#Fake Money That Look Real For Sale | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theorphicangel · 5 months

Text

“𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.”

[ 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

tags: strangers to lovers, roommate au!, best friends brother, fluff, mutual pining, smut, 18+

synopsis: In a desperate search of a new roommate, you have little to no choice but to accept your best friend's / best barista in the world's offer of letting his older brother rent out the room, who just so happens to be conventionally attractive.

You swear nothing will happen between the two of you but one thing eventually leads to another and you find yourself in his bed, leading to an unofficial roommates with benefits situation.

You know deep down it's wrong and you're worried when you start catching feelings...but it's okay because it's only temporary, right?

series | previous chapter | next chapter

chapter 3: three french hens (being you, him and the walls that don’t talk)

“Do you want some help with that?”

You’re immediately startled by the voice behind you, which seems to come out of nowhere. So much so that you nearly slip off the chair that you’re currently standing on, the fairy lights slipping from your fingers to the ground.

“Oh—“

You hesitate in providing a coherent answer as Miguel walks over to pick up the lights. He emerged from his room in simple sweatpants and a t-shirt and you can’t help but notice how his muscles remain prominent underneath. Despite standing on a chair, he still seems to be taller than you. Bending down, he picks up the lights that you’ve dropped and manages to position them on the wall without any struggle.

You murmur a thank you, sheepishly watching him walk over to the open kitchen area, getting started on his breakfast.

Keeping your promise to yourself, you decided to get started with the decorations for Christmas this Saturday morning. By now Christmas was only a couple of weeks away and you had already felt behind in getting your decorations up and ready.

It has taken you longer than usual to decorate the apartment. You can’t help but think that it wouldn’t have taken this long if MJ were still around. A silence creeps in between you and Miguel and now you have moved onto setting up the tree. You fiddled around with the branches and decorations, quietly cursing under your breath when things don’t look quite right.

Miguel merely watches from the sidelines, remaining silent and isolated from you. It’s been less than a week since he’s moved in and he’s been uncomfortably dry with you. Almost as if he’s…avoiding you.

He never eats when you’re around. Ever. And on weekdays, he’s usually left the apartment before you even awake. Either you find him at the cafe already or he’s out fulfilling his long list of errands. You understand that he had priorities but you wish that you could get the chance to know him more. You'd think that by being close friends with his brother, that he would open up to you more easily but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

It takes a little over thirty minutes by the time you get the tree up. It’s not entirely massive. You had chosen it with MJ, a cheap fake tree that you had gotten as a bargain sale from black friday. A dream of yours has always been to get a real tree but you could never find the time or the money to go out and fulfill this dream of yours.

You hum to yourself quietly as you add the finishing touches to the tree. The last few baubles and decorations are left to be added. As you do so you think that now is the perfect time to make conversation with Miguel.

You’ve chicken out the last few times. His aura is particularly intimidating and unapproachable towards you. No wonder Gabriel wanted to ban him from serving customers, he’s recently been claiming that Miguel would soon be the reason why customers were being driven away.

His stoic expression was basically imprinted on his face, as there was something that follows him around, upsetting and frustrates him all the time. You’ve rarely seen the man laugh or relax, not even around Gabriel.

Pushing these thoughts away, you focused on the realization that this was your chance. Your very own chance to spark up a conversation, to get to know him better. After all, if not now, then when?

You clear your throat loudly as you circle the tree, adding the last few decorations. “Are you excited for Christmas?”

Miguel hums, hesitating in giving his answer as if he’s not sure as to whether you’re talking to him. You glance to where he’s standing. Leaning on the counter, scrolling on his phone with one hand, a piece of toast in the other.

“I’m not the biggest fan of the holidays.” He admits, not looking at you.

Your curiosity is piqued at his response.

“Why?”

“Personal reasons.”

It’s like talking to a wall. His sentences are short and blunt, His tone when talking to you is quick, uninterested, bored. You can tell that he’d rather be doing anything else than be speaking to you.

You wonder what it's like to go out with him. Is he like this in private with Gabriel? With his closest friends? God, how does he keep a girlfriend with that sort of attitude?

Unsure of what to say in response, you hum quietly as silence returns between the two of you. Standing on your tippy toes, you struggle with getting the star on, your skin getting pricked by the branches of the tree.

You step back once you’ve placed it on. The star awkwardly leaned to one side. You mutter to yourself, wondering about getting the chair again to position the star on properly. Yet before you could even do that Miguel walks over, and without a word is standing behind you.

His large hand is placed at your side to steady you as his other arm is outstretched to adjust the star. Your entire body freezes at the sudden close proximity between the two of you. The size difference is enough to make your stomach fill with some sort of apprehension.

Before you know it, his hand leaves your waist, leaving you with the invisible imprint of his aura.

“Oh, thank you…”

He says nothing more and trails back to his room. For the rest of the day you never see him once leave his room, the door remaining shut. You let out a sigh, once again the feeling of disappointment about not bonding with your roommate returns.

You can’t keep this between you, him and the walls anymore. You feel as if you’ll go insane if you do.

You need to tell Gabriel.

taglist: lmk if you want to be tagged. @nakimushiohime @keidilla @scaleniusrm @migueloharastruelove

#angel writes #a temporary situation.#miguel o hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #atsv headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x reader fluff #miguel x you

172 notes · View notes

cuubism · 2 years

Text

some (semi)crack-treated-seriously for @magnusbae, featuring Hob (accidentally) rescuing Dream, the awkwardness of summoning your naked crush into your living room, and Hob being absolutely ride or die and ready to kill people at a moment's notice

---

It was pure luck that brought Hob to the antiquities sale. Later, he would wonder if perhaps Fortune herself was also an entity, and had been looking out for the Dreams which so often brought her to fruition.

Hob found the poster for the thing by chance when he stumbled over a curb on his way home and nearly faceplanted into a lamppost. And it was similarly by chance that Hob was available that night. By chance, it was not far from his home. So many moments of happenstance stacking up into a bit of luck he’d be grateful for for the rest of his life.

Hob was always interested in any supposed magical artifacts. He knew that magic of some kind existed – no matter that his Stranger refused to tell him anything about himself, Hob was well-aware that he was not human and held powers of some kind – but it could be hard to discern real from fake. Hence, his habit of attending whatever strange auctions might pop up – more for curiosity’s sake than for the need to buy anything.

This sale was different.

This sale had something Hob recognized.

He froze in front of the display case, grip going tight around his glass of wine. Behind the glass panels of the case, a familiar ruby pendant glimmered. It caught the light strangely, reflecting prismatic bursts of rainbow in obliquely wrong directions, and that alone would have immediately alerted Hob to its not being a normal ruby even if he hadn’t been intimately familiar with its proper owner.

Where the hell was his Stranger?

Hob had only seen the man—being—six times, and therefore couldn’t make a wholesale judgment that he never went anywhere without the ruby, but he knew for sure the Stranger wouldn’t have let it wind up here, about to be delivered into the hands of any asshole with enough money.

So where was he?

Disturbed, Hob returned to his seat, waiting for the sale to start. He was tempted to simply break the glass and take the gem, but getting arrested wasn’t particularly on his list of fun things to do on a night out. So he’d have to do things the legal way.

One benefit of being extremely old: Hob had a lot of money to throw around. And while something in him rankled at having to buy something that was clearly stolen from his friend, he had bigger concerns.

Concerns that rattled around his mind as he walked home, ruby tucked safely in his pocket. Concerns whose screaming rose to a fever pitch as he sat down at his kitchen table, looking at his Stranger’s gem under the lemony kitchen lights.

It felt warm in his hands, the cut edges of the gemstone surprisingly smooth. The crimson at the heart of the jewel’s many faces was full-bodied as an old wine and deep as the sea; easy to get lost in.

Hob tore his attention away, looking instead at the empty apartment. The pendant chain pressed into his hands as he held it tighter, the jewel growing ever-warmer between his palms.

“Where are you, Stranger?” he murmured to himself. Hob had no way to contact him, and there were forty years yet before they were meant to meet – if his Stranger even decided to show up. “I hope you’re alright; I hope this”—he squeezed the gem—“doesn’t mean something horrible’s happened.”

He sighed. “If only you were here.”

The room shifted around him, like Hob had taken two steps backward in time and changed direction. Hob might not have even noticed if he hadn’t been staring absently in the direction of the living room at the precise moment that his Stranger appeared on the couch.

Hob jumped so high he banged his knee on the underside of the table. His Stranger seemed equally baffled, looking at his own hands, touching the fabric of the couch as if unsure it was real, then finally looking up at Hob with wide eyes.

Hob stared back at him, breath quickening. Somehow—he could only assume—the magic ruby had fulfilled his wish and summoned his Stranger here, but why was he naked? Oh God, this was Hob’s fault for having one too many… uh… dreams—

“Hob Gadling,” murmured his Stranger, voice hoarse but with wonder in it. “You have rescued me.”

“How?” This was all a lot to take in, but Hob went over to him anyway, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around his bare shoulders. It was unnerving to see him so… unrefined. Disheveled. Hair a mess and body unprotected. “Wait, rescued from what?”

His Stranger’s gaze zeroed in on the ruby, still lying on the kitchen table. Hob wondered if he might be angry, but he just tilted his head in curiosity. “Now, just where did you come across that?”

“Um.” Hob forcibly tore his attention from the narrow line of his Stranger’s neck and shoulders – had he always been that thin under all those fine clothes? Had he eaten at all recently? Rescued from where? – and back to the gemstone. “Bought it. Just a few hours ago. No idea where it was before that. Knew it was yours, though. But no way to get it back to you.” Shit, he was rambling.

“And you used its power to summon me.”

Hob rubbed at the back of his neck. “That… wasn’t intentional. Though, I mean, probably would’ve been if I’d known you needed summoning.”

His Stranger stood, walking on wobbling legs – again, Hob wondered with deepening concern, rescued from where – blanket wrapped around him like a cape, to pick up the ruby from the table. A shudder ran through him as soon as he touched it and he seemed to stand straighter, taller. “How did you use it?”

“Just— just wished you were here so I could make sure nothing horrible had happened.”

His Stranger’s mouth tipped up into that tiny, fond smile Hob had seen so rarely but missed so dearly. “So you could make sure nothing horrible had happened?”

“Hey, you yourself just said you were rescued. Was I wrong?”

“No.” His voice was resigned now. He turned back to Hob, still holding the ruby. It looked far more fitting in his elegant hands than in Hob’s. “You have pulled me from an unjust imprisonment, and recovered one of my tools. I owe you a great debt.”

“You owe me nothing, friend.” Hob cringed internally as the word slipped out, but his Stranger didn’t deny him this time. “I would do it again. Though I’m still not entirely sure what I did.”

His Stranger sat down at the kitchen table. He must have been exhausted, mustn’t he? Who knew how long he’d been imprisoned. God.

Feeling restless at the thought, Hob busied himself making tea, as his Stranger explained, “The ruby contains some of my power. In the hands of humans, it can… bend certain happenings. I am grateful it was not in your possession for longer; it has the tendency to drive men mad.”

Great, Hob thought, of course it does. Kind of like you, my friend. Not that Hob had ever claimed not to be mad, from the start. “Does it usually summon whole beings, though?”

“No. It is curious… I will have to explore this more at a later time.”

Hob placed two cups of tea on the table, nudging one towards his stranger until he, reluctantly, took it. Though as soon as his skin touched the warm ceramic, he wrapped his fingers tightly around it.

“Are you alright though, my friend?” Hob asked, sipping on his own tea. He kept his tone low, casual, gentle, anything not to scare him off. But could he be scared off? Could he actually do whatever sort of quick, magical departure he usually did to disappear before Hob could possibly follow him out of the White Horse? The thought that he might not have the power for it made Hob a little sick to his stomach. “I don’t know the circumstances of this… imprisonment… but I would like to know if you’re alright.”

“I am… alright,” said his Stranger, in a tone Hob did not believe whatsoever, “but I am yet to be truly free. Your use of the ruby sprung me from Burgess’s glass prison, and restored some of my powers, but the binding circle remains intact. Without breaking it, I am bound here.”

Hob gripped his mug so hard it started to burn his fingers. Fuck whoever this Burgess guy was. And he knew, just knew, that his Stranger was downplaying by several orders of magnitude how awful it had been. What gave this guy the gall to capture a being like his Stranger, a being so beyond their mortal plane?

A being so… exquisite. So independent. So free.

“So you have to head back to break it, is what you’re saying?” Hob asked, shaking himself.

“Yes.”

“Well, alright, then,” said Hob, taking a fortifying gulp of his tea. “Then I’m coming with you.”

His Stranger looked—to the extent he ever made such an expression—alarmed. “No.”

“Yes. I’m not letting you walk back into a place you were imprisoned with no backup.” Hob crossed his arms. “As you may know, I’m a fair hand with all manner of weaponry.”

The stubbornness settling on his Stranger’s face ceded into amusement. “I am sure.”

“So that’s settled, then.”

His Stranger didn’t protest again. Hob wondered when the last time was that anybody had tried to help him. How long had he been in there?

“If you come along, you may not like what you see,” cautioned his Stranger.

“Are you saying you’re going to wreak horrible vengeance on them? Cause yeah, I’d hope so. You better save one for me, though.”

Again, his Stranger looked startled, but Hob just grinned.

“So, are we going now, or do you want a fortifying supper first?”

His Stranger was starting to look as whiplashed as Hob had felt when he’d suddenly appeared. “You would… feed me… supper?”

“Can’t go around killing people on an empty stomach.” Besides, Hob thought, more tenderly, you look like you need some care.

But his Stranger shook his head, coming back to himself. “We must not tarry. I do not know how my realm has fared in my absence.”

“We’ll grab a meal later, then,” Hob said easily, and was rewarded with a tiny nod and smile.

He stood, and offered his Stranger a hand up. Their gazes met, and Hob caught a glimpse of that same wonder he’d seen briefly before, when his friend had just been summoned. Confusion and hope at having a hand held out to him. Hob just smiled at him in return.

After a moment, the Stranger took Hob’s hand, pulling himself to his feet with a strength Hob hadn’t expected after such an imprisonment. He clasped the ruby pendant around his neck, and it lay gleaming against his bare sternum. Hob suddenly had to look away.

“We should, ah.” He had to pause to cough, and could just see his Stranger smirking out of the corner of his eye, the devil. “We should probably get you some trousers first.”

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #listen magnusbae and i have a lot of insane crack headcanons and this is nowhere NEAR the worst #not even close

1K notes · View notes

allllium · 5 months

Text

Christmas Eve

~ I have multiple things I'm currently writing but it might take a bit before they're posted. Between being sick and now having an ear infection I want to do literally nothing

~ Fluff, WC: 1,456

~ Matt and Reader celebrate their first Christmas together ~

You and Matt didn't get together until after Christmas of last year, meaning this is your first Christmas as a couple. Before, being friends meant Christmas never had this kind of pressure to give the perfect gifts.

But now it's different. You've been worrying all month about finding the perfect gift for Matt. It's hard to shop for someone who keeps insisting all he needs is you. As sweet as that is, you already know he has something for you. You refuse to give him something in return.

“Foggy, I'm serious. I've been everywhere in Hell's Kitchen. I can't find anything.” Today is Christmas Eve, and you still haven't found anything good enough to give Matt

“I've had his gift picked out for months.” Foggy shrugs from across you.

“Of course you have, and I should have one too, but now that we're dating it feels like there's all this dumb pressure.”

“Matt will love whatever you give him. You don't even have to get him anything. Just spend the day naked, and he'll be more than happy.”

“I hate you. You are zero help.”

“You're putting too much pressure on it. Nothing has changed just because you're dating now.”

“What did you get, Marci?”

“Some of her favorite perfume and a necklace.”

“Ugh, she'll love that.”

“I know. She's easy to shop for.” He finishes off the rest of his sandwich and wipes his hands on his pants. “I have a meeting with a client. Are you good?”

“Yeah, I'm good. I'll figure it out. Bye Fog.” He nods at you and walks back to the office.

On the way back to Matt's apartment, you walk by a little store having a Christmas Eve sale. The best part is they have an adorable daredevil stuffie in the window.

It's exactly what you would've gotten him in the previous years. It's perfect.

“What did you get?” Matt asks the second you walk in the door. Smelling the paper bag it came in.

You walk over to him on the couch, placing the bag on the counter, and sitting in his lap. “I can't tell you it's for Christmas.”

“I thought I said you didn't have to get me anything.” He gives you one of those beautiful smiles he has. It's unfair how he always looks this good. He hasn't changed out of his work clothes, now just sitting in his dress pants and shirt.

“And I thought I said if you get me something, I'm getting something for you.” You run your hand softly through his hair, enjoying his touch after a day apart.

“I don't want you to spend money on me.”

You roll your eyes at him. “If you keep saying that I'm gonna spend all of my money on you until I go bankrupt, and then I'll be homeless.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Fine, you can spend as much money as you want on me.” He looks so cute when he pouts.

“That's what I thought.” You lean down to kiss him for the first time since you got home. “Hi, Matty.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“How was work?” You turn your head to lay on his shoulder.

“It was good. It's a lot slower close to Christmas.”

“Hm, good. Y’know, Foggy suggested I spend tomorrow naked as your Christmas present, but you definitely wouldn't like that.” You giggle as his face turns up in fake disgust.

“Oh no, that would be terrible. I wouldn't enjoy that at all.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought.”

“Or maybe that's my gift to you.”

“Oh no, can't both be naked. What would we do all day?” You ask in fake concern. He leans up to kiss you again, but you pull away. “I have to go wrap your present.”

“No, do you have to do that right now?” He pouts.

“Yes, I do. You're adorable when you pout.” When you go to stand, he follows you with an arm around your waist.

“Can't it wait?”

“No, it can't. Christmas is tomorrow. Matthew let me go.” You use his real name to display your seriousness, although it's not as effective when you're laughing.

“You don't have to wrap. I can't see it anyway.”

“Matt!” You laugh. “I'm wrapping it, and you can't stop me. So why don't you stay here and order us some dinner? Okay?”

“Fine, I'll just stay here all alone.” He plops back on the couch as you shake your head at him.

“Have I ever told you how dramatic you are?”

“All the time.”

“Yeah, I'll be right back.” You go into the bedroom to wrap Matt's present in leftover wrapping paper. Matt has no idea people have made anything daredevil-related.

“See, that took me like two minutes.” You announce to Matt as you walk back into the living room.

“That was way too long.” You move to sit with him once again.

“Why are you so clingy today?”

“No reason, it must be the Christmas spirit.”

“Hmm, yeah, this Christmas does have a lot of spirit.”

“The first Christmas after we met, I was gonna ask you out.” You turn to look at him in disbelief.

“What? Why didn't you?”

“I was nervous, and you didn't show any signs of liking me.”

“No signs of liking you!? Matt, you could hear my heart.”

“I could, but I assumed it sped up like that because you were anxious about meeting a new person.”

“And you thought I was like that for two years?”

“I didn't want to ruin anything!” He defends. “Hey, why didn't you do anything!?”

“Because I didn't want to ruin anything!?”

“Exactly!” You both laugh at the direction this conversation has taken.

“Well, we're together now, so it was all worth it.” You point out.

“Yes, it was.” He smiles and pulls you closer. Your head lays on his chest.

“Wait a minute, Matt, I told Karen I liked you multiple times while you could hear?”

“Maybe it was a different Matt.”

“Matt, what the fuck?” You laugh again.

“I liked you. I just didn't believe you liked me the same amount.”

“You liked me?”

“Yes, I liked you, now I love you.”

“You're lucky you're so sweet 'cause sometimes you have no common sense.” He plants a kiss on your forehead.

“You have just as much common sense as me.”

“Uh oh.”

You wake up the next morning to the smell of peppermint and the faint sound of Christmas music filling the apartment.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He comes into the room with a mug of hot chocolate. He hands the mug to you as he sits next to you on the bed.

“Good morning, baby. What's all this for?”

“Well, it's our first Christmas together. I figured it should be a little special.” As you listen to him, your heart warms.

“Thank you, Matty. You're amazing y'know.”

“I do, thanks to you.”

“Hm, good. So what do you have planned?” You sit up in bed.

“I think first we should open our gifts, then we'll hang out with everyone.”

“Sounds good. You're going to love what I got you.”

“You're gonna love mine too.” He grabs your hands and pulls you out of bed.

You both make your way to the tiny Christmas tree sitting in the corner. Only two presents under it.

“Here you go, honey.” Matt hands you a small square box wrapped in red paper. “I had Karen wrap it.”

“I can tell. Karen also wraps presents perfectly.” When you pull the paper off the box, there's a black jewelry box. When you open the black box, there is a silver bracelet. “Matt, this is beautiful!”

“Look at the side.” You pull the bracelet out of the box and look at the side. On each side, there is an engraving. One side says ‘my heart,’ and the other is in braille. “It says my name.”

“Holy shit Matt this is amazing!” You throw yourself onto him in a tight hug.

“I'm glad you like it.” He has a giant smile at your reaction.

“I don't want you to spend money on me.” You mock his words from last night. “This must have cost so much.”

“I know a guy, don't worry.”

“Well, now my gift isn't as good in comparison.” You hand him the box containing the stuffie.

“Is this me?” He asks in surprise as he rips open the paper.

“Yes, it is. It's Daredevil merch.”

“They make this stuff?”

“Yes.” You laugh at his shock

“Thank you, sweetheart, this is so cute.”

“Yeah, and it looks just like you.” You joke. The little stuffed devil looks nothing like Matt.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt.” You lean your head on his shoulder, still admiring your bracelet.

#matt murdock my beloved #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murderdock x female reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #no y/n

109 notes · View notes

whatthefishh · 2 years

Text

Satisfactory Part 1

Jake Lockley x Fem Reader

Words: 1.7K

Summary: Jake has a secret that's not really a secret but he's hiding it from Marc and Steven because they’d be scandalized AKA the Jake Porn Star AU nobody asked for and is probably slightly OOC but is honestly just for fun so don’t take it too seriously

Warnings: in this chapter, no smut just hints at sex, talk of sex toys, future parts will have smut

Thanks to everyone who encouraged my idea and writing ❤��

Jake had a secret. Jake liked knowing that certain things were just his. Once he came out to the boys, he liked being part of their lives but some things he wanted to keep just for himself. It was a little exciting, if he was being honest. So he kept some secrets. No biggie, right? Plus, the money was good. A small bonus to what he felt was a thrilling side hustle.

Jake liked to be on camera. No, no, that’s not the full truth now.

Jake liked to fuck on camera.

He got off on exhibitionism, he loved the thought of people getting off to him getting off. He liked seeing the undeniable pleasure he gave his partners on set, even though many in the industry faked it when necessary, he made it a goal to actually make his partners finish on camera. Their noises spurring him on to really give it to them good. Their look of surprise when they realized his reputation rang true - you won’t fake it with Jake. He was a good guy like that, you know? A real gentleman.

It was a flexible gig, whenever he had the time or whenever he had the urge to splurge on a nice pair of leather gloves, a new cap, something for his cab. You get it.

Jake wasn’t insanely popular to the point where Marc or Steven would easily find out, but he had a decent following. Also, that big dick energy? It wasn’t just a brag, it really was just… big. Memorable, even to the viewers. So much so, that when he - quite literally - ran into you at the sex shop around the block of his usual cabbie route, you recognized him immediately as one of your go-to content creators.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t...see y-you…” You trailed off after completely making a fool of yourself and falling over bumping into a strikingly handsome man rounding the corner of the aisle you were perusing. Eyes wide, heat rising to your face as you were staring into the man’s eyes. You were able to place him from your memory after only a couple seconds of taking in his features.

No. Freaking. Way. Jake motherfucking Lockley, Jake object of your fantasies Lockley, Jake all-eight-inches Lockley, the man whose videos you’ve gotten off to countless times, the man who is literally holding your arms to steady you because you almost fell at his feet. Oh, God you’re mortified.

“That’s okay, cariño, s’my bad.” He finally let go of your arms as you looked less like you were going to topple over but still had that deer caught in headlights expression. He smiled kindly at you to try and diffuse the situation which only served to make you drop the items you were limply holding.

It was at this untimely moment that you realized where you were and what you had just dropped.

You both looked down at the clatter of the box hitting the floor, and Jake quickly bent to retrieve your… vibrator? Right. You were buying a vibrator since your last one decided to die on you, mid self-love session and left you insanely frustrated. And now Jake was examining it like he was the one who was deciding whether or not to buy it and if possible, your face grew even more hot.

Your last vibrator was a simple bullet, with a few different functions to switch it up every now and then, bought out of necessity due to the dry spell you were going through for the past year. This time the sales associate, who to be honest seemed too young to be working here to begin with, convinced you to upgrade to a more advanced vibe and you were open to trying something new. Until now. The neon pink, glittery, curved toy would’ve been cute in your bedroom drawer, not in the hands of Jake will-rearrange-your-insides Lockley, staring down at it with mirth in his eyes and a smirk playing at his lips.

“Mierda, 7 inches?” he muttered, still smirking, and finally dragging his eyes away from the package to look at you through his lashes. “Your boyfriend not doin’ his job or something?”

Fuck, he was more handsome in person. “N-no boyfriend.” You managed to spit out. Great response. So well spoken.

He looked you up and down appreciatively at that. “I’m Jake.”

“I- Yes, I know who you are,” you breathed out, grabbing the box from his hands.

Jake seemed to pick up on your discomfort and was about to back off until he registered what you just said. “Wait, have we met before, cariño?”

Will the floor just open up and swallow you whole now? This interaction could not get any worse for you. How were you going to explain where you’ve seen him before without further embarrassing yourself? You blushed harder at the thought of telling him to his face that you’ve watched all his content, some of them repeatedly.

He didn’t miss a thing. “Or have you just seen me around?” He prompted with another panty-dropping smile.

“Yeah we’ve met bef... no, that’s a lie, alright I’ve seen you online and your… stuff. Good stuff.” Biting your lip at the end of your sentence. You wanted to play it cool but that was undoubtedly not going well for you. Good stuff, you said.

“Thanks, doll.” He laughed it off smoothly, hand rubbing at his growing stubble almost bashfully. “I’d love to show you sometime but I won’t keep you. It was nice to meet you..?” Stuttering, you gave him your name, to which he repeated back to you, winked and smiled one last time and continued down the aisle.

You had to take a deep breath in before being able to continue shopping and picking up some other items you had your eye on. Your hands were slightly trembling from the interaction, replaying the way his eyes roved over your body. You were not used to men giving you attention, checking you out or being openly flirty with you. You doubted his intentions were sincere, he probably just made conversation with all the women he almost knocked over.

Your conversation with Jake felt like something you made up after repeating it a few times in your head. The whole time you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder to see if Jake was still around or almost bumping into you again, and it made your insides flutter at the thought of speaking to him again. As if you could keep your cool the first time around, you thought to yourself with an internal groan. How is he just allowed to walk around freely with those intense eyes?

Gathering all your items in a basket, you made your way up to the cash register standing in line behind an older woman arguing with the cashier. The minutes pass you by, idly checking out the fast-grab trinkets near the counter. Tiny bottles of lube, single packets of flavoured condoms, nipple covers with a single connecting chain, phallic-shaped silicone keychains, and the like.

A receipt has been pulled out with some more angry noises from the lady, and the cashier seems to be getting more and more flustered.

You pick up a penis keychain out of curiosity. It’s neon pink.

“Did you grab the batteries?” A gravelly voice asks from behind you and you gasp as you turn to see Jake standing in line behind you with another mischievous smile directed at you.

“Jeez! Yes, I grabbed the batteries.” So you didn’t hallucinate that conversation.

“Lo siento, didn’t wanna spook you.” He snickered. “I just wanted to make sure you’d be… satisfied.” Jake’s eyes were sparkling with his teasing tone, but there was a layer of suggestion beneath that had you raising a brow.

The air grew hot and you resisted the urge to tug at the neckline of your knit sweater. Was Jake Lockley flirting with you?

It took you maybe one second too long to reply just because you were powering up to finally flirting back with the man of your literal dreams, and hoping it got you somewhere.

“Hmm, there’s other ways of checking if you really want to be sure.” You say with a coy smile of your own, internally screaming. Shit, this isn’t going to work. You’re embarrassing yourself. You’re being ri-

He takes a step closer to you, eyelids lowering seductively looking down his nose at you before purring, “You want some help with that, hermosa?” Shit, this was actually working.

You giggle, you can’t help it. Up close you can see a light scruff coming in, thick eyebrows resting over extremely expressive, espresso brown eyes that are gazing back at you. You can feel his body heat radiating off of him the closer he comes to you, and you’re looking up at him through your lashes and he’s staring down at you with a smile like the cat that ate the canary and the angry lady at the counter is yelling now, clearly not done reaming out the employee, and you’re okay with it, you’re somehow more than okay with all of it. For a minute it’s just you and Jake, imagining all the ways he’ll take you apart, the store fading into black.

The lady asks for the manager, and finally moves to the side to allow your turn. You don’t hesitate to dump your items on the counter, suddenly in a rush to leave with the strikingly pretty man at your elbow.

“I actually live nearby… Wanna-”

Your heart is beating loudly in your chest, almost matching the register beeps as the cashier is ringing up your purchase.

“Yes.” He growls into your ear while sliding his card across the counter to pay for your things. He’s grinning at you now, grabbing your bag of purchases before reaching for your hand and leading you out the door. He leads you outside but stops on the sidewalk, hands still intertwined, and turns to you to ask which way to go. Half the bravado leaves your voice, but you still point to the building that’s yours and you two make your way towards it. When you shyly link your arm with his, he doesn’t pull back and just looks down his nose at you again, lids low.

“Whatever you say, hermosa. I’m yours for the night.” His voice went straight to your core and you felt a swirl of desire stirring in your gut.

What have you signed yourself up for?

People who have encouraged my writing/gave encouraging feedback on my first fic - if you don’t wanna be tagged lmk, no hard feelings :) : @lucianadraven32 @kittyofalltrades @romanarose @dameronscopilot @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @unspokenmoon @bit-dodgy-innit @milkymoon2483 @symbioticskywalker

#jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #Jake Lockley fanfic #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x you #moon knight fanfic #moon knight #moon knight smut #moonknight fic #moonknightober2022 #mona writes???

552 notes · View notes

bolognamayhem117 · 5 days

Text

Ugh okay. So... Elves and dwarves have long lifespans and thirty years is not long enough to forget a real prick magistrate. So, I think I know how "Astarion Died And Was Buried" and Sebastian having been in a cell for 170 years fits... And it's absolutely horrid.

This is all just messy speculation and theory, but I suspect Cazador orchestrated Astarion's plummet down the social ladder, or at the very least counted on the city rumor mill (Baldur's Mouth) churning out something to the effect of "Astarion Ancunin Faked His Own Death!".

It makes perfect sense. We know Cazador made use of him within thirty years at the very least. It would be the most convenient way to trash whatever high social standing Astarion had and explain away why he's -by all appearances- doing sex work.... Again, elves and Dwarves live for centuries, they KNOW that smartass face.

Imagine how easy it would be for Cazador to make Astarion appear guilty. He can order that man to do ANYTHING and he HAS to. It may even have been his crash course with playing a role believably.

So, imagine, the entire city thinks you faked your death to get out of some legal bind. You might even have a bullshit charge on you for something else you didn't do which has appeared out of the ether because money migrated from Cazador's pocket. Astarion mightve been whatever equals disbarred in Baldur's Gate.

So you're disbarred, disgraced, you can't make your medieval fantasy universe court dates because the sun fries you like a funnel cake, everyone is angry with you, if you had a significant other then they've probably hit the bricks, the Gur want to kick your ass all over again, you're scared, and you're alone.

Then, Cazador Szarr makes it all go away. He pays off people to get the law off your back, he has a bed for you where the Gur can't get you, and you have no options but to go with him. If you don't you'll be arrested and then probably killed, or he'll order you to go anyway.

Cazador may well have had Astarion liquidate any and all assets he possessed and transferred those funds to the Szarr family treasury. Astarion must have owned things before he was a vampire. And now he doesn't. If he popped back up a week after he died then there probably wasn't time to do an estate sale. Who knows, maybe his parents even disowned him over this. Could be why he never mentions them.

It just makes sense to me if Cazador disgraced him, isolated him, and then made it appear that he charitably took him in.

Any high society who regularly visited the palace looked the other way. As a fandom we've all pretty unanimously assumed that Cazador hands out his spawn as party favors when they aren't on the street bringing him victims.

Everyone he sees there knows what this is, everyone looks him in the eye and knows Cazador probably had a hand in his disgrace, and nobody is going to help him. Or any of the spawn for that matter.

And then the Bhaal crisis started. And after that? Bring victims. As many as you can. Every night. Forever. Or he'll destroy you over and over for kicks.

Utterly horrid.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fan theory #just thoughts #speculation #headcanon #astarion bg3

20 notes · View notes

athena-writes-i-guess · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Prompt: “It may not be much but…”

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you’re having a great day and maybe this little fic will put a smile on your face ❤️ I love you! Will you be my Valentine? (Please ignore my first ever attempt at a collage I made in 5 min)

“Sorry buddy, we’re all out. It’s 5pm on Valentine’s Day after all.” The florist said through the receiver.

Eddie felt his heart drop, “Okay, yeah, thank you so much for checking.” He responded before hanging up the phone. He rubbed his face and eyes anxiously as he groaned loudly, trying to wrack his brain for anything that he could do to save the night.

Tonight was Valentine’s Day, your first one as a couple after almost a year of being together and Eddie had planned so much for you; he got you your favorite candy from Indianapolis, driving there and back while you were out with your friends one night. He got you flowers from the local florist, pretty red roses, and a giant stuffed bear that took up the entire bench seat in the back of his van, all of which he was going to give you on your way to Enzo’s for a nice dinner. He had saved up his money for weeks, making as many extra sales as he could so he could make this a special night for you. But everything that could go wrong did.

He had gone to the grocery store to get a few last minute things for the two of you for later tonight and had decided that since he would only be in there for a few minutes, it would be no issue to park in a no parking zone as it was close to the door. He would be quick! He just hadn’t anticipated there would be so many people there today also getting last minute items for the night and by the time he finally got out of the store he froze just outside of the door as he watched his van, with every gift he had gotten for you in it, be towed away.

He quickly ran to the nearest pay phone and called the trailer in hopes that Wayne would be there. Lucky enough, he was, answering just before the last ring with a little, “Hello, Munson residence.” Eddie had explained everything to him, ending with Wayne agreeing to come pick him up and get him to the tow company to get his van back. But that’s where the luck ran out as Eddie could not remember which company it was, and by the time they made it to the right one and could see his baby trapped behind the gate, the shop was closed for the rest of the night. Now Eddie had no ride, no gifts, and no idea how he would explain everything to you.

“Fuck!” Eddie groaned loudly, looking at the clock and seeing that now on top of everything he was going to be late for your dinner too.

“Hey, boy, calm down now.” Wayne soothed, placing a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright, you know Y/N wont care if you show up with nothin’ but a smile.”

“But I wanted it to be special.” Eddie sighed, his brown eyes sad as he looked to his uncle.

“And it will be, because you two are together.” Wayne said, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You could always do what I did when I couldn’t afford flowers.” Eddie’s head tilted curiously. “Well, I couldn’t afford all those fancy real flowers and they died anyway, what’s the point? So I just went to the general store and got some of those fake silk flowers. They look nice and they never die.”

Eddie thought on that for a moment, before a small smile broke on his face, “Can I borrow your car?”

“Go on boy.” Wayne said, patting Eddie encouragingly.

“Thanks Uncle Wayne.” Eddie sighed in relief.

You adjusted your sweater as you checked your outfit in the mirror for the 3rd time that night, nervous excitement coursing through you as you waited for your boyfriend to arrive. You beamed as you heard a knock on the door to your apartment and scurried to the living room to yank open the door. Eddie stood there with his arm tucked behind his back looking a little disheveled, as a large, adoring, smile brightened his face. “Hey sweetheart, you look so beautiful.”

“Thank you, handsome.” You flushed, welcoming him in. He walked in after you, his arm still behind him as he kept whatever he was hiding out of your sight.

“I wanted to start by saying that I had so much planned for tonight but the universe decided to fuck me over today.” He chuckled with a disbelieving shake of his head at everything that went wrong. “I‘ll explain more later, but even though I don’t have everything that I wanted to give you today, I do have these.” He said, pulling out a bouquet of multicolored silk roses in your favorite colors. “It may not be much right now, sweetheart, but I wanted you to know that I will love you until these die.” He smiled, a small blush coloring his cheeks as he watched a love-sick smile pull at your lips.

“I love them so much Eddie!” You gasped out as you took the bouquet, “Thank you so much pretty boy!” You exclaimed as you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into you. “You know you didn’t have to get me anything Eds!”

“I know, I wanted to baby. Happy Valentine’s Day sweetness.” Eddie beamed, nudging your nose playfully with his.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Eddie.” You giggled back just as Eddie quickly captured your lips in a searing kiss.

Taglist: @srapalestina @yvonneeeee @aroseinvelaris @anaisweird @mrslovesmayahawke @harrys-tittie @becca-alexa @catacina

199 notes · View notes

generouskittensong · 2 months

Text

Yesterday was the birthday of the most useless character from Naruto. (Not a day to remember I know)

After Sakura stans faked polls, bought votes, bought her merchandise multiple times to pretend she was popular, bought that badly written fanfic multiple times while the sales were a flop, and invested their own money to buy her minutes on screens (stupid people) to make it look like she is worth a lot, let's look at a real poll which was not infected by these nasty stans who use bots. This poll was done by real people.

Sakura is the most hated character and ranked 2nd place in history. Sakura fans are known for buying bots and using them to vote for her.

Of course, because I'm a good person, I sent this poll directly to Shueisha last week via letter.

Next week they will receive it and realize that nobody, by far nobody, likes Sakura. She is one of the most hated characters in the world and will always be.

Oh and one more thing. Fuck Team 7.

21 notes · View notes

mysteryshoptls · 1 year

Text

SSR Ruggie Bucchi New Year's Attire Voice Lines

When Summoned: Alllright, this is all for the madol... Guess I gotta go all out! Welcome!

Summon Line: Time for me to show off my skills as a resourceful employee. I'm gonna get those customers to spend all their money!

Groooovy!!: Me, I got no plans to lose in a game with money on the line. You ready to break down 'n cry yet?

Home: 'Kay, I'm gonna go make a ton of money!

Home Idle 1: During this break, I took a short trip back home. I showed my grandma my improved grades, 'n she was super happy for me.

Home Idle 2: It's pretty neat havin' this sash holding up my sleeves so they don't get in my way. I bet I could use this while wearing other outfits too, so I better learn how to tie it up.

Home Idle 3: Snow kinda looks real tasty. Bet if I covered it in some kinda syrup, I'd be able to eat a whole lot. I wonder if it'd be okay if I just had some while no one's lookin'?

Home Idle - Login: Happy New Year! I wanna make this one another year where I don't gotta worry 'bout food, and I don't gotta work too hard.

Home Idle - Groovy: Did you actually use madol for your snowman's eyes!? What if someone takes... Oh, it's fake.

Home Tap 1: Urk, it's so cold! Waking up was real hard today, manー ...What's with that look? Even hard-workin' guys like me have days we don't want to get out a bed too, y'know.

Home Tap 2: Maan, this job's pretty demanding. I gotta eat twice as much as usual, or I'm gonna starve.

Home Tap 3: Apparently, in the East, there's this custom where they give gifts of money for New Year's. Man, I'm so jealous～

Home Tap 4: Yooo, Cater-san's super cheery and real good at sellin' stuff, and is great with the customers. It's a relief that he's on my team.

Home Tap 5: You want me to show you what we got for sale? Sure, but once you finish listenin' to my spiel, you're gonna want everything so bad your wallet's gonna be empty by the end of it.

Home Tap - Groovy: Eh, you brought me some snacks? I ain't gonna give 'em back, even if you ask for 'em back, okay? ...Yay! Heheh, thanks.

Duo: [RUGGIE]: Cater-san, we're definitely gonna win! [CATER]: Duh, let's go, Ruggie-kun!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #twst translation #twst new years

161 notes · View notes

theprettynosferatu · 1 year

Text

I - Perfection

Usually when someone says “not everyone is created equally”, they follow the sentiment with a declaration of their own intelligence, their superior genes, their inherent right to all their heart might desire. Jean, however, never uttered the phrase, even if she knew it to be true deep in her bones. No, being special was not a gift. It brought a solemn duty to do right by those that couldn’t defend themselves. The world was a cruel and unfeeling machine– the least she could do was to try and balance the scales a little.

She knew there were others like her; only a handful, she guessed, although she could be wrong. Most chose to hide, to adjust, to only use their gifts in small, measured ways, if ever. Jean couldn’t understand that, even if she felt jealous sometimes. To her it was blindingly obvious: she couldn’t sit back and watch things go to Hell step by step when she could do something about it. Maybe she was a naive girl, but she’d rather be naive than heartless.

It felt heavy in so many ways. It was lonely. Perfection was lonely.

She pulled herself back from that thought. She wasn’t perfect, no one was… no matter how many times others used the term to describe her, some with envy, some with desire, a few with admiration. She never got sick, never got hurt. Her face never showed any signs of tiredness, was never anything other than flawless. Her body was toned and tight, despite the fact she had never worked out outside of the old P.E. classes. She didn’t gain weight, no matter what she ate, a fact she was beyond grateful for given her love of burgers and fries. One small downside was that she couldn’t get piercings or tattoos, as many a busted machine and mystified tattoo artist could attest. She was doomed to be her perfect, beautiful, blonde self.

She felt guilty sometimes, especially when she saw how hard her few friends struggled. They talked about skin creams and restorative shampoos and strict diets and grueling workout routines. Jean nodded along, sensing the gulf between her and her friends. Her and everyone else.

She shook the feeling off. To mope about being who she was would serve no purpose, and it was gross to her. She had no right to whine, no real reason to feel miserable. What she had was a job to do.

Tracking them down had been easy. They had been making a lot of noise in the underground circles for a while, and the rumors in the Dark Web had quickly turned to bragging, then into full-on sales pitches. New weapons, better than anything ever seen before, powerful enough to blast holes into concrete, to get through any body armor… powerful enough to take down that Chick.

That’s how they called her. That Chick, or That Bitch, or That Fucking Cunt. But mostly she was just “She.” They didn’t need to clarify: everyone in the scene knew what they were talking about. She’s gonna fuck you up. She better not show or I’ll make her a new hole. They say she looks like she needs a good dicking. And on and on it went. Some didn’t even believe “she” existed, which tickled Jean to no end. Hell, there were full conspiracy theories, from claiming that “she” was in fact multiple people trained by the CIA and given identical faces through plastic surgery all the way up to the oddly well-developed theory that “she” was a genetically engineered agent of the Illuminati. It was amusing that the last one was closer to the truth, in a sad way. Her genes were indeed different from normal people.

Jean watched the truck pull up, the men unloading boxes of cargo. The weapons, presumably. The rumor about a demonstration for buyers had been right on the money. Well, it would be rude of her not to let them demonstrate the miracle guns properly, wouldn’t it? She waited until everyone was inside the warehouse. Easier to round them up.

It felt like cheating. If the miracle guns were fake or just the victims of overzealous sellers, she couldn’t say. They felt like any other gunshot: a bit of a tickle, not entirely unpleasant. The screams were annoying, however. As if yelling “shoot her!” would do any good. She wasn’t a criminal mastermind, but she found it hard to believe any of the men with weapons would choose not to shoot her. Good thing she was, as usual, wearing cheap clothes: a lesson she had learned early on when she had designed something of a uniform for herself. Turns out she might be invulnerable, but coth wasn’t. So many wasted hours drawing up designs, sewing, getting the fit right…

Better to snap out of it, do it quickly. Last thing she needed was to go home in a completely torn t-shirt.

Less than a minute later, the men were either unconscious or had surrendered. She bound them to a pillar (always bring rope: another early lesson learned) and tipped the cops off. She did a final check just to be sure none of the thugs needed immediate medical attention, and like a blur she sped out.

She was doing good, she told herself. She had to, because the affair had been dreadfully boring. Surely it meant something that these new guns wouldn’t flood the streets, even if too many people died because of regular guns every single day. She couldn’t save everyone, she reminded herself. It still hurt.

II - Dreams of Freedom

She’s not sure exactly where she is, and yet she knows it doesn’t matter. The vast, empty city stretches under her and for a moment she feels as if it’s all hers, all there for the taking. She knows, without any reason to, that someone down there is waiting for her. She smiles and lets herself fall. The rush of wind is exhilarating, a blast of freedom as she drops deeper and deeper: the ground never rises to meet her, never stops her fall. She could fall forever.

The basement is cold. She can hear muffled groans coming from somewhere deeper inside. The basement stretches to infinity. She takes one step, then another, then another. She’s vaguely aware that the more she walks, the harder it is for her to focus, to remember exactly who she is. Still, she walks. Why? She can’t tell.

The girl is bound to a chair, her legs wide open, a ballgag in her mouth. Beside her stands the shadow. It has no features and yet her movements, her silhouette, the emerald eyes that burn through the darkness are entrancing, alluring; she’s a predator and a dancer, a kind mother and a stern teacher. Jean knows the shadow is dangerous. The girl looks at her, pleading for her help. Still, Jean does not move.

The shadow caresses the girl, almost seeming to take in her scent, delighting in what is to come. Jean should stop her. She doesn't. The shadow takes a large device, and Jean needs a moment to fully understand what it is. Once she does, the duty to rescue the poor victim becomes undeniable, yet she doesn’t. Why? Why isn’t she helping?

Well, why should she? She never signed up for anything. She didn’t choose her genes. She didn’t ask to be special. Her entire life revolves around others. Fuck them. They don’t deserve her fucking help, they’re not entitled to her time, her effort, her life. Are those thoughts hers or the shadow’s? She doesn’t know, nor does she care. The shadow turns on the vibrator and teases the girl’s vulnerable pussy with it. The poor thing tries not to move, not to squirm, not to moan. She fails. The shadow knows what she’s doing, skillfully changing pressure, location, now and then caressing the girl’s neck…

It’s fucking hot. Jean knows she can stop this violation whenever she chooses to. Instead, she feels those green eyes staring at her as she lets herself fall to the ground, her hand pushing her panties to the side… Fuck, she’s soaked. It’s not just the sweet whimpers and moans reaching her, almost seeping inside her. It’s the eyes. The girl’s eyes, full of confusion, desperation and a sense of betrayal seeing the hero enjoy her suffering… the shadow’s eyes, amused, beckoning, almost encouraging her complicity…

Suddenly, the basement is a white room. Jean is alone, surrounded by cameras. They’re watching. They’re all watching. Her family is watching. The shadow is watching. They all want her. They all want to see the hero, the beautiful blonde, the paragon of strength and beauty. What do they want to see her do? What they always want to see when someone is put on a pedestal: to see them fall. They want to see the broken beauty, the despair of hope turned into base instinct. Fine, if that’s what they want, that’s what they’ll get. After all, Jean always does what others need her to do, want her to do. Fucking parasites. She tears off her t-shirt and it feels as if she has cast away a shroud, a heavy, stifling straightjacket. Do they want perversion? Debauchery? They want her to act like they do, like a degenerate pig? She can do that. Oh, she can do that and she intends to enjoy every goddamn second of it…

The alarm tore Jean awake. What the fuck? That had been one messed up dream. Jean was sweating, and it took her a moment to fully come out of it. Already the memory of it was fading. Good. She felt dirty, and wrong and… Oh God. She was so wet! A wave of shame hit her, even as the dream receded further away. She couldn’t remember a lot, but… Okay, just, just a quick one. Just to get it out of her. Then she could leave it behind and go about her day. A moan escaped her lips as soon as she grazed her clit. Oh shit. It would be a quick one indeed. She rubbed to fragmented remains of memories. A chair? A camera?

And those eyes… so green, so powerful…

III - …Over matter

If there was one thing Morgana couldn’t tolerate, it was hypocrisy. Almost nothing else could faze her, not even the darkest of fantasies, the most twisted of thoughts. After all, she had been exposed to the inner lives of those around her since she was twelve years old. It had been scary at first, those voices that weren’t her own, those words never said out loud. It had been upsetting to hear the way her mother loathed her father, saw him only as a flabby source of income. It had been gross to hear what her father thought of when Morgana’s friends came over. But most of all, it was infuriating that they acted as if such heinous thoughts were beneath them and delivered sermons to their daughter.

She got used to it. Teachers despised their students and doctors could only think about how tired they were, and prim and proper women trembled in fear of people with dark skin, no matter what their bumper stickers proclaimed. People were inherently fucked up, the world was beyond any form of salvation. For a while, she watched.

Then she started pushing a bit. Leading a thought here, suppressing a desire there. It was just too easy. Sure, some people were harder to crack, but they all did eventually. Dreams were a great doorway in, she found. People accepted a lot of things in dreams, and the seeds planted deep grew and grew…

The seeds planted in her parents sure had grown and exploded all over the news. It had been simple to twist the minds of policemen and coroners, who dutifully recorded one extra victim when analyzing the tragedy. Just one additional name, a dead name, her old name. She had no use for it. She had baptized herself as Morgana, in blood.

And now some blonde bimbo pretended to be a hero. The world had no heroes, and she had begun to teach the delusional savior that harsh lesson. She had to admit, this one felt particularly enjoyable.

IV - Awake

Jean was awake, which sent her somewhere near a state of panic.

Every night, she dreamed. She only remembered fragments, flashes, sensations. She couldn’t quite place them, and they drove her mad. That she woke up feeling as if she needed her pussy pounded by a savage beast in heat didn’t help matters, and neither did the fact that sleep provided her with no rest, no mental renewal. She was in a daze, blindly searching for something, something right there, outside her consciousness and yet spurring her on, urging her to recall her nightly escapades. She had few clues to use as a starting point, recurring images or situations. She had to get to the bottom of it, Jean told herself. That was why she looked at those videos every morning, the ones with leather and whips and women bound, leashed, serving masters and mistresses. That she would get a tad… stimulated was inevitable, wasn’t it? And not finding answers, anything to unlock her dreams in the more mainstream sites, who could blame her for digging deeper into less savory parts of the web?

And who could fault her for being thorough? Whatever was happening to her was clearly a serious matter, one that demanded her time and energy. After all, if she couldn’t rest, she couldn’t save others. Yes, there were crimes being committed out there while she drooled and panted with her fingers inside herself, but all she was doing was thinking long term. Surely nobody could begrudge her not stopping a robbery or five, or deriving a cruel kind of pleasure knowing that while she humped her pillow someone else cried for her help. She was human, after all. Kind of. Jean had to admit she… saw herself less and less like that, but it was probably just the restless sleep talking.

And having watched model after model, porn star after porn star, amateur after amateur… who wouldn’t feel like their wardrobe was a tad too drab? Would anyone that looked like Jean looked, a picture of perfect sensuality, with golden hair and pillowy lips and tits that seemed to defy gravity not get new clothes to better show off her superiority? And who, in that position, could resist staring at the mirror or going on anonymous camsites to receive the worship she deserved?

Jean had moments of lucidity, of shame and fear and self-flagellation. They often happened after she came, so she did her best to postpone that moment as much as she could. She hated that she loved the being she was slowly becoming. In those moments she promised herself she would stop, before a new dream tore that resolution down. Still, she wasn’t entirely gone, and when the news of a missing person came up on her laptop, she decided she needed to spring into action. She couldn’t spend her life half asleep.

And so, she was awake. Aware. Fully in control of herself. And still, the images, the words kept popping inside her head. She needed to do something to get outside her own mind, and fast. Good thing she had found the dilapidated country house quickly. Criminals should really keep their voices down when they know there’s someone out there with special hearing.

There certainly was something to going in prepared, taking the methodical approach, analyzing the situation. Then again, there also was a virtue in desperation. She took in the kidnapper’s shocked faces as the front door exploded. Yes, take good look you fucking worms. No, no, that wasn’t her. Just the dreams talking. Focus, Jean. Find the girl, get the hell out…

She was tied to the bed, naked, spread-eagled, covered in dry cum. She needed to… The words appeared out of nowhere. She could see them as clearly as she could see every dusty inch of the room. The words just hovered above the pleading beauty on the bed. Slut. Cumdump. Fucktoy. Hours upon hours of porn flashed inside her head in a second and she fell on her knees, screaming. No more. No more. She was awake! Awake, damn it! She didn’t want to… Didn’t want…

No. Not want. Need. She needed it. She could feel herself slipping, the room around her melting into a dreamlike space that was anywhere and nowhere, and she was herself, but less and less so by the second. She was being drained, to be replaced by… what? And somewhere outside sight, she could sense a beautiful pair of green eyes…

She slammed the floor in a final act of defiance, even as she could feel the men surrounding her. Her enhanced senses were overwhelmed. Heat. Scent. They wormed their way past her mind and right into the pleasure centers in her brain, fogging whatever resistance remained. Cock. That was all she could think of. Cockslave. Cunt. Cumdump. Her heart raced and her pussy felt on fire. Purpose. Duty. Obedience. Yes, obedience. It felt so good. It felt so natural, so simple… Her hand darted between her legs, took in how warm she was, how fucking wet… A small whimper escaped her lips. No, this was so wrong…

It was wrong for her to rub like this, curled up on the floor. Her pleasure was to stimulate cocks. They deserved to see, to see it all. She went on her back and spread her legs. Yes, exposure. Let them see what she really was, what she really needed. Smile. She needed to smile. To be inviting, attractive, lustful. Leave no room for doubt, no way to turn back. And so, a devilish smile that few could hope to resist adorned her beautiful face.

She knew the eyes would approve. That made it so much better…

The men were shocked, their faces a tableau of disbelief, confusion and arousal. Jean realized they might need a push. Fine, the worms needed her to spell things out? She would fucking do so.

“You fucking pigs… look at what you did to that woman… how many times did you fuck her? Did you use her tight pussy? Her mouth? Her little asshole? Did you like that she couldn’t move, that she was just there for you to take over and over again? Did she feel good? Did her body make your cocks happy? Did she cry as you coated her in warm cum? Well I won’t cry. I don’t need to be bound to be a good fucking whore. And I bet I can make your cocks feel so… much… better than she ever could. So, what are you waiting for? Whip them out! Show me what you got… show me what I need…”

No human being on Earth, man or woman, wicked or virtuous, could avoid being affected by the blonde bombshell on the ground, her tantalizing lips, her devious and teasing eyes, the overwhelming lust in her voice. As if to drive the point home, Jean tore off her t-shirt, letting her perfect breasts accentuate her heavy, ragged breathing.

What happened was as inevitable as the tide, as total as gravity.

To Jean it was a series of flashes, sensations, words echoing in her head, and the sense of being performing… for who? She couldn’t tell. The feeling of being turned around, put on all fours. A cock spreading her lips open and ramming inside her with no tenderness, no care about her. The way the blood flowed in the cock she sucked eagerly. Her own voice, demanding over and over: “harder.” Her moans mixing with the men’s grunting. Hands, squeezing her tits without mercy. Wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her body, making her shake. Whore. Filthy fucking slut. Slave. Did she think that? Say it out loud? Did someone else think it for her? Her anal virginity taken with a violent thrust. The delight of feeling she was being conquered, used, treated like a living sex doll. The knowledge that such an act would hurt other women, but not her. Her body was made to take a pounding. She was superior. The superior cumslave. Both more and less than any normal cunt. Obey. Please. Worship. The delight of being the center of a circle of cocks, all hard for her, all ready to give her a reward, give her what she had earned, give her purpose and joy and…

She only recovered something close to full consciousness once she was back at her apartment, still breathing hard. Fuck. What had she done? She tried to focus. She hadn’t captured the men, that much was certain. They remained free, free to do to someone else what they had done to the girl… or to her. She could smell their cum on her naked body. There was something terribly wrong with her. She knew it. She knew she had to do something about it. The memories came in flashes, the cum on her skin drove her mad. She would do something to fix it. She just needed to do something else first.

She fell on the floor, and let her hands take over.

V - Myth

Jean hated the server for “special” people. She seldom logged in, mainly because most of it was people whining about being different. Sure, not everyone had gotten as lucky in the genetic lottery as she had, but to her it was pointless to complain. She felt that was before, and she felt even less inclined to charity now. Even among the “special” crowd, she knew she was objectively better; to hear the bleating of sheep was not something that interested her. That she needed their help was nothing short of embarrassing.

It had taken a tremendous amount of willpower to pry herself away from her pussy and her porn, and especially from the memories of that amazing night a week before. But a part of her was still aware that what was happening to her wasn’t normal. Perhaps one of the little people in the server would know more.

She kept the details vague, of course. Just weird dreams, very vivid, flashing even when she was awake. They didn’t need to know what the dreams were, even though her pussy twitched at the idea of telling everyone exactly what she had done…

What she didn’t expect was to start an online argument, although she probably should have. Everything and anything could become the battlefield where small people with big egos seeked to validate their own existence.

“I’m sorry J. but maybe it’s the woman in black”

“lol you believe in the woman in black”

“shes real tho a friend of mine had dreams and then disappeared and I was talking to J not you”

“bro she’s a myth. Are you afraid of the boogieman too lmao”

“Whatever all im saying is that shes like super powerful and fucks with your head and then you vanish”

“hahahaha sexy Slenderman”

Well, that had been useless. Either she was going mad, or she was being attacked by some mythical super psychic woman who most probably didn’t even exist. Very helpful. Fuck it, she didn’t have time for losers. There were men online waiting to worship her perfect body.

VI - Truth

“Jean, what are you looking at?”

Wait. Something was off. Jean had been alone in her apartment when she had gone online. She was sure of it. And she was more than certain that she’d remember the pale, almost marble-like skin, the raven-black hair, the tight leather the woman was wearing. And those eyes… those green eyes that sunk into her chest and pinned her to her seat, struggling to form a coherent sentence. Those eyes…

“Who… what are you…?”

“Jean, babygirl, are you okay? Should I call a doctor? We were hanging out and you just went off to the computer to do Lord knows what! That’s kinda rude, you know”

“Hanging out…?”

“Well, yeah. Hanging out. You know, like friends do? Morgana to Jean, please come in, Jean! Seriously, what’s gotten into you? We hang out all the time!”

Of course. Yes, obviously, Morgana was her friend! Why else would she be in her apartment if she wasn’t her friend? Such a silly thought. And Jean had been so rude to forget that! So dumb! A wave of warmth caressed her skin. So dumb…

“Anyway, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“Right… I… I was going to tell you something, wasn’t I?”

“Well, yeah. You called me all like ‘you’re my best friend and you’re the only one I can tell this to, please come to the apartment’ and then just when you were about to spill the beans your brain drifted off to outer space. Well honey, Morgana is here and all ears for you. So, tell me everything”

Everything. Yes, she had to tell her friend everything. That was what friends were for, right? She could trust Morgana. She knew that the way she knew the sun would rise in the morning. It was an absolute truth. Jean could trust Morgana. Jean would tell her everything. Morgana would know best.

“I… I think I’m not really… me… anymore”

“Now that’s some heavy stuff. How did it start?”

Dreams. It had started in her dreams, that much she remembered, so she told her best friend. She told her every detail she recalled about every dream, and before she knew it she was telling her about the porn, and the showing off for people online, and the gangbang, and her need to rub her needy cunt all the time and how she felt dirty and slutty and mean and weak all at the same time, how good it felt and how scary it was that it felt so good…

Morgana looked at Jean with a raised eyebrow, her green eyes fixed on the blonde’s baby blues even as Jean tried to hide the fact that she was rubbing herself over her yoga pants as she recounted the events of the last few weeks. Finally, the hero pleaded:

“What is wrong with me?”

“Jean, babe… I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“What? I mean, I’m…”

“From what I hear you are the same Jean I’ve known forever! Seriously, you’re scaring me! Since when do you get crises of consciousness and full on identity drama for rubbing your silly pussy and sucking a few cocks? Bitch, that’s like, a light week for you!”

“No, no, I’m not… or I wasn’t…”

“Yes you were, dummy. Honestly, I doubt we would be friends if you weren’t a fucking derpaved slut that collects kinks like they’re goddamn pokemon! I mean, you’re pretty much the only bitch I know that’s as fucked in the head as I am, if not more. That’s why I like you, and why you love me so much. We help each other get worse and worse”

“I’m… no, that can’t be…”

“Come on, where did this come from? You know I’m right. You know I’m always right”

“Always… right?”

“Damn right I’m always right. And you’ve always been a depraved little whore. Want me to prove it? I mean, aside from the fact that you’re soaking through your pants as we speak? Fine, I’ll prove it to you. Get on all fours, dummy”

Jean felt the carpet on her hands and knees before she knew what she was doing. The space between the command and obedience had been zero, in time and mental process. A soft whimper. She didn’t know why it felt so good to obey her friend, or why it felt so right. She didn’t care, not really, not anymore. She wasn’t sure she should care. All that mattered was to please. To please the goddess with silken skin and emerald eyes. All else was just water, running and running without affecting her in the slightest. The world was simple. Her role was clear.

“See how easy that was? How natural? And you know why, don’t you? Because we’ve done this a thousand times! Because you’re, among other things, my little trained pet, aren’t you?”

She was. Of course she was. How could she have ever thought she was anything else? Morgana had shown her what she needed to be, her real nature, her place in the world. Morgana had helped her escape her antiquated notions of duty, of responsibility, of principle. Morgana was teacher and mistress, friend and sister, her one guiding light and the one person worthy of her surrender. That she had forgotten such a basic fact filled her with shame, with the need to make it up to the slender, leather-clad woman. Jean crawled to her owner with pleading eyes and a soaked pussy.

“Oh, look at you. So needy and cute! You were just confused for a moment. That’s okay. That’s why you need me here. I’ll always remind you of who and what you are. But after scaring me like that, do you think you deserve to lick my pussy? Do you feel worthy of feeling its warmth?”

“No… I’m… but I want it! I need to… need to please you… please! Let me… just let me be your toy, just use me to get off Mistress, please let me be of use to you! I’m so sorry I’m such a dumb cunt… let me make it up to you… let me be worthy again… please…”

“Sounds to me like you need to bring out your toy, don’t you?”

“My toy?”

“The one you keep on the top drawer, silly”

Top drawer. Toy. She needed to get it. She was desperate for it. She crawled to her nightstand like a drowning woman gasping for air. It was large and purple, double-sided and thick. She didn’t remember it, but Morgana had said it was hers, so it must have been hers all along. She brought it to her owner as she should, in her mouth.

Morgana slid off her leather trousers in a smooth, fluid, hypnotic motion motion. She nodded at Jean, who tore her own clothes off with supernatural, rather less gracious, speed. She opened her legs, displaying herself for her mistress. Morgana owned every inch of her. Deserved everything she could offer and more. Jean was held in place, expectant, paralyzed by Morgana’s eyes. She knew deep down she would do whatever she was told, and she would enjoy it. Even as she remained still, it felt as if her pussy was being tortured with delicious dexterity. It was a storm of phantom sensations in her brain, synapses firing wildly in an orchestra of madness and pleasure that made Jean tear up, unmoving, almost shaking as the green eyes pinned her, toyed with her, played with her brain and sensory receptors. Morgana eased a little, just to give her pet the ability to hand her the toy.

“Now, here’s how the game will go. You will put this big rubber cock inside your obedient pussy. And I’ll just slide the other end in. You want to please me, don’t you? Of course you do. But to do so you’ll be fucking your own cunt, knowing that the more you do it, the more you become mine. Every bit of pleasure you get is a little bit of your soul you give to me. Your enjoyment is only an act of worship to me, and I do deserve to be worshiped, don’t I?”

“You do. You do, Morgana… I’m just…”

“What did you just call me? That wasn’t very… adoring of you”

No. No. Jean felt so desperate, so ashamed… She needed to please Morgana, needed it more than she needed air, needed it on a primal, animal level. She had to fix it. She had to obey.

“Sorry… Goddess”

“Better. Now stick that cock in and let your body tell you what to do”

Jean didn’t stand a chance. She had to give pleasure to her superior, even if it meant destroying herself one hip thrust at a time. Their eyes locked to one another, Jean losing control, humping and drooling and impaling herself just so some of the pleasure would go to her Goddess… it was a sight to behold, felt Morgana. Oh, Jean. So strong, so special. Moans echoed throughout the apartment as Morgana watched the blonde hero act like the bitch in heat she had become. Her view had the additional benefit of showing her exactly how much the slut’s mind was breaking, one moan, one thrust at a time. It was like watching old paint flake off to reveal something beautiful, something truly marvelous underneath.

A blank slate. Whatever remained of whoever Jean had been, the girl was gleefully fucking away. She wasn’t even aware of it anymore, gripped by instinct and mentally overstimulated to the point of madness. It was delicious.

Morgana let herself feel some of the pleasure that came not from the dildo -she was far too evolved for such things- but from the mental spectacle of submission and self destruction before her. She would make Jean happy, in a manner of speaking. Less conflicted, at least. A perfect, strong, nigh invincible slave to her pussy… and her pussy a slave to Morgana herself. It would be beautiful. They would be unstoppable.

But that was in the future. Right then, Jean only needed one final push, one tiny word to send her world crumbling down.

“Cum” ordered Morgana.

And Jean did.

She came herself away, forever.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

Or commission your own tale via dm!

337 notes · View notes

princessleechan · 5 months

Text

Imagine spending Christmas with the Mall Santa!Chan because everything else went wrong this season.

You’ve probably gone to several stores, bought several expensive gifts, missed out on some big-ticketed items and sales having been crazy busy with work, and booked a plane ticket to have it fall through.

You felt like the Grinch stole Christmas right from underneath you. This would be the first time you would be visiting your family in a few years since you left home to pursue a career in the big city. You had finally made up enough money to get the gifts they deserved this year, rack up enough cash to get a plane ticket. And now you’re crying in the food court of the mall by the airport.

Bags, full of hopes and holiday, cheer all locked away with somber and molten lava tears. You’ve tried everything you could to get a new ticket, getting the closest one to your destination, to no avail none were available in the state of the weather right now. That you’d be alone on Christmas once again.

“Ho, Ho, Ho…”

All of the exception of a mall Santa, once on break eating a hoagie and now interrupting your self-pity party. You look up and see that shiny muzzled up fake beard attached to a smooth, youthful skin underneath. You blink back at him tear-stained face and only watch as he settles in the seat beside you. “Christmas stressing you out this year, friend?”

You knew that the real Santa wasn’t the one looking back at you, you knew he was some maybe 20 or 30 something making some extra money during the holiday season, but you couldn’t help but nod like a child missing their mom.

“Would you like to tell Santa all about it? It might make you feel better,” he suggesting that Jolly old man voice.

You don’t know what it is about this fake Santa but you allow him the gist of your situation, and he seems to nod understandingly patting you on the back with his red gloved paw. “I see.”

You didn’t know it would actually work, but somehow he did make you feel a little better, letting you explain things to him. Kind of made you think out loud and understand it wasn’t your fault that things didn’t turn out right this year, allowing you to dry up your tears.

Mall Santa pretends to ponder on an idea, strongly big ole beard. “I have a Jolly good idea!”

When was Santa British? You softly chuckle to yourself at his humorous expression.

“How you like spending the Christmas day full of cheer? Not with Santa though. Ho, Ho, Ho. He’ll be tired with all the hard labor he’s done the night before.”

You break out in a small smile. “Then how would I spend my Christmas full of cheer, Santa.”

“Why with one of my elves of course! You can spend Christmas with him! I know for one, he also can’t make it for the holidays and would love some Christmas cheer himself.”

You mused at his suggestion before accepting, pulling out your phone. “In that case, may I get his number, Santa?”

“Ho, Ho, ho. Santa thought you’d never ask.”

Part two Christmas Day

32 notes · View notes

wealmostaneckbeard · 7 months

Text

Money Laundering, as I understand it, is where illegally obtained money is exchanged in a process to make it legal. When a stereotypical over-confident crime boss describes his money laundering scheme, it would probably sound like this:

"I didn't make millions of US Dollars by selling party drugs, good heavens no! I just happen to run a very successful pizza parlor franchise. These parlors may appear to be derelict and understaffed. But according to my financial records our pizzas are extremely popular/profitable and our overhead costs are easily manageable. We don't keep track of who's ordering our pizzas because we respect our customers privacy!"

For those of you who are bit slow, and there is no shame in that, there are no pizzas being made or sold. The crime boss is selling drugs but he can't deposit the money into a regulated bank. And he needs the legit bank because it can be used to transfer money long distances, like to untaxable off-shore bank accounts. But he can't tell the bankers "I'm depositing money that I made by running an illegal narcotics operations" because that goes into the banks records which are subject to review by government law enforcement. So instead the crime boss sends the cash to the pizza parlors where the employees deposit it in the banks as earnings. The employees are allowed to take a small cut of the cash flow but the majority has to go into the bosses legitimate bank account. Any employee who takes more than their allotted amount will have to answer to the boss's enforcers.

When law enforcement agents check the boss's legit bank account, all they will find is the proceeds from the pizza business. So it's up to investigators to do a lot of legwork: visiting the parlors, interviewing employees, and monitoring transactions. If they can find a correlation between drug sales and profits from the pizzarias, then they have evidence they can bring to court.

This is just an example, not every money laundering scheme involves fake pizzas, although that was a thing back in the 1980-90's. You can swap pizza parlors for casinos, hotels, warehouses, and any other legitimate business. And the pizzas could be works of art, real estate, property rights, and cryptocurrencies. Finally the drug money could instead be any money taken illegally, like stolen from a bank, skimmed off the paychecks of illegally employed laborers, and exhorted from legit businesses. Oh, the money could also come from the sale of illegal firearms! Almost forgot about arms dealing!

Anyways that's how I think money laundering works, if I'm forgetting something, let me know!

P.S.: Why are you looking up money laundering on tumblr?

#economics #crime #law #financial scam #finance #money laundering #pizza parlor #information #legal theory #writing #education #educational #law enforcement #veth brenatto #money #organized crime

35 notes · View notes

aupermittymeowmeow · 9 days

Text

Yandere Simulator-Rivals 2-3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AMAI ODAYAKA

I'm a little disappointed in Amai's current week since her 'challenge' was much more fun! So I thought I'd redesign her week a little bit. She will meet Taeko on a nearby bench, looking upset! She will check up on her to ask whats wrong and learn that Taeko had lost a good friend of hers(Kokona). Amai will try to cheer her up. This will cause Taeko to gain a new friend, much to Ayano's dismay... Though Amai only wants to be friends with Taeko, the Informast will gaslight Ayano to see her as 'a threat'. So! Here is how I will see her week! THE WEEK:

During Amai's week, a bake sale will be running! The sale will be raising money to help Amai's family bakery from going out of business. It will be a little bit bigger than the real thing. Stands will be in the middle area of the school, which will make it more populated. On Friday, there will be a bake off! Students who aren't part of the cooking club can also join! The faculty will be judging the cooking. The incinerator will also be shut down during the week!

UNIQUE ELIMINATIONS: Poisoning-It would be interesting too! You need to put lethal poison in Amai's, or the whole club's, cooking after they put it out. Chef's taste their food before serving, so you can either poison Amai or a random student, framing her for murder. Gas Leaks-Basically her elimination on Thursday Oven Accident-On Friday, Amai will try to bake the best pastry she's ever made for the Bake off! She'll use the oven in the cooking club since she wants nobody to steal her idea. While she's opening the oven to check her batter you can push her in the oven and close it. This can also be an option to bake her into your own meal for the competition, like a meat loaf or something! Boiled Alive-You need to join the cooking club for this! On Friday, you can make your own meal for the competition! In the cooking club room, grab a pot and fill it with water. Boil it on the stove. Ask Amai for a favor to follow you into the club. Then, you can shove her face into the boiling water to kill her! Her screams will attract nearby students though.

CANON ELIMINATION: Anything lethal! I think the last three options would work best! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

KIZANA SUNOBU

My favorite rival!! I'm so excited for her week! Taeko will meet Kizana outside of a local theater. Taeko will be walking along the street sadly, bumping into Kizana. The indrocution will happen, like the canon one, where Kizana inspires Taeko to use her sadness for creativity. Then, she will unofficially cast her as the lead role for Romeo in the upcoming school play! Kizana is absolutely in love with Taeko's beauty and character, much to Ayano's dismay. After the play, Kizana will confess her feelings to her in a dramatic fashion underneath the cherry tree. THE WEEK: During Kizana's week, the Drama club will be practicing in the school gym. The sports club will no longer warm up, since chairs will be in their way, so they'll warm up outside. The Photography club will sometimes stop by, much like last week, to capture photos for the school website. On Friday, the play will take place after cleaning time, so the meeting for club leaders will take place thursday. Kizana will also wear different hairstyles during each day of the week. UNIQUE ELIMINATIONS: Sandbag-A boring yet classic idea. You will walk on the top of the stage, cut the rope, and watch the sandbag fall on kizana. Acid Makeup-A fun idea I saw once on tumblr(can't find it, but credits to whoever made it!). In the chemistry lab, you will need to make a chemical equation for burning acid. On Friday, put the acid in Kizana's makeup. Once she walks onstage, her makeup and face will melt onto the stage Humiliation-Basically humiliating Kizana on stage. This will cause her to switch schools. I was thinking it could be like a carrie situation. Put blood(faking it as animal blood), paint, or gasoline in a bucket and walk on the bridge above the stage. Once Kizana's on stage, pour the contents over her. This will cause many students to laugh and points at her. The bullies will take pictures and post about it on social media. Driven to Murder-This involve Kizana. Over the week, Kizana will bully and humiliate Kokona for stealing her unique style(purple hair, drills, following her around) even though Kokona admires her. Gossip to Kizana, lying to her about how Kokona will do something bad to get the lead role. This will cause Kizana to freak out and humiliate Kokona in front of a bunch of people(Not Taeko). Kokona will feel horrible an try to seclude herself, leaving the Drama club. You can convince Kokona to kill Kizana during the play, which everyone will see. Humiliation 2-Basically Driven to Murder, except Taeko sees the true Kizana . Taeko will discipline Kizana, saying she's a horrible person and that bullying is not okay. Taeko will quit the Drama club, no longer talking to Kizana. This will leave Kizana heartbroken. The play will go on Friday, except Tsuzuru will be Romeo CANON ELIMINATION: Again, anything lethal! Like sandbag, Acid Makeup, or Driven to Murder! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thank you so much for taking the time to read my ideas! Here's the rivals list Kokona-Posted Amai-Posted Kizana-Posted Oka-Waiting Asu-Waiting Muja-Waiting Mida-Waiting Osana-Waiting Osoro-Waiting Hanako-Waiting Megami-Waiting

#Amai Odayaka #Amai Challenge #Kizana Sunobu #Yansim Redesign #Yansim #Yandere Simulator

7 notes · View notes

whysojiminimnida · 2 years

Text

So What's with Jimin Lately, You Asked

WARNING THIS IS A LONG-ASS POST And please remember that this is a NO SOURCE NO RECEIPTS HOUSEHOLD OKAY. I don't know shit, I ain't confirming a damn thing, anything you read is my opinion based on maybe info or maybe utter garbage. That's my disclaimer and I am STICKING TO IT. I can't be the only one who has noticed our Jiminie looking a bit...like this, recently:

And I think I may have one reason why.

Scandals are a fact of life among idols. What in the West might be considered a normal life event is, in the world of the K-pop system, often a career-ending event. Like, IDK, members dating actual women. Or men. Or each other.

In the last couple of months, all of these things have been alleged - one of them in the press. The other two, behind the scenes. We know about Jimin's mail being stolen and the security failure there, and it's not a stretch to believe that security for BTS overall has taken a hit. It was adequate, even excellent, for years. BigHit pays very well.

But information pays better, and blackmail pays best. Lest you think "NO but that whole Taehyung-Jennie thing was a stunt"... maybe. Maybe not. Tae, actually, is one of the most scandal-proof idols in the business because he primarily or only dates women. Sorry not sorry, I said what I said and I ain't wrong.

I have said privately, if not publicly, that Hybe will NEVER DENY THOSE RUMORS because Taehyung himself will not deny them. They aren't even bothering to keep them out of the press.

Being straight or even passably so is not a problem, for artists on Bangtan's level (is anyone else even ON Bangtan's level? NO.) The Jeon-Parks, though.

See, the thing about being *gaily involved* in Korea is that... it's a problem no matter how famous or powerful you are. Idols are not immune - ask Holland.

That's Homo Hill, kids - the WeHo of Seoul. The gayest gayborhood in the entire of Korea. And famous unstr8 people are not safe, there, now.

There was a pay-for-info attempt floating around about JeiKei awhile back. And he was alibi'd for the date(s) in question. Wasn't there, wasn't him, the fakes were good but not good enough to put him somewhere he wasn't. You maybe didn't hear about it because those of us who did, didn't discuss it out loud.

More recently, though.... I'm gonna say this in public this ONE TIME and we will not speak of it again. OKAY? Okay. Sometimes people are for sale that shouldn't be. And security failure has happened more than once in the last couple of months - a problem that, I am told, has since been rectified. And I am not saying money changed hands, do not get me wrong. I'll come find you if you say I said that. But there are REASONS that Jimin and Jungkook are currently not sharing vehicles, not being seen as too friendly, are not "together" in public, not even in interviews or photoshoots. Sometimes a bit of perceived distance is necessary. I don't feel like I should or should need to elaborate.

Add to that the depth of emotional and psychological damage, it's no wonder Jimin doesn't trust anyone, very much, lately.

My favorite couple have not been seen together in public since their off period began and I don't think I need to further expound on why, unless you're completely unaware of the eyes that are currently on BTS as a whole. (Sorry, I keep deleting stuff. This is taking longer than I thought). But Jimin was the one whose security had already failed - enough that Hybe had to clean up after them.

The others have had sasaeng problems and those are constant and pretty normal business. All idols get that. But all of them are not Park "It Boy" Jimin.

So being threatened with a very real tax lien, and immediately following that even a hint of the possibility of being outed, right NOW? I've deleted a lot more than I can ever write on how gross, how invasive, that is. And that when this is his normal commute:

In the West, Jimin gets a lot of hate from cultists and we don't like to talk about that. But within the last year, a small but rude wave of anti-Jimin sentiment has made its way into Korea. Airplanes and money exist. I've been shocked at what some people are willing to do to further their narrative. If your favorite translator can afford to hit every show with their anti buddies but can't seem to remember to support Jimin's OSTs or solo efforts, ask yourself how they benefit from that and who they support and what else they might be up to that we aren't aware of. If you casually see cult-adjacent accounts that seem to somehow be turning a for-profit narrative ask yourself what loyalty that cash might be buying. It doesn't take a lot of people to crowdfund someone's entire livelihood. Maybe 1000 at $5 a month could get it done.

HELL IF I COULD COMMAND $5K A MONTH FROM Y'ALL I WOULD MOVE OUT MY MAMA'S HOUSE NEXT WEEK AND PAY MY MEDICAL BILLS.

If y'all don't have anything else going on I'll just put me up a whole Ko-fi or Patreon and write fanfiction for a damn living and YOU THINK I AM JOKING I AM NOT EVEN. My services can be bought. Most people can, if they like what they're doing and can get paid to do it. I won't lie to you for cash and I mouth off here for free but hey, a girl needs rent all right, my fanfiction commissions are OPEN.

Get up to a quarter, half-million ad-revenued followers and do the math on that kind of income.

We can't all be Ryan Kaji, Super Spy, but it ain't for lack of trying.

Now imagine a paparazzi journalist with the idea of a second and third source of cash, plus the street cred of breaking the biggest news story in K-pop history, and their neighbor's second cousin happens to know someone with a vacant window view to a certain apartment and this is how careers get shot down and reinvented much later on another continent.

That's the level of stress, I think, for all of them in general but for Jimin in particular. Maybe on a similar level for Jungkook, somewhat less so for Taehyung. The hyungs have it a little easier, but not by much.

Now add to that Schrodinger's Hiatus and other things we never know about - family stress, life in general, maybe Jimin's plumbing went out or his invisible cat got sick, we don't know everything -- how would we begin to look at our lives, in Jimin's place? Would it be worth it?

Based on his smile at MNet last night, I really hope so.

#jimin #the park jimin #nobody better ever say a bad word about him to me #or any of them #but especially the jeon parks #they're my bias #yes both of them #i adore them equally and without prejudice and i will kick ass the same way #i am here to slay dragons and stan jikook and i am all out of dragons #excepting those in my anon box #which i am avoiding sorry hit me with a dm instead #my tags lord #sorry #jikook #sasaengs #security failure

309 notes · View notes