#why the fuck was she using the peacock

[calisources]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences and quotes have been taken from different media about starcrossed lovers or forbidden love, full of angst, some bold words, some nasty ones, possessive nature and letting someone use you as a replacement. So, some toxic energy in this one. Change pronouns, locations and names as you see fit.

I love you,and I will love you until I die,and if there's a life after that,I'll love you then.

Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?

And there is a difference between having your heart break and having your soul shatter.

I'm falling in love with you.

I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. I have waited for this for such a long time. Consequences be damned.

These violent delights have violent ends.

 I’m only human. And you are …all-consuming.

Don’t go into this lightly. If you’re mine, you need to understand I will burn the fucking world to the ground for you.

I will never let you go, do you hear me? 

 will keep you safe. And I will find a way for us to be together.

If you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.

If you were any less the man you are, I would beg you to take me with you.

If you were any less the woman you were, I would beg you to come with me.

I've known lust. This is something worse. This is a barbaric need to possess, to eliminate, to own. This is madness.

This is lust.

She’s your very own forbidden fruit.

You said you didn't want this.

We all desire what we cannot have.

Have you noticed how the boy looks at you?

Do you think I didn’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?

You are dangerous desire, and I am your prisoner.

We can’t do this on so many levels.

I can't even whisper her name, my heart would burst out of my chest.

But I would fight against the stars for you.

I have ruined your life.

Some lines you just don't cross. 

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Having something forbidden is exciting, don't you agree?

The closer we get—the more I let you in…the more dangerous this gets.

Don’t you get it? You’re what everyone wants! But I’m not going to let them win.

Make it so I never have to dream about this again—make it so we can have this…forever.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

We were doomed from the start. 

Nothing is as deadly as the love of a powerful man.

But this kiss? It's ruined me. This is the type of kiss I never knew existed. 

You sure about that, Dad? Because he's done everything to me.

Are you scared of me now?

You loved me - then what right had you to leave me?

I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

One moment, you give me everything that I want, and in the next, you snatch all of that away.

It's hopeless. We can never work out.

The world didn’t want us together so I forged a new one where we would.

How could a peacock lust for a lion?

You're tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.

I’ve always liked you, from the first moment I saw you.

It's absurd how crazy love can make you...but even more absurd how stupid jealousy can make you.

 That you and I are meant to be together, but never meant to be.

Why does fate seem always to conspire against us? To deny us life's simple pleasures?

We'll meet after this war. I'll certainly find you wherever you'll hide. 

War makes fools of men and women wanton.

What offends you most, Father? That she's Catholic, or that she's poor?

If my father discovers you here, he'd cut off your little nuts and eat them. He can't stand you.

You tempress, I see you once and all I can think of is having you.

Feelings are forbidden, does not mean we cannot enjoy one another.

The more you deny me, the more I desire you. You are a plague in my mind.

Ever since we met, no one else can compare. 

How can I be with someone else, when I’m with them, it’s you I see.

You can have me, think of whoever you love. For tonight.

You can pretend I'm her/him. I don't care. I just want you.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. ) #rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #forbidden love #starcrossed lovers

[theschizotypalsolilquy]

Draco Malfoy is bored.

So extremely bored.

The life of a wealthy bachelor is not all it's cracked up to be, so much to the horror of his two best friends, Draco decides to get a job as a curse breaker.

He knows he can handle this. At least he thinks so. What he doesn't think he can handle is whom he has to train under: Hermione Granger.

No one has seen her in years, and she is far removed from the bookish swot he knew in school.

This Hermione is scarred. Tatted. And fucking sexy. Way too sexy.

She's also extremely lethal, and Draco is not afraid to admit to himself that she would and could kill him if he annoys her. Which he does quite a bit.

But there is something also incredibly lonely about her. What happened to turn her into this hardened badass with clavicles that Draco can't stop thirsting over?

As the two of them embark on dangerous quests that involve pyramids, deadly curses, and angry gods, Draco will find that he is definitely not bored anymore.

The author said they were inspired by Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, and it shows. This is one of the funniest, cleverest fics I've read in a long time.

Hermione is a BAMF. There is no other way to describe her. She has gone through tremendous trauma that isn't explained until much later in the fic, and it will explain just what happened to her, and why she broke off all contacts with her former friends.

Draco is hysterical. He is so posh, and will only talk to a woman if she understands arithmancy. If not, well....he has tons of sick peacocks he can use as an excuse to get away from them.

#hermione x draco #dramione #draco x hermione #hermione granger #draco malfoy

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Florrickology, Part 1: The Thong That Launched 1000 Headcanons

My favorite thing to do as a background character fan is to co-opt things that were definitely not meant to be characterization by making them characterization.

Thus, I have looked way deeper than intended into every possible pixel, moment, and mention of my beloved Counsellor Florrick and developed the exciting new field of Florrickology to report my findings.

Obviously the first place I'm going is this fucking dress and how I use it to infer upon her the two sexiest characteristics a woman can have:

Unflinching vanity and a deep-seated, yet subtle, insanity.

This dress is more than a bit of an enigma because... why?

It really stands out because, while Larian gives players plenty of opportunities to sexualize their avatar and their companions, they don't really sexualize NPCs. Most women, like men, are dressed very modestly. Outfits that female NPCs wear are even often much more unisex than the equivalent outfits available to player characters (e.g. tunics that male PCs can wear may turn into tits-out dirndls on female PCs for no apparent reason, but female NPCs wearing the same outfit get a tunic). The only characters who are sexualized are presented as Sexy Characters, like Abdirak or Sorn Orlith or Orin or even Mystra and Mamzell Amira, who also wear this dress.

Mostly.

Florrick, despite being beautiful, a two-time damsel in distress, and a certified MILF, is not presented as a Sexy Character. She's presented as a no-nonsense, somewhat domineering, loyal-and-virtuous-to-a-fault fed. This is the only description of her in the game files (see img description), highlighting these bare-bones characteristics:

So... why? For this character whose appearance truly doesn't matter beyond being eye-catching enough to communicate her importance to the story, who has no even vaguely flirtatious dialogue and no implied sexuality or romance (even with the man she spends the entire game chasing!), and not even a weird torture porn moment which she has ample opportunities... why dress her like this? Why emphasize her body over any other similarly-prominent NPC like, say, Alfira?

My assumption would be that they did it to soften her to the average Redditmod McGamerbro because the story really is better if incels don't kill her for being "bossy"... if they didn't also code her as a middle-aged black woman and give her a custom face sculpt with a prominent nose, large jaw, and non-Western features, all famously accepted with no problematic reaction from this demographic whom Larian doesn't not cater to. In fact, as the #1 Florrickposter in the universe, I often see people say in tags and comments that they didn't even notice how revealing her dress is while playing the game. While racism is definitely at play (plus misogyny, rendering this middle-aged black-coded woman invisible, whereas a younger and white man in the same role would be ALL OVER THIS DAMN PLACE), it also speaks to just how discordant her outfit and explicit characterization are.

Now, this outfit does make a little sense on a glance and I think that's a big part of why it flies under the radar as well: she's important and presumably wealthy, so of course she wears this very posh and expensive-looking dress. She's a wizard (a fact everyone manages to glean on a glance, despite it never being stated and basically never being relevant), so of course she's wearing something obnoxious and purple. From the waist up, it actually looks like a pretty reasonable outfit for a person of her DnD class, social class, and occupation.

It's from the waist down where it gets out of hand.

But first, this isn't even Florrick's original outfit or face (which I'll talk about in another post), or the first iteration of her current outfit. Originally, she wore the ostentatious yet modest feathered peacock dress that eventually ended up on Lucretious (and took the thicc waist with it RIP). According to my research, there was a reason for this: it was too baller for Waukeen's Rest and kept causing crashes, so they had to put her in a less graphically-demanding outfit.

The original peacock dress sent the necessary "I am an important quest giver, engage with me" message, so why not just remove the cowl that was causing the issues? But instead, they changed her outfit entirely, keeping it eye-catching and posh (suitable for a big-city government official), but randomly making it super revealing (strange, for a big-city government official). Further, Florrick got a major va-va-voom upgrade between Sexy Dress v1 and final release, with a new dress model that makes it clearer that the front and back panels are sheer, subtly showing even more skin, and which unsubtly emphasizes her hips and breasts.

Based on extensive academic research using mods, I determined that the dress is what conveys the extra curviness (see img description in the left-most pic) vs her having a custom body sculpt (weak). Further, when viewed from behind, the dress pads out her ass, also making it look bigger and rounder than the standard body type 1 (see img description in the right-most pic).

What's more, if you look closely at the waist seam of the final version of her sexy dress, it looks like they went so far as to skew it to make her hips stand out even more when she takes the cocked-hip stance (which she seems to only stand in) and perhaps draw even more attention to her thong sticking out. Notice how the waist seam is even and straight across in Sexy Dress V1 above, but Final Florrick has it like 2 inches higher on her right, without fabric bunching to explain the different seam lengths. You can also see how the dress subtly pops out farther than her actual hips (and from the side view, over her lower stomach), giving her the impression of curves the standard body type doesn't have. They were very intentional with it.

Shockingly, I don't actually have much to say about her exposed thong in and of itself (it is what it is) except that I think it actually makes the outfit look substantially skimpier because it draws attention to just how high those hip slits are, compared to leaving the area blank so eyes gloss over it (even if that would imply she runs around commando all game). It's a small detail that drives home the overall design.

All this is to say, since this dress is only worn by 4 people* with Florrick being the first you see and by far has the most screen time, and it isn't lootable, it seems this outfit was developed intentionally and specifically to emphasize her body to make her look sexier.

*Florrick, Mamzell Amira (slightly different lower half), a random patriar at Gortash's inauguration named Lady Alia Durinbold, and Mystra

So, this takes us back to the question of 'why'. Why spend all this time and these resources fine-tuning this dress to make it as sexy and flattering as possible? Why put it on a character who has literally no reason to wear such a thing? Why put this dress which is nothing but nonsense on a character who's pretty much only characterized as being no-nonsense??

And this is also where the real tinfoil hattery comes in, as I doubt Larian really meant anything by it aside from creating a hot NPC for players with good taste to enjoy across all 3 acts.

But that's not what this nuclear caliber simp post is about; it's about overthinking shit because I love her and she is a main character to ME.

So, whatever Larian's intention, there's only 1 in-universe reason why Florrick wears this outfit:

She woke up that day in Waukeen's Rest, in the middle of nowhere a full tenday from the city, on her way back from literal hell to deal with yet another crisis, and decided to put it on. And continued to do so every day thereafter.

It's logical that she can't change right after being rescued since the inn is burning down presumably with her luggage in it, but why did she choose that outfit in the first place, considering she was travelling? She's been travelling for months; it can't have been her only clothing. Did she not have a Fist uniform? A pair of leggings? She runs right off after she's done talking; does she hike all the way in and out of the shadow-cursed lands in a thong and flat macrame boots? It doesn't even have any indication of cinches or buttons despite having all the logical seams and it's clearly tailored to fit her bananas hourglass figure, like there's no way she can just pull it on or step into it, so does she have to expend her valuable magic to wear it? Does she take the time to sew herself into it every day instead of sucking it up and wearing *barf* pants??? There are plenty of people around in Act 2 that could and would give her something more practical to wear, even if she did have a good reason to wear her original dress that day in Waukeen's Rest. Yet, she continues to wake up every day and put that outfit on. Even after returning home.

(In my head, the video game convention of every character only having 1 outfit is shorthand for what their "typical" outfit is, and they "really" have a wardrobe of similar clothing. So when I say she wears that outfit every day, I mean she has a couple of similarly-bonkers dresses in her bag and chooses to wear one every day vs something more practical).

So the simp's question isn't what Larian is saying about her by dressing like this, but what she's saying about herself by choosing to dress like this.

Clothing is self-expression. Look at the many analyses of the main characters' outfits. Larian may or may not have really meant anything by giving Florrick this outfit, but just as Astarion's careful mending of his shirt necessarily says something about him and his personality in the universe he lives in, so does Florrick's decision to wear flashy, revealing clothing.

It almost makes no sense... until you think about one of Florrick's explicitly-demonstrated characteristics:

Confidence. Over confidence. Hubris, even.

I'll have more to say about Desiré "Fuck It, We Ball" Florrick and her personality in another florrickology post, but the long and short of it is that this woman is not afraid of shit and sashays into every situation fully confident in her ability to charm or steamroll it to her liking. "She is used to getting her way", indeed. Her epilogue letter betrays a bit of self-doubt, but it seems to have been brought on by her perceived failures in relation to the player character's successes, so likely not her ordinary attitude. Whereas this seems to be her ordinary clothing, since she took it with her to Elturel and back for no apparent reason and chooses to wear it for no apparent reason.

She has nothing to gain from it, no one important to impress at least until returning to the city in Act 3. Otherwise, she's in bumfuck nowhere with her boss-friend and lackeys, or cursed!bumfuck nowhere with her lackeys and a bunch of vigilantes planning a war. While I wouldn't doubt that she has or might be willing to use her beauty and sex appeal to meet her goals (TadpUlder does, curiously, call her a "black widow"; is his tadpole capitalizing on stereotypes--could it be slut shaming her??, or is it referencing things that the shreds of Ulder's mind know she's done?), ultimately, there can't be a tactical explanation because there's nobody more powerful than her around 90% of the time.

She also doesn't flirt with anyone and nobody flirts with her (philistines). She has no mentioned spouse or lovers, nor any implied sexuality at all. The closest we get is Mizora saying "she misses the Duke" after Florrick's ambush in Act 3, the only time anyone implies she's on a crusade to find him because of romantic feelings and not duty, loyalty, and friendship... which means Mizora is probably just talking out her ass and belittling people, as she does.

So, combine self-confidence with the decision to constantly wear a sexy dress that shows off her body for no practical reason, and what do you get?

Balls-to-the-wall, unapologetic vanity.

(If it wasn't clear, when I call women "vain" I think they are objectively correct and this is a compliment of the highest order.)

Sure, maybe wearing this kind of outfit boosts her confidence and that helps deal with this unprecedented crisis and possibly the first self-doubt she's ever experienced, but this is evidently her usual clothing and she isn't usually dealing with those things.

So, she wears this intricate and revealing dress mostly she likes it and how she looks in it. This means she likes that it's revealing. She likes showing skin to literally no end except her own enjoyment.

Notice she doesn't really do her hair (it's shiny and neat, but not really styled) or bother with makeup (she lost the EA smoky eye in favor of a quick swipe of eyeliner). One may think that perhaps she isn't as confident in her facial beauty since she does have unique features, so she calls attention to her body instead, but she's so devoid of modesty that I can't help but assume she simply looks in the mirror in the morning, thinks "no notes" (correct) and moves on to pouring herself into her favorite skimpy dress. She's proud of her natural beauty, and she's not about to cover it all up with goop or fabric!! She never mentions it and nobody who knows her does; she's not trying to stunt on anyone or even attract other hot people.

She's in it purely for the love of the sport and, sexiest of all, herself. This woman doesn't think she's the sexiest creature in any given room, she knows it.

And she knows that being hot doesn't affect her ability to do her job and protect the city she loves. She doesn't have to cover herself up, doll up her hair and makeup, slap on like 400 pettiskirts, etc, to be taken seriously. It's possibly even giving 'malicious compliance'. She commands so much respect that even horny gamers don't notice her entire ass is one breeze away from being out.

The deep-seated, yet subtle insanity part has pretty much already been covered; maybe in her day-to-day life of attending meetings and walking all over everyone in Wyrm's Rock, it's not so impractical, but it's a completely insane thing to wear in any sort of crisis or outdoor adventure. That this woman is willing to risk chafing or being cold (womankind's public enemy #1 and #2) simply for the drip is delightfully nutty. There is not a single moment she appears in this game where this outfit would be reasonable.

She presents herself as a stalwart, serious, determined woman, but then squeezes into a dress so tight and precarious that it knocks off her Fleet of Foot speed boost, for literally no reason aside from being vain and lowkey kind of crazy.

Good for her!

#warning this is like 2500 words #florrickology #insane simp post #next post will prob be about her face and most just simping #bg3 #counsellor florrick #bg3 spoilers

[mypoisonedvine]

Have you seen Peacock yet? In love with the idea of Yandere!John and Yandere!Emma keeping you as their pet. They both love you so much. Emma’s a softer yan but she still doesn’t want to let you go. 🥰🥰🥰

YES. YES. YES YE SYE SYES Y-

warnings: dark, implied/described noncon, kidnapping/captivity, yandere, housewife kink

You shivered slightly as Emma ran her hands over your hair, humming to herself. "Is the water too cold, sweetie?" she asked.

You didn't answer. It was a little tepid, but that wasn't why you shivered. She sighed a little as she ran her hand down your back, fingers ghosting over a bruise by your shoulder.

"He can be a little... rough, can't he?" she noticed, lowering her voice, and you still didn't respond, looking away from her even more as if the tile wall by the bathtub was suddenly fascinating to you. "Lean back, sweetie, so I can wash your hair."

You did as you were told, laying back to submerge the back of your head in the water; you kept your eyes open at first, but when she looked right at you with those dark brown eyes, you quickly shut your own.

Her hand scooped water over your hairline, carefully avoiding getting any in your eyes. You sighed as you felt her be so delicate with you... you only wish those hands had been so kind before. John didn't say anything when he fucked you; he just held you down, and left you in the bed alone when he was done. Emma came in after, seeming surprised and uncomfortable at the sight of you like that, before softly suggesting 'lets get you cleaned up, dear.'

She sat you back up carefully; at first, you were so unwillingly lost in your memories that you didn't notice her trying to prompt you to lift yourself again.

There was silence, spare the gentle sloshing of water around the tub, and Emma's quiet humming.

"Will you ever let me go?" you blurted out suddenly.

She stopped humming. She sighed a little. "He thinks you're safer here."

"But what do you think?"

She bit her lip, looking away demurely. "Well... I don't think that makes any difference, does it?"

You felt anxiousness stir in your gut as you thought of what you could say then, but feared it would get you in trouble. You couldn't really afford to keep any cards in your hand now, could you? "You could... you could tell him to let me go," you suggested hesitantly.

"Oh-- no, that's not an option," she insisted quickly. "It would be easier to help you adjust to living here now."

Your shoulders sank; realizing this route of conversation was useless, you mostly stopped listening and tried to just think of anything else.

"He's just trying to court you," she explained, "but he doesn't know how."

Not getting a response, she still went on, but moreso talking to herself.

"Maybe he just needs a little help..."

~

Don't be so nervous. She might like you if you give her a chance! -Emma

John looked at the note with a frown. He wasn't sure what to think of it. He really would've preferred that Emma stayed out of his romantic life, but he also couldn't deny that she probably had some advice he could use... a woman's perspective, that is. John really didn't know anything about women. Hence, keeping you here.

Stepping into the room, he winced a little when he saw you jump, obviously trying to hide how afraid you were of him. He couldn't blame you. But he couldn't help it, either.

For a long moment, you just looked at him; he suddenly realized it was bizarre that he hadn't said anything.

"You look pretty."

He found himself absent-mindedly rubbing his palms on his slacks. "Um... she picked out the dress for me..." you informed him.

"It's pretty. You look pretty," he said again.

You jolted slightly, again, when he stepped in, but he ignored it and walked to the record player. He turned it down-- way down-- and started a slow song quietly. He wasn't sure what he expected; he certainly imagined what might happen, that he might be able to dance with you, but he didn't expect it. You wouldn't want to--

"Do you want to dance?" you offered suddenly, making him whip his head around in surprise. You'd stepped closer to him but seemed to shy away when he looked at you-- he tried to soften his face.

"...do you?" he returned incredulously.

"I... I might," you shrugged, acting a little shy suddenly-- he thought it was rather adorable.

"Why?" he wondered bluntly.

"It sounds fun," you answered with a little smile, but then you glanced away and gave a second answer-- the more honest one, it seemed. "I... I want things to be different, with us."

He nodded. He did, too. He didn't like hurting you... he just didn't think he had any other choice.

"So, I thought... maybe we could dance!" you finished.

"Y-yes, um, sure," he agreed. "I haven't... danced in a long time..."

"That's alright," you assured sweetly, "I'll teach you."

He didn't completely trust your kindness, even if it made his cheeks burn a bit. You'd been so scared of him before, so empty behind the eyes when he forced you onto the bed--

"Can you waltz?" you asked.

"U-um--"

"We can do something easier," you decided quickly instead, motioning for him to come a little closer. Nervously, but obediently, he did.

He carefully took your waist, sighing harder through his nose than he meant to-- he didn't want you to know how nervous he was.

But he probably gave it away when you reached up and held his shoulders, and he looked at you with wide eyes.

Then, you started to sway together-- slowly, in time with the music. He couldn't look away from you, even when he realized that you were looking away out of awkward discomfort. You just looked so beautiful like this, and holding you in his arms just felt so right. He held his breath when you leaned in and laid your head on his chest, as if one wrong move would scare you off.

He thought about asking you why you were doing this. He thought about telling you that he knew all along you were made for him-- that you would be happy here, if you let yourself accept it. He thought about just grabbing you and pulling you closer, desperate to feel your body against his own. But he was too scared: he didn't do anything, not until you told him to.

You looked up at him suddenly, with wide and pleading eyes. "You can kiss me, John," you whispered.

What could he possibly say to that? Thankfully, he got the sense that he didn't really need to say anything... he could just kiss you, apparently, so he did. He wasn't really sure if he was doing it right-- but it felt right, pressing his lips to yours softly. You were so sweet and delicate... he melted a little, right then, knowing more than ever that he made the right choice bringing you here. His heart was pounding and his mind was swarming with the overwhelming obsession with you that he could hardly believe he'd once tried to fight.

You started to pull away, but his desperation took over-- he grabbed your face and kissed you harder, following you when you stepped back until you stumbled into the dresser and he had to catch you. "John, wait--" you mumbled.

"Don't wanna wait," he groaned in reply. "I waited so long for you already--"

Still, you pushed him back at the shoulders, and he quickly wiped his mouth as he broke away from you. "I'm sorry," you said right away, "it's not-- it's not that I don't want you to... I just wanted to talk to you first."

"Oh... okay," he mumbled, feeling more confused than ever. What was there to talk about?

"I... I think you're very sweet," you told him, "and I always thought that-- it's why I came to the bank so much, you know. To see you."

He smiled a little. He'd always suspected that, but never let himself truly believe it. A girl like you would never go for a guy like him... or he wouldn't have had to do this.

"But it's just... it's not practical, is it?" you said. "The way you went about it--"

"I-I just need you too much," he tried to defend.

"No, I understand," you promised with a sigh, "and I'm not angry. But... I think maybe... it might be better if you let me--"

"No."

You whined a little. "You didn't even hear what I wanted--"

"I don't need to. You want to leave," he accused. "And I won't let you."

"John, you can't do this. You can't keep me here forever!" you yelped.

"You say you want things to be different with us, then you say that," he sneered. "You want to make me angry, don't you?"

"No, John," you denied quickly, but he was already stepping closer, backing you into a corner. "John, please--"

"You want me to be like this!" he continued regardless. "You're trying to make me angry!"

You shook your head, eyes welling as he pushed you back.

"You know you can't leave. You know I can't let you leave," he growled, grabbing you hard as you whined and tried weakly to fight him. His chest swelled with an addictive sort of rage... no, he didn't want to hurt you, but something made him feel sickly proud when he did, because he could. "You belong to me now. Nothing's ever gonna change that."

"Please," you sobbed weakly, hiding your face in your hands-- but he pulled them away and pinned them back, pressing himself to you until you looked up at him fearfully.

"I'm never letting you leave this house," he assured, "you'll be lucky if I let you leave that bed again."

You had barely even opened your mouth to protest when he wrapped his hand around your neck, choking your cries into silence.

"Not another word, Mrs. Skillpa," he whispered sharply. "This is my house-- and I own everything in it. I'm in charge here, understand?"

#john skillpa x reader #emma skillpa x reader #john skillpa dark fic #emma skillpa dark fic #cillian murphy x reader

[summerlycoris]

I have some thoughts about Movie!Vanessa's behavior on night 4.

Yknow. The night where they build the big pillow fort, foreshadow the springlock suit Abby nearly gets shoved into later. The night where Abby gets electrocuted, and where Vanessa threatens to shoot Mike.

(If anything is wrong here, it's because while I just got back from watching the movie in cinemas again, I can't go scene by scene because I don't have Peacock. And I'm not getting it just for the fnaf movie. Not even sure if Peacock is in Australia?)

I've seen people complain that Vanessa's behavior on this night is too... inconsistent. She goes from suggesting using tables for a giant pillow fort, to telling off Mike for bringing his sister, to consoling Abby after the shock, to threatening to shoot Mike.

But I don't think this is inconsistent. Because there's a common thread in all the scenes where Vanessa's keeping calm.

Abby.

Whenever Abby is there, she plays along with her suggestions, or tries to comfort her when things go wrong.

It's only when Abbys not around or cant notice whats going on, when it's only her and Mike, that Vanessa drops the act and says something real- Don't touch that, it's a springlock suit. You're the one who brought her here. Don't bring her back.

And I think the reason why is just very simple- she doesn't want to scare Abby, because Abby's just a little kid who doesn't have much control over whether they spend the night at Freddys.

If she's scared of a place that she has to stay in (say, because her brother brought her to try and talk to ghost children. And he's outright admitted this to you), and can't leave because. She's like eight and her brother's on the clock- that would be a really fucking cruel thing to do. Abby doesn't have much control over whether she's at Freddys or not. She can cry, or scream. But if Mike doesn't want to go home, she can't either. Not easily.

(At least, as far as either Mike or Vanessa would know at the time. Apparently Abby knows how to catch a taxi with minimal help.)

If you isolate the "playing along" she does with Abby, from how she talks to Mike, the inconsistency goes away.

Just focusing on Mike and Vanessa's dialogue- you can see the tension ramping up slowly. Things starts out okay until the springlock suit. Tension rises. She gets defensive when Mike tries to blame her for not telling him about these dangerous things earlier. (And she has a point- she's not the one who took Abby here.) Tension rises again. Then Abby gets shocked. Vanessa consoles her, but glares at Mike over Abbys shoulder. Next scene is the "If you dare bring her back here, I'll shoot you." Scene. The tension had been going up in a steady diagonal all night, if you understand that Vanessa's putting on an act around Abby.

I don't know what else to say so I guess I'm ending it here. Tldr- Vanessa seems "inconsistent" because she's trying to stay calm around a child. That's why she only really goes off on Mike when their alone together on night 4.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #five nights at freddys

[kaythefloppa]

Wild Kratts - Our Blue and Green World: Part 1: Review [Spoilers]

Welp, here it is, the Wild Kratts TV movie (not to be confused with the feature film they've been teasing us with since 2021). There's been a lot of hype around this special and season, especially with how much the latter was being hyped up during the hiatus. Let's see if the blue and green bros were able to deliver: Spoilers under the cut

Well, this is certainly an attention grabber!

This entire live action intro is shot and edited like an animated Wild Kratts episode, it's glorious.

Woah, intro change!

They said the thing! They said the thing!

HELP THIS IS SO RELATABLE. Also, THE BOYS ARE FIGHTING

Lmao I don't think they do it very often, but using animals/nature in their insults is very creative.

Also, whooping crane episode when?

This entire song is mercifully short. Like most character sung songs in Wild Kratts, it's not good, but this at least is clever in its lyrics and its visuals. It feels like a Disney reference at best and I am content with that. I also ADORED seeing the Draco and Walrus Suit return again. It's arguably the best musical number in the series. No, that is not saying a lot.

MARTIN WHY ARE YOU THE ONE WHO'S MIFFED YOU NEARLY MUFASA'D YOUR LITTLE BROTHER

CHRIS WHY ARE YOU MILDLY INCONVENIENCED YOU GOT ACRAPHOBIA FALLING FROM THAT HEIGHT

When I first saw the clip, I thought that they were going somewhere with this, like they'd activate Peacock Powers at the end when they recognized the compatibility and blue and green. But nope. Wasted potential is an understatement.

Also, where the fuck are they right now? In a previous shot there was Target the Chameleon, implying that they've been to Madagascar, but that is an Indian peafowl, and as far as I'm concerned, they don't live in Madagascar. Were they just having an off-day? These animals have little to nothing to do with the plot when they really shouldn't have, so I don't see why they couldn't have just shown a projector image or something.

Remember when I joked about the Wild Pony Power Suit returning in S7.... fuck you Apollo.

Man, they are eating it up with the animation here. It's hard to tell with screengrabs but man, is it fluid.

The first half of this episode is mixed. While it feels like the brothers are incredibly stubborn, it also does make sense for them to be this fixated on their favorites. So I can totally buy this. It could've been insufferable to watch, but it wasn't.

As if YOU haven't spied on them since the first time your dorito-headed ass showed up on screen

Did you find that funny? Because not only do they do a similar joke like that later on, but they follow through on that joke in the most unexpected way you will shit your pants when you first ingest it.

Oh my god if they make a Creature Power Suit off of that bird, I will take back any diss I've made, that is so beautiful.

Good to know that Aviva put the button near the chest and not near the back.

Maybe it's just me but this is kinda pushing it. Chris is literally getting his organs crushed, I think that should matter more than A) being right or B) trying to get 2 people to stop fighting.

I'm loving the callback and what this leads up to but ew, all this does is remind me about how ugly bright the color pallatte in S6. Really glad they fixed it in S7.

HELL FUCKING YES

This episode finds really unique ways of showing how the two different biomes are interconnected. It's like Rainforest Stew's (very brilliantly handled) message only to a larger degree. Kids can learn a lot from this.

I fucking love this episode, man.

Honestly, the way they write Paisley in the first half of the episode is very in-line with her character. Most shows that do what this episode does has them be out-of-character as a set-up, but here, she's just roasting the fuck out of Zach. Once again, recontextualized entirely in the climax.

HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET TO MADAGASCAR FROM THE GODDAMN AMAZON IN ONE AFTERNOON THAT IS LIKE MORE THAN 1,000 MILES AWAY?? ARE ANACONDAS THAT FAST?????

Also, INDRIS!!!!! :D

I was frankly expecting this to horribly backfire but spoilers, it doesn't. This actually winds up working. Common Aviva W.

To be continued.... will the blue and green rivalry end? Will one prove superior over another? And will they be able to stop Zach and Paisley and save the planet earth? And will this change the adventures of the Wild Kratts team forever? Stay tuned for part 2!

Pros:

The live action segments.

The animation of the earth's model.

The musical number not being ass.

Paisely's catty behavior.

The Anaconda Suit.

The inventive ways they show how the stability of the Earth is complex. There are a lot of ways it functions and thus a lot of ways it needs to survive

The comedy.

Cons:

The villains do not do anything until the second half of this episode. In fact, they're left completely in the backdrop. I expected them to make their prescence known and for Aviva to invent the discs to get them together for the SAKE of fighting the villains. But no. It makes the stakes feel hollow, which is the opposite of what they should be gunning for in an hour long special that they hype the shit out of.

CONCLUSION:

It was an "okay" set-up. It did live up to some of the hype it had, but not all of it. Honestly if it wasn't for the second half of this episode, this movie would be mediocre or slightly above average, but no. They do pick themselves off the ground and... they do jump the shark. But we'll get to that next time

#spoilers #season 7 spoilers #wild kratts #wild kratts season 7 #paisley paver #zach varmitech #kratt brothers #2d kratt brothers #2d martin kratt #2d chris kratt #I lost sleep over this episode istg #Youtube

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

I can see the inconsistency of Felix character is because he actually a character for there "Fans demand" :

Sooo you prefer 2D-Catnoir/Felix rather than our angel Adrien ? Here Felix ! He official debut in "Felix" ! He is Adrien cousin and a big jerk ! Hate him just like how I hate him too !

Wh- What ? You like him ? Fuck ! So you feel he is more competent that our pure evulz bitch teenagers ? Fine ! Here's Felix who manage to trick Gabriel in "Gabriel Agreste" ! Now He is as dangerous as Gabe

Oh Fuck ! You still like him and feel he is more "relevant" than our angel Adrien and my sweetie Marinette ? Here's I present YOU Felix join Miracuclass as "Dog Hero" and then sell all the Miraclouses to Gabe ! He is Evil ! EVil ! EVIIIIL !

What ? You asking me why he want Peacock Miraculous so much ?! Here I present you Felix as Argos ! He wiped humanity out-of-spite and try to create the Utopia for his own freedom ! He is misanthrope !

What A second ? Why... You... STILL.... EXPECTED... CHLOE... TO BE REDEEMED.... why she already... has many traits... to be put in "Complete Monster" territory ? Why YOU keep want her to be redeem like Zuzu and Pacifica just because having shitty parents ? FINE ! Here's Felix to be our Zuzu ! He is tragic little peacock... has tragic backstory.... shitty dad... and a handsome teenager.... pretty much like Zuzu right ? Now shut up and Go simp on him and Feligami already !

Proper redemption arc ? Who hell need redemption arc as long as he is "tragic and handsome" ? Don't worry... we will make Kagami as "senti" out-of-nowhere aside she wear different ring as excuse and a "horny possessive girl" who still can't move on from Adrien and make her Simp felix because he smell and looks like Adrien RIIIIIIIIIIIGHHT LOL

Honestly, it is pretty hilarious that Felix was meant to be seen as the actual character who went through a serious redemption arc compared to Chloe, when the writers pretty much speedran through every major part of it in time for the finale.

Like, say what you will about Chloe and whether or not you think she deserved to be redeemed, but at least the arc leading to her betrayal was spread across three seasons. Felix's redemption arc only lasted three episodes.

Because of the poor pacing, this is the character journey Felix goes through during the latter half of Season 5.

Emotion: "I'm going to wipe out all of humanity and create a better world! Wait, you think I'm insane for erasing your friends and family from existance while essentially committing mass genocide? WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

Pretension: "Even though I've spent almost no time with you, I think I'm falling in love with you because you may be a Sentimonster person with strict parents like me. Of course, I don't love you enough to break my new moral code against using Sentimonsters or even answering for my betrayal of Ladybug."

Representation: "I'm finally going to do something to help Ladybug because her arch-enemy is getting in the way with my week-old relationship, and that moral code against Sentimonsters? I don't want to use Sentimonsters to fight, but using Sentimonsters to put on a play to convey information I could easily tell Ladybug myself, since my new girlfriend conviently learned her identity over ten episodes ago? Perfectly okay. And since I have a personal stake by wanting to protect both my cousin and girlfriend, surely, this means I'll get to play a big part in the season finale instead of just letting Ladybug do all the work, right?"

Conformation and Re-Creation:

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #felix graham de vanily #argos #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #queen b

[spilledkaleidoscope]

Kim Skill's Drabble for the Anon who prompted me with writing the skills in an everyday situation.

(very heavy on the skills but I guess that was the point of these lol

(Spoilers for A Cracked Foundation obviously)

Kim pushed his glasses up for what felt like the hundredth time since he entered the store. While it was hot outside as well, there was a slight breeze there, which couldn’t be said about the crowded spaces between the rows of tall, stuffed cabinets.

SURVIVOR - A fire hazard.

Between the humid heat and the constant noise around him, Kim couldn’t wait to leave.

He maneuvered himself into a corner to check his grocery list and was satisfied to see every item in his basket. The cloying smell of artificial fruit aromas made him look to his side where he found a row of big glass jars containing various sweets. The condensation had rendered them slightly foggy.

VICE - Oh fuck yeah!!

Kim couldn’t help but sigh.

It’s not on the list, so I’m not getting it, he shot back and dropped his notebook in the basket for emphasis.

VICE - Then put it on the fucking list? Who cares! They have honey gummies, Kim!!

PROCESSOR - Even just a handful of these confections contain about a fourth of the recommended daily intake of sugar. The ratio between nutrients and price is unsatisfactory.

CONNECTION - Sometimes food can be about memories instead of sustenance.

CONTROL - I’m not a child. Besides, what’s the point of implementing a rule if you are going to break it for something so trivial.

Kim bit the inside of his cheek and wondered if this was something he could ever get used to - mundane everyday tasks turning into discussions inside his head that would divert his attention. Of course, this happened here and there when he was on duty as well, but not nearly as frequently as on his days off.

GEARHEAD - Naturally. After all, work requires you to focus.

CONNECTION - Every part of you.

VICE - Oh my god now you’re just thinking about work?! Fucking- Dolores Dei’s Dick, I wish I was able to scream.

Kim blinked.

CONTROL - What was that?

VICE - You heard me.

CONNECTION - You shouldn’t say that…

VICE - Yeah and you should maybe back me up a bit?!

CONNECTION - But I did-

CONTROL - Unimportant. You’re not saying that again.

RHETORIC - Why? It’s a nice alliteration. 

I would really appreciate it, if I could concentrate on finishing up here instead of whatever this is supposed to be. I’m not going to have this slip me while interacting with the cashier.

VICE - You mean “Dolores Dei’s Dick”?

CONTROL - This is not happening.

RHETORIC - I don’t understand the problem. She could have had one.

PROCESSOR - The nature of Dolores Dei’s genitals has not been recorded.

CONNECTION - Can you stop? This is very disrespectful.

VICE - I’ll stop if Kim gets the gummies.

SURVIVOR - People are starting to give you glances. You are being perceived.

GEARHEAD - Presumably because you’ve been intensely staring into your basket for about three minutes.

RHETORIC - No, let’s talk about it. Why would it be disrespectful? Are you trans-phobic?

CONNECTION - Wha- of course not?!

CONTROL - And again I’m arguing with my own brain. Unbelievable.

Maybe I should just leave my basket, leave the store and walk into the Pale, Kim thought as he frowned at a box of flour. Except that in his (and every other human being's) experience, that might make things worse. 

PROCESSOR - You could walk into the ocean instead.

VICE - Dolores Dei’s Dick Dolores Dei’s Dick Dolores-

CONTROL - ENOUGH.

A sharp pain shot through Kim’s forehead, so sudden that he almost swung his basket into the glass containers next to him.

CORPUS - Psychosomatic. Unfair.

“Everything alright?”

Kim almost jumped. For a man of his size and the penchant to dress like a peacock, Harry could be surprisingly quiet. Maybe it was the hustle and bustle of the crowd around them that had hidden his approach.

SURVIVOR - Apologies. 

Kim answered with a wave of his hand, making the wicker basket at his elbow creak.

“Just a headache.”

Harry knitted his fingers into the handles of his tote bag thoughtfully and cocked his head to the side, eyes fixed on Kim’s. The lieutenant raised one of his eyebrows in response.

“Don’t. We talked about this.”

“Huh? Oh- I..I wasn’t going to, I was just..uhm.”

“Hm. Maybe we should pay and leave, that should give you time to come up with an excuse.”

His glance wandered towards Harry’s tote before he could stop himself. Harry’s expression switched from sheepish to defensive.

“No booze,” Harry said quickly and opened the bag for Kim to see.

VICE - OH HEY!

“I didn’t know you liked those.” Kim pointed at the honey gummies.Harry shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve had them before, I just kinda thought you might like them.”

#a cracked foundation #she attempts the writing of things

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Hi! Is it okay to request different Penguins (or only Arkham, if you don't write for all!) with a female reader who dresses in classic Lolita fashion? If you aren't familiar with the style, it refers to people who wear doll-like dresses, accessories and cutesy makeup! She also behaves in a very "dainty" way and is kind of shy, so I guess you could say she has soft mannerisms/personality! Thank you! <3

"Soft Fashion" Penguin Party x Reader

eyyyyy I don't get to write a ton of Penguin parties! Always exciting. Believe me, I'm rather familiar with the lolita style. It's not something I could wear or pull off, but I love looking at the different dresses and styles. I tend to like gothic styles or dresses with richer tones like you see in classic.

TW: some unhealthy/villanous relationship dynamics, doll play if you squint at 2022

Gotham

At first, he confuses the soft personality for someone to be manipulated and controlled. Another pawn to be used in his grandiose plans for King of Gotham. Then he fell for you. It should have been so easy not to but... What originally started as plots for how to use you swiftly became annoyance at the idea of other people trying to use you. It's so annoying! He supposes he'll have to look after you forever now.

Honestly? The fashion itself makes him feel masculine in a positive, non-toxic way. He's rather used to people looking at him or thinking of him as effeminate because of his smaller stature and method of dress- Not that effeminate is bad, not at all. Yet, it's frustrating when your gender identity is distinctly male.

So dating a woman who dresses in a highly feminine style gives him a reason to flash his peacock feathers, so to speak. In some ways, it encourages him to get flashier with his outfits. Why not? The two of you together, a complimentary pair...

And you two will have matching elements when you go out. Whether it's small color coordination, or the same fabric was used for your dress and his handkerchief- It's a subtle way of telling others to back off.

Would be willing to try the Ouji fashion for you. A prince to your princess. He'd look fucking good in it, too.

BTAS

Obviously, you are a woman of status. This put him on guard at first, given his past run-ins with women like that using him for gag amongst her peers. He thought of how he should dupe you first before you could dupe him! Then he saw some cad harassing you for your purse and your genuine gentle nature- Bother.

His assumption was that you must be a lady of some kind to be dressing up like that. Perhaps the last of your true kind here in Gotham. You were everything a Lady should be- impeccably dressed, polite and well-mannered. Of course, some of that could be his own bias painting a perfect portrait of you. He wasn't wrong, in a way. Money and familial status does not necessarily a Lady make.

He has opinions about his favorite style of dresses and he has 0 shame sharing them. Mind you, he won't stop you from wearing things he "disapproves" of, he's not some moronic numbskull who feels entitled to your body and the clothes on it. Yet you might notice he tends to like fancier dresses with longer skirts, to the knee and below. Oh! and the ones with matching gloves, oh, those are lovely. He can't wear gloves himself due to his... condition. He loves seeing them on your delicate fingers.

There are moments you might need to pep him up as he stands next to you. He's aware that no matter how well he dresses there are still "flaws" in his appearance. Then he'll tell you what a lovely creature you are, inside and out!

Burton

Oh boy. Look. You need to know it now, but this man is not soft, nor is he anything related or parallel to dainty. He's crass, he's short and he's rather grungy. But holy fuck all, he likes looking at you.

The big problem is the pawing. He already has a handsy problem when being with anybody because the man craves social and physical intimacy after being denied it for so, so terribly long... Seeing you all dressed up is kind of like finally getting your mitts on the porcelain plate that was in the cabinet for all those years. The ones you got punished if you ever touched them. So now you kind of want to just smash it against a wall and-

No, wait. That metaphor went a little too far. What he means to say is, he wants to see the dress come off. With his teeth, but you seem like you wouldn't like that. Yeah, he figured you wouldn't like that.

It takes so much self control for him not to be a little freak around you but the fact that he does says so much. He'll crack an awful, nasty little joke, expecting to see color rise to your cheeks. Dancing along that line of too much and just enough. Anybody else fucks with you in that way, though, and he'll break their hands.

The two of you are an odd pair. Yet there's no doubt there's plenty of love to go around.

Arkham games

He's so about showing off his partner in nice things as a status symbol and lolita dresses cost a fuck-ton so he's already into it. He actually doesn't need an explanation because unlike some others on this list, he's been to Japan and the harajuku shopping district in his prime crime days. Y'know. Before his wings got clipped (banned entry into the country).

It's about the image. The status. When you're decked out in warm winter lolita fashion to accompany him to his Iceberg Lounge, it just says something to other people. You're his most special companion who gets everything you desire. And you earn it by just being you!

And... you know. Following his rules. Shy, dainty, and soft. You're like the prim and proper ladies at the boarding school he was shipped off to as a lad. To be treasured by some. In his line of work- to be fleeced.

Oh, not to worry, lamb. You do everything he says, and no one will be able to touch you. You keep to his hours, to his place- He's been a bit of a collector for a long time, love. Think of it like an elegant birdcage to keep you away from the filthy vermin that want to sully your wings.

That and don't comment about his eating habits. Follow all that and he'll get you whatever you want. You can be the adorable puffin to his penguin!

Batman 2022

He does not get it at first. Ain't lolita that book about the creepy guy who adopted the teenager he wanted to sleep with? oh. They made a fashion out of it? Why? That seems like a whole mess of implications, ya know? Sure, people dress up in Gotham in all kinds of weird shit these days, he just wants to know why this one.

Once you get into it, that it's only tangentially related, it's fashion, most importantly you like it- He'll tell you you're a cute little doll. His cute little doll.

It is funny given the kind of club he runs. Scantily clad men and women for entertainment about and yet you're... Very fully dressed, for the most part. If you ever wanted to get a little more risque, he wouldn't mind. A shorter gown, a peek at those thighs above the stocking... He could get into that.

Speaking of dolls, he wouldn't mind dressing you up. Or at least picking out those outfits. He's got a good sense for a suit, he'd figure out what dresses and accessories look best on you for an occasion. Gives him a fun sense of control and power play he enjoys. Rolling your stockings onto you, rolling them back down. Kissing your knees and calf. You got him kneelin' for you, sweetheart. Ain't you just a pretty picture looking at him like that?

He's going to teach you how to use a gun. Something tiny you can fit in your bag. He plans on being there if anything should happen, but pretending you're completely safe in his hands given everything is uh. Foolish, in his opinion. At minimum, you're getting a fancy taser. You can make it cute if you want. You're much too nice to not know how to defend yourself if you got in a bad situation!

#gotham penguin #btas penguin #burton penguin #arkham penguin #2022 penguin #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot #foxwriting

[kawaiichibiart]

....fuck it, here's more stuff in my AU where Felix becomes Argos as early as S1/S2:

He talks his mom into letting him transfer to DuPont. So what if he's already graduated? This way he and Adrien can bond!!

Kinda a repeat of when Lila joins the class, he's just not lying (much) to people. (By not lying much, I mean he pretends to be a nice, good, boy, but he's secretly enjoying bidding his time to be an absolute menace, bonus points to him if he can get Adrien in on it).

Nino likes him instantly after he hears Felix refer to his uncle as "that whiny, candy cane, little bitch? What about him?"

Lila returns and immediately believes Felix is Adrien but gets surprised when Adrien walks in a few minutes later. To her further surprise, he pulls his "twin" away from her and takes him to the back, to their seats (another thing she was unaware of). Nino is sitting with Marinette and Lila has to sit with Alya.

Felix, indeed, managed to get Adrien to act like a little menace (there are his bonus points). The rest of the class doesn't know whether to feel proud or betrayed.

People send the Ladyblog pic after pic, video after video, of Chat Noir and some guy (?) dressed like a bird. Some have even captured a clearly mad Ladybug in the background.

Argos makes his "official" debut after that.

Reporter: Chat Noir, why have you been patrolling less with Ladybug? Are you replacing her with Argos? Chat Noir:...he knows things about me, I know things about him. It's complicated but only to people who aren't....us. Reporter:... Are...are you not concerned? If he knows things, he could risk your identity!! Chat Noir: Nah, it's fine. He loves me too much. Argos, in the distance: FUCK YOU!! Chat Noir: See? (:

Fast friends with Kagami. Neither have any understanding of social cues.

Unsure where he stands with Marinette. On the one hand, she seems to genuinely care about Adrien and wants to see him happy. On the other hand, where the fuck did she get his schedule? He doesn't believe she uses it for all her friends/classmates. He's calling bullshit on that.

Gives Nino free ammo to use against Gabriel.

Ladybug still tries to get him to hand over the peacock Miraculous, or at least tell her who he is. He continuously tells her to kiss his ass.

He's also done that to Hawkmoth.

Akuma of the Day: HAND OVER THE PEACO- the peacock Miraculous?? But, don't you- Hawkmoth: YES, YES, I WANT THE LADYBUG AND CAT MIRACULOUS, BUT THAT, THAT- Argos: Go ahead, take your time. What am I? Hawkmoth: HE STOLE IT FROM ME, I WANT IT BACK!! Argos: let me think about it... No. Hawkmoth: HAND OVER YOUR, I MEAN MY, I MEAN MAYURA'S MIRACULOUS!! Argos: You can join Ladybug (Ladybug, knowing what's he's about to say: Hey!) and the Guardian in kissing my ass, this Miraculous is mine. Argos: bitch.

#felix graham de vanily #felix fathom #miraculous au #argos #mlb argos #miraculous argos #early bird au

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

And In The Middle of My Chaos There Was You

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: You're a Naval Aviator at Top Gun, and you finally feel like your career is progressing. Sure, you have to fight to be heard and avoid being disregarded because you're a woman, but that's par for the course at this point in time. If only the men in your cohort weren't so pissy at being beaten by a girl. What will you do when you find yourself facing a situation you've only heard of in the news? Is your knight in shining armor, actually that? Or does he want to take advantage of you at your lowest?

Disclaimers: Female!Reader, All the warning above!

Warnings: There are quite a few warnings on this one! Near sexual assault, misogyny, Male chauvinist pigs, Hurt/Comfort, Jake is a dick at first, Sex, Angst, Crying

As a reminder, everyone's experiences are different. Everyone's experiences are valid. This is a fictional story.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CONSUME ON THE INTERNET. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF IT IS TRIGGERING TO YOU IN ANY WAY.

Word Count: 4872

A/N: I'm insatiable, and I swear I need to be stopped. I have three WIPs shaking a spear at the writer avatar of myself in my brain right now, and I'm still churning out one-shots like this one. Top Gun Brain-Rot: 1, Star: -100

I was a little hesitant to post it because it's different from other things I've written, and I hope I've handled this sensitive topic wisely. This was an incredibly hard fic to write because of the topic.

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

The US Navy's Naval Fighter Weapons School, colloquially known as Top Gun, is the most selective program you can be selected for as a Naval Aviator, and you've finally made it. You've worked hard to get to this spot in your career. You've put in countless hours of training, learned from every single one of your mistakes, and perfected the flying style that gained you the callsign Hummingbird. Point being, you're good, you're damned good, and you're going to prove it. You've got an itch under your skin, goading you to fight for that trophy. You need it. You've been fighting the shackles of male dominance since you decided to become a fighter pilot, and this is what will prove to them you're where you belong.

The only problem is there are nineteen or so other pilots in your class all with the same urge bubbling under their skin. The worst of the lot is Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman. He'd been gentlemanly at first, opening doors for you, handing you your pen when you dropped it during lectures, not flirty, but nice. Then you'd gone up against him on the first hop and smoked him. You'd been the only person in your cohort to beat the Hangman. After that, when your name and callsign had been at the top of the rankings, the gentleman schtick had been shredded and discarded faster than a tissue in a windstorm.

He’s now the ringleader of a group of five or six men in your cohort who seem hell bent on bringing you down. It’s obvious by now to them that they can’t do it while you’re flying. So they try to be intimidating, peacocking and talking shit and looming over you like their physical presence alone would be enough to knock you from the rankings. You’ve heard it all.

“It’s because she’s pretty, y’know, boys?” His Texan drawl had spit those words out in the hallway in front of the locker rooms two weeks ago. “She must be fucking Admiral Simpson. There is no way she’d be at Top Gun otherwise, not how she flies.”

It was so fucking easy for them to say that. It’s the only thought in your mind as you keep your face blank and muscle your way through the group of them on your way to and from the locker room every day. They don’t have a glass ceiling they need to shatter to be heard. They can just open their dumb mouths and the world falls at their feet. You and Phoenix, in the meanwhile, the only two women in your cohort, have to go above and beyond. It’s your hard work and nothing else that got you to Top Gun. So why does it feel like a hollow victory whenever you out-perform on a hop and have to hear the vitriol pouring out of Hangman’s mouth? You’d thought there was at least one man you’d never have to worry about. Boy were you wrong.

Today was the day of hop 25. You hadn’t smoked all the boys in this one, and you knew it was because it exploited all of your weaknesses in the air. Hangman hadn’t given up the opportunity to hold his success over you either. He’d been in your space all day, and all you wanted to do was go for a run, take a hot bath and order greasy chinese takeout so you could stuff your face. Your failure feels like a blanket coating your skin as you tie your sneakers and pop your headphones into your ears.

It’s only a few minutes before you’re jogging down the beach. It’s a beautiful day and with each slap of your sneakered feet against the pavement you can feel your disappointment and anger melt away. Soon the only thing in your head is the rush of endorphins and your steady breathing. You’re about four miles away from your quarters on base when you finally stop running. Your legs feel like jelly as you drop to sit on the sun-warmed sand and chug some water. The beach has to be your favorite part of living in San Diego, at least temporarily. Being able to just sit in the hot sand and watch the pounding waves always takes you out of your head in a way that only alcohol and orgasms have before.

You’re startled out of your meditative state when a series of shadows blot out the sunlight in front of you. It’s three men staring at you. Their gazes are predatory, gazes heavy over your exposed legs, shoulders and midriff.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?” The first man’s voice sends shivers down your spine as you scramble to your feet. They’re about six inches away from you, but as you stand, you soon find yourself surrounded. A hand clasps your upper arm as the ringleader crowds into your space. You can smell beer on his breath and see unknown greenery in his teeth as he leers down at you. You can smell the sour scent of his sweat as he looms over you, corpulent and disgusting. All the hair on your body is standing on end as you try and fail to summon all of the confidence that you exhibit when you’re in a fighter jet. The ringleader’s ham hands plant on your waist, and that’s when your fight and flight response kicks in. You shove the other men’s hands off of you, throwing your metal water bottle into one of their faces for good measure. Then you kick the ringleader right in his family jewels. He falls with a satisfying thud and groan of pain and you’re left to try and run away.

Your adrenaline pounds as you jolt across the beach. You’re screaming at the top of your lungs with each step you take. You only get a few steps away before you’re stopped by a vicious yank to your hair. Your eyes water as you try to kick the men away. There’s a man holding your arms behind your back when you’re dragged back to the leader. His jaw is still clenched, face red and dripping sweat as he cradles his balls and tries to catch his breath.

“We’ve got a live one, don’t we gentlemen? Now why don’t we see what she has going on under that itty bitty sports bra. You’re just a little slut, aren’t you? Running down the beach in those tiny clothes?” You’re struggling when that hand rips your sports bra at one of the straps, but before he can put his hands on your skin, he’s being pushed away. His goons drop their grasp of you to go help the ringleader and you collapse to the sand clutching your tattered bra to you and watch your savior fight them off. It’s Jake! He’s already knocked the leader out and your heart is in your throat as you watch his fight with the other men. The struggle has brought other people to the sand and even the police. It’s a relief when the police officers handcuff the men and walk them away.

You’re just staring blankly into the ocean water when you feel soft fabric being handed to you. It’s Jake and he’s looking at you like he’s never seen you before.

“Hey, Hummingbird. Can you wear that for me, sweetheart? It’s getting cold out here. I talked to the police officers for you and gave them your contact info. They want to see us tomorrow.”

His first words send hot droplets of tears welling from your eyes. How can you do this? Be Hummingbird, the woman who can outfly any man on base while being the fragile creature you feel like right now? You note distantly how his face falls as you sob before him. His hands are gentle as he helps you put your arms into the sleeves of the shirt and buttons it until you’re decent.

“I’m going to hug you, sweetheart. Is that ok?” Your nod is barely a bob of your chin when he wraps his arms around you. You’re crushed against his broad chest and as you curl into his skin you can’t help crying harder. He’s safe. Jake’s safe and he’s going to keep you that way. You don’t know where that bone deep surety came from. He hates you and he’s your rival. But you don't care right now.

All you can feel is his bare skin. You can hear the beat of his heart as he positions you on his lap and feel his hands as he wraps them carefully around your waist. The gentle caress makes you sob harder as you nearly scream into his bare chest. You feel scraped raw, like those men had robbed you of everything you are. It’s nearly dark out when your tears finally run out. In the half light on the beach you can barely see the man you’re curled into, but you can feel the steady whooshing of his breath as he holds you as long as you need.

Your voice is soft and hoarse as you pull away, “Thank you, Jake. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. I have sisters. I did what I would’ve wanted any other man to do for them.” You can see his jaw clench in the half-light as he nearly growls the words. “Did they hurt you?”

“The big one, he pulled my hair.” You can’t stop the catch in your throat as you think of what he did to you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me take you home?” He cradles the back of your head gently, long fingers probing the tender parts to ensure you’re not seriously hurt.

“Okay.” You’re still unable to look him in the eye as he slips you off of his lap and helps you stand. His hand is huge as he carefully envelops your hand in his own and walks you to his truck.

“Y’drove here?” Your voice is slurring, exhaustion haunting every movement as the fear and adrenaline fade away.

“Yeah, baby. I was going to grab dinner with a friend at a restaurant a bit up the beach. I always park here and walk up the beach to get there.”

“M’sorry, Jake. I spoiled your plans.” Your voice is quivering again as you wrap your arms around your waist.

“No. You didn’t, baby. Keeping you safe means more than canceled dinner plans.” He pulls the door open and carefully helps you into the cab.

Your heart is pounding. Jake Seresin is being sweet to you. He let you cry in his arms, he saved you from sexual assault, and now he’s making sure you get home safe.

“Your quarters are on base, right?” His voice is gentle as he tries to find your frazzled thoughts.

An irrational jolt of fear pulses through you at the thought, and you can’t keep yourself from letting the words from spilling past your lips. “Yeah, but I don’t want to go there. Please, I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

“That’s understandable sweetheart. I’ve been living in my brother’s apartment off base. Can I take you there?”

“Yes, please.” His jaw is clenched as he drives. You’ve shoved your shoes off and are curled up in the big bucket seat as you watch the light play over his face. It’s silent as he drives the truck and you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you know is you’re being carried carefully up a set of stairs.

“Jake?” Your arm is curled around his neck as he carefully carries you.

“You awake, baby?” He sets you carefully down on his front door mat as he unlocks the door and ushers you in. You’re a little curious as to how he lives, because even after a fistfight on the beach, there isn’t a hair out of place on his head. It’s a bachelor’s apartment, but clearly lived in. There’s a throw over the back of the sofa and a couple of dishes in the sink. When you stop your slow examination, you see Jake leaning against the kitchen counter. He’s smirking gently.

“Like what you see, baby?”

“It’s not what I’d expect from you, Seresin.” Your voice is straining to be light as you smile half-heartedly at him.

“Oh yeah?” His voice contains a shade of the normal teasing he usually uses with you. “What would you expect of me?”

Your voice is bitter and harsh as you chuckle mirthlessly, “Not a knight in shining armor, that’s for sure. The worst part is, I don’t even know what to think. You were nice in the beginning. Then overnight you turned into the biggest dick I’ve ever met. Why didn't you let them do whatever they wanted? You hate me anyways. If they did what they wanted to, I'd have probably dropped out and you could've gotten Top Gun.”

You’re not expecting the joy to leave his eyes. He’s serious now. You’re not looking at Jake Seresin anymore. This is Hangman. You can’t help the gasp as he tugs you towards him before he spins the two of you until you’re caged between the island counter and his body. His voice is a barely restrained growl as he looks at you.

“I want to win Top Gun fighting against you the whole way. Darlin', I don't hate you and I never meant a thing I said. I was just trying to get into your head. Not degrade your sense of self. Truthfully, you're the most captivating, intelligent, sweet-hearted, gorgeous woman I've ever met.”

Your heart is in your throat as you glance up at him. Each breath has your chest brushing against his.

“Never question why I saved you. You are the best of the best. This is just a blip in your career. Tomorrow we'll go give your statement to the police and get those asswipes all locked up. Then, you’re going to kick our cohort’s asses, mine included, and accept that trophy. And I’ll be cheering for you every step of the way.” He’s so close to you that you can see the different variations of mossy green swimming in his captivating eyes, and especially how he keeps looking at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Your voice is gentle as you cup his jaw, “make me forget what it feels like to have their hands on my skin.”

The first tender press of his lips to yours has you gasping, wrapping your arms around his neck as you melt into his embrace. His hands are gentle as he lifts you onto one of the barstools, tracing gentle patterns on your ribs as he slides his hands under the shirt he’d given you. You’re panting as he finds the torn fabric of your sports bra. Each gentle press of his fingers has your cunt clenching in need as he chases the phantoms of the unfriendly touches away.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” Your nod is gentle as you unwind your arms from around his neck. You shudder as he slips each button out of its hole and moan appreciatively when he finally pushes the entire garment off of you. You’re left with only the torn sports bra covering your breats and even that’s off shortly. His eyes are hungry as he gazes over the expanse of your skin laid bare for him. Jake drags you into another all-consuming kiss as his hands send heat shooting across your skin. His lips trail hot down your throat, laving across your pulse point before trailing wetly across your breasts. They latch onto one of your nipples, nuzzling, licking and sucking before he places another kiss to your mouth.

“Can I take you to the shower, sweetheart? We’re both covered in sand. Let me make you feel good in the shower.” His voice is a purr against your ear as his hands cup your ass.

“Yes! Please!” Your voice is breathy and high pitched as he picks you up. Faced with his hot skin against yours again, you can’t resist peppering kisses of your own across his shoulders, and collar bone. You feel delirious, swept up in the thrall of his warmth and the scent of his skin, something citrusy and light but woody with a touch of musk. Jake’s arms are like steel cages around you, but you’d like nothing more than to stay in them forever. That feeling of safety courses over your skin with each step.

He sets you on the bathroom counter, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air as he turns the shower on before stepping in between your parted legs. It’s in the bathroom light that you finally get to explore the full expanse of his bare torso. You’ve seen Jake topless before, when you’d been dragged out to compulsory cohort bonding activities on the beach. You’d marveled at the play of light over his torso and the light dusting of soft hair a shade or two darker than on his head, thankful that your sunglasses hid your gaze. But here, when it’s just the two of you, you let your eyes drink their fill. When your eyes drift back to his, there’s an amused glint in his eyes.

“D’you like what you see, sweetheart?” His hands find your ass, calloused fingers dipping below the band of your exercise shorts as he slowly begins to nudge the fabric down. You can feel the heat rising to your face as he exposes your sodden core to his gaze before discarding both the shorts and your panties to the floor at his feet. He wraps his arms around your hips before blowing a stream of air over your sensitive folds. It has your bare skin goosing with pleasure as he presses a kiss against each calf before stepping back so you can hop off the counter. Now you can see the considerable bulge in his exercise shorts. You can’t resist trailing your finger gently over it before stepping into the shower, calling over your shoulder, “I love what I see, Flyboy. Now are you joining me or are you going to stand there and look pretty?”

As you step under the stream of perfectly hot water, you can’t hide your chuckle as you hear Jake struggling to get the shorts off. You can feel all the stress of the day slipping off of your body and into the drain just as the last grains of sand do. Jake’s hands at your waist finish the job. You're tugged against his firm chest and your moan of pleasure as his big hands knead your skin is lost under the patter of water drenching the stall. His cock is hard and thick against your ass as he gently rocks his hips against you.

You turn in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck as you kiss him. Jake returns the kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs as he plunders your mouth with his tongue. You can feel your body clench, muscles drawn tight at the promise of the pleasure his body can wreak on yours as he devours your mouth.

“Jump.” his voice is a sensual growl against your ear, and you’re only too eager to comply. He’s gentle as his big hands cup your ass. He presses you against the cool tiles of the shower and your shuddering moan at the contrasting temperatures is silenced with another all-consuming kiss. Jake buries his head between your breasts for several long moments, and his voice is absolutely wrecked when he speaks again, “You’re so beautiful, my gorgeous fiery, sweet girl. And I nearly lost you today.” His lips are indescribably tender as he presses kisses across your skin. Your fingers are buried in his soft hair as he sucks your nipples into his mouth nibbling and laving his tongue over tender peaks until your core is jerking against his stomach.

“Jake!” Your voice is a strung-out squeal as he pulls away from your breasts and lifts you higher.

“Put your legs on my shoulders and hold onto my hands. I’m going to eat you out until you scream my name. Now’s your chance, pretty bird. If you don’t want this, we can just shower and I can take you to bed.”

Your only response is to push his head to your core. The first swipe of his tongue over your heat has your back arching, core clenching as Jake eats you out with abandon. Your thighs are already quivering with the strain of not squishing his head between them. His nose nudges your clit with each thrust of his tongue into your heat and you’re reaching your orgasm impossibly fast.

“Jake!” You’re screaming his name, babbling about how good he makes you feel when you cum, thighs constricting as tight as a vice around his head before your body finally, blessedly, goes slack. Your knees are wobbly when Jake finally sets you on your feet. You cling to his waist, praying that your legs will cooperate enough to let you at least stand stably. You know you’ve got a dopey grin on your face when you look back at him.

“Y’ok, baby?” His voice is gentle as he wraps his arms around you.

“Yeah, better than. I’m good, Jake. I’m very good.” You’re smirking at him when he turns you until your back is pressed to his chest.

“Y’good enough to let me fuck you until we make you cum again?” As he’s speaking his hand is pressing wickedly between your folds, slowly fingering you. You don’t respond outright, too busy chasing the sensations his talented long fingers wreak on your body. You’ve forgotten what you should be responding to, in fact, when he stops moving his hands in their entirety. It’s when his hands tweak your nipples that your attention snaps back to Jake.

“Jake?” Your voice is gentle, half whining as he cups your breasts. “What happened? Why’d you stop?”

“You didn’t respond, baby. Wanted to make sure you were onboard with what I wanted to do to you.” His mouth presses kisses across your pulse as he waits for your eager consent.

“Jake.” This time, you’re moaning in earnest as you clutch at his hands over your tits. “Please fuck me, my darling, please. Want to cum on your cock.”

His groan sends heat through you as he places your hands on the wall before parting your legs.

“I’m clean, baby. But I don’t have a condom.” His big hand is splayed comfortably around your hip.

“I’m on birth control. Please.” You can feel the puffs of his breath against your damp shoulder as he nudges your clit with his cock before slowly pressing into you. Your pants turn into moans with each thick inch of him pressing into your walls. You’re seeing stars already at the constant assault of his length against your g-spot.

“Please! Please!” You’re babbling as he finally bottoms out in you, “You feel so good, Jake, please! Want to cum for you. Please, Please, Please!”

His hands are soothing against your hips as he caresses the hot skin before drawing his hips back. Jake’s infuriatingly slow, each slow glide and press into you has your toes curling as a jumbled mess of need and want and ache and pleasure washes over you. He doesn’t speed his thrusts until you begin to circle your clit with your own hand. The flutters of your wall around his length make him groan before he tugs you back against his chest.

“Oh, baby.” His voice is reverent as the new angle has your walls clenching even tighter around his length. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

You reach for his face, kissing the corner of his mouth sloppily as he picks up the tempo. You’re soon squished between the cold bathroom tile and Jake’s body as he rails into you with impunity. Your breaths are punched out moans and you can feel your second orgasm approach with an unparalleled intensity as Jake continues to piston his hips. You can hear the slapping of skin against skin even over the pounding water as Jake slides his hand between your legs and massages your clit. Your scream as you orgasm is prolonged and a thin, weak thing as the pleasure robs you of every thought.

You don’t come back to yourself for several moments. Jake’s carefully massaging shampoo into your scalp, fingers gentle against the tender parts. You kiss his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as his hands leave your hair to wrap around you again.

“You back with me, baby?” His voice is filled with such fondness and affection that you could cry.

“Yeah, I’m back, Jake.” Your smile is dopey and fond as he draws you into a kiss. “Did you cum?” Your hands are just as gentle as his as you stand on tiptoes to lather his hair just as carefully as he’d lathered yours.

“Yeah, baby. I came when you did.” He’s started to rub soap across your skin, something fancy that smells like oranges. “God, baby. If I hadn’t been so jealous or selfish, we could’ve been doing this a long time ago. I haven’t come like that in years.”

Your heart swells as you grab the soap from him and run your sudsy hands over his strong thighs and ass, putting in just the right amount of pressure on his back to make him moan before soaping his chest and soft length. He’s looking at you like you’re something special as you tip your head back and let the hot water wash all the bubbles away. While Jake rinses off, you stay cuddled in his arms.

The bathroom is steamy and warm as he drapes a towel under your armpits and pulls a hair dryer out. You melt when he turns the dryer on and uses the combination of warm air and his fingers carding through the bedraggled strands to dry your hair. It’s quiet between you as he leads you to his bedroom and hands you a soft t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to wear.

“Are you hungry, darlin’?” His hair is soft and mussed as he stands in the kitchen wearing just a pair of low-slung sweats.

“I’m starved.” You curl into his chest again as he pulls up a menu on his phone.

“What do you feel about Chinese food?”

You kiss him for that suggestion before pulling away to look at the menu. Jake hooks his chin over your shoulder as you laugh and playfully fight over the best menu choice. It’s light and easy as you sit on his sofa, sipping on wine and eating chinese food. You’re sure you could get used to this.

North Island Naval Base - 2 ½ Weeks Later

“It is without further ado, that we present the Top Gun Trophy to Lieutenant Junior Grade Jacob Seresin, Callsign Hangman.”

Admiral Simpson looks proud as he hands the plaque to Jake and you know Jake’s looking right at you as he smiles like he won the world. Your loss doesn’t bother you, not at all.

After that fateful night, things had been different between the two of you. One night of sex, mind-blowing, and Chinese food, greasy and perfect, hadn’t been the harbinger of change between you. Change had started the next morning when he accompanied you to the police station and waited as you’d given your statement to the police with your JAG representative by your side. It had been a relief to see the police throwing the book at your three attackers and to see their sentencing. You’d attended their trial two days ago and celebrated into the night with Jake as they’d each been sent to prison for assault of a military officer.

The biggest change had been during class. Jake was back to being the nice, perfect gentleman he had been at the beginning of your tour at Top Gun. He no longer heckled you or tried to bring you down using misogynistic remarks. He did still banter with you, but it was light and fun. And every night, he made love to you in his apartment while he called you “his beautiful fiery girl” or his “pretty bird”. He held you when your nightmares kept you awake and made you feel like you were perfect when you felt like anything but.

That’s why losing the Top Gun trophy hadn’t hurt so much. You won Jake at the end of it all. And you weren’t sure if he knew that he’d won you too. You're going to show him the next chance you get. Your entire cohort is grouped around him as you walk towards him to congratulate him. He’s been getting hugged all day, so you know it doesn’t look out of place when you wrap your arms around him and congratulate him. But you can guarantee that none of the others whispered in his ear that he had to eat them out to console them from the loss. That privilege is just for you, and it’s a consolation prize you’re very keen to claim.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #and in the middle of my chaos there was you #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #fluff #smut #top gun imagine #top gun smut #top gun fluff #angst #this handles some pretty serious topics #tw: sa #tw: attempted sa

[hangmans-toothpick]

Top Gun Characters as Shit my Friends/Familt have said

Mav: Am I an idiot?

Slider: Ice requires me to tell you no.

Slider:

Mav:

Slider: But Ice isn’t here, and you’re an idiot-

Slider: I used to be nice before I started working with you.

Ice:

Slider: What have you done to me? Look at me! I’m mean now! I don’t want to be mean, Tom!

Ice: I’m so old. *groans* Just put me in a retirement home, I’m done!

Slider, about Ice: He’s like Superman but instead of super strength and laser vision he has a crippling nicotine addiction and abandonment issues.

Hollywood: Oh!

Hollywood, shocked: Oh!!

Hollywood, sympathetic: Oh…

Wolfman: Do you have any other way you can say that syllable?

Goose: A lot of thought goes into being a whore.

Pheonix: They need to make vapes that look like vaginas.

Bob: Is the clit where you’d hit?

Phoenix: YES! exactly.

*Listening to audio porn*

Maverick: this is how I sound going up stairs.

*about Iceman*

Maverick: Yeah he has cancer! Could be worse

Slider: Could be worse? That’s like saying that my leg is broken, but it’s okay because I have another leg!

Phoenix: I don’t support treating people like cattle. But men are icky.

Ice: I don’t like you.

Mav: Why?

Ice: You make me do things that are gonna get you killed.

Cyclone: Efficiency! you just have to give up on everything.

Iceman: Man, I’m just shitfaced. I dunno what the hell happened.

*being side-eyed by an amish girl*

Mav: should i ask what her problem is?

Goose: No, she’s amish! She probably has enough problems as it is.

Rooster: I wanna be in the smufs movie so i can bone papa. I mean absolutely raw doggin’ it.

Maverick: 👁💧👄💧👁

Phoenix: I’m laughing my tampon out of my pussy!

*after Ice’s cancer surgery*

Slider: So… how’s your wednesday evening going? Nothing like a wednesday night at St. Mary’s Hospital.

Mav:

Mav: How do you think I’m doing, Ronald?

Iceman: I’m not a communist… but-

Rooster: That! That is not a mustache. That’s a fuzzy upper lip.

Payback: Being complimented by Dwane The Rock Johnson is an orgasm in itself.

Rooster: If I could fuck a drugstore, I would fuck rite aid.

Hollywood: I mean… who hasnt dressed up as a woman? I have!

Mav, in yoda voice: Mhmm… coming you are.

Ice:

Ice: nope. thats it. get outta the bed. You’re done.

Rooster: I’m trying to spread the fucking peanut butter with a spoon.

Phoenix: You’re giving califorian stoner vibes

Bob: Very californian stoner of you, Bradley.

Coyote: Do you wanna watch Fast and Furious 9?

Hangman: I haven’t seen the first one.

Coyote: I’m sure they’re all the same.

Hangman: Car go fast. Vin Diesel. That’s all you need to know.

Rooster: Do you think you two will hate each other when you get old?

Maverick: He already hates me.

Iceman: I don’t hate you, you just bug me.

*trying to do pilates with Hangman*

Rooster: You’re such a sadist! This isn’t fun sexy pain. This is just pain!

*explaining to baby Bradley how 2 dads have a baby*

Iceman: Well, you see, when a man and a man love each other very much… they find a woman

Maverick: *wheezing*

Iceman: A woman who cares just a little bit.

Payback: Just because I’m an athlete doesn’t mean I can’t feel

*talking about throat cancer survivor*

Iceman: I have three holes. all fuckable.

Bob: I wanted to be in the Navy before I saw the movie! The hot guys are just a bonus!

Rooster: I’m so excited to fuck harrison ford

hangman: *getting quieter as she goes* hell yeah talking about our problems since… nineteen… thirty…… seven

Hangman: he better fucking leave his wife for me, I swear to god.

Slider: help him! he’s being pegged! anal!

Phoenix: Is that a boob?

Bob: No! That’s Gary the Snail!

Hangman: I can’t even begin to tell you how attracted to that peacock i was

Cyclone: what do you wear to a poker game?

Fanboy: fancy clothes.

Cyclone:

Cyclone: what.

Cyclone: yall have broken my spirit.

Hangman: thats our job as students

Cyclone: no shit.

Maverick: back in my day-

Hangman: i love history class.

Maverick, to Slider: Only you can make a happy birthday card for someone else and have it still be a jab at me.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #natasha phoenix trace #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #top gun 1986 #icemav #hangster #we have so many cancer jokes #idfk why

[head---ache]

hello im going to talk about my non fankid oc's because i feel like i talk too much about my children (sorry) and too little about my other characters and i know probably no one cares but fuck you/lh im going to force you to care/j

Tools the Chinchilla (she/they) is the oldest character in the group! (Ironically age wise they're the youngest, being 14). They're an anti hero, of sorts?? But I think a better way to describe her is just a silly chinchilla doing her own thing, not caring about anyone else. They really just care about what they have going on and are going to do whatever they need to get things done. She does not care about relationships at all, and only tries to get closer to someone if it benefits her. They're a investigator/scientist, mostly studying about chaos, so you can guess how that leads her to follow the main cast around, trying to act all friendly to get info out of them (but everyone knows she doesn't actually like them because she's really bad at acting). She also has a very big ego, and constantly compares herself to characters like Tails of Eggman, pushing them both down although she's not really an inventor, unless she needs something specific.

Prince the Peacock (he/him) is my boy!!! I love his concept. He has hypnotic powers thanks to his feathers, and he also cares a lot about his looks. He's very sophisticated, but also very high energy and friendly (he can be a little too much, in fact). He's also a bit naive, but that's mostly because he usually sees the best in people, and believes anyone can be good if he's just nice enough. He sees himself and Tools as best friends, even though she can't stand him, he just thinks they're shy. He's a little bit too scared of everything, but after being saved by the Resistance during the war he feels like he needs to do his part, so he's actually quite brave and very usually pushes himself out of his comfort zone.

Ferocity the Spider (she/her) seems to be somewhat of a fan favorite, and I think that might be thanks to her goth lolita fashion and the fact that she's a spider, definitely not something seen in the Sonic franchise. She's a full on villain, and is que agressive. She has all of the abilities spiders commonly have, but I can't get more specific than that. I'm way too scared of spiders and could only use drawings as reference for her design, so I didn't actually take the time to decide what kind of spider she is bskdbskfnskx She has every move calculated, and takes everything into account, she's very careful and methodic, but, like I said, when she needs to, she can get very agressive and scary. She's also very closed off and untrustful, so while she does have someone she works with (more on that later), she usually prefers to do things herself, just to make sure.

Joy the Horse (she/her) is a total sweetie. She's very shy and quiet, but has the biggest heart ever. She's a baker!!! And has her own bakery:) she sometimes brings some of her baked goods to Restoration HQ because some of her friends are there. She's softspoken and kind, but don't look down on her! She can kick you over the next city if she needs to>:) usually in defense, not in offense. She doesn't fight often, but if her or someone she cares about is involved she goes all out trying to help. Also Joy is the only one Tools tries to be friends with, but that's because they want free food. Joy knows this, and yet she still pretends she doesn't see when the chinchilla sneaks a cookie into their pocket.

Torch the Angler Fish (they/them) is Ferocity's right hand!!! Mostly just the dumb henchman in cartoons. They're way too energetic and impulsive, which is why Ferocity usually has to hold them down. They normally do the dirty work; if they need to fight, Torch will do it while Ferocity watches from the shadows and only interferes if needed. Torch, of course, has a little light that can lure people closer to them, and they often hide in the shadows, to then attack by surprise. They enjoy scaring people, they're a bit of an asshole lol. I said Ferocity is agressive, and yet, Torch is the most agressive of the two, which makes them a bit more scary.

Index the Secretary Bird (she/her) is a cute girly who works for the Restoration as, you guessed it, a secretary. I imagine she was friends with Jewel, and when she saw how much work the beetle had, she decided to step in and help. She's also very methodic, and strict. She actually was a librarian before she joined the Restoration, so you can be sure she has outstanding organization skills. She's a bit unexpressive, and distant, but definitely not mean, and if you manage to get close to her you'll have a friend who will give you the best advice and will listen to you with all of her attention!! She also has some knowledge in first aids, so when needed she also helps in that area.

And yeah that's that the fankids get too much attention so these guys also needed a post dedicated to talking about them tehee

#sonic oc #tools the chinchilla #prince the peacock #ferocity the spider #joy the horse #torch the angler fish #index the secretary bird

[satninpretty]

A fic request: Elvis x stand-offish girl? He's used to fawning girls, so she's intriguing and he wants to have her. The Robbie Smith encounter with Elvis kinda' inspired me. Preferably smutty, but up to you. Thank you 💖

this is might be TOO long and took forever and also covers a couple of other requests, but hope you enjoy bunny x

You and the sun

“i don’t wanna argue, ma’am...” he looks down in mock bashfulness and then straight up into your eyes. “but, uh, ain’t i your job?”

pairing: 70's elvis/reader or austin!elvis/reader whichever you prefer 

rating: M, minors do not interact

warnings: oral, handjobs, vague slightly sub elvis vibes, usual elvis stuff including his healing hands. u know how it is. 

four leaf clover, lucky strike cigarettes, something about… lucky sixes? 

you could write this song a lot faster if that fucker would stop showing off his sub-par guitar skills in the corner. he’s strutting around like a peacock in a gaudy silk shirt, howling with laughter at his own jokes. all the men in the room, even the serious session musicians you admire, revolve around him like he’s the sun. they laugh along with him, even when he isn’t funny, totally sucked into his massive, magnetic orbit. 

“man, you’re killin’ it, EP!” a big guy shouts from the corner. 

he isn’t killing it. you’ve seen him fucking around all session, laughing during takes, making up nonsensical lyrics while you’ve been trapped in the corner, roped into writing something fresh for him. it’s a lot of pressure when you’re only four months into your publishing deal with the label.

originally he didn’t want a girl in the recording room but once he saw you he made a real fuss, started introducing you to all the guys in his entourage and flirting shamelessly. unfortunately for him, he’d shown up two hours late to the session and you were too tired to find him charming or impressive. 

of course, if it wasn’t for all that ego and bravado, you would find him to be both those things. 

his voice is beautiful. it’s rich, smooth and dextrous. in one moment he sings with such a rough grit and the next with a high angelic head register, switching between them effortlessly. his raw emotion is expertly channeled into each word, each vibrato choice, each pause. and the connection to the music is real. it moves him. he jerks and swings and shimmies and his hips. when your eyes aren’t on your own handwriting, you can’t help but gaze at the way the music moves through him. 

but all of that, while impressive in bursts, doesn’t yield consistent results in the studio. 

every now and again elvis saunters up to you with his guitar thrust forward like a dick and leans over your notebook to decipher your lyrics. he gives you patronizing encouragement and winks, keeps on touching your shoulder even though you shrug him off. 

“keep goin’ little lady.” he says. or “stick at it honey.” or eventually “why don’t you come sit right here in front of me, see if we can give each other some inspiration?” 

nothing you do dampens his mood. if anything he seems to perform even harder while the men around him feed his wild energy and chain smoke and don’t look you in the eye. 

“honey…” he sighs dramatically, one eyebrow raised. “can i, uh, can i ask, have i done something to offend?”

you look up from your paper to find elvis standing in front of you, the session apparently taking a break. half the guys seem to have already left and the rest are waiting to pounce on any opportunity to get him alone. all you’ve got written down is a verse and a scrappy chorus you’re going to have to re-write. 

“no, you haven’t. i’m just trying to finish this song for you.” 

he’s full of manic energy, you can feel it radiating from him in waves and he’s bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. even while wiping sweaty strands of black hair from his forehead his smile is like the sun glinting in your eyes. it pisses you off. 

“well, i sorta feel like you’re fightin’ me here, honey.”

“i’m not fighting you. i’m here to write you a song because your catalog is tired.”

he responds to this with a sudden burst of open-mouthed laughter, so sharp that it takes you by surprise. 

“now, see, that - that’s what i mean.” he grins, placing his hand on the arm of your chair. the cool silk of his shirt brushes your wrist. “you’re just a little sourpuss.”

he smells like cigar smoke and old spice and faintly of sweat as he leans over you. 

and you have to admit it. you may not like him, but those cheekbones and that straight nose… you get it. a little. it’s roman. he’s practically statuesque. 

“i’m just trying to do my job.” 

despite the dark glasses you see his eyes light up and he tries to hide a little-boy grin. you’ve said something he’s about to use as ammunition.

“i don’t wanna argue, ma’am...” he looks down in mock bashfulness and then straight up into your eyes. “but, uh, ain’t i your job?”

there are laughs from the few guys left in the room that overhear him and he glances back at them with a smug grin.

“my job is writing. i just wanna finish this song and go home. can you move your hand from my chair, mr. presley?” 

he blinks at you for a moment under his lashes. and then, his grin never faltering, he snorts and throws his hands up in surrender. you pretend not to watch him turn on his heeled boots and walk out for his break. the rest of the musicians follow after him like ducklings, not one of them stopping to speak to you. not even the guys you like. 

.

twenty minutes later, without the commotion of all the men in the room, you’re finally getting somewhere with the song. all you need is a better bridge and maybe a different second verse and for this fucking headache to dissipate. 

you’re busy scrawling down bad rhymes in the margin of your composition book, heat beat street keep, when the big guy from earlier unceremoniously sticks his head around the door. 

“elvis wants you to come to dinner with us.” he says with zero enthusiasm. he’s wearing a loud purple suit but he doesn’t pull it off like his boss does. you can hear the echoes of male laughter from the corridor behind him. 

“tell him no thank you. i’m writing.” the guy raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything and then leaves as quickly as he came, the booth falling silent again. 

bristling, you settle back down to write down a few more rhymes but you only make it five minutes before you’re interrupted again. the door bursts open, no sound of laughter in the corridor this time, and elvis himself leans dramatically against the doorframe. 

“still givin’ me the cold shoulder, huh baby?” he pouts. 

“oh god!” you whine, throwing the notebook down on the floor and massaging your left temple pointedly. “can i have thirty minutes uninterrupted?”

he has a thin cigar in his hand and he waves it dismissively, ash fluttering to the threadbare carpet. his heeled boots step towards you and he lets the door close behind him.

“you’re workin’ too hard, sourpuss. come on outta here, come have dinner.”

“look.” you sigh, the headache now rapidly spreading across the back of your skull. “when i said your catalog is tired, i meant it. i’m being paid to write you something fresh and i - i can’t work like this. i’m not used to it.” 

he frowns and runs his hand through his messy hair, glasses so dark that you can’t see his eyes. 

“you ain’t givin’ me a whole lot to work with, y’know.”

“i’m working for you!” 

you shake your head in disbelief. his cigar smoke is getting into your lungs, your headache is getting worse and he is so clearly getting off on the bickering. 

“i’m just sayin’, you know. you’ll live longer if you cut loose once in a while.”

“you’ll live a lot longer if you tighten up once in a while.”

“spicy and sour, huh?” he drawls. more ash flutters to the carpet. “naw, i-i-i think you like our little fights deep down. i’d like you a whole lot more if you just came to dinner.”

“look.” you try again. “i have a deadline and an unfinished song and a headache, so if you could-”

“i can fix that, honey.” he interrupts brightly, springing towards you and holding out the hand that isn’t holding a cigar. the ruffle of his sleeve brushes the top of your head as you pull away from him. “lemme put a hand on you.”

“what are you talking about?” you blink, dumfounded. 

“lemme lay a hand on you baby, it’ll go away.” he repeats. “it’s all energy. i- i can clear that.”

“it’s all energy? what are you talking about, healing hands?”

he’s so close to you now that his ash is falling into your lap and you’re trying to duck away from his outstretched, bejeweled hand when something catches your eye. 

“wait -” you can’t help but snort a little in disbelief, still holding him at arm's length. “really? how can anything i’ve just said turn you on?” 

your eyes are fixed on the front of his pants. he glances down at himself and then back up at you sheepishly.

“aw, i’m only a man, honey” 

he’s wearing a cocksure smile but you notice how he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, slightly uncomfortable. a little insecure chink in the armor. 

there’s an awfully heavy silence in the recording room. he is standing so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating from his body and it feels suddenly suffocating. you take a deep breath. 

but you can’t help it. 

for a fraction of a second your eyes dart to the glass window of the control room. it’s empty. the lights are all out in there, a couple of blinking buttons illuminated. you’re alone with him. he tilts his head and raises his eyebrow. fuck. you wish he hadn’t seen you do that. 

but fuck. you could. 

“c’mon, sourpuss.” he whispers. he reaches back and crushes his cigar into an ashtray. 

he knows you’re thinking it. 

keeping his eyes fixed on yours, elvis leans down to you as you tilt your face up. before he can kiss you, you kiss him first. and if only to wipe that smug smile from his face, you kiss hard. so hard that he’s taken aback at first and laughs into your mouth before you feel him go slack on his feet. 

and it isn’t bad. he meets you with equal force but his lips are still soft and insistent, firm but not hard. with one hand leaning on the arm of your chair he grabs the back of your head with the other, curling his fingers into your hair so he can angle your face up towards his. 

his roughness gives you shivers. your entire center of gravity is pulling you down, down, down into the seat of the chair. it has you squeezing your thighs together, blue dress riding up, material rough against your skin as his mouth forces you to open wider. 

you can hear your heartbeat. it’s so loud that you wonder if he can too. 

“aw, you ain’t so sour.” he murmurs, pulling away from your kiss and massaging your scalp with his fingers. you grab his silky shirt, the ugly patterns distorting on the fabric, his black hair getting in your eyes. 

you feel such a deep irritation when he laughs against your cheek that you yank at his belt buckle, pulling it open roughly. he raises his eyebrows as he looks down at you. 

“you don’t gotta be rough, honey. you just gotta ask.”

you don’t pull his pants down all the way, just the zip open and his erection out. you’re aware that the guys are only a few rooms down and your name will never escape the rumor mill of rca studios if you get caught doing this with elvis presley of all goddamn people. 

you just want to make this quick. 

when you wrap your fingers around him and stroke up hard, he stands straight and sighs heavily. you can see him wince but he doesn’t tell you to stop and you take a sick little pleasure from the way his hips pull away from you and his body goes deliciously slack for the second time. it makes you feel powerful, in control. 

“lemme lay hand on you.” he whispers, his fingers finding the top of your head again. “i’m serious.” 

you shake them off, try to reestablish the boundaries by stroking him even harder. this isn’t supposed to get soft. 

but he does feel beautiful in your hands. his skin is so silky, hot to the touch and he’s so wet at the top that he must have been hard for a long time before you noticed. you ease up your movements slightly, give him a moment to breathe, and using your feet on the floor, you pull the swivel chair closer to him so your thighs come to wrap around his. he pushes his body against you, heat soaking through silk. 

you try to gauge what your next move should be from the look on his face but his features are unreadable with those dark, protective glasses on.

“will you take those off?” you ask. 

and it takes you by surprise but your grip loosens on him when you see those baby blue eyes. they aren't what you expected. the slight cruelness of his lean body, the sharpness of his words, the roughness in his hands isn’t present in his eyes at all. they look soft. they look open.

but this can’t get soft. 

you add a second hand and twist, going harder again. he’s grimacing slightly but he still doesn’t ask you to stop and you want to see exactly how much he’ll take before he does. 

“oh. you like it like this, huh?” you purr, trying to reestablish the right mood.

but try as you might, he changes the mood right back.

he leans over your chair, both hands coming to grip the armrests either side of you. it hugs your bodies together and forces your forehead to rest against his chest as he deliberately boxes you in. the embrace is too intimate for the situation, but you allow it for a little while. maybe he needs it.  

“lift this up.” he mumbles, grabbing the hem of your dress and yanking it up to your waist so your panties are on show. you feel how his gold rings are warm on your skin where they brush the inside of your thigh. 

the lights in the room aren’t particularly bright. but if you turn your face and rest your cheek against his chest you can see how the muscles in his jaw clench everytime you twist your hands or run your fingertips in circles across the tip of him. how even his tiny facial muscles move beautifully under his skin. 

when you kiss the head of his cock he groans. the low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat makes you throb and you have a fleeting urge to kiss his neck. but you don’t. instead you take him in, hollow your cheeks and suck lightly so you can hear it again. it's like vibrato in his chest. you’re pressed so close together that he can barely thrust and can only rock his hips into you gently, smooth and rhythmic. with one hand against his leg for leverage, you taste salt. 

he strains in your mouth and you prepare yourself, his thigh tensing under your palm and his groans getting louder and you can’t help but imagine the two of you backlit by the few flashing lights in the control room. you wonder what you look like, wrapped up in such a funny, awkward embrace. 

it doesn’t take long before he comes with such a loud shout that you jump. you try to shush him by patting his thigh but he either doesn’t care or can’t control it so you just hope the booth is as soundproof as the studio makes it out to be. his hips jerk as his shout fades to a groan and you swallow around him, eventually pulling off and letting your head rest against his torso again. 

it takes him a long time to get his breath back and you feel his chest heave under your cheek, his silk shirt soft against your skin. 

afterwards he looks at you with a funny expression on his face as he buckles his belt. 

“get cleaned up, sourpuss.” he orders gently, with a smile that you can’t quite read. it’s almost like he’s embarrassed. 

but before you can get out of the chair, he places his palm firmly on the top of your head. this time you let him. you feel the sweaty heat of his hand against your scalp and you stay like that, very still, for several minutes in the silence of the recording room. 

and the weird thing is, your headache really does go away.

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley #austin butler #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis #elvis smut #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #my writing