#anyways at the end of the day i have no qualifications to talk about this stuff since i don't really know what i'm talking about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 6 months

Text

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds smut #cm writing challenge

1K notes · View notes

dearharriet · 5 months

Text

Mama’s Fallen Angel; Eddie Munson 🎲

“Eddie,” you whisper, “need you.”

Eddie groans into your throat. That you need him even once almost makes the whole year he lost with you worth it.

“Be patient, baby,” he cooes, but he’s halfway there himself. “Gonna give it to ya.”

summary: eddie is torn when you, his troubled ex-best-friend, show up on his doorstep after a year of being gone. (18+)

word count: 2.3K

warnings: explicit sexual content—MDNI, fem!r, fingering, thigh-fucking, unprotected piv (be safe), postcoital dysphoria (?), unhealthy/messy relationship, mentions of abuse (not from eddie), angst

a/n: I’ve literally no qualifications to be writing abt sex pls tell me if it’s awful 😟 based on the song fallen angel by poison !!

It’s ten o'clock and thunderous in Indianapolis. Pounding rain drowns all other noise, but the rumble of your fists on Eddie’s front door cuts through it all like lightning.

The door swings open, and Eddie frowns. You’re drenched, panting, and carrying a go-bag half your weight. Before he can ask questions, you let yourself in, bypassing him completely.

“Hope this isn’t a bad time,” you say, but you leave little room for opposition. You’re taking your coat off, shaking like a bathed dog. “Should I take my shoes off?”

You’re talking like Eddie invited you over, like he’s seen you at all in the past twelve months. He can’t believe his own traitorous mouth as it plays along.

“Uh, yeah. Please.”

Technically, he walks all over his apartment in shoes—his work boots, even—but the sight of your ratty sneakers is enough to compel him. You sling them to the side and trail into Eddie’s living space. Eddie nervously follows.

“What’re you doin’ here?”

No answer. You pick up the knick-knacks and memorabilia on his coffee table, scrutinizing them.

“Um, hellooo?” Eddie snaps his fingers near your head until you turn your attention to him, blank-faced. Something about your silence is more unsettling than anything you could say. Eddie needs it to end.

“Why aren’t you in Chicago?” Eddie asks like you’re crazy. You stick your nose up haughtily, all defense.

“What, I can’t visit?”

“Is that what this is?” Eddie glances around, at your shoes, your bag on the floor. “Cause it doesn’t feel like it, babe.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you don’t reply. There are photos around Eddie’s place, above the couch and on the end tables by his sofa. You study them, glazing over pictures of Eddie and an athletic brunette—Steve Harrington, from school—then a band of kids, and then a pretty blonde girl you’d never seen.

“You have a girlfriend now?” Disdain paints the question, clear as day. It’s almost more of an insult than an inquiry. Eddie frowns.

“No.”

Tearing your eyes away from the photo—Eddie and the blonde, cheesing over a mound of moving boxes—you look at Eddie. He looks so different, yet so familiar. His hair is gathered and tied in a low bun, revealing his face for once. His features look fresh, fed and warm and happy. You can’t decide if you’re proud or inconsolably jealous. Still, he wears a tinge of worry that you often create.

Eddie was always looking after you. Through your tumultuous upbringing, he and Wayne took care of you, loved you the way you deserved. It wasn’t apparent until recently that your biggest saboteur was yourself.

“Liam got mean,” you say, and you know what Eddie will say back. His lack of surprise always hurt more than the actual abuse. His I told you so‘s.

“He left?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch. You shake your head.

“I did.” It’s sickly satisfying to watch his face blank, his mouth drop. “I was gonna go home, but…”

Eddie nods. He knows as well as you do that your parents would never take you back, and that their roof meant very little in terms of safety.

“Uncle Wayne would’ve taken ya,” He offers, but it’s a null point. You’re not in Wayne’s living room, you’re in Eddie’s.

“I don’t want Uncle Wayne,” you say anyway. You stare at the floor, your shoulders by your ears. “I want you.”

Something in Eddie’s chest burns, passion or fury or both. Years ago, he was elated to hear you say so, but now…

“We’re not doing this again.” Eddie’s voice is stern.

Looking up, your eyes flash with confusion.

“What?” You step closer, reaching out. “Eddie—“

Dodging your advance, Eddie throws his hands up.

“No! You don’t get to do this to me.” He licks his lips. “I got over you, and it fucking blew, but I’m finally happy here. If you bet on the wrong horse, I’m sorry, but you can’t come back and ruin me all over again.”

It doesn’t matter how measured he is, Eddie can’t stop the words from becoming scathing. You look absolutely torn and out of your depth, but an icy resolution creeps over you.

“Yeah, okay.” You step away and grab your bag harshly. “Got it.”

Eddie trails after you, back into the inlet.

“Where are you going?” Eddie feels idiotic, he’d told you to leave, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that what he was saying, that you’re not welcome? You look like you’re thinking the same thing, scowling as you tie your shoes.

“I dunno, a women’s shelter, maybe?” You shrug. “Or a hostel. There’s a few here.”

It all leaves a bad taste in Eddie’s mouth.

“Wayne would—“

“I told you, I don’t wanna see him,” you interrupt, rising from your crouched position. Eddie wants to shake you, to grab your face and make you listen.

“He can help you.”

“I don’t want his help!” Your shout pings off of Eddie’s walls. You curl in on yourself, half angry, half defeated. “I can’t stand the way he’d look at me, okay? I can barely stand the way you’re looking at me.”

“Yeah, well, tough shit! Big city wasn’t what you were expecting, huh, angel?” He shakes his head. Your face burns with the embarrassment of overambition and naïveté. “You should've listened to me.”

There it is. The smug fucking bastard. Your blood roils in your chest, pounding at your skin. You grab Eddie by the collar and shake him.

“You’re fucking mean,” you spit. You let him go, just to push at his chest with your palms. “You’re the fucking problem!”

Stumbling back, Eddie clenches his jaw and sneers.

“ Why? ‘Cause I care? ‘Cause I want you to be safe?”

Eddie can’t even be bothered to think about his neighbors, so riled up he can hear his pulse. He steps closer and you push him back again.

“You blamed me! You still blame me! You treat me like I’m stupid for going with him, but I was fucking scared, Eddie. I had nowhere else to go.” Your shoves are getting weaker, less imposing, and your eyes are glassy with tears. “It’s not my fucking fault that he was nice when we met, when people were around. It’s not.”

The fight flees Eddie’s eyes, too, because you’re right. He’d spent years trying to protect you, and he was just hurting you instead. He backs off, deflating.

Neither of you knows what to say, breathing hard and feeling awful. The rain is gone, making the silence all that much louder.

“You can take my bed tonight,” Eddie murmurs, afraid to pierce the silence.

You purse your lips, looking away. “No, you were right. I should go.”

“No, fuck that.” You flinch, and Eddie pales a little. “Forget what I said,” he amends, “I was being jealous and insufferable. It’s dark and it’s raining, and you should stay.”

Eddie looks painfully sincere, and desperate. It feels wrong, but you have nowhere else to go. You nod hesitantly, agreeing.

Your pack looks completely out of place in his room. Tattered and duct-taped and filled to the brim. It makes the space around it look impossibly cleaner. You don’t even open it, either, because Eddie lends you his own clothes. It sits forgotten at the foot of his bed.

Eddie sets you up nicely, tucking you into his sheets and slinking towards the door.

When you’re about to say goodnight, laying your still-damp hair on Eddie’s pillows, you feel suddenly as out of place and lost as the bag on the floor.

“Eddie.” His head turns your way, hand paused over the lightswitch. You’re gripping his comforter in your hands, radiating anxiety.

“Would you stay?” Eddie’s lips press together, and you’re sure he’ll say no. Still, you can’t help but add a pathetic, “please?”

Eddie knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. But you’re in his clothes, in his bed, and you’re asking for him. He can’t say no to you.

Freeing his hair from its confines, he crawls in next to you. You’re uncertain, but Eddie slips into autopilot, grabbing for you like you were never gone.

Brown curls fall all over the place, soft on your shoulder and much longer than you remember them being.

“Are you ever gonna cut this,” you wonder, fiddling with a silky strand. Eddie wraps an arm around your waist and your bodies press together.

“I did cut it,” he says. “It grew out again.”

“Oh. Right.” It hadn’t felt like you were apart that long, but you suppose it had been over a year. It’s hard to collect all of that time in your mind, to accept it.

“I wish this wasn’t so fucked up,” you lament, eyes closed. “That I wasn’t.”

“You’re not,” Eddie rumbles. You feel it in your toes. “You’re just having a hard time. It doesn’t mean you’re ruined.”

Big hands pet your hair, soothing and exciting at the same time.

“‘N you didn’t ruin me, either. I shouldn’t’ve said that.” Eddie’s eyes trace over your features, some far away thoughts showing themselves. “We’re just growin’ up, I think, and maybe shit-outta-luck, too.”

You nod, playing with the collar of his t-shirt at the base of his neck.

“It’s so hard,” you fret. “Everyone says I should find myself, but I just wanna fall in love.”

A tear slips from your eye, and Eddie stays quiet, attentive.

“Why am I so shallow?”

Eddie doesn’t know, or maybe can’t explain what he does know. Your crying panics him all the same. In a last-ditch effort to soothe you, he presses his mouth to yours.

It’s not a solution and it’s self-serving, and he’s falling back into this old routine, he knows. Eddie knows. But he loves you, and you’re here, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop falling for you no matter what you do. So he presses you into his bed and licks into your mouth like you’re made of honey.

Soft moans curl out of you like smoke, and Eddie takes them all in his mouth. When he separates from you to lathe over your neck—lost in your heady voice and his arousal—you push his shirt up, feeling his bare skin.

“Eddie,” you whisper, “need you.”

Eddie groans into your throat. That you need him even once almost makes the whole year he lost with you worth it.

“Be patient, baby,” he cooes, but he’s halfway there himself. “Gonna give it to ya.”

He pushes under your shirt, and then he’s taking it off. Goosebumps spread over your hot chest as the open air hits it, and then chills spill over you when Eddie licks over your breasts.

He’s between your legs now, rolling his hips against your center. Both of you moan, washed in a haze of desperation and desire that feels bottomless. You’re arching and preening, perfectly capable of falling apart just as you are, but you want more. You’re always greedy, chasing the most satisfaction you can get.

“Please, Eddie.” Hooking a leg around him, you press his restless pelvis into you and grind onto his covered cock. Eddie makes an animalistic sound into your chest, completely undone.

“Okay—yeah, okay,” he breathes.

His shirt is gone like lightning, and then he’s fumbling for the sleep pants he lent you. Fingers hooked under them and your underwear, he rids you of both in one frenetic tug.

“Turn over, angel.”

Flushing, you do as he says, anticipation seeping from your cunt. Eddie spreads you apart, pressing slovenly kisses over your shoulder blades. Two fingers tease your weeping hole, spreading the hot slick between your legs.

“Fuck,” he curses, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The two fingers glide in easily, palm-down, and Eddie needles into your soft-spot cruelly.

Your cunt sucks his fingers in hungrily, squelching its own demands for something bigger, but pulsating from his relentless fingering. You feel close to tears, naked and needy and untouched where you really need it. Your clit is swollen between your closed legs.

When your cunt grips down on Eddie’s fingers—three now—and your thighs are wet with arousal, Eddie pulls away and shucks his bottoms off. Rucking your ass up further, he straddles your legs and rubs the hot head of his cock over your entrance.

“Look at you, angel.” Eddie fucks himself between your slippery thighs, catching your clit. You cry out, trying to chase the sensation, but Eddie holds you still. He thrusts in a few more times, lubing himself up with your arousal, and then spreads you open again.

Bearing down on you, his chest flush to your back, Eddie pushes his cock into your entrance. From above, he’s in the perfect position to thrust down into your sweet spot. It has you tripping over your words until all you can cry out is his name, over and over.

You’re dizzy and full and tightening on his length, and Eddie finally ends your torture, sneaking a hand under you to toy with your clit. You don’t last long before you’re squirming and wailing and fucking yourself on his cock, and Eddie’s swearing under his breath and coming, too.

Hot and out of breath, you bask in his weight and warmth before he pulls out of you. Eddie’s pillow is wet with condensation and drool.

“Ok?” He rubs your back as he asks. You nod your head, and he sighs. “M’kay. Be right back.”

He comes back with a wet towel and a glass of water, and cleans your sticky thighs before you limp off to the bathroom. Your thank you’s lodge in your throat, so you forego them to avoid crying. The come-down is hard enough, but you’ve been so deprived of gestures like this that all of it goes to waste in comforting you.

You think Eddie knows, and that he’s just as clueless about what to do as you, so you both cling to each other through the night and hope it fixes itself. You have somewhere warm to stay, and someone to hold you, and that’s all that’s ever mattered.

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #stranger things #reqs open

232 notes · View notes

xiabablog · 8 months

Note

do you have any tips for speaking to/reaching out to recruiters? i'm looking for new grad roles and ppl keep telling me to but i don't even know where to start or find any and all the articles online are so intimidating

Hiya 💗

The people are right, it's one of the best ways to put yourself out there! Oh, this is going to be a long one~!

I'll share tips from my own experience, this might help you, this might because I did it any other way but this:

I applied to a bunch of jobs: like for 5 days straight I was just apply just for the sake of it. The more jobs, the more recruiters have my CV/Resume in their database. I recommend LinkedIn the most as it's super easy to drop a message to the recruiter.

Applied to jobs that I had 50%+ chance of getting a call to: Obviously this means apply to jobs where you have the skills and the experience (work or in building projects etc). I say this because say they do call you but they ask you if you have this certain tech stack and you say no... end of call really. So, for me, I had like 2 or 3 things they were asking for in a candidate so I got through to the calling stage!

LinkedIn is actually your friend, don't be afraid: During my random job searching and whilst I was in my job, I had recruiters message me about job opportunities. Why? Because of my profile. You need to have your LinkedIn vamped up, check mine out for reference (click the LinkedIn icon). But make sure to have your skills e.g. About > Top skills, your work experience (paid or volunteer) and any certificates you have! If you're brave, not like me, start posting on there for a while.

LinkedIn again but Connections: Oh my days please follow people, even if you don't know them personally. I have 300+ connections (not to brag) but I only know like two handful of the people, the rest are of people who connect with people who I follow, I have met like 5 recruiters through this way.

Actually message the recruiters???: Okay so you followed the people, your CV/Resume is done and dusted and now you're ready to message those recruiters! In my case, I had more recruiters message me than the other way round only because I'm shy hehe so I wait for them to make the first move. They would probably send a whole message about the new job that have posted and see if you're interested and then, if you like the job, you can say "Yes please" or whatever is the appropriate reply is, and then they will send further information or arrange a phone call! If you want to message them first, I would find them more after applying for a job on LinkedIn, they usually add the recruiter in the job posting as a way for people to message them.

DO NOT FEEL AFRAID IN MESSAGING RECRUITERS: I say this because a) imagine 100 people apply for the job, only 5 would message the recruiter (I don't know if the stats are right, I just remembered that from bootcamp-) because everyone else is too afraid to do it! Missed opportunity! b) recruiters actually want people to message them. Now in terms of what to write to them? I don't know really. I would always go for the classic "don't repeat what's on your resume", they're going to read it anyways, so just talk a bit about your experience and skills A BIT like

"Hello/Hi, my name is [name]. I hope this message finds you well. I wanted to express my strong interest in the [Job Title] position at [Company Name], for which I recently submitted my application. I'm enthusiastic about the opportunity to join [Company Name] and contribute to [mention something specific you find appealing about the company or role, if possible]. I believe my skills and experience align well with the requirements of the position. Thank you for considering my application, and I look forward to the possibility of discussing my qualifications in more detail. Best regards, [name]

No hire, don't be sad: Even if they don't hire you, or go through the next stages, keep in touch by even asking questions about what's on the market/what's new, how you could do better for other jobs you want to apply to that were similar to the ones you failed at. They could point you to the right direction! One recruiter said she wanted me to have more projects I was passionate about online like on GitHub or GitLab, even if they were "silly" projects - at the time, I didn't have much projects online so it made sense! See, I took that advice and now I'm a project making machine (a bit)! Advice they give sticks forever!

Remember, reaching out to recruiters and applying for jobs is a numbers game. The more applications you submit, the better your chances of landing interviews. I really hope this helps and I didn't make too many spelling mistakes! This is all of the things I could note down from the top of my head!

I've made other posts on on my coding blog about career advices:

🌐 Tips for Landing Your First Entry-Level Developer Job

🌐 Career Services For Web Dev (could be useful to you too!)

🌐 The Talent Cloud Community: Careers Workshop

Good luck with your job search!

⤷ ♡ my shop ○ my mini website ○ pinned ○ navigation ♡

#resources #my asks #codeblr #coding #progblr #programming #studying #studyblr #learn to code #comp sci #tech #programmer #career advice #career #job interview #first job #jobsearch #computer science

117 notes · View notes

miracles-and-butterflies · 4 months

Note

Did reincarnated Mirabel go to school after being reincarnated?

I’ve been waiting to answer this, actually!

Technically, yes.

For a bit of a reminder, Encanto is a rural town stuck in the 1890s. School ended at sixteen. Because of Camilo’s birthday, 1950 (the year the film takes place) would be his last year, he would have finished school not long after Antonio’s birthday. Mirabel would have had one more year to go, had she not died.

(Before somebody comments they are only three months apart in age - Camilo was born in December 1934 and Mirabel was born in 1935. None of their birthdays are in that middle gap that would allow them to possible be put in the same year. They wouldn’t be in the same year. And a lot of the time boys and girls were separated anyways).

I digress, when Mirabel was reincarnated and kept basically the same age (she’s now sixteen), going back to school and finishing that year was an option for her. And, not wanting to deal with change and thinking school would bring back a sense of normality, Mirabel insisted she wanted to go back to school; possibly continue until she properly finished school. (Most, though not all, schools nowadays continued to seventeen/eighteen).

She started at a local high school in October 2021. And… she hated it.

It was very different to what she knew of school and far from her normal. The work was fine - she’s intelligent and a brilliant academic - it was the modernisation of school and the enforced social aspect she couldn’t handle. She didn’t like moving from class to class, she didn’t like being forced to work in groups and talk to other kids, she didn’t like using the new technology, etc. However, she didn’t think it made sense for her to not finish the year and get the qualifications at the end of it, so she stuck with it. But she was very miserable.

(This got worse with the release of Encanto in November. Not related to school, but her mental state really took a toll).

Parents’ evenings were always very interesting as Mirabel obviously doesn’t have parents. Dolores, Isabela and Luisa took it in turns for each class, rather than only one or all of them going. You can imagine how chaotic that was.

Mirabel sat her mock exams in January and achieved obnoxiously high marks, which impressed the teachers as they are always made to be harder than the real thing. To nobody’s surprise, she nailed her real exams a few months later. The others joked about how she was free of school. However… She was encouraged to stay on another year by her teachers to get higher qualifications to allow her to apply university, which is what she wanted to do.

She enjoyed her second year of modern school a little bit better. There isn’t much to note on. She was encouraged to stay and complete her final year, but she turned it down; having gotten the qualifications she needed and not caring enough about doing all “the fun-day senior nonsense”, as she put it.

From what I have researched, kids in Scottish schools have the option to leave each year after they turn sixteen/when they complete first exams and receive qualifications. So it’s perfectly legal.

(They were reincarnated in Scotland, in case you weren’t aware. Well, they were reincarnated in England but moved to Scotland. That’s different ask though).

She did apply and got a place at her chosen university, but is delaying it. Mainly due to anxiety. She’s Mirabel.

If anyone was interested in what exactly Mirabel got qualifications for:

Highers:

Classical Studies - A

English (Literature/Literacy) - B

History - A+

Mathematics - C+

Media Studies - A

Philosophy - A

RMPS (Religious, Moral and Philosophical Studies) - A+

Advanced Highers:

English (Literature/Literacy) - A

History - A+

RMPS (Religious, Moral and Philosophical Studies) - A+

Italics were her second year subjects.

#encanto #ask me anything #encanto reincarnation au #isabela madrigal #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #dolores madrigal

23 notes · View notes

bethanydelleman · 8 months

Text

Northanger Abbey Readthrough, Ch 8

Some hints that Isabella's affection for Catherine may not be all that it seems, starting with this, "Isabella having gone through the usual ceremonial of meeting her friend with the most smiling and affectionate haste" and then Isabella taking an entire three minutes to abandon her friend to dance.

I love this part:

She could not help being vexed at the non-appearance of Mr. Thorpe, for she not only longed to be dancing, but was likewise aware that, as the real dignity of her situation could not be known, she was sharing with the scores of other young ladies still sitting down all the discredit of wanting a partner. To be disgraced in the eye of the world, to wear the appearance of infamy while her heart is all purity, her actions all innocence, and the misconduct of another the true source of her debasement, is one of those circumstances which peculiarly belong to the heroine’s life, and her fortitude under it what particularly dignifies her character. Catherine had fortitude too; she suffered, but no murmur passed her lips.

This sentiment is so real, it's like assuring the waitress that you aren't at the café alone and your boyfriend is coming. Catherine wants people to know that she has a partner! She's not unselected and unknown. It doesn't matter that she may never see these people again, the disgrace is real.

Then worse (!) she finally sees Mr. Tilney again but she can't dance with him! The horrors! I love how Catherine doesn't fall for the "mistakes sibling for spouse" trope, which continues to happen in fiction to this day, but instantly realizes that Henry is with his sister.

Thorpe finally appears (ug) and he doesn't have any good excuse for keeping Catherine waiting. However, this reminds me of three other men:

of the horses and dogs of the friend whom he had just left, and of a proposed exchange of terriers between them

We know that Mr. Rushworth of Mansfield Park also annoyed a woman by talking too much of horses (his "sport" would include this) and dogs:

Maria, with only Mr. Rushworth to attend to her, and doomed to the repeated details of his day’s sport, good or bad, his boast of his dogs, his jealousy of his neighbours, his doubts of their qualifications, and his zeal after poachers, subjects which will not find their way to female feelings without some talent on one side or some attachment on the other Mansfield Park, Ch 12

Also, Sir John and Willoughby are arranging the exchange of some terriers:

Such a scoundrel of a fellow! such a deceitful dog! It was only the last time they met that he had offered him one of Folly’s puppies! and this was the end of it! Sense & Sensibility, Ch 32

Now I'm sure a big part of these quote aligning is just the era and being gentry, them with their fancy horses and fancy dogs, but both Rushworth and Sir John notably can't really talk to women, I think we can easily argue that Thorpe is in the same camp. And inconsiderate Tom Bertram delayed another woman from dancing with concern about horses:

He came towards their little circle; but instead of asking her to dance, drew a chair near her, and gave her an account of the present state of a sick horse, and the opinion of the groom Mansfield Park, Ch 12

The real problem here is that men are putting their concerns above doing a duty or a kindness to a woman. Sir John gets away with his devotion to hunting because he is very kind and accommodating otherwise, but John Thorpe, Mr. Rushworth, and Tom Bertram especially really show their selfishness and self-absorption in these scenes.

ANYWAY, joy of joys, Catherine is introduced to Eleanor Tilney, who seems like 10,000,000% more rational and genuine than Miss Thorpe:

Her manners showed good sense and good breeding; they were neither shy nor affectedly open; and she seemed capable of being young, attractive, and at a ball without wanting to fix the attention of every man near her, and without exaggerated feelings of ecstatic delight or inconceivable vexation on every little trifling occurrence.

Catherine does not immediately become friends with Eleanor, but engages in the very small talk that Henry spoofed back in Ch 3.

The faithless "faithful Isabella" reappears, but she's far too absorbed with James to really focus on Catherine, no matter what she claims. Both Catherine and Isabella refuse to dance with their partners more than once, though like Willoughby and Marianne, Isabella and James don't find new partners but instead talk with each other. Poor Catherine barely spends any time with Mr. Tilney as he got bored and danced with someone else.

Now, we know Catherine is already half in love with Henry at this point, but what is he thinking about her? He does seem to have sought her out and he asks her to dance again. This may just be polite, and he certainly feels that nothing is keeping him from finding another partner. I would say he probably enjoyed the first dance and is happy to see her again, but I doubt he's been dreaming of her...

#northanger abbey readthrough #ch 8 #northanger abbey #henry tilney #eleanor tilney #john thorpe #james morland #isabella “faithful” thorpe

26 notes · View notes

cottagecheese1 · 2 years

Note

a headcanon where Mob boss lyod hansen meeting stripper reader in a club, who is a secretly an assassin from another mafia group and she is trying to kill him

Secret

Plot: a young assassin gets assigned a new mission, but with one of the most dangerous men in the state, the only solution is to try to fool him at his daily Night club which doesn't end up as planned.

Warnings: non consensual touching, dirty talking, teasing, talks of spanking, a little bit of man handling, smut but not a lot, thigh riding

"I told you I'm not doing it! What part about that do you not understand?!"

I took a deep breath in and Paced around my bedroom. Closing my eyes while rubbing my temple and pausing trying to process the irritated voice on the other side of the phone.

"You will do this misson [name], you will do it or, you can turn in your badge and give all your gear to me. If that's not what you want then I suggest you get it done. I'll send you the information."

He yelled at me frustratingly. his voice getting higher as he yelled through the phone, we've been going at this for about an hour now, and I will not back down.

I mean that's until he basically threatened me with firing me. He told me I need to do this because this guy is important and we need him out of the way or something like that.

What was his name again? Lance?, Landen?, Larry? It's all the same thing anyway. He's probably just a douche bag. I started yelling again.

"Wait n-"

And at that he hung up the phone, and a text popped up on my phone, to see a picture of a guy and a document, great now I don't have a choice.

I groaned and looked down at my phone in annoyance. Lloyd hansen? Wasn't that the guy with Sierra six or someone like that?

A started to read the document, so where would a guy like him be like anyway. Solitary confinement?

But the last thing I expected was a strip club. I know he's a guy and all, but wouldn't he have more important things to do Then watch woman dance in practically nothing?

So I'm going undercover...wait as a stripper? Not even a waitress the one where I have to have the least amount of clothing on?

I paused for a moment until I heard my door bell ring. Who could possibly need me at this time of day?

I opened the door, and looked down to find a package with a note on the front. 'Hope you enjoy your mission' what could that be? I grabbed the box and took it to my room, and opened it.

I pulled out a light pink bra with a white Lacey mini skirt and white knee high socks with a bow placed at the top of each of them.

Um does he expect me to wear this? In front of this pervert? But I mean unless I don't wanna keep my job, I have to do this. It'll probably be over in a minute anyway.

4 hours later

I hug my body as I walk down the crowded street with a thick jacket on. I look up to see a bright pink neon sign with flashing lights that says 'girls, girls, girls' how original. I look over to see a door that says 'employees only' I walk over and try to open the door. It's locked.

I knock on the door and a woman with short brown hair and a nice button up shirt opens it, and they must have recognized me because they didn't check for any ID or qualification. Oh well.

She walks over to me and pulls out a gun handing it to me.

"Here, he's in the VIP section on the couch you'll see him. We reserved a stage for you, you're up in 10 minutes, so get ready."

And at that she walked away. 10 minutes? I should get ready then.

Take off my coat, and brush my hair out. Fixing the lip gloss, and the light mascara slightly smudged against my eye. Easy fix, I look down at my clock and realize I only have 4 minutes left. Shit.

I run out to the back of the stage, and take a deep breath. Wait, I don't know how to pole dance? I quickly take a look at the other girls and see them basically doing the same thing. Ok I guess I'll just slide around, and try to act sexy, or whatever that means.

Walking out on the stage; I take a quick look around. Everyones looking at me. Suddenly the music starts playing. I jump slightly, and make my way over to the shiny pole. It's fine right? I'll just copy what the other girls do.

Glancing over, to the VIP section I see that guy? Lloyd I'm pretty sure. I end up staring at him I mean who wouldn't he looks way better in person then in the pictures.

His porn star mustache, and his broad muscular figure was to suiting for him. I attempt to dance a little more. And the music finally stops, I walk off the stage and try to walk past him.

He grabs my arm and looks me up and down seductively, I can feel him undressing me with his eyes. He's hot though.

"Do you give private dances princess?"

I look down at him at smile Slightly and touched his arm.

"Of course, follow me"

He smiled and grabbed your hand, the size difference was huge; I weirdly felt weak and vulnerable. Now I was really nervous.

Luckily I already knew where the private rooms were, I opened the door, and led him in. I turned around, getting situated.

I heard a door close behind me, and arms wrap around my waist. I could feel his breath against my ear softly chuckling.

"You're not a dancer are you?"

I paused and stood still

"Um I don't know what you mean sir, I-"

"Don't lie to me sunshine, I know you're a good girl, so act like it would you?"

Shit. Maybe I can still play it off.

"I really don't know what you're talking about sir, I-I don't know what you want from me."

He tucked my hair behind my hair, and looked down at my with a smug look on his face.

"Don't play dumb sweetheart, I know your lying to me, except I don't know why, so be a good girl, and just confess to me hm?"

Well my covers blown now. Pulled a gun out of the top of my skirt, kicked him in the stomach, and pointed it at him.

He chuckled, and started to circle me

"Thought you were a good girl princess, I think you deserve a spanking don't you think?"

What the fuck was this guy on? I need him alive, but I couldn't focus with the warmth in between my legs spreading throughout my entire body. I squished my thighs together, which apparently did not go unnoticed.

"Aw honey I know you're dressed like a slut, but I didn't know you actually were one"

He grabbed me by the waist, and yanked the gun from my hand. He was way bigger, and stronger then me; no way I could fight him off, but I tried.

After trying to kick him multiple times, and wrench my body out of his grip, he threw me to the ground, he smacked my head against the wall, and then eventually. I gave up.

I sunk Into his body, and let him throw me on the couch, I was to tired to fight back.

"I know you're tired princess, and I hate to hurt you pretty girl, but you need to learn your place don't you baby?"

I leaned back, but still after all that; I could feel the warmth in between my legs growing.

He grinned and sat down on the couch next to me stroking my leg he put me in his lap and kissed me softly. He pulled away and started to play with my hair.

"And I'll even forgive you..But for all the trouble you caused me, you have to cum for me right now.

My eyes widened, he chuckled, and grabbed my waist putting me on his thigh.

"What? You thought I didn't see you squeezing your pretty thighs together like a whore?"

I felt his thigh flex against me, I let out a tiny moan. I unconsciously started grinding against his muscular thigh. It felt so good; I couldn't stop even I'd I tried.

"Mm that's it pretty girl grind against me, you're so good for me aren't you?"

At this point I was desperate for a release, I moaned louder and tried to push myself into him more.

"I know, I know, keep going you're being such a good girl, I'm so proud of you princess"

He stroked my face, and pushed his fingers past my lips. And started sucking on my tits. I instantly wrapped my lips around his fingers, and sucked on them. Grinding harder onto his thigh While hanging onto his broad shoulders.

"That's it keep sucking, you have such pretty lips princess"

I felt a warmth in my stomach building up slowly, I moaned around his fingers, and dug my hips in his thigh.

"M gon cum"

My voice was muffled by his fingers in my mouth

"Go ahead sunshine"

He rubbed my waist up and down, I felt a tight warmth in my lower stomach building up, and then released.

He stroked my head, and kissed my forehead smiling.

"you did so good princess, I know naive little girls like you have a hard time knowing what there place is, but it's ok I'll always be here to remind you baby doll"

He laid me down on the couch, and gave me a soft kiss on the lips.

"I gotta go honey, but I mean you did make a mess on me, so I have business, and get a new pair of pants, I'll see you later [name] maybe I'll visit you again hm?

I laid down on my side, and curled up when a thought interrupted me. Wait? I never told him my name? Now that I think about it. I've seen him a lot of places I've just never gave him a second glance. Has lloyd been stalking me?

A/n:Hope you liked that guy's, I'm trying to post as much as I can, but I've been busy, so please bare with me!

Masterlist

#gray man #grey mann #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen drabble #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #chris evans #chris evans x reader #my fic

174 notes · View notes

layton-heritage-posts · 1 year

Text

The People have decided!

So, Professor Layton and the Sexiest Loser it is.

First of, one more explanation for those who don’t know:

When I (finally) got access to the polls feature I celebrated the occasion by posting my first poll on here. One of the option was: *Banging Fists on table* Rematch! Rematch! Rematch!, because ever since Professor Layton and the True Sexyman ended, people repeatedly asked me to make another tournament. I originally just added this as a little joke, but then it actually ended up winning. Kinda. It shared its place with the „yay“ option, but I guess it still counts.

So, not long after the poll closed I got an ask joking about how I should make another round. Long story short, here we are.

But what will Professor Layton and the Sexiest Loser look like?

It’s gonna be a Losers Bracket for the main tournament. Meaning that the following things will change:

- Descole and Clive are both out, since they’re the one who made it into the finals. Descole claimed the title of True Sexyman, and Clive got a nice little afterparty.

- also, After a Short talk with the other mods (me, myself and I) it was decided to remove Desmond as well. After the og tourney his Butler gave me a call telling me that he unfortunately won’t be available for a longer time. At least that’s what I think he said. I honestly couldn’t really hear him because his voice was overshadowed by the Organ in the Background and the immense cheering of at least 400 people. A bit rude, since he also didn’t show up to PLatTS and gave Descole an easy win, but anyways,

- so, these three former participants of course need replacements. So I picked the top three results from the Qualification round who didn’t get into the tournament.

Descole will be replaced by Stachenscarfen, a man who tied with Barnham in the qualifications and whose fate was decided by a coin throw. Now is his Chance to show what he got.

Clive will be replaced by Sammy Thunder, a fan favorite whose fans where very disappointed that he wasn’t in the first contest. Let’s see if they were justified in their rooting for him.

And lastly, Desmond will be replaced by Inspector Chelmey, another Inspector throws his hat into the ring.

As before, during the time of the tournament all heritage blogs are put on hold. I will still gladly take submissions, but know that I will only post them once the tournament ended. Each Bracket is newly randomized, and the only change I did was putting Layton in front. There will be a two day break between each round.

I think that’s all. Of course this time we’re not using Strawpoll, but the official Tumblr polls. Voting will begin on the 5th! I wish your favorite Characters good Luck.

#not a heritage post #Professor Layton and the Sexiest Loser #platsl

81 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 9 months

Text

So I like everyone else, hates the dentist. I had a regular cleaning today, and I went into it like I normally would, but the lady that usually cleans my teeth wasn’t in today so a new lady cleaned them and y’all..she was so fucking cool??

She made a comment about my Hozier sweatshirt and that her friends just saw him and I was like omg I just saw him in concert last week and she’s like omg?? No way?? So they we’re talking about concerts right and then somehow we get onto the topic of reading and books we like and then she’s like do you have any hobbies? I’m like yeah I write in my spare time and I shit you not, this lady lit up like a Christmas tree and was like that’s so cool!! What do you write? So I start off by saying fictional stories and then she flat out goes, my friends and I are SUPER big into fanfiction right now and then I’m like..I write fanfiction and she flipped in excitement 😭😭😭 then she asked me what kind of fanfiction do I write?

And I’m like you know who Pedro Pascal is right? She’s like duh of course I know who he is so then I tell her that I write Joel Miller fanfiction. She just about DIES and I’m like yeah I write on tumblr and started back in February and she’s literally fangirling 😭 then we’re talking about TLOU and I ended up giving her my tumblr url and she’s like I’m sharing this with my friends and you have gained yourself a new follower and y’all tell me why I want this woman and I to become besties?? Like can I join your friend group please??? 🥹🥹

So anyway, this pretty much made my entire day because you just never know who you’re going to meet and the conversations that are going to take place and I told her that last week I was having a shitty day at work and started looking up the qualifications to become a screenplay writer (that’s the dream) and she’s like all it takes is one grain of creativity to spark something and this is why I write! This is why I love human connection through creativity because what if I didn’t have this dentist appointment today? What if I canceled?

Everything happens for a reason and I am a firm believer in that 🫡

#talkswithgi #I’m cheesing so big right now #this is the stuff that drives me to write #human connection!!!!

23 notes · View notes

callsign-joyride · 2 years

Text

Mayhem | Bob Floyd

Summary: After the first day of training, Bob decides that he needs to talk to you. You run into Hangman along the way, and Coyote confirms some suspicions.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Mitchell f!reader (callsign: Mayhem)

Content warnings: Cursing, slight angst, Hangman being a menace

Spotify playlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

A/N: If you want to join the taglist for this series, all you have to do is leave a comment!

Training for the day had been over, and you were just getting out of the shower when Bob texted you. All it said was that he needed to talk to you and the number of his dorm. You sighed and put comfortable clothes on before grabbing your bag and heading in the direction of the dorms.

It was just your luck that Hangman was walking in the direction that you just came from.

"Y/N? What are you doing here? Bradshaw's on a food run."

"Well, right now, I'm walking down this hallway. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Phoenix's room is in the other direction."

"Shut up."

Hangman kept on walking, and you were soon in front of the door to Bob's room. A few moments passed between you knocking and Bob opening the door, but he welcomed you into his room.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" You asked, as you put your bag by the door and kicked your shoes off.

"Why didn't you tell me that your dad is training us for this mission?" Bob asked.

It took everything in you not to let out a laugh. Someone told him and while you weren't 100% certain who it was, you definitely had your guesses.

"Um, because I didn't know that he was going to be training us. You know how it is. No one tells anyone anything. I don't talk about missions with my dad. Deployment, maybe. But missions? We could both lose our careers over that."

"Well, Hangman thinks you'll get selected to fly."

"You can tell Hangman to kiss my ass. I don't know who called all of us back, but I can't fly the mission if my dad flies. It's too risky. Why does he care, anyways? Fly boy thinks he's better than everyone else here."

"Yeah, you're right about that. Uh, I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go out sometime? My treat."

"Sure. I should probably get going, though. I told my dad I would meet him for dinner. I'll text you," you said. Bob nodded his head and grabbed your bag for you before opening the door. You made it to the parking lot before Coyote stopped you.

"Coyote, I would love to stay and chat but I'm running late to dinner and I'm kinda pissed."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. It seems like you would rather die than be in the same room as Hangman. What's that about?"

You dropped your bag and turned around.

"You can't tell anyone, got it?"

"Yeah."

"Two years ago, we got deployed to Spain. We were there for six months. God, this is embarrassing. While we were there, we had a friends with benefits thing going. That was for, like, the whole time. I caught feelings and let's just say that it didn't end well. This is the first time I've seen him since."

"Is that why you and Bob...?"

"Oh my God, no! I ignored Hangman all of last night."

"Well, he didn't ignore you. He's been trying to put the moves on you since you walked into The Hard Deck."

You wanted so badly to cry. Even though Coyote didn't say it, you knew that Hangman told Bob. Of course he did. I'm gonna kill him. Without a word, you picked up your bag and made it to your car. You sent the, "On my way," text to your dad before starting the engine and blaring your music. You waved to Rooster as you drove by him in the parking lot and really started to hit the road.

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to fly in the mission. Like, at all," you told Maverick as you helped him do the dishes after dinner.

"Why? You've got the qualifications and you did really well during training today."

I'm gonna regret this.

"I slept with Hangman."

"You what?"

"Remember like two years ago when I got deployed?"

Maverick nodded his head.

"It was during the entire deployment. That's basically why I hate him, because it didn't end well. I don't thnk it's even a good idea for me to continue training."

"Listen, I'm not mad at you. It's too early to say anything about who I'm picking for the mission, but I won't put you in the air with him. You should finish training, though. I don't know the consequences of quitting training but I can ask Ice when I see him tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Wait, did Ice make you do this?"

"You know I can't tell you that. Oh, and please don't date or hook up with anymore of your colleagues."

You're kind of too late for that piece of advice.

A few hours passed and you laid in your bed, texting everyone. The group chat was talking about who was going to the gym with who, and you were texting Bob about the date.

Taglist:

@peaches-1999 @paintballkid711 @tallrock35

#bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #bob floyd #maverick #pheonix #rooster #hangman #bradley bradshaw #pete mitchell #natasha trace #jake seresin #coyote #robert bob floyd

246 notes · View notes

stormyoceans · 8 months

Note

YOU ARE SO RIGHT because namtan deliberately didn't show what she's wearing at the aiport but still showed night and day's outfit suggesting she's there and she matters in that scene but it would be a spoiler. Maybe after seeing mork getting involved with day and how day is night's brother she would've thought her one sided feelings for night is never gonna work out so she decided to step out of their lives by choice. And taking the very possible theory of porjai been the one to introduce the cartaker job to mork everything connects ! And like you said night then realises he share the same feelings with porjai and CHASE AFTER TO THE AIRPORT OFC THIS IS HOW IT'S GONNA BE THE DOTS HAVE BEEN CONNECTED

GLAD I DIDN'T SOUND COMPLETELY INSANE AND YEAH LIKE. i know we all want namtanfilm to happen but like you said NIGHT AND PHORJAI BEING SOMEHOW ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH EACH OTHER WOULD MAKE SO MUCH SENSE

we always found weird that mork, who as far as we know has no qualifications whatsoever, ended up being day's caretaker, but if night and phorjai know each other then everything starts falling into place: night talked to phorjai about what happened to day and needing to find someone to help take care of him, so phorjai brought it up to mork; night probably wasn't too happy about it but still arranged an interview with mork as a personal favor to her, thinking that day was never going to pick him anyway, but then day surprised everyone by actually choosing mork

this would also explain why phorjai always looks incredibly displeased whenever we see her with morkday

because yes, she was the one responsible for getting mork the job, but it was never supposed to be something more. maybe she had a fling with night in the past but they never got serious because she knows she isn't the kind of woman he can marry (CLASSISM SUCKS), so she looks at mork (which at this point im pretty sure is her brother) being the happiest he's ever been whenever he's with day and she is both worried and jealous: worried because she knows things can't work out between them and mork is gonna end up heartbroken just like her; jealous because she can see that things between them are actually different, that as much as she tries to tell herself otherwise day loves mork as much as mork loves him and he's ready to fight to be together with mork

so she gives them her blessing, happy that her brother's story had a different ending than hers, but she needs to find a way to move on from her own feelings for night so she decides to leave, EXCEPT AFTER SEEING MORKDAY TOGETHER NIGHT SAYS FUCK CLASSISM AND DECIDES TO GO AFTER THE WOMAN HE ACTUALLY LOVES. EVERYONE GETS A HAPPY ENDING AND TO NOT WASTE A WEDDING MORKDAY ARE THE ONES GETTING MARRIED INSTEAD. DOTS CONNECTED SIGNS INTERPRETED MYSTERY SOLVED

#IF I DIDN'T SOUND INSANE BEFORE I SURE DO NOW #BUT LIKE IT MAKES SENSE!!!!!!!#AND IT CREATES SUCH INTERESTING DYNAMICS TOO #BECAUSE YOU HAVE MORK AND NIGHT ESSENTIALLY PLAYING THE SAME ROLES #(mork being protective over his little sister falling for night vs night being protective over his little brother falling for mork)#AND THEN YOU HAVE PHORJAI AND DAY WHO COULD RELATE TO EACH OTHER #BUT SHE DOESN'T TRUST DAY AND DAY MAYBE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT HER AND NIGHT #DO Y'ALL SEE THE VISION AM I MAKING ANY SENSE #(she screams as the orderlies drag her back into her padded room)#last twilight the series #m: ask

16 notes · View notes

ardentlurker · 4 days

Text

jp log 11 04/06/24

leveled up to lvl 4 in wanikani, so it's time to pay subscription fee, i guess. i recognised a word that i learned from wanikani (出口) appear in an episode of cardcaptor sakura, so that's pretty cool. i need to listen to the audio more on new words instead of... just not doing that and realising i have no idea how the pitch is actually pronounced or etcetera. stopped genki self-study around a day ago for now. my japanese class is going at a pretty good pace because it's monday-friday, but i guess it's mostly because it takes a lot of effort to sit down and get myself to focus and study a textbook, and i kept procrastinating it to the end of the day. feels pretty painful. i'll like to go back when i have to switch to part-time classes, but we will probably see depending on time constraints then... ugh, maybe i'm just being lazy because i just end up spending less time on japanese now. guess i'll try to watch more anime in comparison, or either pick it up again. anyway, i guess i'll talk more about class a bit. i was surprised that minna no nihongo uses 2 books to complete the n5 comprising of 25 chapters in total, while genki has 12 chapters, but i guess genki's chapters are just way longer than minna no nihongo's. i can't really self-study minna no nihongo because the school buys the taiwan edition for some reason and thus all the grammar and vocab translations are in traditional chinese lmao. (they give out translations when you get to the chapter) pretty cool to be taught by a native japanese teacher who can talk about the nuances along with what words japanese people usually use / say. i usually enjoy class most of the time so far, unless i feel stressed out from failing to remember things that everyone seems to have remembered, so that's nice. probably worst thing about my class is how much it costs, man. we were doing some pair practice in class and the prompt was "name of school" ____ and my classmate was like (school name)は高いです。 and i just laughed because man. REAAAAL. if i paid this on my own, i'll only be able to take up to N3 while depleting almost everything, and honestly i don't know if i'm still going to be funded taking classes all the way through. i don't really have a "useful in our capitalistic society/to gain jobs/study opportunity" to learn japanese, and also because that's not really the reason why i'm learning, i guess. doubt there is money to go study overseas in japan university, (though i suppose i actually haven't done any research on this, though i'd imagine you'll have to look that up in japanese.) and i sure am not qualifying for MEXT scholarship in the future unless i want to self-study probably like 2 years of math and science (uh. quirk of the education system path thing i took which is not that relevant and way too long to explain. which leads me to question whether my education qualifications would even qualify regardless if i had money to study overseas or not...) and study something unrelated as a degree to what i've previously studied before, so uh. cool.

#ardentlogs #japanese langblr

2 notes · View notes

captain-kraken · 6 months

Note

ocs ask time, tell me about some of your ocs favorite weapons :D

Thank you for the ask!!

OOH I don't think I've ever really talked about this before.

Most people in Sonhara don't use weapons in their day-to-day life, though some may keep them for personal protection, especially in places like Jurin and Kiwo.

The humans who are best trained are those who went to one of the Academies in order to become a guard or a Nivada. Most gishars are also trained to use weapons, even though they have a naturally occuring power anyway.

Also, most gishars choose the weapons that their Nivada wields as they're the ones most likely to train them. Some will learn beforehand to boost their Value but the majority don't end up getting the qualification.

I won't list everyone's weapons/abilities because it would be far too long but here's a few:

Lavis Kontemno: Prefers using his axe, as it's not as brutal as his ice breath and helps him limit the collateral damage.

Deivi Vakaj: Has lightning manipulation which he's very good at controlling. Also uses a basic staff which doesn't sound that dangerous until you remember that he's 9ft tall and much stronger than a human lol

Einjal Daju: Is trained to use a glaive but would much rather use his teeth, or his water manipulation.

Hanasha Mallora: If she's trained in a weapon, nobody knows what is is. More likely to either punch you in the face or set you on fire with her power.

Mahrias Kontemno: Prefers using his sword since he's not very good at controlling his cryokinetic abilities, as (like his father) they're very tied to his emotions.

Tafgen Vorreh: Good at archery but likes his sword better, as he feels he looks "tougher" with it.

Viter Kontemno: Has no natural ability but learns archery from Tafgen.

Pocha Ranna: Has a spear but is more likely to use his bare hands.

#thanks for the ask!#wip: blue blood

3 notes · View notes

matan4il · 1 year

Note

Hello Alice,

it’s miya again :) I hope all has been well with you. I really loved your meta this week & it made me realize the reason I appreciate your analysis so much. You write about buddie but you write about them as buck AND eddie and not like they are one combined single unit. buck and eddie are their own people with different personalities and i think people forget that sometimes when it comes to talking about them together.

I love how the focus of your analysis was eddie and his clear childhood/adolescent trauma dealing with traditional parents who believe in only one way of doing things. I feel like people kinda missed that when talking about eddie & his performing. i know people interpreted the performing line as literal but it’s much deeper than that and you pointed that out very well. it all goes to show you we look at things through so many different lens but i love your focus point so much. you honestly make me want to get better at my own writing and analysis for this two lovers.

I wanted to ask you though on your thoughts about buck downplaying his brush with death. He never has explicitly said out loud “i died” & I do think that moments coming soon. I just found it interesting that everyone keeps reiterating that to him & i wonder if he’ll snap the next time someone says it. Buck has not processed or accepted that his trauma happened. him referring to him literally dying as “an accident on the job” breaks my heart cause you can tell he wants people to stop making a big deal of it, despite it being very serious. he is suppressing his trauma which i understand as someone with ptsd. anyways sorry for my rambling. buck is my favorite & character i connect to the most so i tend to babble a lot lol. hope you have a lovely rest of your day/evening/night whenever you see this ❤️

Miya, you darling! :D I'm always so happy to hear from you! I've had a very challenging week (which is not yet over... when you read this, I'll probably be recovering from another double shift), but the feedback on everything that I was most stressing out about has been amazing, so I'm exhausted, but very satisfied! How are you? Well, I hope!

Awww! Yes, that's exactly it! I think I even explained it in one of my earlier weekly meta posts, that I'll be writing about Buck, Eddie AND BuckandEddie. So I'm glad that's something you not only noticed, but also enjoy! ^u^ Thank you SO MUCH for the kind words! And I'm particularly please to learned you liked my POV on Eddie in my 614 meta. I know I've spoken to a very perceptive friend of mine back when... I think it was still s3 airing? Or possibly start of season 4, and despite how smart and insightful she is, she had missed the bit about Eddie's conversation with Bobby back in 217. So yeah, I think a lot of people might have? We all miss something, since 911 serves us with so much goodness. And I'm glad if in this case, this is something I can add to the table.

I fully agree with you, Buck is not really coping with what happened, given the fact that he's not yet said it out loud, and other characters have to remind him of it repeatedly. I also wondered this week if his PT scores being low is also a reflection of him still struggling with the lightning strike and how to recover from it. Because remember in 301, when he was coming back from the fire truck crushing his leg? He still aced his re-qualification exam. Even after he also suffered a pulmonary embolism during that very same period of time AND survived (and rescued others during) a tsunami, we never got any indication that his physical ability to bounce back had been diminished. So that suddenly changing? It could be a sign of the gravity of the matter, and how this is different, and Buck has to wrap his head around it, but because he hasn't yet, his full recovery is also stalling. I don't wanna get too much into spoilers, but based on the little that we do know about the finale, I feel like if this isn't addressed before the end of the season, then it should be in its very last ep. The themes seem like they would easily lend themselves to it, in any case. I hope that's what happens! If it also leads to some breakthrough with Eddie, one of them finally, finally ADMITTING what the other one means to them, I would be ecstatic, but I would absolutely take the win if we simply see Buck starting to actually face the trauma he had just been through.

Thank you again for your wonderful ask! I hope you're having a great day. As always, my ask tag. xoxox

15 notes · View notes

melodycalypso · 1 year

Text

Ni No Kuni Music Analysis: “Ding Dong Dell, The Cat King’s Castle”, Joe Hisaishi

Hello fellow Ni No Kuni fans!! Hope everyone is having a great day whenever they find this post. So being true to my word, I promised I’d share with y’all my analysis and opinions on the soundtracks of the Ni No Kuni games. The Ni No Kuni soundtracks are composed by Joe Hisaishi who is literally a legend and one of my favorite composers ever. He really does a great job of bringing stories to life with his music! I don’t know how many of these exactly I’ll do, but we’ll see. And for anyone wondering my qualifications for this, I guess they are that I am currently pursuing a degree in music performance and have always been really interested in the soundtracks of these games. Alrighty then, let’s get started!

So the first piece I’d like to look at is going to be the Ding Dong Dell, The Cat King’s Castle, theme. Since it’s one of the first places you go to in the game it kinda makes sense that it’s first on the “list of analysis” lol. So here’s a link to the piece so you can take a listen! I’ll also put time stamps throughout my analysis so y’all can see specifically what I’m talking about in the piece.

youtube

You could say that there are a few highlighted instruments in this piece, two of which appears at the beginning.

0:00 : At the start of the piece is this really simplistic drum and tambourine duet. Very dance like in my opinion.

0:10 : Which then leads me into my next point and onto when the main melody gets introduced in the piece. I believe the instrument that comes in with the main melody is a tin whistle or at least somewhere in the flute or more importantly woodwind family but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Anyways, an almost waltz-like dance melody takes over which very much reminds me of the baroque musical era. In sort, this era can simply be explained from a quote off the website Britannica saying:

“Baroque music, a style of music that prevailed during the period from about 1600 to about 1750, known for its grandiose, dramatic, and energetic spirit but also for its stylistic diversity.”

And doesn’t that description fit the little melody in this piece perfectly? Or at least I think it really does! Fun fact about me is that one of my favorite styles to play in is baroque music . And if anyone is curious, I am flautist.

So when hearing this melody, you can’t help but want to get up and dance around!

0:32 : Moving on, the strings come in and join the main melody adding a bit more complexity to the piece. Then we get into a more grandiose, majestic melody. It feels very regal and like the Cat King himself is walking around, which was probably implied here.

Even though a more proud theme is starting to take over in the piece, it still keeps that light, dance-like tone.

1:05 : At around here is when it starts getting interesting. There’s this building moment in which the strings quite down and then semi-gradually crescendo into the another more powerful round of the main melody. An important entrance here I would have to say would be the brass taking the melody here. That is what’s really emphasizing that regal and proper coloring of the music.

1:45 : And now we’re back to the more simplistic form of the melody with our tin whistle (or at least I’m fairly confident that’s the instrument lol), drums, and tambourine.

If you haven’t noticed already, that seems to be the flow of this piece. We have a more simplistic trio of instruments giving the melody and that it transitions into a more complex form with a whole bunch of instruments!

2:02 : Listen to that trumpet fan fair!! It fits perfectly in this piece and it’s a really nice variation to the theme!

2:30 : In coming to the end of the piece, an interesting ending occurs. Usually in baroque music the end of the piece is pretty solid and sometimes can even seem a tad unexpected. Here though it’s a bit different, but still does seem unexpected. We have a bit of a gradual ending as less groups of instruments continue playing. You can almost visualize it as the Cat King sitting down on his throne on the final note.

So that wraps it up! A pretty cool piece if I do say so myself. Thank you very much for reading through my post! I wrote this rather late in the evening so if my ideas are a little hard to follow I apologize lol

#ni no kuni #ni no kuni 2 #nnk #ni no kuni wrath of the white witch #studio ghibli #music #ni no kuni music #ni no kuni music analysis #Youtube

13 notes · View notes

pumpkin-spice-whump · 2 years

Text

Reap the Harvest - Part 4

sorry, not really any whump. essentially just more plot. (kinda... i'm trying anyway). not the proudest of this but i want it out so this is what we have!

CWs: hospital setting, essentially slavery of a fantast race, blood

Masterlist

-----------------------------------

Bridger wrinkled his nose as he entered the operating room, lugging the small cart of cleaning supplies with him.

He’d been doing OR clean up for almost two and a half years but still hadn’t gotten used to the smell of blood. Or the rancid cleaner they made him use.

He hummed as he mopped, trying to distract himself from the blood and the feeling of the camera on his back. He could never decide if it was better or worse to see the cameras or to pretend they weren’t there. Either way they saw him, so in the end it didn’t really matter.

And he knew they were watching him closely.

-----------------------------------

Bridger had always wanted to be a teacher. Rayleigh was one. She taught half the preschoolers in Rockmire Hills. Bridger wanted to teach kids who had a better grasp on using a toilet, but still. He’d never thought of doing anything else.

He had all the qualifications for teaching. He’d taken all the courses, volunteered and subbed for classes. The kids loved him, and he loved them.

He’d submitted his application to the Employment Board of Rockmire Hills just before he’d turned eighteen. He was ready to be a teacher, and everyone around him knew it.

He was shaking with nerves and excitement the day he received his assignment a few months later, already imagining his own classroom and lesson plans--

Custodian. That’s what the paper said, plain as day. Custodian.

Bridger had cried. Luckily he was the only one home when the letter came, but he did. He cried and cried until Colin got home from school. And then he locked himself in the bathroom and cried some more.

He didn’t understand. How could someone like him, someone passionate and more than qualified for teaching, be denied? And assigned to custodian no less! He felt like the Employment Board was always complaining about a lack of teaching applications. How could this happen to him?

Rayleigh was livid. She’d been ready to march right into the Administrator’s office and give her a piece of her mind, she'd had her shoes back on and everything. Daniel had stopped her last minute and locked she and Bridger in their room.

“I was afraid this would happen,” he said. He sat on the bed with one hand around Rayleigh’s shoulders, like he was keeping her in place.

“What on earth do you mean you were afraid this would happen?” Rayleigh demanded. “They had no right to deny his application! Bridger wants to be a teacher more than anyone and he deserves it more than anyone! And we need him there!”

Daniel gave her a certain look before turning to Bridger. “I’m so sorry.” he said. His eyes were welling with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Bridger.”

“What are you talking about Dad? This can’t be right, can it? I mean, me, a custodian? Cleaning trash and blood, that can’t be right. They made a mistake and we have to go talk to them.” Bridger wiped his tears with the palm of his hand. “We have to. It’s not right.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“He has to reapply,” Rayleigh objected. Her conviction was lessening. “They have to at least let him reapply.”

Daniel shook his head. “They won’t accept it.”

Bridger felt the lump in his throat grow. “Why not?” he whispered.

“Because you fought back.”

-----------------------------------

Custodian for the past two years. A gigantic middle finger to Bridger’s entire life. All because he got scared.

They didn’t want someone with his ‘ideals’ teaching, Daniel said. Probably anyway.

Bridger just thought it was to actively torment him. He knew it was actually. He’d reapplied multiple times, for multiple different positions. They eventually just began denying everything with his name on it -- which he knew because his application for custodian was denied. Not like it mattered.

The door behind him suddenly slammed open, pulling him out of his pitiful thoughts.

“Heyyyy! I’m back!” Colin announced, hauling his own cleaning cart behind him.

“Took you long enough,” Bridger muttered, getting back to wiping up a puddle of blood.

“Actually it only took my five and a half days, so I’m faster than most.”

Bridger rolled his eyes. “Whatever man. Just get to work.”

Colin smirked, pulling an obnoxious lemon-scented cleaner from his little cart. “What, you didn’t miss working with me? It wasn’t hard doing all that work alone?”

Sometimes Bridger hated Colin. Well, not hated hated him. Hated him like everyone hated their brothers.

Colin was the favorite. Their parents denied it through and through but Bridger wasn’t stupid. it didn't make things too different. It was just true. Colin was the baby. The funny one, the one everyone knew and liked. He was laid back and chill.

He had little to no ambitions, but that was totally fine with Colin and their parents. As long as he was ‘likable’. Working with Bridger, as a custodian, right now? That was what he had actually applied for. That was what he wanted to do. He didn’t know someone was watching their every move. He didn’t know anything.

Bridger swore it looked like there was no light behind his eyes. Like if he blew in one of his ears, he’d be able to feel the air come out of the other side.

“Like you do anything anyway, jerk. I liked the peace and quiet I had for once.” He jumped and Colin chucked a bloody rag at him. “Gross! You’re disgusting. Pick that up. And you’ll be working alone in like a week.”

“Already? Dang. Late last month and early this one. That sucks, man.”

“Whatever.”

“What is it?”

“Left arm.”

Colin lit up in faux excitement. “Hey! If you got it done last week we could’ve been twins!”

“Wouldn’t that have been fun.”

Bridger held his breath as he sprayed a particular spot of blood on the operating table, scrubbing with the stupid flimsy rags they give them to work with. He always had the worst harvest schedule. Back to back major donations, a million blood draws that left him freezing all the time. He missed Colin’s high school graduation because they decided they had to have his left leg and right hand at the same time.

It was to tear him down. Everything was to tear him down. Ever since that awful day two years ago, his life had never been the same. He realized that the world he lived in wasn’t as safe as he thought it was. It wasn’t set up in his or his people’s best interest.

It was set up, specifically, to harm them. To take away their autonomy, to make them think they wanted this and take away any and all chance to say no.

Crops don’t say no.

Bridger realized that Colin had been silent. Usually, he’d bask in that rare occasion for as long as possible, but when he looked up, Colin was staring right at him.

“What?”

“Can I--” Colin glanced up at the camera watching them and turned slightly so it was more towards his back. “Can I ask you something?”

Bridger felt his face pale.

It couldn’t be good if he didn’t want the camera to hear. Was his harvest like Bridger’s first? Bridger thought that Colin had so much misplaced pride he wouldn't dare fight back but maybe he did? Maybe that was why he tried talking to him the other night? Colin couldn’t just be having those thoughts himself, it wasn’t possibly something he’d think of or put energy into. Right? Colin was too naïve. Too… simple minded to put it kindly. He wouldn’t.

“Bridge?” Colin stepped forward. “You good?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, getting back to work. “Yes I’m good. You can ask, just keep working.”

Colin took his sweet time getting back to it, but he did, glancing occasionally from Bridger to the camera, which he himself was pointedly avoiding looking at.

“Why did you get so defensive the other night?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Bridger. You know what I mean.” He lowered his voice. “You and mom both got really defensive when I asked if you -- if you even want to harvest --”

“I told you not to ask her about it again.” Despite himself, Bridger’s voice began to rise, a hot anger rising to the surface. “Can’t you ever listen to me? I said to just drop this. Why can’t you do the one thing I ask of you and stop poking your stupid nose around where it doesn’t belong? Huh?”

“I didn’t!” Colin argued. He stopped scrubbing to gape at his brother. “Geez, Bridge, take a breather. I didn’t ask mom again! And you’re not making me want to drop it by freaking out more.” He glanced at the camera again, hunching over a splatter of blood and what Bridger thought might be chips of bone. “Just like… what’s the issue?”

“There’s no issue.”

“Obviously. Look. I don’t think it’s okay we’re forced into this. What do you think?”

Bridger choked on air. Why? Why, out of everyone in the facility, did his idiotic little brother have to be the one with these thoughts?

“Why are you saying that?”

“Bridge… I didn’t want to do that.” He gestured to the blood surrounding him. “And this, do you think this Crop wanted to do this? It hurts. And we can’t say no! If they did this to the people outside, they would get to sign a waiver and get medicine and --”

“But you’re not outside.” Bridger’s heart rate climbed. The camera heard them. He knows it heard them. They might have people marching down there right now… Bridger got up and knelt next to his brother, leaning in. “Colin, I’m asking you to please please drop it. Please. I care about you.”

“Then tell me what the damage is. What’s going on?”

Bridger could feel tears pricking his eyes. Why wouldn’t he drop it? Why would he think these things in the first place? Why him?

“Why isn’t it okay to say that?” Colin whispered. His eyes were wide and scared.

Their eyes were the only thing Bridger and Colin had in common, looks-wise. Dark blue, just like their dad.

Bridger felt like he was looking at a mirror, staring into Colin’s fearful, blue eyes.

“Bridger, please.”

“Colin…” Bridger could feel the camera boring into the back of his head. “There’s a lot you don’t know about Rockmire Hills… and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

Tears filled Bridger’s eyes. He blinked them away.

“Listen, this sucks. Okay? It sucks, I admit it. I hate it here, every day. But it could be worse.” He wiped his eyes and stood up, glancing towards the camera. "Remember that it could always be worse.”

Colin took his arm, pulling him back down. "You're scaring me, Bridger. What happened to you? What do you know?"

"Nothing... You're better off not knowing. Believe me. There's nothing you can do anyway."

"How do you know?" Colin asked. He lowered his voice. "How do you know we can't... end it? Get out?"

"Stop it, Colin." Bridger gave a panicked look to the camera. He shook his head at it, hoping that they would understand. "Stop it now. Don't say that. Don't even think it."

"Why not? I hate it. You hate it. Do you want to do this?" He threw down his rag, splattering the blood on them both. "Seriously? You want to get cut open and then be forced to clean up after?"

"Colin, stop it right now."

"There has to be a way out. Somewhere we can go. We'll escape, and then we'll come back for mom and dad after we're safe and no one will find us. Maybe we can help others get out too! We can't be the only ones and --"

"STOP!"

Colin flinched back, eyes wide.

Bridger stood back up in a frenzy, eyes on the camera. "He didn't mean it!" he spoke to the lens. "He didn't mean any of that! Please, he wasn't serious!"

"Bridger what --"

"Do you realize what you just did?" Bridger yelled. He felt tears begin to fall, his chest heaved in panic. "You just gave them probable cause!"

"Gave who?!"

Bridger ignored him and turned back to the camera. Dr. Malsom or the nurses or the Administrator -- someone heard that. Someone now thinks that the Sharpe boys are planning an escape -- maybe a rebellion. That's all they need.

"I'll talk to him! I'll calm him down. I'll tell him it's not okay. He'll stop this, I promise, we'll get rid of these thoughts. I swear, I swear to you. I'll fix this."

Colin grabbed Bridger's shoulder and turned him around, shaking him. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm trying to save you!"

The automatic locks on the door clicked shut. The brothers froze.

Colin's voice shook when he spoke. "... Is it worse now?"

Bridger turned to him again.

"What have you done, Colin?"

-----------------------------------

taglist (sorry if i forgot anyone! lmk if you want to be added or removed): @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @darkthingshappen

#colin sharpe #bridger sharpe #classism tw #blood tw #hospital setting #i'm trying to worldbuild and make plot but my gosh i suck at it #so sorry if this chapter blows lol im just trying to build up to the Big Stuff and i want to get to know the characters more #reap the harvest

21 notes · View notes