#locked-in

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whoopsyeahokay · 1 month

Text

October Sun

summary: things had gone from weird to worse in a matter of seconds. it'd seemed all your secrets had decided to reveal themselves to Wally without so much as considering how you'd feel about it. you'd guessed that was the price you'd had to pay for your choice to share yourself with a member of Split River High's Afterlife Support Group.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

sorry for the delay, beauties! i was so behind on so many things and am still nursing a rather gruesome cold 🪦 made this one longer to make up for it 🫶

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.10

You were six, sitting on your sister Aurora's lap in a hospital room. Monitors beeped—long intervals, pitched notes—and, below that, your great-aunt's rattled breathing. Everything stank of disinfectant.

Ginny lay in the bed; pruned and pale, translucent skin hanging from her bones. She was just past seventy, but had aged several decades in the two weeks since the symptoms had started. Now, she looked like the skeletons your neighbors strung up for Halloween. Ghastly. Small.

Dead.

Mommy dozed in the armchair across from you, her head at an awkward angle, mouth ajar, one hand rested on her swollen belly. For days, she'd subsisted on nothing but good ol' fashioned Celtic stubbornness, running herself into the ground to undo whatever had put Ginny in the hospital. Nothing worked. Potions, pastes, blood spells, smudging rituals; it didn't matter what Mommy and Nanna did, Ginny's doctor insisted her condition was deteriorating.

It was so strange, you thought, that Ginny didn't just tell them herself. After all, she was able to stand in front of you without assistance and seemed much healthier than she had even moments ago.

She'd been asleep, silvery and thin and wheezy, and then her eyes had popped open and she'd gotten to her feet with the grace of a ballerina. Auburn hair in fluffy curls, pinned neatly away from her face; lips bright, Victory red, and skin peachy.

She was as pretty as a picture in a church bell skirt and smart, collared blouse, the colors much more suited to her than the starch white of the hospital gown. The pendant of her necklace was now one of a pair dangling from her earlobes, silver circles glinting in the sterile light.

"Are you better?" You asked her, marveling at her loveliness.

Ginny crouched to meet you at your level and placed her hand on yours, green eyes bright as emeralds in the sun. She smiled, "Don't tell mummy. This will be our little secret." She addressed Aurora next, "I'll be back as soon as I can, pet."

Aurora nodded, solemn, and you both watched Ginny greet a young man in similarly outdated dress as he entered the room. You didn't know who he was, but Aurora must've because she offered him a watery smile, eyes glistening.

"Where's Ginny going?" You asked her.

She shushed you, murmuring, "You can't tell mom, okay?"

Annoyed, "I won't." You weren't 3, you knew how to keep a secret. You'd kept plenty for your new friend Hana. Like her crush on the crayon stealer, Simon Elroy, or how she always took two milks at recess instead of one.

"She's saying hello to Grandpa Jack." Aurora told you, but you sensed there was a lot more to it than that. You gave her your best glare. She rolled her eyes, "They're probably going to try and find out what's wrong with her."

But, "She's better, dummy," you said, craning your neck to watch her swan out of the room with a man who'd died before you were born.

Aurora sighed the way she did whenever she thought you said something stupid and pressed her hand to your cheek, forcing you to look at the bed.

You gasped, astonished that, there, under the layers of quilts your Nanna had brought, was Ginny; breath rattling, monitors beeping, white as a china doll and asleep.

That was how you learned that Traveling meant something different to your family.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

One second you were clung to Wally like a limpet, the next you'd vanished into thin air. Snapped out of existence like you'd never been there at all. Frantic, Wally looked left, right, to the back of the stage, and then spun around to face the rows of seats.

His jaw dropped, blood draining from his face. You stood at the top of the center aisle, shirt no longer rucked up the way Wally had made it; hair as tidy as it had been before he'd run his fingers through it; skin no longer sporting the perfect blush he'd coaxed to the surface.

Even from where he stood, Wally could see that your eyes burned a nebula of colors, the way they had when Wally caught up to you outside the school earlier. As soon as he'd registered it—proof that something magical had just transpired—they dimmed to their normal hue, just as the man behind you, Mr. Anderson, Wally identified, demanded, "What are you doing in here?"

He seemed angry, more so than the time Wally had watched him chew out a group of boys in the locker room showers for smoking weed. Mr. Anderson grabbed you by the arm and hauled you out of the theater like you'd been trespassing.

Wally charged up the aisle, thoughts of how you could fucking teleport taking a back seat to the desire to shove Mr. Anderson to the ground for assuming he had the right to touch you like that. The connection between you and Wally bittered, shrieked, fear and fury swirling together to pump through Wally's veins.

Oh hell no.

"I'm sorry," You apologized. Mr. Anderson released you, causing you to stumble from the momentum he'd used to force you into the hallway. "I won't let it happen again."

In an ill-fated attempt to wedge himself between you and Mr. Anderson, Wally checked the man's shoulder with his own, but little happened. Mr. Anderson had repositioned himself, almost like he'd anticipated the action, and the intention waned into a light graze. One that had no impact on the man, but that caused Wally to trip into the wall.

Mr. Anderson escorted you through the school toward your locker, gravely explaining that you'd overstayed your welcome by an hour and a half; the Wednesday team practices and club activities already packed up and gone.

Glancing outside, Wally was shocked to see the sky was dark. Apparently, making out with you was the equivalent of pressing a giant PAUSE button on the fourth dimension. He was sure no more than twenty minutes had passed since you'd jumped into his arms and kissed him within an inch of his sanity.

Teleportation and time manipulation? Wally gaped, images of his favorite comic book heroes swarming his mind. Holy shit, you were an X-Man. He had big fat feelings for a Mutant prodigy. Was he the Cyclops to your Marvel Girl?

Needing to do something to ensure Mr. Anderson wouldn't try to grab you again, Wally inserted himself between you and him. A move that appeared to influence Mr. Anderson to maintain the space Wally enforced with his presence.

Good, Wally thought, cracking his knuckles, because while he had no problem trying to beat his way into the living world to knock a few of Mr. Anderson's teeth out, he knew that would take a lot more than noble intention to pull off.

He loathed feeling helpless. Back in the day, he'd stood up for the kids who got bullied, had done his best to fend off the misguided idiots who'd used their post-puberty size for evil. Trouble was that now he couldn't do more than make a light flicker by concentrating really, really hard.

Don't be fooled: Dawn made it look easy, but it wasn't.

Finally reaching your locker, Mr. Anderson reiterated, "What were you doing in there?" His demeanor all wrong. Wally knew enough about the guy to know that, usually, he was a cool kind of dorky. Relatable. However, something had obviously possessed him because he was acting like you'd discovered his hidden collection of porn mags.

Wally didn't like it. He wanted Mr. Anderson to fuck off and leave you alone more than he'd wanted anything for a long time. Retaining his position between you and Mr. Anderson, chin up, hands balled into fists at his sides, Wally willed Mr. Anderson away.

You began, "I was just—" when Wally gritted out, stare fixed on the man's haggard face, "You don't owe this dickhead an explanation, baby."

But you spoke over him, "Mathilda asked me to look for something she'd forgotten in there yesterday. She's in the Mean Girl's Musical?" You supplied, and, jeez, you were quick on your feet.

Mr. Anderson was unimpressed, "For two hours?"

"No! No. I was studying in the library when she texted me."

Wally began to wonder how many yarns you'd had to spin for it to come so easily. Part of him was uncomfortable with the notion that it seemed like second nature to you, while another, bigger, part of him seared the way lemon juice stings a papercut.

He recognized it was self-preservation. A lifetime of harboring a massive secret that, okay, might not get you carted off in a straitjacket these days, but definitely wouldn't make it easy for you to go through life normally. He'd seen people ostracized for less.

"Do you have to get anything from the library, then?" Mr. Anderson wanted to know, the V between his brows deepening when his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. The third time in the short minutes since he'd found you.

"No." You said, cowed, even though you shouldn't be. He'd been the one whose conduct had been inappropriate. He should be begging for your forgiveness, not making you feel terrible like it was his job. "I swear, I won't let it happen again."

Wally's blood boiled.

"See that it doesn't." Mr. Anderson warned. His phone buzzed again. "Get your things and go home."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Anderson unpocketed and checked his phone as another call lit up the screen. Private, the caller ID claimed.

"You'll have to use the main entrance." He said, already backing away, "Everything else is locked up." Then he leveled you with a dark look of authority, "I assume you can make your own way out?"

Wally could feel the tension in your muscles, could hear your heart stutter behind your ribs. His fingers twitched, itching to bust the man's head right off his shoulders. And, damn, when had he last felt such violent inclinations? Even against those prima donna bullies, the rage hadn't distended into anything remotely close to this.

"Yeah, I..." You cleared your throat, "Yes."

Mr. Anderson retreated and took the next call that came through, his bark of, "Give me a minute," resonating through the empty hallway as he disappeared around the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, Wally spun on his heel to face you. You shrunk against your locker, arms folded around your middle and eyes faraway, chewing the inside of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in thought.

Wally moved into your bubble, the connection between you calmed, and smoothed his hands down your waist; one into the back pocket of your jeans, the other gliding back up and into your hair.

He pulled you gently against him, tucked your head under his chin and asked, "You good, pretty girl?"

He felt you nod into his chest, "Yeah. That was just every shade of weird imaginable. Something was off about him." You leaned away just enough to gaze up at Wally. "He's usually so...friendly."

Wally pressed a kiss to the top of your head, "I don't want you to stick around, babe. I don't trust that dude not to do something stupid if he finds you again."

"For real?" You sounded stunned, "Him?"

"Honestly? Yeah. He was giving off serious Bundy vibes. You didn't do anything wrong and he acted like you'd cold-cocked his mamma." Wally glared in the direction Mr. Anderson had gone, concluding, "Maybe he's the reason Maddie's blood was splattered all over the boiler room."

"Jesus, Wally, it wasn't a Fear Street massacre." You shunned the idea, disentangling yourself from him to open your locker. After a moment of reflection, "Do you really think he's capable?"

As you grabbed your backpack and started to shove what you needed into it, Wally leaned on the locker beside yours, shrugging, "Like I said, Bundy vibes. And I can't stop him if he decides to come back with a machete, so please," he implored, putting every ounce of urgency behind his words, "Get your stuff and let's go."

Thankfully, you took his advice without further argument. Pulled on your leather jacket, slung your backpack over one shoulder, and held your hand out for Wally to take as if it was something you did all the time.

A champagne-fizz burst in Wally's chest as he accepted the invitation, lacing your fingers together and setting a leisurely but purposeful pace toward the atrium.

"So," He began, unable to ignore the elephant in the room any longer, "When were you going to tell me you could teleport?"

It startled a laugh out of you, the kind that starts with a snort, and Wally felt a wave of fondness wash over him.

"I can't." You said. Rather, "I can, uhm, project...astrally."

Whoa. A barrage of questions threatened to spill out of him, ranging from reasonable to unstable. But, who could blame him? You'd basically just admitted that The Mind from Outer Space could, feasibly, be a real thing! Wally was as titillated as he was curious.

"Astral projection is real?" He asked in as even a tone as he could manage.

"Being a ghost is real." You countered bluntly.

And, "Touché." He conceded, "But you can't blame a guy for being surprised when something out of the Twilight Zone can happen in real life."

You seesawed your head, lips adopting a playful smile. God, you were beautiful. "Fair." You said, winking at Wally who was then forced to swallow the need to pick you up and pin you to the nearest wall with his mouth.

The air was crisp when you both exited the school. He walked you to the picnic tables near the bus stop, resting on the end of a tabletop and pulling you between his legs. Like this, you were pressed flush against him, body fitted so perfectly into his.

The connection rumbled and flared, erupting volcano-hot, determining Wally's actions. He slid his hands from your waist down to squeeze the pert swell of your ass, and dragged your hips against his.

You gasped, delicate, and let your head fall to the side to expose the column of your neck. Wally took advantage. Brushed his dry lips from collar to the hinge of your jaw, little darts of tongue and drags of teeth.

"Fuck, baby, you don't know what you do to me," He groaned, his dick fattening in his sweatpants. And he sure as shit meant it. The connection between you was driving him crazy, keeping teenage boy hormones in check an impossible battle.

He rolled his hips, chasing the friction, using the leverage he had with his hands in your back pockets to lift you into his lap. He rearranged himself on the table, slid back to sit more comfortably, and encouraged you to rut against him.

Wally kissed you like it was the last time, like this was the only chance he'd ever have to do it. Slow, deep, slick. The sounds you made, fuck, wanton and needy; moans and gasps and punched-out sighs.

And then, because, of fucking course 'and then'—your phone buzzed right in Wally's palm. Long, sequential blitzes of vibration. A phone call.

You groaned in annoyance, taking your phone when Wally graciously handed it to you, and answered.

"Hey," You greeted, head on Wally's shoulder and body still.

His mamma had raised a gentleman, he reminded himself and curled his long arms around you in a loose embrace, repeating football stats in his mind to temper his erection.

"Yeah," You were saying, "Yeah, I know, but I got caught up in the...Well, mom's a big girl, Aurora, I'm sure she can find someone else to shake the floorboards this one time."

Wally tried to give you an inquiring look but the angle was too awkward, so instead he filed that tidbit away for later, above astral projection but below In Betweens. And, shit, that's right, you were both supposed to discuss your fritzy ghost powers, not dry hump on school property. Oops.

You growled, climbing off of Wally altogether and hopping to the ground, pacing as you expressed with sarcasm and sass, "Why don't you get your new husband to do it, or are we still keeping him in the dark about the family business?"

Wally barely made out the, "Could you stop being such a selfish little brat for o—" before you hung up on who Wally surmised was your sister. With your back to him, he couldn't tell how you felt about the exchange, but from the tension in your shoulders and how forcibly measured your breathing had become, he thought it was safe to assume not great.

"You guys don't get along?" He ventured.

On a last, heavy breath, you twirled back around, "Actually, we get along really well." You sucked your teeth, "It's our mom's choice of occupation that puts us at each other's throats." Wally knew what was coming, couldn't soften the disappointment. "I gotta go." You said regretfully.

He plastered on a smirk, aiming for levity but sounding too dismayed to stick the landing, "You'd think the universe didn't want us to help Maddie."

In what Wally could only describe as a fit of absolutely fucking not, you strode right up to him, slung your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hot, middle-finger-to-the-sky kiss.

"Fuck the universe," You said when you parted, breathless, perfect, his, "I'll come in early tomorrow. Like, seven-thirty-early. Can you meet me in the parking lot?"

Repeating his words from earlier, "Anything for you, pretty girl," Wally promised, grinning at the prospect of cuddling up somewhere intimate with you in the morning.

Although his thoughts weren't wholly innocent, he recognized within himself the genuine desire to do anything to be near you, for however long you'd give him. Whether that was two minutes or two hours, Wally would be grateful.

"Great," You smiled, bright against the dark autumn evening, "I'll see you then."

A final, sweet stamp of your lips to Wally's cheek and you went on your way, Wally having to watch as you stepped over the boundary of the school grounds and into a world where he couldn't follow.

"Can't wait," He uttered and the connection between you both quieted completely.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

note: i am so sorry to those of you who the taglist isn't working for! i stg, i am trying everything i can think of to fix the links, but nothing has worked so far 💔 thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for sticking with this story despite all the technical difficulties!

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS as the taglist isn't currently working ☠️

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Sun

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night-raven-tattler · 5 months

Text

I need just one thing...

Summary: You're having a hard time and need a bit of a positive push. Your friends are ready to support you.

Characters: Ruggie, Vil, Ortho, Grim and GN!Reader (separate, platonic)

Warnings: sewing needles (Ruggie's part), food (Vil cooks), mentions of signs of distress (Ortho's part)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Ruggie's laughter could be heard from the furthest corners of the campus, and he was too agile for you to catch him and cover his mouth

You were already embarassed, yet he had the audacity to put salt on the wound

It all started when you discovered a wide tear on your uniform jacket sleeve, only after walking around with it for the whole day

It was the only uniform jacket you had, so you panicked at the prospect of having to fix it or walk around without it

And you didn't have Leona's apathy or Kalim's status to walk around without a full uniform

So fixing it was your only real option

Problem was... you didn't know how to sew

You went to your jack of all trades friend, Ruggie, for some help, but he laughed in your face

"Wow, none of the people here know how to fend for themselves, not even you! Shyehehehe...!"

So you sat next to him, hiding the tear on your uniform and blushing from embarrassement until Ruggie managed to calm down

Ruggie wiped a few tears from his eyes and reached his hand to you

"Alright, hand it over. Limited time offer!"

Hesitantly, you took the jacket off and handed it to Ruggie, who pulled out of his pocket a small box with sewing supplies

"Spelldrive pracitices get really nasty sometimes, you have no idea how many fixes and patches my P.E. uniform has. Shyehehe!"

He expertly pulled some black thread through a needle and went to work

"You gotta use a thicker needle for this uniform, the material is super thick and a small one will barely be able to get through it."

Ruggie sew the tear and, after making sure it wouldn't fall apart, he handed you the uniform to admire his handiwork

You had to hand it to Ruggie: his work was durable and hardly noticeable, you wouldn't be able to tell there was a tear in the first place

"Thank you Ruggie! What do I owe you?"

Hearing your question, Ruggie feigned contemplation by rubbing his chin for a few seconds before he just shrugged

"Nah, you just owe me a favor for now. Shyehehehe!"

You accepted Ruggie's price and walked away in higher spirits that before

Who knows, maybe you'll just owe him a back massage after a day of being pulled through the wringer by Leona, shyehehe!

『••✎••』

The other Pomefiore students were giving awestruck looks and flabbergasted gasps to their housewarden as they watched him cut up some vegetables, carefully yet slowly

It was almost as if, to some, the idea of Vil getting his hands dirty was inconceivable

Vil couldn't be bothered by the shock of his students, however

If he were honest, he was actually quite insulted at their indignation

"Have you never seen anyone perform a basic life skill? If you have nothing productive to say, leave."

And, with a few words, he shooed away the students from the Pomefiore kitchen

Vil took a mental note to have a dorm meeting later that day and redefine his students' definition of beauty...

He recognised the beauty of his friendship with you and the trust you've developed with each other

And he recognised the beauty in the vulnerability you showed him not too long ago

His search eventually lead him to your dorm, where he found you trying to manage a nasty cold all by yourself

Vil dropped by your dorm to check up on you; he didn't see you around campus, and your friends said they haven't seen you all day either

You were caught in the rain the other day, and you couldn't change into dry clothes right away, so you were nerfed soon enough

Vil was not the nicest person out there, but he was kind, and you knew that

But you still were surprised when he asked what you needed, and not if you needed anything

And you also knew that if you tried to argue with him and deny his help, he'd dig his heels in and nurse you back to health all by himself

"...Just some soup. I miss my family's homemade soup..."

He wasn't the best cook, but he knew the basics, which were enough

And so he let you rest while he went back to his dorm to prepare the best soup he could

Fortunately for him, he bumped into Epel in the kitchen, who recommended him a few recipes from his grandma and gave him some pointers before running to his spelldrive practice

Vil chopped the vegetables from Epel's recipe and put them in the boiling water, gradually adjusting the food to your tastes

In no time, the soup was done, so he put some into a container and headed straight to you

Vil recognised the beauty in many things, especially when it came to you two

And currently, he couldn't deny how beautiful your genuine smile was as you sat comfortable in bed and slowly sipped his offering, one spoonful at a time

All while you listened to him talk about his experience with cooking and that new potion study he's been waiting all day to share with you

『••✎••』

The moment Ortho's eyes fell onto you, his scanners told him how bad your day was

You had low levels of energy, hydration and focus

On top of that, your uniform had its knees dirty and a small rip on a sleeve

At least you had no physical injuries

However, you made it your personal mission for the day to talk to as few people as you could; not even your best friends were with you

Ortho figured he'd approach you during your shared potionology lesson you were about to have in the botanical gardens

But you never showed up for the lesson

No one knew where you were, they only saw you enter the building

So Ortho decided to skip class for the first time of his short student life and look for you

It wasn't too hard for him to do so, and soon enough he detected your presence behind a few bushes in the subtropical zone

...he also detected the muffled sound of sobs, paired with an increase of distress and elevated blood pressure

He silently approached the bushes

And you raised your head at the sound of his jets

You quickly wiped some of your tears, putting a wobbly yet sincere smile

"Hello, Reader!"

"Hi, Ortho..."

Ortho sat himself next to you and, before you could think of ways to deal with the slightly awkward silence, he spoke first

"You are in distress."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his bluntness, especially since his assessment was, as always, correct

"...Yeah, kinda."

He knew he should've looked up how to comfort you, it was unlike him to not use the readily available search engine he was built with already

And yet, he found himself saying words he's never spoken before

"Offering comfort is an appropriate response for someone in distress. How do you want me to offer it?"

He waited patiently for you to wipe your tears and give him your answer

"Just a hug..."

Your shaky voice carried your plea, and Ortho was faced with what he could only describe as surprise

Ortho was not in the appropriate gear to fulfill your request

His "body" was hard and cold, the worst for the task you gave him

But he never left tasks unfinished, so he hugged you as tightly as he thought was humanly acceptable

And you held him just as tightly, if not more, as the dam broke and you cried your tears

Ortho hesitated before he started playing calming music from his speakers as he hugged you just a little bit tighter

『••✎••』

It was that time of the week when Grim walked to you on his back paws with a comb in between his free paws, ordering you to brush his fur

Usually you were more than willing to accept the job: ever since you've been living together and participating in Grim's maintenance, his fur became shiny, smooth and blissfully soft

It was part of why he started to enjoy the routine, and even kept track of it

But that day, it was... just not a good time

You just had a long day, and as much as you would've loved to do nothing but brush Grim, you had no energy left in your body

"Sorry, Grim. I really can't. Tomorrow?"

You didn't even change out of your uniform, you just plopped onto bed and laid there, fully expecting Grin's usual complains

But you heard nothing but the sound of metal touching wood

Your were barely awake when you felt the mattress sink into the bed slightly, followed by a few small feet climbing on your back

...and claws sinking into your jacket comfortingly as a certain someone was kneading into you

A small purr started rumbling from above you, and you started drifting off...

You woke up in the middle of the night

You tried to get up, but you had something heavy on your back

After rolling it off you, you realised it was Grim

You smiled towards him and pet him, and he curled into himself, sighing contentedly

You changed into your pyjamas and set up an earlier alarm so you could brush Grim's fur in the morning before crawling back into your bed and falling back asleep

『••✎••』

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ruggie bucchi #vil schoenheit #ortho shroud #twst grim #twisted wonderland grim

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lostquinn · 6 months

Text

Late is better than never

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn! Reader

(Angst + fluff)

Kidnapped reader, implied torture, mental break

In which an emotionally destroyed reader gives up after being kidnapped, only to be saved by their Knight in military fatigues.

Hello lovelies, have some cute doctor who inspired angst with a topping of fluff! Been very distracted but I'm trying to get back into writing!

Word count - 569

You sat bound to a chair, your body aching and bleeding. You had been taken hostage half a week ago and so far had seen no sign from anyone in the 141 that you would be rescued, least of all Ghost. Surprisingly, that was what hurt most.

"Tell us, pretty bird, where is your precious Ghost that you promised would come for you?" Your captor chuckled.

"God knows where he is right now but I promise you he is doing whatever the hell he wants and not giving a damn about me," Your voice cracked as you spoke, your head hung low. Tears stung at your eyes. They had broken your spirit. "And I'm just fine with that,"

"Yet you would be here if the roles were reversed," the man chuckled. Footsteps filled the air.

"When you love Ghost, it's like loving the stars themselves. You dont expect a sunset to admire you back!" You chuckled, almost in disbelief that you ever thought he was coming. "And if I ever happen to find myself in danger, let me tell you. My lieutenant is not stupid enough or sentimental enough, and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me,"

Tears streamed down your face, staining your cheeks as you sobbed. Your heart ached as you knew that every word was the truth. Maybe if you were better. Maybe if you were someone else, he would be here. But never for you.

You were a fool to believe that he would ever come, that any of them would come. You weren't Soap or Gaz. You were just another Sergeant there to help the team. You didn't matter as much as the rest of the team.

Bang. Thud.

The man in front of you fell to the floor, a hole between his eyes before footsteps surrounded you. You felt someone untying you, their hands shaking slightly.

Someone walked around in front of you, crouching before you. Their gloved hand grabbed your chin, his gloved hand, and tilted you head up so that you were looking into those all too familiar warm brown eyes.

"Hello love," Ghost muttered, his voice low.

Before you knew it, your hands and legs had been cut free with a little "there you go lass," from Soap and you fell into Ghost's arms.

Ghost cradled you against himself, one hand tangled with your hair and the other rubbing little circles on your back as he held you close. The cold man held you tight, as if he was scared to lose you... as if you mattered.

"You came," you cried into him, desperately holding onto his vest. It felt as though letting go meant he would disappear.

"I'd have come a lot sooner, but fucking Price wouldn't let me come alone," he chuckled, pressing his lips against your temple.

The act made you look up, staring up at his lips. He'd pulled back his mask for you, just a little, but it meant the world to you. You nuzzled back against his chest. His lips were soft and dry, red from where he had been nervously chewing on them.

"I can't believe dragging me along was enough for him," Soap chuckled. "Old bastard said we shouldn't come back if we dont have you,"

"It's okay," you smiled against Ghost's chest, tracing over the union Jack on his uniform with your thumb. "Late is better than never,"

#writers on tumblr #writing #fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff #x gn reader #cod mw2 #ghost #simon riley x reader #angst

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dailyadventureprompts · 6 months

Note

do you have anything on the Neogi?

youtube

Coincidentally this ask came in around the same time as I'd watched the above video and had a lot of disagreements with it (in addition to being annoyed out of my brain by the editing style).

In my opinion: the Neogi are actually a great villain monster because in their role as merchants/slavers of the cosmos they embody the most monstrous aspects of capitalism IE the willingness to reduce other living things into commodities for the sake of self enrichment.

Several lore entries on the Neogi refer to their mindset as "utterly alien" because they see all life as property. This makes me laugh because all you have to do is spend any time around Anarcho-capitalists and you'll hear people who are so far up their own profit-driven-asses that they'll not only defend the property rights of slave holders, but the "rights" of impoverished people to sell themselves and their families into slavery.

We live in a world today where people who need medicine that costs pennies to make have to go into life-ruining debt in order to afford living another month, year, etc. None of us are truly free when all of us need water, food, shelter, and yet all of these things cost money, forcing us to work to continue our existence. In this way, you can see the funhouse mirror logic of Neogi thinking it's reasonable to use magical compulsion to force others to do their bidding. What's the difference between the Spider-merchants using their mindbeams to force someone into indenture, and a grain merchant who jacks up their prices during a famine? It's just good business, and at least the Neogi are honest about it.

Conversely, their position as merchants puts them in an interesting place in the monstrous rogue's gallery. Unlike most other enemies the party is going to fight, the Neogi are willing to cut a deal. You could probably pay them to stop their villainous plan, or even outright help the heroes... it's all just a matter of whether or not the party is capable of meeting their price ( materially or ethically). Failing that, they can just show up as sketchy merchants provided you avoid any and all comparisons to Watto

They also have great utility in causing other adventures to happen, whether it be in transporting strange creatures that will inevitably escape, or kidnapping the party to sell off on a hostile world.

While I'm at it, check out my take on umberhulks, the default Neogi henchman.

#neogi #villain merchant #spelljammer #leng #villain psionic #footnotes on foes

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robertreich · 1 year

Video

youtube

The Biggest Economic Lies We’re Told

In America, it’s expensive just to be alive.

And with inflation being driven by price gouging corporations, it’s only getting more expensive for regular Americans who don’t have any more money to spend.

Just look at how Big Oil is raking it in while you pay through the nose at the pump.

That’s on top of the average price of a new non-luxury car — which is now over $44,000. Even accounting for inflation, this is way higher than the average cost when I bought my first car — it’s probably in a museum by now.

Even worse, the median price for a house is now over $440,000. Compare that to 1972, when it was under $200,000.

Work a full-time minimum wage job? You won’t be able to afford rent on a one-bedroom apartment just about anywhere in the U.S.

And when you get back after a long day of work, you’ll likely be met with bills up the wazoo for doctor visits, student loans, and utilities.

So what’s left of a paycheck after basic living expenses? Not much.

You can only reduce spending on food, housing, and other basic necessities so much. Want to try covering the rest of your monthly costs with a credit card? Well now that’s more expensive too, with the Fed continuing to hike interest rates.

All of this comes back to how we measure a successful economy.

What good are more jobs if those jobs barely pay enough to live on?

Over one-third of full time jobs don’t pay enough to cover a basic family budget.

And what good are lots of jobs if they cause so much stress and take up so much time that our lives are miserable?

And don’t tell me a good economy is measured by a roaring stock market if the richest 10 percent of Americans own more than 80 percent of it.

And what good is a large Gross Domestic Product if more and more of the total economy is going to the richest one-tenth of one percent?

What good is economic growth if the way we grow depends on fossil fuels that cause a climate crisis?

These standard measures – jobs, the stock market, the GDP – don’t show how our economy is really doing, who is doing well, or the quality of our lives.

People who sit at their kitchen tables at night wondering how they’re going to pay the bills don’t say to themselves

“Well, at least corporate profits are at record levels.”

In fact, corporations have record profits and CEOs are paid so much because they’re squeezing more output from workers but paying lower wages. Over the past 40 years, productivity has grown 3.5x as fast as hourly pay.

At the same time, corporations are driving up the costs of everyday items people need.

Because corporations are monopolizing their markets, they don’t have to worry about competitors. A few giant corporations can easily coordinate price hikes and enjoy bigger profits.

Just four firms control 85% of all beef, 66% of all pork, and 54% of all poultry production.

Firms like Tyson have seen their profit margins skyrocket as they jack up prices higher than their costs — forcing consumers who are already stretched thin to pay even more.

It’s not just meat. Weak antitrust enforcement has allowed companies to become powerful enough to raise their prices across the entire food industry.

It’s the same story with household goods. Giant companies like Procter & Gamble blame their price hikes on increased costs – but their profit margins have soared to 25%. Hello? They care more about their bottom line than your bottom, that’s for sure.

Meanwhile, parents – and even grandparents like me – are STILL struggling to feed their babies because of a national formula shortage. Why? Largely because the three companies who control the entire formula industry would rather pump money into stock buybacks than quality control at their factories.

Traditionally, our economy’s health is measured by the unemployment rate. Job growth. The stock market. Overall economic growth. But these don’t reflect the everyday, “kitchen table economics” that affect our lives the most.

These measures don’t show the real economy.

Instead of looking just at the number of jobs, we need to look at the income earned from those jobs. And not the average income.

People at the top always bring up the average.

If Jeff Bezos walked into a bar with 140 other people, the average wealth of each person would be over a billion dollars.

No, look at the median income – half above, half below.

And make sure it accounts for inflation – real purchasing power.

Over the last few decades, the real median income has barely budged. This isn’t economic success.

It's economic failure, with a capital F.

And instead of looking at the stock market or the GDP we need to look at who owns what – where the wealth really is.

Over the last forty years, wealth has concentrated more and more at the very top. Look at this;

This is a problem, folks. Because with wealth comes political power.

Forget trickle-down economics. It’s trickle on.

And instead of looking just at economic growth, we also need to look at what that growth is costing us – subtract the costs of the climate crisis, the costs of bad health, the costs of no paid leave, and all the stresses on our lives that economic growth is demanding.

We need to look at the quality of our lives – all our lives. How many of us are adequately housed and clothed and fed. How many of our kids are getting a good education. How many of us live in safety – or in fear.

You want to measure economic success? Go to the kitchen tables of America.

#youtube #videos #economics #inequality #video #politics #money #cars #housing

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squirmifyoulike · 3 months

Text

A pred that's a king.

Usually, he makes a great effort to appear sophisticated, and, all things considered, he's generally a good king. He's fair to the common folk of the kingdom, and, realizing this, most people love the king. Generally, he is also genuinely kind, sweet, and gentle; he visits libraries, hospitals, schools, etc. to talk to the children and sickly and help them out. Of course, being so gentle, it's easy for some people to get the wrong idea - that he's weak. His true talent hardly ever shows...

That is, unless someone makes him mad.

Now, he would never eat common folk. No, no. He has standards for himself as a king, and most people don't deserve to end up in his stomach. How would that be fair? He wields almost all of the political power in the kingdom... But there is also a council that helps the king, and there are many rich families of nobility around. So, when he eats, you can be certain it's a political rival, noble, or pretty much anyone with power.

And it's all worth nothing once they end up in the pred's belly.

Being in a position of power in the kingdom is dangerous. As far as the king is concerned, you are almost ALWAYS on thin ice. If he finds out a noble is trying to bribe the council? They're done. If he finds out a member of the council is trying to introduce a shady bill to jack up prices? Gone. Done.

And their punishment is almost always something public, too. While there are no formal ceremonies that show a king gulping down an advisor/noble, he does freely lounge on his throne while his meal is... Punished. Each loud gurgle and groan echoes throughout the extravagant throne room, and the muffled cries and protests of the king's meal can be heard. Of course, at this point, any excuse that the king's meal can spit out is worth nothing. They're already deep in the pit of the pred's gut, facing their punishment for whatever act the king decided he didn't like. And it's a long, slow process, too - which means that everyone gets to watch the progression of the king's meal.

In the first few hours, it's always rigorous, intense writhing and squirming, with handprints grinding along the king's stomach as the prey frantically tries to push out. Once a few hours have passed, though, the prey's exhausted themselves, and digestion is REALLY starting to ramp up. The king's stomach is still shifting and squirming, but now, the movements are much weaker and pathetic, with hardly a bulge poking out of the king's stomach. The time between the stomach shifting gradually grows longer and longer... Until finally, there's one last 'thump' in there... And then, it doesn't happen again. At this point, the king finally runs a hand over his engorged, round belly and lets out a satisfied sigh. His punishment has succeeded; now, he gets to enjoy the rest of digestion in peace and quiet.

#tw vore #v.ore #vore tw #fatal vore #soft vore #digestion #tw fatal vore #implied digestion #unwilling prey #male pred #ambiguous prey

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prosciuttulipa · 4 months

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What profession would La Squadra be in, if they weren't in the mafia?

aka what normal jobs La Squadra would use their Stand abilities for because I love being a bit silly

Risotto: Blacksmith/Artisan

I feel this is rather intuitive, with Metallica. He's one of the most sought after blacksmiths in Italy, and is famous for producing kitchen knives. Any self-respecting chef knows of Risotto's knives— the word around is that his knives are so sharp, they cut through bone like butter. They require little to no maintenance, not to mention the fact that it takes years for them to start getting dull. Because of their outstanding quality, Risotto's knives are constantly in high demand, so much so that he's able to jack up the prices to eyewatering amounts. They're also limited in stock, since he only makes 52 a year, one for each week.

(He can definitely make more, but why bother? Work smart, not hard.)

He also has other side brands to his blacksmith business. He has a branch for barber supplies—razors and hairdressing scissors, whose blades also share that signature sharpness. He tried to start a side brand for stationery, but quickly stopped production when it was reported that kids had hurt themselves on the scissors and mechanical pencils. Luckily, the scandal was quickly forgiven, seeing that Risotto had covered these kids' medical fees as soon as he was notified.

His favourite side brand, however, is his jewellery. It's a hit amongst the goth and emo communities, who enjoy his horror-inspired designs. There's one design that has been affectionately dubbed 'Ghosties': little monsters with ghoulish faces, wiggling around in bunches. His most popular product is his blood jewellery—buyers send him a vial of their blood, and he transforms it into a jewellery piece of their choosing. The patterns on the metal arise from the makeup of the client's blood, making each piece one-of-a-kind.

Prosciutto: Winery Owner

Rotting is just a hop, skip and a jump away from fermenting, and The Grateful Dead always delivers results.

Prosciutto's wines are an enigma to connoisseurs. A general rule of thumb is that wine is better the longer it's been fermented, but Prosciutto's year-old wines taste like they've been aged for decades. This makes his actual, decade-old wines the pinnacle of decadence: rich, smooth, and unforgiving on the wallet.

His winery produces all sorts, but he's most famous for his red wines. They're full-bodied and complex the way a symphony is, each layer arising with an almost engineered exactness. Many say that he's managed to manipulate the precise amount of fermentation for each component—a compliment that Prosciutto receives with a wry smile.

Most people are happy to accept that wineries have their trade secrets, but Prosciutto's one generates more discourse than most. His winery has been the subject of many a rumour—that he steals and resells other wineries' products; that he adds illegal substances into his wines to make them taste that good; that he's a nepo baby who inherited his father's wine collection and is just slapping his own brand onto old bottles.

It's when an investigative journalist tries to break into Prosciutto's winery, only for his body to turn up in a river a week later, that the rumours stop circulating. There have been a few more attempts to unveil the winery's secrets since then, but each one has resulted in more dead bodies. If it's a competing winery who's trying to do some digging, they find that an entire decade of their wine goes bad the very next day.

Because of this, Prosciutto's winery has also earned the nickname, 'Azrael's Wine'. It hasn't affected sales in the slightest.

Formaggio: Heister

I'm certain that there are other jobs which Little Feet would be useful for, but Formaggio likes to live life on the edge. He's the only person (aside from Illuso) that I can see willingly choosing a life of crime, if he had a chance for a do-over.

So yes, he absolutely would abuse his abilities to steal things. He starts small at first, nicking wallets and watches, taking them off their owners without piquing their notice. But as he grows more confident, he pulls off more elaborate robberies—stealing diamond necklaces off their stands in broad daylight, sneaking into safes by shrinking to the size of their locks, breaking them from the inside out. He's more than able to get in and out without a trace, but Formaggio is a cocky bastard, and leaves a shrunken shoe at each scene, a sign that he was there and got away with it. As his crimes start to gain traction, the shoes earn him the nickname, 'Ken Doll'.

His biggest heist is when he steals the chandelier from Tiffany's. It takes a week to pull off, unscrewing the chandelier slowly and imperceptibly, shrinking parts of it in the night. He has to live inside the chandelier the entire time, but he doesn't mind; it's beautiful, and he feels like he's in a mansion. But as soon as the last screw is undone, he shrinks the chandelier and stuffs it into his pocket, taking off with a triumphant cackle. The only evidence that he was there is a cheeky, normal-sized shoe hanging from the ceiling.

Illuso: Storage Facility Owner (?)

I feel like Illuso is the sort of person you imagine when someone says, "I know a guy," and Man in the Mirror doesn't help his case in the slightest. Or maybe that's how he likes it. Hard to tell, with Illuso.

On his business cards, he's a storage facility owner. He owns several warehouses, and they're well maintained. Companies who store with him are impressed by how neat everything is, not a single dust particle to be found when they retrieve their items. Contrary to popular belief (re: his resting bitch face), he provides excellent customer service, things showing up where and when they're needed without a hitch.

But there are a few things about the operation that feel a bit...off. There are no employees in these warehouses, save for the occasional elderly cleaner. Illuso doesn't hire any delivery trucks for his company, which doesn't line up with the amount of things he has to store and transport. Then there's the matter that all the storage rooms are lined with mirrors. It strikes his clients as strange—what if something falls and shatters the glass?—but they never comment.

One time, a salesman had forgotten his things in one of the storage rooms, having just delivered 20 boxes of supplies. He returned to the room, and to his surprise, found that nothing was in there, save for what he had left behind. Distressed, he went to find Illuso, saying that someone had stolen his company's supplies.

"Relax, sir," Illuso had assured him, with a smile that the salesman didn't dare question, "everything is safe with me, I assure you."

After all, what safer storage is there than a mirror world?

Melone: Fortune Teller for Couples

Melone will be making no strange creatures with Baby Face, but he will be using it to predict couple compatibility, and the character of their children, should they want any.

At first, he started off by giving predictions to his girl friends when they met on Sundays for tea, accurately guessing whether the new person they were dating would be a hit or a miss. It had been all fun and games at first, but when it became clear that Melone's accuracy was damn near perfect, Sunday tea times were taken with all the seriousness of a prophecy. His friends invited more friends, who invited more friends, until he ended up just opening a stall on Sundays to predict couple compatibility.

Apart from his skill, Melone's personality made him a major hit from the get-go. He gave surprisingly good advice that wasn't just "incompatible horoscopes", offering insightful ideas about communication, boundaries and care. However, he would occasionally forget to follow what he preached, becoming enamoured with how pretty a woman's skin was, or explaining in entirely too much detail how fertile someone's husband would be if they wanted children.

He became significantly more careful with his tongue (both literally and figuratively) when he was scouted by radio for his predictions, widening his audience to the entirety of Italy. His show, 'Matching with Melone', aired during Sunday tea times, during which couples would send in their details and horoscopes. There was doubt as to whether or not Melone's accuracy would hold up, but without fail, he managed to predict the fortune or downfall of each couple he interviewed.

Once, a listener rang in, saying that Melone had predicted the outcome of their relationship incorrectly. The man had laughed, and answered, "Darling, Melone is never wrong. Only your horoscope is."

It turns out that, as always, Melone was right. The listener thought that their partner was a Pisces, but it turns out they were an Aries instead. Oops.

Ghiaccio: Freezer Warehouse Owner

Unlike Illuso, Ghiaccio's business is fairly cut and dry. What you see is what you get, with White Album keeping his freezers cold all year round. He's only got one warehouse, located near the coast for fishermen to dump their produce in.

There's honestly not much to say about Ghiaccio's life. He keeps out of people's way, finding them irritating most of the time; his job is a means of money, not purpose. Aside from the daily check that his freezers are still freezing, he spends most of his time relaxing on the dock, hanging out with Pesci (elaborated on in Pesci's part). He hates that the coast is such a popular tourist spot, though. He can't stand it when he hears foreigners mispronouncing Italian words.

Otherwise, it's a quiet existence. Sometimes, when he's feeling it, he'll freeze a path into the sea, standing on the ice to watch the stars.

Pesci: Fisherman

True to Beach Boy, Pesci finds a quiet and fulfilling life as a fisherman. Although his ability ensures that he has a catch every time, he makes sure not to overfish, so that the ecosystem stays balanced. He doesn't have his own stall at the local fisherman's market, preferring to sell his catch from his boat instead. He finds that he's able to converse with the locals in a much more intimate manner this way, taking his time to chat with them instead of hurrying them off for the next customer.

Once he's sold everything for the day, Pesci spends his afternoons trying to teach Ghiaccio how to fish; Ghiaccio had approached him about it, the man saying that he had heard it was a good way to learn patience. It's been slow going. Sitting on the dock and waiting for a fish to bite has not seemed to produce any further patience for Ghiaccio, but he returns day after day out of spite. Though, Pesci likes to think it's a little bit for his company as well.

They talk idly about town affairs and daily life, otherwise happy to sit in silence. Every so often, Pesci will use his ability to guide a fish onto Ghiaccio's line, smiling as his friend lets out a triumphant shout. It feels good, to give back.

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sbk-zgvlt · 11 months

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Imagining Sebek and any of the first years visiting his hometown and Sebek’s trying to steer them away from anyone jeering at him for being half human. This does not work well, because the first years are all impulsive and protective. This can include Ortho, they can be besties as a treat!

I HAD A SIMILAR CHAT WITH YALL-GOT-ME-FUCKED-UP ABOUT THIS

We decided to let ALL the first years come, as a treat 🫶 I...treated this like an event lawl

It starts off with the first years finally arriving at Sebek's hometown; they enter the town square after getting LOST because SOMEONE (Could be any of the first years ngl HAHA) got distracted and didnt follow Sebek as he went through the forest. This actually causes them to come upon a snake fae, who is...surprisingly nice!!!

Ace wonders out loud why Sebek couldn't be as nice as they are, and as if he was summoned Sebek finally finds them. He scolds them for not following after him, and is shocked to see the snake fae. He's quick to shut down any kind of greeting or nice pleasantries the snake fae wants to have with him and finally leads the first years to the town square.

Grim asks him why they couldnt chat for a little while longer. Sebek tells them theyre running late anyway. The moment they enter the square, all eyes are on Sebek. People are whispering to each other and pointing, but Sebek pays no mind and walks confidently, head held high. Ortho says that it's normal for Sebek to be famous since he's Malleus' retainer. Yuu mutters to themselves if the fame ever got to his head.

They finally arrive home, where we find out that it's only Mama and Papa Zigvolt. Sebek's siblings' breaks weren't able to synchronize with Sebek's, so theyre not allowed to be let off until next week, which is when Sebek and co. will finally leave. Sebek only nods in understanding, asking if they need any help.

Lidaeus says that he needs some ingredients so he can cook, but him and Esme will just get them later once the first years have settled in. Epel says that they can get them instead, as a thanks for letting them stay over. Esme and Lidaeus look worried at that, but before they can say anything Sebek immediately agrees to what Epel has suggested, grabs the money from Lidaeus and leaves with the group.

He assigns a bunch of ingredients to each first year and gives them part of the money. After careful deliberation, Sebek suddenly adds more money from his own wallet. When he walks away to get his ingredients, Jack comments that Sebek added money from his own pocket. Deuce wonders if this is Sebek's way of telling them that they could buy things for themselves, only for Grim to ruin the moment by saying that Sebek was probably flaunting how much money he had. Yuu scolds him and they go off to buy the ingredients needed.

After a few hours, they regroup minus Sebek and it's revealed that ALL of the money went to buying the ingredients. Grim laments the fact that he couldn't buy anything for himself, but Ortho observes that the prices were unusually high to begin with.

Deuce notices that Sebek hasn't come back, and as if on cue, he arrives. He looks frustrated, and Epel asks where his ingredients are. Sebek admits to them that all the shops have ran out of what he needed, and Jack suddenly points out that there was salmon in his part of the list. "That's a shame. Salmon is your favorite, right?" Sebek looks shocked that he remembers such a thing, before huffing and saying that it doesn't matter anymore anyway. They head back.

Lidaeus and Esme welcome them back, before immediately fussing over Sebek. Sebek tells them that he couldn't find some of the things from the list, including the salmon. His parents look oddly uncomfortable when he says it. Lidaeus tries to cheer his wife and son up by saying that he could cook up something else. He tells the first years to relax and make themselves at home. They do just that and go to the guest room, where all of them put down their things and sleeping bags.

They settle in, and Yuu asks the first years if they've ever visited a friends' hometown before. Adeuce have not, Epel asks if biking for 3 hours to go to school in a different town counts, and Jack says there was never any reason for him to visit anyone since his friends were just nearby. Then there's Ortho. Sebek butts into their conversation and tells them if they have any plans for tomorrow. Ace points out that HE should make a basic layout first since he knows more than them.

Sebek looks a bit hesitant before telling the first years to avoid going to the town square as much as possible. They immediately argue over this, since most of the fun activities include going out to the town square. Sebek says they can handle it since he always stayed in the house as a kid (unless he trained with Silver), so why couldn't they? "Uh, because we actually crave human interaction? No wonder you don't have any friends." Ace comments, the other first years scolding him a bit before saying that he has a point. Sebek actually looks a bit hurt by that, before saying that they could go into town for all he'd care.

They eat dinner, Lidaeus is an amazing cook btw, and they go to sleep. When they're in their rooms, Lidaeus and Esme have a conversation in the kitchen about how happy they are that Sebek seems to have found a group of friends. Then, they start worrying about what will happen for the duration of their stay, and hope that they don't get into trouble.

The next day, they group head out to town! Of course, not without Lidaeus reaching out to Yuu and...surprisingly, Ortho! He says that they seem like the more "responsible" ones of the group (Yuu chokes on thin air), and tells them to look out for each other. The town can be a bit...too much. He tells them to look out for SEBEK, most especially. Yuu and Ortho promise that they will.

They go into town, and just basically explore! They do it by themselves (Epel, Deuce, Sebek) or by group (Yuu and Ortho, Grim and Jack and Ace). There are some incidents where people are unusually snappy or impatient with them, or ignore them when they're trying to ask about something they're interested in.

It all comes to a head when some commotion in the market catches Deuce's attention. He approaches, and a small bunch of fae are crowding around this one stall. He realizes that it mainly sells fish, including- you guessed it: salmon. Deuce doesn't understand how Sebek missed this stall when he finally overhears their conversation. It turns out that the fae who owns it wouldn't let Sebek buy anything at all. "The freak even tried to beg for it, saying that his parents would be sad. Let them be sad for all I care! Serves them right for making the likes of him. I don't know why the prince lets him walk around so freely." The surrounding faes laugh and agree. Deuce sees red.

Sebek suddenly hears a crash coming from the market, and immediately rushes over. Deuce was arguing with the stall owner, when he destroyed a part of the stall in his rage. The surrounding faes gang up on him, saying that they should've never let humans into this town, even as visitors. They reiterate, replacing the word "human" with "ironblood" (term from @psycheprincess 🫶). Sebek is LIVID. He shouts at them to stop, before apologizing repeatedly to the stall owner. He even offers him all of his money so he could repair his stall. He drops the money on the not-destroyed part of the stall, when the fae suddenly grabs it and throws it away like nothing.

Yuu and Ortho finally arrive at the scene! Before Deuce can pick a fight once more, the fae says that if Sebek is truly sorry, he should kneel. They expect for Sebek to refuse doing such a thing, and are surprised when he slowly gets to his knees and even bows, forehead touching the ground.

The crowd laugh and jeer, and the owner says that kneeling isn't enough. Nothing Sebek can do will ever be enough. The best he could do was apologize with his life. At this, Deuce has had enough. He prepares to punch the guy square in the face, when Sebek suddenly grabs onto his legs while he's kneeling, stopping him from getting closer. The crowd starts to get bigger, and Yuu realizes that the situation is only going to worsen. They rush over with Ortho and get Deuce and Sebek OUT of there.

They return to the others, who weren't able to catch what the commotion was all about, but were too worried about them taking too long. Yuu tells them that they'll explain when they get back to the house, only for Sebek to explode.

"There will be NO explaining, and there will be NO telling ANYTHING to my parents of what has occurred today!" Sebek pointedly says this to Yuu, Ortho, and Deuce. The latter gets a bit angry, saying that they were only trying to help, only for Sebek to refute this and say that they were just making it worst.

"I've worked for years to be able to walk in this very town without fear! Do not destroy all of my hard work just because of your nonsensical sense of- of JUSTICE! I've lived in this town for all my life, and I've grown accustomed to their jaunts and sneers. Once we get this week done and over with, you'll end up forgetting this ever happened."

Surprise!!! This makes them MORE pissed on his behalf!!! Epel, Ace, Jack, and Grim are left in the dark, so they don't understand half of what's going on, but they do know that the town fucking sucks.

...I'll continue this tom lawl everyone pray this doesnt end up like the vdc encore post 🙏

#twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #twst #twst sebek #sebek twisted wonderland #twst sebek zigvolt #my asks!#ace trappola #epel felmier #jack howl #deuce spade #twst grim #twst yuu #ortho shroud #twst first years

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traumxrei-archive · 1 year

Text

【 trapped in a daze 】

summary: 'reaching out to you, i cannot have it; but i'm drawn to you' (or, the floydyuu college au that no one asked for but i delivered anyway >:D)

word count: 3.4k (yeah...intense brainrot...)

warnings: college au so all chars are aged up, depictions of drinking and throwing up, some cursing here and there, and. making out. haha.

a/n: this originally was supposed to be krista's request for the 600 followers event, but then it kinda evolved into an...entirely different thing.... this was also lowkey inspired by this song drunk-dazed. n e ways, i hope you enjoy ^^

It wasn't supposed to be like…this.

This being lips against their mouth, the distant blare of party music so far in the back of their consciousness because this kiss was so all-consuming and— Sevens, this was all but too much for their heart to handle.

Looking back at it, the only reason that Yuu had come to this party was to watch over their friends and make sure they didn't drink themselves into an early grave. Their whole plan was to sit in a corner somewhere and try to avoid getting alcohol splashed on them, or worse, thrown up on. But well, nothing ever went according to the plan, did it?

By the fourth hour of the party, the bass from the music was making their head throb. Yuu took a quick look around the room. Ace was chatting up a storm in the middle of a group of students, and Jack was on the other side, playing magnetic darts with Sebek. Deuce and Epel were playing Twister, and maybe it was time that they intervened lest they accidentally sprain something out of sheer stubbornness not to lose.

Yuu was slowly making their way through the crowd when their arm was tugged, almost hard enough to rip from its socket. They whirled around and— Floyd Leech was there, grinning at them coyly, "Shrimpy~ Where ya goin'?"

"I'm saving those two idiots from getting hangovers," They managed to wrestle their arm away from Floyd, who pouted lightly at their actions.

"You aren't going to play with me tonight?" Floyd's words were innocent, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

Yuu swallowed. Curse their past self for even promising the slippery eel anything— especially when that thing was a kiss. Sevens. What was past-them thinking?

Maybe they should rewind a bit. Back to the day that they had the absolute pleasure of meeting the infamous Floyd Leech.

They remembered it very clearly. He had caught their arm in the exact same careless way, demanding that they "played" with him with that stupidly handsome grin on his face. And— with the pretense that they were either going get into something shady, or worse, disappear from the face of the Twisted Wonderland— Yuu did what any normal person would do.

They had kicked him in the nuts. (Which, quite honestly, they do not regret.)

After seeing the university lanyard around the taller’s, or person-who-would-be-taller-if-he-wasn’t-keeling-over-in-pain’s neck, they had paled. They definitely weren’t about to add ‘physical assault of a fellow student’ onto their permanent record.

Yuu had apologized.

Profusely.

Over and over again.

(Something that they regretted because looking back at it, Floyd never once looked mad at them kicking him, only mildly amused. Now-Yuu wondered if it was all an act after all, a pitiful response to illicit their sympathy.)

But after all their efforts, Floyd still wouldn’t let them go. The clock was ticking; they had an important lecture to be at, but the menace wouldn’t let them budge an inch out of that hallway.

Instead, he proposed that terrible-horrible idea of letting him kiss them sometime. The logical side of their brain said it was a nonsense offer to kiss a stranger. But the part of their brain that wanted to leave this situation said that he was a stranger anyway and they would never have to meet him again. And, after all, they had kicked him in the balls on a Monday morning. So one kiss wasn't such an expensive price.

At least, that was what Yuu thought before their friends informed them of Floyd's notoriety. (“You promised the Floyd Leech a kiss?” Ace, of all people had exclaimed, “He literally almost chewed someone’s arm off last semester!”) Predictably, they spent every second after learning the fact regretting it ever since.

Floyd had hounded them day in and day out, and their pride was the only thing keeping them from giving in to his childish demands. Even though it was “just one kiss” they certainly did not want to see the smug satisfaction on Floyd’s irritatingly handsome face after he got what he wanted.

"Later, Floyd," The present Yuu acquiesced, forcing themself to relax slowly. The more they argued with Floyd, the more time wasted getting Deuce and Epel away from breaking all their bones on the Twister board.

"Imma hold you to that. No running, okay?" The eelmer had pressed an uncharacteristically soft hand to the top of their head, before stalking off in the opposite direction. The crowd seemed to part as he got near, and they would've been impressed if they were any other person. Instead, they sagely wished that they were one of the crowd who Floyd Leech didn’t know of. (Then again, would life have been boring without Floyd Leech? That they would never know.)

Now Floyd-less, Yuu made quick work of dragging Epel and Deuce to a couch near the more-sober-but-still-buzzed dart-throwing duo. All the while they both complained loudly about how they “would've won that Twister game” if not for their interference. (For reference, Yuu was quite sure they were on the losing team)

Deuce had snaked an arm around their waist, still arguing with Epel as the other was using their shoulder as a pillow. Meanwhile, Sebek had planted himself on the end of the couch, starting to lecture the two on "safe drinking habits" that the famed "Young Master" had taught him.

Yuu was definitely going to ask for compensation in the form of hard cash once all this was over.

"Could you guys...get off?" They pushed out, trying without success to untangle themself from the pile of drunk humans attached to them.

Jack chuckled, "There's no getting out of that mess without actual intervention."

"So intervene for me," They said sharply. Of course, Jack did nothing but back away, his tail swishing in mischief. The nerve. Even with his golden boy reputation, they didn’t get any special treatment.

And it was with that opportune timing the infamous Ace Trappola decided to grace them all with his presence. But before he could say anything, he was throwing up all over the front of their shirt.

Sevens. Of course, in a room full of strangers it had to be Ace who threw up all over them.

"Oh fuck," The ginger groaned, immediately collapsing to the ground. They sprung up immediately, assessing the damage. Aside from the horrible stickiness of their shirt, it seemed that Epel and Deuce somehow managed to avoid the spray.

"Disgusting," Deuce wrinkled his nose, latching onto Epel instead as they grabbed a handful of tissues from the table to wipe their shirt with.

Ace at least had the decency to look apologetic, "I'm so–"

"Just…don't drink anymore, get a glass of water instead," They dismissed the ginger's guilty stare. "I'm going to attempt to salvage my shirt. We're leaving soon, so Sebek, call a taxi." After making sure that Ace wasn't going to immediately retch again, they started their search for somewhere to wash the vomit off their shirt.

Yuu stumbled right into what looked to be a bathroom, sighing loudly as they ran their hands under the tap. It was just their luck that the bathroom was empty—

"Shrimpy?" The shower curtain slipped open, and sprawled out in the bathtub was fucking Floyd Leech.

What the actual fuck.

The night could not get any worse than this.

Actually, a part of them whispered, it could. Floyd could've had company. Now that would've been infinitely worse. But he was blessedly alone. (This would be the only time Yuu was glad that Floyd was alone.) The eelmer seemed to appraise them, mismatched eyes flicking down to their shirt, the still-running sink, and then back up to their face.

"I didn't throw up," Yuu said sharply, feeling the need to explain that they weren't that idiotic. And then they did a double take, because why would they need to explain themself to Floyd Leech? When they looked up again, Floyd was holding out the jacket he previously wore.

"Don't tell me you're gonna walk around in that all night?" The varsity jacket clinked as he shook it around, and they weighed out their options. The first option was to go home with a shirt half-soaked in Ace-puke. (Gross. Disgusting. Not to mention unsanitary.) And the second option was—

"My arm's getting ti~red~"

Yuu rolled their eyes. Typical Floyd, not even letting them finish a thought. They grabbed it out of his hands without a second thought. The jacket was simple enough with ‘Leech’ emblazoned across the back. And right below it was Floyd's basketball jersey number.

"Impressed?" Floyd prompted, casually propping his head on the tub. "You can have it if you want."

"No," The word was already flying out of their mouth before they could formulate a proper thought. They tried again, "What's the price for this?"

"Boo~ It's just a small favor," He stuck out his tongue. "I'm no Azul, y'know? 'Sides it was starting to get stuffy."

"You guys are close enough for me to be wary," They said curtly, stepping toward the other. It was an odd sight, Floyd looking up at them, still very much comfortable in the tub.

They dragged the shower curtain shut, "If I find you peeking—"

"I'm no perv, Shrimpy," Floyd laughed airily.

Yuu slipped off the stained shirt, running it under the water. Wiping at their torso, they eyed Floyd's jacket. At least it smelled clean, something like tequila and a sharp cologne tangling pleasantly in the air. They finally pulled it on. The jacket was ridiculously big. (Which made sense, considering that Floyd was a giant. Floyd and his twin, Jade, were notorious for somehow breaking the human limits of height. Then again, they weren’t exactly human, were they?) And it already felt ten times better than wearing the puke-shirt. Not like they would tell Floyd that.

And now they had a choice. They could just...leave. The door was unlocked, and Floyd couldn't see them. They would wash the jacket and give it back to Floyd on a later date and be on their merry way. But their conscience prickled slightly. (A terrible thing to happen, especially when it concerned Floyd.)

They dragged back the curtain once more.

Floyd's eyes opened sleepily, "Mmm, I thought you ran away again."

"Again?" They echoed, before backtracking. "No, wait, I just wanted to say thank you before I leave."

"So you were planning on running away," Floyd finally got up, ducking under the curtain bar and stepping out of the tub.

And then he froze. His eyes stayed pinned on their figure. And suddenly the bathroom felt a little too small. They didn't know what he was staring at, but it was starting to unnerve them the longer it went on.

"Um, Floyd...?"

That broke his stupor, lopsided grin returning, "Hey, that's the fourth time you've said my name."

Their brows furrowed, "You were counting—?”

"Could I get that kiss now?" Floyd asked. Their sentences and thoughts skidded to a halt at the wild pitch that was thrown their way. He was always interrupting them, one way or another.

"Now?"

"Now," Floyd said simply, and— since when was he that close to them? The little bastard. He had been slowly backing them up into the wall as they were trying to process everything. They were about to protest when he spoke again, "Or wouldja like me to kiss you in the middle of the cafeteria tomorrow? In front of everyone? That'd be nice too."

"Fine. Now," They sighed, their back hitting the tiled wall. "How do you wanna do this?"

Floyd hummed, "Do you always ask people 'how' they want to kiss you before kissing them?" One of his hands settled against the column of their neck, rubbing at the skin there. They just prayed that Floyd couldn’t feel the racing of their heartbeat against his fingers.

"I don't know, do I?" Yuu exhaled shakily from their mouth as Floyd's chest pressed against theirs. "Guess you'll have to ask the people I've kissed."

"Talking about others when I'm here?" Floyd's tone stayed low even as he whined, and in the dimness of the bathroom, they could see his dual-colored eyes spark with excitement. "I'm hurt, Shrimpy."

"Doesn't look that way to me," They muttered, eyes fluttering shut out of reflex as his hair brushed against their cheek.

Just as they thought Floyd would kiss them, he spoke again, "A young eel's heart is more complex than that."

Their eyes crept open, "Are you actually going to–"

Floyd didn't waste time interrupting them with his actions this time, finally capturing their lips with his own.

Floyd's lips were in no way soft or warm. No, instead he had no problem going against the cliches, his cold lips giving them goosebumps as he pressed in harder. They made a surprised noise when Floyd slipped his tongue into their mouth. There was the sweet aftertaste of tequila against their tongue, even as Floyd smirked against the kiss.

They could feel his teeth skirting dangerously along their lips before he finally bit down. A mangled sound was pulled out of their throat, their nerves singing at the sensation before they shoved hard at his chest, jostling him away.

"Hmm, too much for the first kiss?" Floyd asked, tilting his head sardonically. "But kissing's pretty on you, Shrimpy." Their breaths were coming out in harsh pants and it was annoying how unfazed Floyd looked.

"Did– Y-you bit me–" They tried to look at the bathroom mirror but Floyd's face was crowding against theirs once more.

"Okay, then let's try again," Floyd said lightly, his fingers coming to cup their face once more.

They kept their arm braced against his chest, "It was supposed one kiss."

"Hmm, was it?" Floyd tilted his head. "Well, do you wanna kiss me again, Shrimpy?"

Yuu pursed their lips, gaze subconsciously dropping to the curve of Floyd's mouth. Did they want to kiss Floyd Leech again? Maybe. Would they rather drown in a pool of tequila than admit it and give Floyd the satisfaction? Obviously.

Fuck, tequila. Their tongue swiped across their lips, and they could almost taste the sweet flavor of it.

"Tick tock, Shrimpy," Floyd's voice was a lot closer now, his head now nestled onto their shoulder. "I'm getting bored."

His lips traced over their jaw and they inhaled sharply, "If you're b-bored kiss someone else."

"Don't want those other minnows," Floyd mumbled against their neck, his teeth scraping over their skin. They shivered at the sensation before pressing a hand to their mouth.

"I..."

Yuu didn’t get to finish.

The door slammed open, and they made eye contact with a very confused-looking Deuce.

"Yuu? What are you–?" Deuce seemed to register the intimidating figure that was latched onto them at that moment, his eyes widening. Right. They never locked the door to the bathroom.

"Aha, it's that Macky that's always with you," Floyd said in a humorless tone. In fact, he seemed rather...pissed.

"T-the t-taxi’s here, w-we're going home," Deuce's eyes shifted nervously between them and Floyd, and oddly, down to their neck.

And just as Yuu was about to speak, Floyd spoke up once more, "Shrimpy's with me. So get lost before you get hurt~"

A bewildered expression crossed Deuce's face and Yuu just sighed. If they leave now, they probably didn’t have to see Floyd Leech ever again. Their “favor” had been repaid, and Floyd would have no reason to seek them out. It was the rational thing to do, right? But on the other hand…

Fuck being rational.

"What he said,” Yuu let their hand squeeze at Floyd’s shoulder. “If I don't come back tomorrow he probably disposed of my body in a dumpster, or whatever. Tell everyone to get home safely." And they could feel Floyd physically flinch at their agreement.

There was this overly delighted smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to their nose, "Shrimpy, what're you saying~? I'll take very good care not to hurt you, promise." And they belatedly wondered if they were still drunk from the singular cup of soju Ace handed them a few hours ago. Agreeing to stay with Floyd Leech was definitely not on their list of things to do today. But they already decided to follow their heart, right?

"Now scram, Macky."

Deuce did not need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and immediately shut the door behind him. Floyd strolled up and locked the door.

"Floyd."

"Mhm?"

"Don't actually murder me."

"I won't if you give me another kiss~"

Yuu huffed, their palm cradling Floyd’s face as they pulled him in, “You’re insufferable.”

And that was how they got there. Floyd’s lips were still insistent against theirs, albeit softer and gentler than before. He seemed to be intent on prying sigh after sigh from their lungs, clever lips smirking against their own. Thinking about it now, it wasn’t such a bad place to be, if only Floyd would shut up with his comments.

“Are we dating now?” Floyd murmured.

“We haven’t even gone on a date yet?” Yuu raised a brow as Floyd pressed his fingers against their neck for the nth time. “Wait— you like me?”

“Shrimpy, you’re playing with me,” Floyd’s giggles echoed against the walls. “'Course I do. Don’t you like me too? Isn’t that why you kissed me again?” Well. He got them there. Maybe it really was their petty pride that was getting in the way of them realizing the kind-of-massive crush they had on the other, with the way their cheeks felt hot at the insinuation.

“See~ You do~” Floyd’s smile was sharp before it was soft, but they couldn’t help but avoid his gaze. “And for the date, let’s go now.”

Now that got their attention, “Floyd, it’s probably 3am.”

“We’ll go to McDonald’s,” Floyd announced resolutely, and Yuu would’ve found it funny if they didn’t find it utterly ridiculous.

“You can’t just—” It was with that opportune timing that they caught a glimpse of themself in the mirror. “Floyd Leech. Did you give me a fucking hickey?”

"Hmm?" Floyd met their gaze, grinning coyly. "But it seemed like you enjoyed it. And it looks good on you, Shrimpy."

They held in the scream threatening. to bubble up their throat, “That was why Deuce was— Oh, I’m never going to live this down.”

“What about McDonald’s though?” Floyd asked, all while they were having a stage three mental breakdown over the fact that one of their best friends had not only caught them making out with someone but with a hickey on their neck. Not to mention the jacket, it must've looked like they—

“Forget about McDonald’s, I’m going to die out of shame right here,” Yuu muttered, sliding down the wall slowly. Floyd must’ve found that amusing, because with the strength only an eelmer could muster, he hoisted them into his arms.

“You can’t die on me now. I’ll treat you to McDonald’s and you’ll be alright,” Floyd said cheerily, as if an oreo McFlurry could somehow magically fix Yuu’s reputation with their friends.

They clutched at his shoulder, “Nothing you can say will make any of this better.”

“Really?” Floyd stopped, halfway through unlocking the door. “Y’know, earlier, I was staring at you, right? It was because you looked too good in my jacket. ‘S like it was made for you, or something?”

Whoever made Floyd Leech this flirty should really go to hell.

They delivered a swift palm to Floyd’s chin, hiding their face, “O-okay, I got it. You win. Let’s just go to McDonalds.” And there was this very satisfied look on Floyd’s face; the very definition of a cat that had gotten the cream all for himself. The exact smug look that they had been dreading to see. But well…it didn’t really feel too bad to be on the receiving end of it. Especially not when Floyd started humming happily under his breath.

Not exactly where they thought they would be by the end of the night, but if a trip to McDonald’s at 3am after a party was what a relationship with Floyd would be like, then they probably wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Except maybe their reputation back. (Okay, that last part was definitely lie.)

thank you for reading this college au fic ! tbh i had a lot of fun writing a more expressive yuu ++ frat boy! floyd's shenanigans >:D if you'd like to read more of my stuff, come check out my masterlist <3

#/trau writes #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #frat boy floyd moment.#he's just a mess.#yuu's equally a mess dw.

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