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seikkoi · 7 months

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𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 | dom!wanda maximoff x f!reader

18+ minors dni | dark-ish content warning

content/warnings: explicit sexual content, female domination themes, spanking, overstimulation, choking if you squint,

genre: pure smut, minimal braincells

word count: 1,554

Your typically patient wife has had enough of your attitude.

Your eyes squeezed shut, body tensing as Wanda’s palm meets your skin again. You’re draped over her lap, nails digging into the soft suit pants at her thighs when another strike meets your ass. With every delicious sting, her other hand alternates between stroking your clothed back or fondling your hair. You writhe at the pain, legs restricted by your pants pulled down to your ankles. Normally, Wanda had the patience to undress you fully before punishing you. Normally, she would have stopped five minutes ago. But then again, you normally acted like less of a brat.

ᗢ

It was late when Wanda returned home, much later than usual. The busyness of the day affairs kept her from giving you a heads-up. You had a good two hours to build up your attitude about her tardiness. The ticking hands of the clock served as taunting background music while you watched dinner grow cold.

You couldn’t fathom a reason she at least didn’t call to tell you, angrily putting away dinner and showering. The front door knob turned just as you re-entered the living room. Wanda, your ever-beautiful wife, wore tiredness in her face, but still greeted you with a smile. Seeing the dark, curve-hugging suit she wore to work made it difficult to be upset anymore, but not impossible. Before she could explain anything, you were on her case. Endless rhetoric about the importance of punctuality and communication spouted from your mouth. You gave no credence to the perfectly reasonable explanation she gave- only responding with more attitude.

Wanda merely stood, unable to get much of a word in. You, too deep into your rant, don’t notice when she goes silent, removing her suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of her crisp white button-up. You didn’t notice the sly grin tugging at her mouth, or when she took slow, heavy steps towards you.

“You done, darling?” she cooed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The house was dim, with enough light for you to see the familiar glint in her green eyes. There was a firmness to her touch, fingertips dragging against your cheek. Only then did you realize how unfair you were being, and how much you just fucked up.

“I just-You didn’t call, you always call.” Your body relaxed at her touch, anticipation swirling in your stomach. You'd been with Wanda long enough to know what your behavior would earn you.

“And I apologized for that, my love.” Her palm wraps around your hair, tugging your head back to look at her. “But you were too busy mouthing off to hear it.”

ᗢ

That’s how you earned your current position, a whimpering, soaked, half-dressed mess in Wanda’s lap. You had eagerly submitted to this punishment, albeit still stubbornly. You hadn’t held back a snippy remark when Wanda sat and gestured to her lap, which was probably why your punishment was much, much longer than usual.

You are lucky though, because the sight of you like this, suddenly very apologetic and needy, starts to drive Wanda insane, filling her head with more ideas.

“On the bed.” It’s a short and breathy command that you follow all too quickly, pulling your pants off completely before lying on the cool sheets. Wanda kneels next to you, staring down at your flushed body like a meal waiting to be devoured.

A moment passes as you shift your weight off your tender skin and meet Wanda’s eyes, praying that she’d forgiven your earlier behavior.

Almost like she’s read your mind, Wanda’s crooked smile returns as her hand dances behind your underwear.

“You can be such a good girl, but only when you want to be, hm?” Her other hand strokes your thigh, fingers sliding along your folds in the same slow place as her taunt.

Your body was far too worked up and sensitive for her teasing, groaning from the lack of attention she knew you needed. You tried to move your sore hips, anything to increase her speed, but a firm push on your thigh stopped that.

“You’re being a little harsh here,” you whined, still trying to gain even an inch of friction.

“You think you deserve any better right now?” Wanda prevented you from responding with more protest by quickly inserting the teasing digit into you, making you arch against the mattress.

Her goal now seemed to be just shutting you up, adding a second digit and relentlessly fucking you. It borders on being too much too quickly. You can feel the warmth spreading across your skin as Wanda presses a thumb to your clit. You were now an even bigger mess than before, moaning and jerking against her. Wanda still kept you in place, replacing the hand at your thigh with her knee on your hip. With the way your body still reacts, trying to move against her, you’re certain you'll have a fresh set of bruises there now.

Wanda soaks in every twitch however, drunk on your moans. When your mouth hangs in an open gasp, eyes fluttering, she gives you no reprise, curving the slender digits inside you.

“Shit, Wanda, that’s too much-”, your own sounds of pleasure cut you off, feeling your peak rip through you with little warning. The dampness of the sheets reaches your thighs as you swear and cry out Wanda’s name.

You learned that you were still paying for your outburst, with Wanda’s pace going unchanged. The pleasure transitioned from bliss to overwhelming as she fucked you through your orgasm and long after. The knee holding you down could barely be felt, mind too absorbed in the feeling between your legs.

You feel like a puddle of water beneath her. Your excitement coated her fingers, making every thrust into you glide with ease. You can hardly process the digits against your walls, crying out each time she reaches your hilt or adds more pressure to your clit. When you feel your second orgasm building, the overstimulating pleasure pricks fresh tears from your tightly shut eyes.

“W-wanda, please, I can’t.” you cry, gripping aimlessly at the damp sheets beneath you.

You try a bit harder to sit up, moving your hips away from hold. Wanda isn’t having it, though- her free hand makes its way to your throat, pushing you back down. The smile on her face is infectious, gleaming at your pleas.

“So polite all of a sudden, tsk,” Wanda scoffs, stretching you further with a third finger. You groan at the sensation, eyes rolling when she finds her pace again.

“I’ll make sure you don’t forget your manners next time, draga.”

#marvel fanfiction #mcu smut #mcu fanfic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #avengers fanfiction #seikkoiwrites

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garbinge · 5 months

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Jane Austen and a New York bench

Jess Mariano x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff, light bickering/back and forth. Typical Jess angsty-ness. Summary: After school shenanigans with Jess in NY. Word Count: 1k All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics A/N: Never wrote for Gilmore Girls before but fun fact is actually one of my favorite shows!! I've watched it at least 10 times through. I am team Jess always and forever. Enjoy this light and fluffy (as fluffy as Jess can be while still being Jess) fic!

“I didn’t take you as a Jane Austen type.” You plopped down on the bench next to Jess.

“I never said I don’t like Jane Austen.” His voice was littered with frustration as he set the book down on his lap.

“True, but I’ve never seen you read anything by her.” You tucked your legs up on the bench so you were now facing Jess, your side now resting against the back of the bench.

“Until now.” He lifted the book up and dipped his head as he shook the book.

“Until now.” You agreed, nodding your head.

“Where you coming from?” Jess asked, adjusting himself so he could look at you, resting his arm along the back of the bench behind your shoulder.

“You know, there’s this establishment, institution some may call, that provide these spaces for learning and education and they’re usually in session from the morning to the afternoon.” You sarcastically explained.

“I must look into this fine establishment you speak of.” Jess responded.

“You know the more you miss the more you’ll have to make up for.” You leveled with your best friend.

“I’m caught up.” Jess’s voice raised in defense even though he still had a slacker attitude that was always impossible for him to lose.

“Yea, thanks to me.” You pulled away to grab books and notes from your bag to hand over to him.

He grabbed them and started filtering through them. “You know, your capital letters are always hard to read, it’s like a drop cap every start of a sentence.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Mariano. If you don’t like my notes, now hear me out," you paused for a few seconds as your eyebrows raised, "maybe you could go to school and take your own.” You faked a shock face like what you said was ground-breaking.

“But then we wouldn’t get to share these moments, that I cherish so deeply, with each other.”

You rolled your eyes and rested your head on Jess’ arm and closed your eyes.

For a moment you both sat there, you were soaking in the relaxation from a long day. Jess was taking the time to stare at you, taking in your features, his hand was beginning to get tangled in the fur of your coat as he lightly rubbed your shoulder.

“You hungry?” Jess asked at more of a whisper than he was speaking before in case you had began to fade to sleep.

“You buying?” You mumbled back to him, eyes still closed.

You felt his breath hit your face as he chuckled from your response. “Sure, hot dog?”

“With everything on it.” You pouted and thought if you wanted anything else. “And a soda, ginger ale–no, coke.”

He let out another laugh. “I’ll get a ginger ale and you get a coke, we’ll share.”

“You’re wasting that brilliant mind not coming to school, Mariano.” You were already off the bench and starting to walk down the busy New York street as you yelled back to him.

Jess was still smiling as he gathered his things quickly before catching up with you.

“Maybe I’m too brilliant for school.”

“I change my mind that statement proves you have no brain cells.” You teased him as you approached the hot dog cart and began ordering.

As Jess handed the man a $20 bill, you were beginning to balance the drinks and hot dogs and finding another bench in the same park you were just in.

Jess was close behind you and wafted a paper tray of french fries in your face before plopping down next to you.

“Okay, that earns you TWO braincells.” You spoke with a mouth full of hot dog, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the half chewed food.

“French fries have to earn me at least 4 and the salt pepper combo another 2. So I should be at like 10.” He argued as he unwrapped his hot dog.

“You should be at zero again, you can’t do simple addition.” You teased.

His smile grew and he was grabbing something from behind his back and before you could question anything the plastic cup filled with liquid gold was shining in front of your eyes like the angels from above had presented it to you.

“Melted cheese?” You took a deep breath in shock and happiness all at once.

“Melted cheese.” Jess repeated your question as a statement and held it out further for you to take.

“But you haaaate getting the side order of cheese, you say its a rip off.” You were quick to remove the cap off the plastic container and dip a french fry in it pretty immediately. As you ate the cheese dipped fry you dropped your shoulders in an act to show how great it tasted.

“I’m not oblivious to the greatness of a hot dog cart melted cheese cup, I just think $2.00 for a tiny cup of cheese is ridiculous.” He argued as he was making his way to dip his own fry in the sauce.

“But yet you did it this time.” You were pointing at him with a french fry while your other hand was bringing up your soda to drink, eyes slightly frowning trying to figure him out.

“Because you like it, and I like when you’re happy.” It was a short sentence but for someone like Jess who grunted or rarely spoke about anything emotional in more than two syllables it might has well have been a novelized love letter.

You paused and looked up at him, he had spoken the sentence so nonchalant as he was switching sodas with you, again another action to prove his thoughtfulness.

“Jess, the romantic.” It was a playful comment but there was truth behind it when you spoke it.

He smiled at the comment snd continued to pick through the food that was spread along the bench.

“What can I say it’s all that Jane Austen.”

#Gilmore Girls #Gilmore Girls Fanfic #Jess Mariano #Jess Mariano x Reader #Jess Mariano Fanfic

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shanastoryteller · 10 months

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Happy birthday!!!! I love your blog so much, this is my first time making it to the asks!

Dealer’s choice!!

He waits two weeks and five days, which is seventeen days longer than he thinks is necessary.

However, it’s how long it takes for the Cuban couple to be discharged. He’s not sure if this is the time to indulge in symmetry or ritual when it’s never done him much good before, but he supposes he’s trying something new.

Cuddy is still furious at him over firing Chase. Wilson isn’t much better, oscillating between pity and disappointment, which is just obnoxious. The new guitar is at least a decent distraction. The downside is he has to actually spend most of his days in the clinic to avoid taking another case, which he doesn’t want to do just yet.

Symmetry and ritual and all that.

The day after the couple is gone, he sleeps in then drives his bike in the opposite direction of the hospital.

He has to hit his cane on the door for over a minute before it flies open and Chase is standing there, hair sleep mussed and mouth pulled into a scowl. “What do you want, House?”

It’s too soon to smile, so he doesn’t. “Is Cameron here? I assume she is, otherwise I’ll have to come back later which would be a huge pain. Why do you live downtown? The traffic is awful.”

“If you’re looking for Cameron, go to her apartment,” Chase says, moving to shut the door in his face.

They grow up so fast.

He shoves his cane in the door because he’s not willing to risk his foot and Chase glares at it like he’s seriously considering trying to snap it with the door anyway. “I didn’t say I was looking for Cameron. I asked if she was here. How much have you been drinking? You can’t be losing braincells that quickly.”

Chase’s expression turns considering, which almost makes him smile again.

The door is flung wide open and Cameron is standing there, hair greasy and wearing one of Chase’s button ups over a pair of leggings and glaring at him like he’s something on the bottom of her shoe. “Go away, House. You’ve done enough.”

“Good,” he says. “Have you eaten yet?”

Cameron’s eyes narrow. Chase asks, “Why?”

“There’s a half decent restaurant about a mile from here. We could get breakfast,” he says, still refusing to smile, but now it’s out of self preservation. If they slam the door in his face, he can play it off as a joke. Or he can start stalking them.

Playing it off as a joke is the safe option. The socially acceptable one.

But he’d foregone the safe option when he’d fired Chase.

“I’m not coming back,” Cameron says firmly, lifting her chin in challenge.

“I don’t want you to come back,” he says. It’s true in the way she means, at least. “So, breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“It’s noon,” she says coldly.

“Lunch, then,” he amends. “My treat, considering you’re both unemployed. A bit careless of you, to leave one job without having another lined up, but such are the mistakes of youth.”

Maybe other people can get things and people and relationship with honey rather than vinegar. His personal experience has leaned more towards catching each one by the wings and shoving it in the jar himself. His metaphorical jar has airholes, so he doesn’t get what everyone is always so upset about.

Cameron is still glaring but Chase has relaxed. Cameron may have wanted to understand him, had tried to study him and make sense of him, but Chase had always been better at it. A life of a shit father and being a huge kiss ass has given him selectively useful skills. Chase says, “Brunch. I want pancakes.”

“Chase!” Cameron shouts at the same time as House says, “Cool.”

“I’ll drive,” he says, nudging Cameron out the door even as he leans further into the apartment to grab his keys. “You would have made a stronger argument if you’d brought the corvette instead of your bike.”

“Well,” he says, finally letting a smile tug across his face. Cameron stares. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to agree for the wrong reasons.”

Cameron thinks she has to be asleep. This can’t be real.

But they’re sitting in a booth in an old school diner that still smells faintly of cigarette smoke, which gives her some indication of how long it’s been in business, and House is stretched out in the opposite seat, leaning his back against the wall and with his legs crossed in front of him.

“Aren’t you going to look at the menu?” she asks as Chase flips through the multiple pages, House looks at the ceiling, and she looks at him.

“Nope,” he answers.

“Are you going to tell us what we’re doing here?” she presses.

He turns to look at her, eyebrow raised. “We’re getting brunch.”

There’s nothing heavy at the table, but she could probably do some damage with the fork. It’s not like he can run very far.

The waitress comes back, settling coffees in front of all of them. Chase orders chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, and eggs. House gets the steak omelet, which the sign they’d passed on the way in had proclaimed was this week’s special. She still hasn’t looked at the menu so she says, “You order for me.”

House rolls his eyes. “The little lady will have one slice of the stuffed French toast, scrambled egg whites, and the fruit cup. No grapes.”

She wouldn’t have ordered the stuffed French toast for herself, but she does want it. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to read into that.

The waitress says, “Aw, introducing the new boyfriend to your father? That’s so sweet.”

Chase freezes while Cameron feels her mouth drop open and she tries to say something but finds she can only get out a strangled, “Ah.”

“Kids sure do grow up fast,” House says, his disconcertingly normal smile of before having stretched into a much more familiar smarmy grin. He at least waits for the waitress to leave before asking, “Tell me, Cameron, have you ever gotten urge to call me daddy?”

“Oh my god,” she breathes, “why would she-”

“You both look like children outside of suits and lab coats,” he says. “Or maybe I just look especially old today. Or maybe she clocked our ages perfectly and just thought I had you young.”

“Please stop talking,” she says. The French toast suddenly doesn’t sound so appetizing.

He shrugs, stirring sugar into his coffee before lifting the mug up to take a sip.

The red mug. That she’s definitely seen before.

“Is that – your mugs in the office,” she says.

“I steal one every time I’m here. Don’t worry, I tip well.” He taps his fingers along the side. “If you want to be helpful, steal yours for me too. Wilson always refuses because he’s a wimp. He got caught once and she didn’t even care.”

This has to be a dream. House has brought them to a place that he goes frequently, with Wilson, and has revealed a personal detail about himself. It may just be where he gets his favorite mugs for the office but it’s more than he’s ever offered up willingly before.

“What do you want?” she asks.

He takes another long sip of his coffee, once again staring straight ahead. She thinks the real reason he’s stretched out like that isn’t because of his leg or comfort but so his default position is looking away from them. “There’s an open position in surgery under Thomas. He’s an insufferable ass, but luckily you have experience in that area.”

She’d asked the question but he’s obviously talking to Chase. He swallows and she can feel him tense along her side. She hates this. “You want me to apply?”

“There’s a senior research position in immunology at St. Sebastian’s. They’re doing a lot of cool stuff,” he continues, not answering Chase but now speaking to her. “I’d go for that one. However, Williams is looking to retire, which means his position is open. It sounds like an utter bore to me, but you’d probably like it.”

“Williams, the emergency room department head?” she demands incredulously.

“Keep in mind I’m only bringing it up because I’d prefer you both stay at Princeton. It’s a shit job,” he answers. “The research one is way better.”

“You want me to apply for the surgeon position?” Chase repeats.

“Don’t be stupid,” House says and Chase’s grinds his teeth together. “I want you to accept the surgeon position. Thomas will offer it to you outright in about,” he checks his watch, “eight days.”

Cameron has never found House to make sense, but this is taking it to a new level. “If you’re feeling guilty about firing Chase–”

“I’m not feeling guilty,” he interrupts. “When have you ever known me to feel guilty for doing the right thing?”

“Doing the right thing makes you miserable,” she retorts.

He smiles again, small enough that she thinks it might be genuine. “Only sometimes. This will probably make me miserable too, though. I hate hiring people. They’re all so stupid. A benefit to you two sticking around the hospital is that I can go and bug you when your replacements’ idiocy threatens to kill someone.”

“Or your stubbornness,” she says.

“Tomayto, tomahto,” he replies. “There are also a couple open positions in Chicago that you’d like, but that makes me intention to leech off you significantly harder.”

Chase sits up a little straighter. “Why would you tell us about jobs that you don’t want us to take?”

“You’re not my employees anymore. I can’t make you do the smart thing. You’re free to be idiots, if that’s what you want,” he says.

Cameron doesn’t want to press on this particular bruise, but she’s missing something. “Why did you fire Chase?”

She’d asked that before but this time she thinks she might get a real answer out of him.

“So you’d make a choice,” he says, then nods to Chase, “You’re welcome.”

Chase blinks several times. “What?”

He groans, “Are you going to make me spell it out?” Neither of them say anything and he sighs. “Chase loves me too much to ever leave me so of course I had to fire him. Plus it pushed you to make a choice – me or him. If you’d never had to pick, even if you started dating Chase, he’d always feel like your second choice. Because he would be. But now he knows he’s your first. So, again, you’re welcome.”

She’s actually speechless so she’s relieved when Chase asks, “Why would you care about that? Why do you care at all? Even if you do care, why do this? You hate change.”

“True,” he acknowledges. “Which is why I didn’t do anything when your contracts ran out. But Foreman quit. Change was happening whether I liked it or not so there’s no reason to prolong the process. Better to get all the change out at once so I can get back to a life of no changes.”

“Why isn’t Foreman here?” Cameron challenges. “Why did you come get us and not him?”

That makes him go silent again, but she and Chase have years of experience waiting him out. He’s still looking at them, but he’s not seeing them, his eyes going unfocused like he’s thinking through a case. “Wood ducks, unlike the majority of their genus, make nests in trees.”

She’d always been convinced that one day House’s stupid metaphors would make sense to her. Mostly they just give her a headache.

“They also have a habit of flinging themselves out of the nest with very little concern for the consequences of those actions. That’s because the mother duck builds the nest high enough to keep it from predators but low enough that they’ll be unharmed by the impact of the nice cushy ground, so this propensity for leaping first and looking never wasn’t bred out of them by evolution. Of course, humans mess that up, and now lots of places have hard concrete instead of soft ground. So now the duck’s ability to survive is based on their ability to fly.”

“So you’re seeing if we can fly?” Chase asks tentatively.

House sighs, taking another sip of his coffee and giving them a faux disappointed look that she’s surprised doesn’t prick her as much as it used to. “You landed on soft ground. It doesn’t matter if you can fly or not.”

“Concrete is accidentally killing a patient who wouldn’t have died otherwise,” she says, sitting up straight. “You kicked us out of the nest because we’d be fine. But you think Foreman is heading for concrete and you don’t know if he’s going to be able to fly or not.”

“Less killing the patient, more the lack of self confidence and self awareness,” he says, “but yeah, close enough.”

“What if he falls?” Chase asks.

House shrugs. “Then, if he lives, back into the nest he goes.”

“And if he flies?” she challenges.

He takes another sip of coffee, but it doesn’t quite hide the smile on his face. “Then we invite him to brunch.”

“Are you going to take it?” Cameron asks, resting on top of his chest and digging her chin into his sternum.

It’s not the most comfortable position on his end, but he’s not going to tell her that. “I haven’t been offered it yet.”

She gives him a look and he sighs, which only serves to shove her chin even further into him.

He’s going to take it.

It’s a good job, a great job even, and he’ll be able to really develop his skills as a surgeon. But he’s self aware enough to know that biggest draw is that House wants him to take it. That House didn’t just get sick of him and decide that he was worthless and fine to throw away.

He was trying to help, in the worst, most assholish way possible.

“Do you think we can actually be friends?” he asks instead of answering.

Cameron frowns. “He did pay for brunch.”

“He also told you that you were getting the next one since you’d quit instead of being fired,” he reminds her.

Her frown deepens. “He’s friends with Wilson.”

“I don’t think I can handle being Wilson,” he says honestly. He likes House. He really likes the idea of being friends with House. But the only friend House has is sort of insane and has to put up with even more crap than they did as his employees – and he isn’t even getting paid for it.

But it’s different, too. Wilson still gets called an idiot if he’s being an idiot and House will be insane and annoying and all of that, but he can be nice too, when it’s Wilson. He makes an effort for Wilson.

Sort of like he’d made an effort with them, today.

“So we won’t be Wilson,” she says. “We’ll be Chase and Cameron and he’ll be House and maybe that can be something different than it was before.”

Maybe.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anoceanofbooks #house md #when will i be free from house md hell

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brokenstar28 · 7 months

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Incorrect Bat-Family Quotes 2

Damian: I don’t hate you. I hate everyone.

Jason: The feeling is mutual.

~~~

Jason: Would you rather kill Tim, or—

Damian: Yes, kill him.

Jason: I didn’t say the other—

Damian: I don’t need to hear it.

Tim: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.

~~~

Dick: I've never encountered a problem that can't be solved by a spontaneous musical number.

~~~

Damian: Would you take a bullet for me?

Dick: ...yes?

*Tim angrily burst into the room*

Damian: *running away* Great, thanks!

~~~

*the TV is freaking out*

Jason: Don’t worry, you have to treat an electronic like you treat a patient on life support.

*unplugs the TV, then plugs it back in again. nothing changes*

Jason: Yeah, that didn’t work with my grandma either.

~~~

Tim: Do you ever feel like exploding? Have you experienced the urge to enter the process of combustion? Has your mind created a logical idea, known as thought, to suddenly disperse your body into thousands of particles?

Jason: It’s 3 am, please go back to sleep.

~~~

Damian: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a braincell.

Dick, Jason, Steph, and Tim: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell! Hail! Hail

~~~

Tim: I’m totally useless.

Damian: You’re not totally useless.

Damian: You can be used as a bad example.

~~~

Bruce: I’m telling you, my team is competent.

Dick, rushing in: Bruce! Tim tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

~~~

Bruce: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Damian, turning to Tim: How tall are you?

~~~

Tim: All I did was kill Damian, is that really such a crime?

Dick: ...

Dick: Yes?!

~~~

Jason: I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

~~~

Dick: Get in the Halloween spirit and make a ghost!

Tim: That’s called murder and I heard somewhere that it was illegal.

~~~

Jason: Hey, Dick. These candies you gave me? They sucked.

Dick: But you ate them all.

Jason: I had to make sure they all sucked.

~~~

Tim: I have a problem.

Dick: If it's harder than 2+2, I can't help.

~~~

Damian: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Tim: *crouches down*

Cass: *kneels down*

Dick: *sits on the floor*

Damian: ...

Damian: I hate all of you.

~~~

Dick: Is it still visible? Where Bruce slapped me?

Jason: Your face looks like a don't walk signal.

Duke: Your face looks like a photo negative for the hamburger helper box.

Damian: A palm reader could tell Bruce's future by looking at your face.

Tim: The phrase 'talk to the hand cause the face ain't listening' doesn't work for you, because the hand is your face.

Dick: ...A simple 'yes' would've sufficed.

~~~

Damian: I never understood why people cared so much about their dumb friends until I got a dumb friend myself.

Damian: *Picks up Jon*

Damian: I’ve only befriended Jon for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then my self.

Damian: And then burn the world.

~~~

Dick: Good morning!

Damian: Is it? Is it really?

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junosmindpalace · 19 days

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i find discourse around the rdr women so...fascinating and infuriating at the same time. because a lot of the time it doesn't seem like rdr fans want to apply the same level of complex analysis to the women like they do for the men, but when they do, it still doesnt seem all that well-intentioned or that it does right by their characters.

this is a very long analysis/spam/defense so be warned :,)

even though the majority of sadie's character revolves around the fact she not only lost her home and her husband and was thrust into a new life of crime, but was actively struggling with robberies BEFORE the events of the game, people instead choose to focus on whether or not she had feelings for arthur or whether he actions in the game were actually impactful. she helped saved abigail and john when no else would, she fought alongside the men against the army, she helped john set up a stable life, she helped rob the payroll train, helped ensure colm’s death, she fought alongside arthur TIME AGAIN and took over in a leadership role when half the gang was absent in the guarma chapter. to say that she did nothing more except “be badass” undermines all of these contributions to the story that she was either at the forefront of or helped bring to fruition.

in my opinion, abigail is the EASIEST character to defend out of any of the women, and yet somehow she receives the most backlash from dudebros. I lose ten braincells every time i have to read a theory post over whether or not she slept with other camp members besides john, whether or not she was a rat, and about how much shes a nag. the woman has not known a moment's rest in her entire life. by the age of eight she was working in a cathouse. she was a child prior to then scrapping whatever money she could earn at her young age in saloons and dive bars as a woman and child just to survive as a orphan. jack's birth was clearly not planned, and she has voiced multiple times her grievances at the circumstances of his upbringing. everything she does is for a better life for her son: a life she never had. her constant nagging to get john to man up and be a father is for her son's benefit, not her own. she even says so herself when she tells him that she doesn't mind if a relationship between them doesn't work out, but to at least try being there for jack. she can't work a job because she is a mother living a life of crime and danger; she can't afford to leave the camp and her son unsupervised. she still does her share around camp. why would anyone blame her for not wanting to return to a life that has made her miserable, especially now that she has a child who she wants to model a good life for? many people seem to somehow also forget that she herself was a child when she gave birth to jack; only 17-18. she is 22 in the game in a bad situation with the father of her child and financially. she is doing her best to raise her son when she is not fully equipped to do so. how can anyone even blame her for being skeptical of john when hes affectionate in the epilogue when for so long hes been distant? she does not even ask much of john--just to be there for him sometimes, and to live honestly. she is also incredibly kindhearted. comforting other women in the camp, offering a listening ear, taking care of john when hes injured. she puts in her share of effort when it comes to finding a job in the epilogue and maintaining beechers hope.

molly is a young woman who is presumably incredibly far from her home where her family is, and trying to navigate a way of life completely unfamiliar to her. her stuck up nature comes not only from the way she was raised, but also dutch's uplifting affection and presumed lovebombing in the early stages of their relationship. shes even been suggested to be somewhat sociable until dutch and her became somewhat of an official item, in which she grew somewhat of a bigger ego with a mentality that she was his right hand. she deeply depended on dutch for her stability in every way, and its evident in her eventual spiral. she hated being seen as weak and pitiful as somewhat of an outsider among outsiders. she seemed to be close to no one besides dutch, who repeatedly cut her off when she attempted to talk to him about her growing feelings of anxiety, paranoia and sadness. the loss of the one thing that had built her up, coupled with immense tragedy she just wasnt used to, and desperate for a semblance of respect and dignity that she had presumably been all too accustomed to, of course she was going to come off brash and confront dutch about his distant, high and mighty attitude. it's why by the end, she doesnt care if she is killed: there is nothing left for her. karen's comment about her pretending to rat them out for the sake of attention is also interesting in terms of their relationship and parallels, which i dont see ANYONE talk about.

karen very clearly struggles with...a lot. she has even said so herself when talking with molly. she struggles to accept help, evident in pieces of dialogue where she brushes off concerned gang members about her drinking (mary-beth, arthur, javier), and when she seems somewhat ashamed and embarrassed having to have been rescued by arthur in the valentine mission (SAYING EXPLICITLY "i dont much like being saved"). she struggles with believing people have good intentions/feelings toward her, illustrated in the way she's constantly rejecting sean, yet seemingly disappeared further down the bottle after his death, and her conversation with mary beth and tilly about the world having no equal and fair place for women. her negative experiences in the world as a woman could also influence her view of the world, perhaps being why she finds herself somewhat hostile toward feminist mindsets and why she, for a while, enjoyed the outlaw lifestyle: it was her little slice of freedom. her hatred for the rich can also be because she has experiences as a poor woman, perhaps some direct experiences in which rich people have negatively impacted her life. though molly and karen don't get along through most of the game, karen actually tries to step in and help her near the end, and its this action + defending her after her death that shows she was sympathetic toward her situation and on some level able to relate to it, both craving some kind of love beyond superficial things.

@/cryptidcr3ature said it very well in a post i reblogged recently: mary is essentially "her brother's keeper and her father's caretaker". she herself lives somewhere middle class with traditional notions of the time impacting her views on arthur's lifestyle and anything below those middle class standards being deemed as socially unacceptable (which is evident from the very first letter mary sends to arthur, in which she seems confused on what a polite term would be to refer to prostitutes, who were obviously thought very lowly of in the time). i also don't think its fair to criticise her condemnation of arthur's lifestyle when pretty much all audiences, contemporary and not, including members of the gang, acknowledge that it isnt anything pretty. killing is not fun. running from the law is not fun. mary was not only influenced by her father's views of arthur (a person that, despite being horrible, she still deeply loves), but looking after her own family, herself, and arthur's wellbeing when she ended their relationship + suggested they run away. she had given him an opportunity at compromise. perhaps the first time, scared and unfamiliar with his lifestyle, she had offered arthur an ultimatum: her or his outlaw life, but later was willing to also leave behind her brother and father, two figures that tie her down and make her life more miserable than need be despite loving them very much, in order to settle somewhere with arthur and start over. her asking for arthur's help comes from a place of desperation and excuse to allow herself some semblance of stability when she hadn't had it; at least not since her mother and husband passed. if arthur refuses to help her, she is incredibly understanding and sympathetic. she does not lash out. if arthur does help, she is immensely grateful, and even tries to bond with him despite their years apart.

this post isnt to excuse some of their more negative behaviours and aspects of their characters'-- but im saying that they deserve to be fairly treated and analyzed just like any of the rdr men. many of them are young. many of them have unique challenges as women. that isn’t to say the men have it easier, but their struggles and less prettier aspects of their characters are always met with more sympathy than the women. why do arthur and john get passes as reformed absent fathers and criminals? why does sean receive sympathy when karen rejects his pushy advances? why does hosea get a pass at being better than dutch when he still groomed younger members of the gang for a life of crime alongside dutch? why does dutch get a pass by having his downfall be justified by tough circumstances? lets just be fair

#Also these are purely my own interpretations of the characters. i would LOVE to see other rdr women analyis posts #i’m VERY OPEN to hearing interpretations of the women and i understand some of these are purely for funsies and hcs and that’s all fine!#or comments in general #but they should not be treated as canon especially if they invalidate crucial parts of their characters #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #abigail marston #karen jones #mary linton #molly oshea

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duchi-nesten · 7 months

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Cuddle Couch

Summary:

Valerie just wanted to buy a new couch to replace the one Cujo tore to shreds. She didn’t know babysitting her boyfriend in a furniture store would prove so difficult.

Word count: 4418 || AO3 Link

Silly Gray Ghost for Shiptember prompt: Dumbass x The Only Braincell! :]

Valerie’s life was going great.

No, really, for once it actually was. Or at least as great as a college student who’s barely getting by can have it.

She decided to go to a small college in the next town over from Amity Park. To be close by in case of a more hostile ghost attack, even though most of the dangerous attacks stopped after Danny became the Ghost King. Something about the ghosts being scared of causing trouble in the king’s liar.

The few regulars who still liked to show their faces around the town got handled by the Fentons, who got way better and more humane at ghost hunting ever since they found out their son has been the ghost boy all this time. It took them a while to get used to that, and Valerie honestly couldn’t blame them. She herself had to come to terms with the fact that she was hunting down her high school crush for two years.

Now they were both twenty and dating for a good four years. Since the ghost attacks declined, Danny decided to join her in college. They trusted that the Fentons would call them if a bigger threat showed up in town, so they rented an apartment together near the campus and lived a mostly peaceful college life with their ghost dog, Cujo.

A ghost dog, who lately got very interested in finding out what their couch tasted like. She absolutely blamed Danny for that. He always used the cushions when play-fighting with Cujo, either as punching bags or shields against Cujo’s jump attacks. There were already many teeth marks and rips in the cushions, and it was only a matter of time before the dog got interested in consuming the entire couch too. His eventual success in this endeavor led to the problem that Valerie had to face right now.

“Val, look! They have the meatballs! Like in the memes! We need to get them!”

She and Danny were currently entering an IkeaTM, in search of a replacement couch for the one that Cujo tore to shreds.

She sighed internally looking over to her excited boyfriend. Sometimes it really felt like she had two puppies to take care of instead of one. His eyes were shining with excitement –literally, there was that ectoplasmic shine to them whenever he got too hyped up about something– and she was sure that had he been in ghost form right now, his spectral tail would be swaying uncontrollably, seemingly wagging.

He was pulling at their connected hands, half dragging her to the meatball stand. Valerie shook her head, trying hard to force down the smile creeping up onto her face.

“We can get some meatballs after we find a couch, okay?” She told him, turning his attention towards the furniture part of the store instead. “But only if you behave.”

“What? I always behave.”

She gave him a pointed look.

“Okay, I usually behave. But can you blame me?” He let go of her hand to stand in front of her and gesture around them dramatically. “It’s a furniture store, Val. Furniture stores are exciting!”

“Yeah, when you’re like eight years old, not twenty. Don’t act like you’ve never been to one before.” She said, shoving him in the direction of the living room areas of the store. As they walked Danny kept observing everything like it was the first time he’s seen things like a wooden desk.

“I might’ve as well been eight last time I was in one, okay?” he explained, his hand reaching out to touch one of the desks, but Valerie quickly caught it in hers and steered him back in the direction they were going in. “My dad got us banned from every furniture store in the 50 mile radius of Amity Park. Apparently the Ikea furniture isn’t ectoplasm resistant enough for him.”

Valerie stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him sternly.

“Please tell me you are not banned in this store.”

He shrugged in response.

Great.

She resisted the urge to groan and instead turned back around to continue walking. If the Ancients were on her side today, no one would realize this supposed-to-be-adult was the child of Jack Fenton. She just prayed he wouldn’t do anything stupid enough to get a ban of his own (which would probably result in her getting banned along with him).

She loved Danny very much, but he really took after his father a lot. And he could be such a child sometimes too.

“Hey, hey, hey Val.” Danny said from behind her. She turned back again to see him standing by a big wooden closet, holding the door open. “Watch me hide in here and scare the next old guy who walks by.”

Case in point. She glared at him unamused. “Danny no.”

“Okay, then we can both hide in the closet, but you can’t blame me for what happens next.” He sent her a wink combined with the worst Flynn Rider impression she has ever seen.

She slapped him.

“Ow, what was that for?” He whined dramatically. “You know I’m joking!”

Valerie glared at him for a while longer, before sighing and dragging a hand down her face. “Can we just focus on getting the couch, please? I still have math homework to do for tomorrow.”

She continued their walk through the bedroom areas. The living rooms were finally in her sight now and Oh Ancients there were so many. She heard Danny following right behind her. “Val, you have intro math, that takes like…literally no time.”

“Yeah, maybe for you asshat. You don’t get a say in this, you didn’t get the shit teacher this year.” She made a point of not looking at him this time. The arguing would only slow them down. They could multitask arguing and getting a couch.

“Awh, but Ms. Rekdal lets you guys cheat.” Of course, Danny decided that no eye-contact would not do and caught up to her so they could walk side by side, literally forcing himself in her view. “Didn’t she already post the answers or something? Just copy those.”

And fine, maybe he was right. Her stupid math teacher decided it was a great idea to share full answers to their assignments three days before the deadline, which meant that the majority of her classmates most likely did copy them. Heck, when Danny had classes with Ms. Rekdal last year, he didn’t even look at the assignments before the answers were posted. But he actually understood math. She couldn’t do that, she was too responsible for this. “I need to do it myself, or else I won’t understand the material and will inevitably fail the exam.”

As she explained that to him they finally reached some living room spaces. There were a lot of different couches there that immediately stole all her attention. Looking closer at the information on one called VIMLE, she almost didn’t hear what Danny said next.

“I can always overshadow you and write your exam for you.”

She whipped around from the VIMLE to yell at him. “COUCH, DANNY.”

“Right, right, okay. Couch.” he raised his hands in a sign of surrender and actually started scanning the furniture with her.

Valerie huffed and went back to checking out the couch she was looking at. It was a sectional with three seats, one of which was designed for lounging. Some sort of smooth black material which was surprisingly soft to the touch covered the cushions. She braced herself before looking at the price and… yep, one thousand and nine hundred dollars. That would not do.

She noted the prices on the other couches surrounding her. A soft gray three seater with a bunch of cute pillows. One thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars. Another sectional, this one in cream white colors and material that looked rougher than the cheapest kind of toilet paper. One thousand six hundred and forty-nine dollars. A two seater in faux brown leather that was so shiny Valerie was sure if she sat on it her butt would slide right off. One thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine dollars.

Why the hell were couches so expensive? Finding an affordable one was going to be so much harder than she had first assumed.

Between her and Danny, they didn’t really have much money. She worked a part time job at a little corner cafe right beside campus, and while it was way nicer and more cozy than her previous job at the Nasty Burger, it barely paid any better. Danny helped out with his parents’ business, which definitely bloomed after ghosts proved to be real. With his ghostly expertise, he was very good at assisting in their research or helping develop some new inventions and they made sure to pay him accordingly.

Unfortunately, all of this income combined with both of their student loans was still only barely enough to get by. They could afford some cool stuff from time to time, but a couch worth seventeen hundred dollars was way too big of an expense to spend at once.

“Hey Val, check this out.” Danny’s voice brought her out of her musings. She turned her gaze in his direction where he stood over a couch, which was similar to the first one she looked at. The only difference was the stiffer material and the fact that it was blue. “This one is called an ektorp.”

She made sure to give him the most unamused expression. “And?”

He sent her a broad grin back. “That reads like ecto RP. I think we should get an ecto roleplay, Val, we’re really good at those.”

“Do you want me to slap you again?”

Could someone please remind her why she loved this idiot? It was hard to remember sometimes.

Clearly Danny was going to be of no help. Valerie looked around and spotted an IkeaTM worker, who was clicking away on a computer at a desk station close by. Bingo.

To make sure she didn’t lose Danny, she took his hand in hers once more, her fingers briefly brushing over the silly bracelet he always wore. The one she made him when they were younger. She had a matching one at home, made by him. It fell apart earlier today – as it tended to do from time to time, Danny wasn’t the best at handcrafts –but he promised to fix it again when they got back from the store.

A fond smile found its way on her face and she had to force it down as she dragged Danny to approach the man behind the desk. Couch first, feelings of fondness later. She needed to focus. “Uh… excuse me?”

The man raised his head at the sound of her voice. Valerie noted that his nametag read Adam. “How can I help you?” he asked, clearly using his customer service voice.

“My partner and I are looking for an affordable couch for our apartment, uh… Do you have anything…” she motioned to the couches behind them “cheaper?”

“My wife apparently isn’t fond of the ecto-stuff.” Danny added in a fake serious tone, barely holding back a giggle and Valerie had to step on his foot to shut him up. He barely reacted though.

“Ah, a newly wed couple!” Adam exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly. The previous customer service tone gone in lieu of real emotions. Before Valerie could correct him or Danny could make another stupid remark, Adam started rapidly typing something out on the computer. “We have a few models that might interest you! Some ASARUM, KLIPPAN or LYCKSELE LÖVÅS!”

As Adam continued listing what appeared to be some couch names, Danny leaned in to whisper in Valerie’s ear. “Is that guy possessed or is that just swedish? I really can’t tell.”

Valerie glared at him, but he just grinned back, clearly proud of his stupid joke.

“We also have some LINANÄS alternatives.” Adam continued unbothered.

Danny’s eyes lit up and he couldn’t hold back the giggle this time as he once more leaned in to whisper to her. “Val, did you hear? They have Lil Nas X.”

Valerie stepped on his foot again. Harder than previously. A little wince actually crossed his face this time.

“If you follow me I can show you some of those cheaper options?” Adam asked, clearly oblivious to the shit Danny’s been telling her.

“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.” Valerie said. As Adam started leading the way, she sent a quick glare towards Danny, before following after the man.

“We have this NYHAMN model, which can turn into a bed.” Adam pointed to a very ugly, gray couch that was honestly more springs than cushion. Valerie felt her back ache just from looking at it.

“Uh…We already do have a bed, so maybe let’s just focus on the couch part.” She said, mustering her most polite smile.

“That’s fair.” Adam said, leading the way to another living room set. He gestured to the brown couch sitting by the white table in the middle of the area. “This is currently our cheapest option. It doesn’t look like much, but it has great reviews!”

It really didn’t look like much. It actually looked like nothing at all. It was very bulky, like a big piece of block, where someone carved out one corner, so it was flat enough to sit on. Valerie was sure she'd seen Danny build a better couch in minecraft.

“And how much does it cost?” She asked unsure.

“Three hundred and sixty dollars.” The man said with a smile, folding his hands in front of him.

Well, that was at least affordable. It didn’t look like the best couch and frankly didn’t seem very comfortable either, but it wasn’t like they could afford much else if this was the cheapest option.

Sighing, Valerie turned to ask Danny for his opinion, but her heart sank when she noted that he was not there.

Oh no.

“Thank you sir!” She turned to Adam. “I’ll think about this one! I just need to find my boyfriend first.” She said quickly pointing in the direction they came from, which was where she’s last seen Danny.

“Boyfriend? Weren’t you two married?”

Before she could answer that, a random guy, donning the IkeaTM manager t-shirt, approached them. He looked sternly at Adam. “Mr. Hendrickson, I need to call you in for a meeting to discuss your social media presence.”

“Oh, double fuck.” Adam muttered, before catching himself. “I mean, of course, sir! But I’m kind of… in the middle of helping this lady over here.”

The manager guy turned his gaze from the nervous employee to Valerie. He was about to say something, but she cut him off.

“I’m fine! I got the help I needed! I’ll just… go!” she said swiftly turning on her heel and speed walking out of there.

The longer Danny was left unattended, the more likely it was that he would get in trouble.

She scanned the entire store trying to find her dumbass. She quickly looked all over in the bedroom areas, office areas and the bathroom ones. She finally stopped at a fake little kitchen that looked strangely like something out of an 80s movie. Danny would definitely make a malewife joke if he was here right now.

She pulled out her phone, ready to call this idiot when someone put their chin on her shoulder. She flinched and quickly turned around to kick whoever it was in the face, but instead she was greeted with the smiling face of her stupid boyfriend.

“I’m getting you something and you can’t say no.” Saying that, he pulled out a BLÅHAJ from behind his back.

“Danny!” she yelled, irritated.

“Aaaaaand, just so he’s not alone…” Danny continued, showing his other hand which held a DJUNGELSKOG. “I’m getting this one for Cujo.”

“Danny, I am going to severely injure you if you run off like that again.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She was so ready to punch him. Or actually pull out her guns and shoot him. It wouldn’t hurt him too bad in his human form, but would definitely send a message. The only thing stopping her was the fact that she did not want to end up banned from the store like the Fenton family did.

“Can we PLEASE just focus on getting the couch? Are you able to behave for at least 10 minutes?” she asked instead.

“I’m not a kid, I can behave in a furniture sto-” he stopped suddenly, looking behind her and Valerie had to brace herself for whatever it was that got his attention now. “Oh Ancients look at those LED lights.”

Holding DJUNGELSKOG and BLÅHAJ in one hand, he used the other one to drag her over to the colored strips of LED lights. She tried to dig her heels into the floor to protest, but he could be very strong when he actually let himself be.

“DANNY WE NEED TO GET A COUCH.”

“Okay, but we should get some of these LEDs to put under the couch.” He gestured to the lines of boxes filling out the shelfs, every one of them with a different set of LEDs lights. “Imagine the VIBES.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples in an attempt to calm down. “Danny, baby, we can barely afford a couch.” She said in a softer tone this time.

She wasn't sure if he even registered what she was saying. His eyes were too busy studying all the different colors and lengths of the LED strips the store had available. He picked up one of the boxes and hummed quietly, before turning to look at her.

“Did you find one that you liked?” he asked.

“I found one we can afford. It's not the best, but it should be enough.”

He hummed again, putting away the box he was looking at and picking up another one. Her patience was slowly running out as she watched him scan the box. She was about to ask him to go check out the couch, when he spoke again.

“We should get a corner couch.They’re great for cuddling.”

Was he joking?

“Danny, those are expensive as shit, we cannot afford a corner couch.” She’s seen some of those and all their prices ranged in the two to three thousands dollars.

He shrugged at the box and tucked it under his arm, the one holding the stuffed animals. “That’s where you’re wrong!” He smirked at her, with that stupid shit-eating grin he usually only matched with the white hair and green eyes. “See, recently my parents helped me get this grant for this one research that I really wanted to do. The one with, ah you know… mapping out the nearest points of The Ghost Zone?”

Valerie furrowed her eyebrows. “You already have maps of the Ghost Zone.” And he’s had them for years. She had seen them all herself. So many folders, full of drawings, descriptions and models of different parts of the zone. Definitely going farther than just the nearest points.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then …what’s the grant for?”

“Currently? Our new corner couch. And these guys.” he said, raising the plushies a bit to indicate what he meant.

What.

“Wait. Let me get this straight.” Valerie said, confusion clear in her voice. “You applied for a grant… that you don’t need… so we have money for a couch?” Her eyes narrowed. “Was Cujo ripping our old couch apart a part of the plan?”

“Val, my dear, I thought we were past that whole calling me an evil mastermind thing. You should know I’m not smart enough to plan this.” he stated matter-of-factly, putting his free hand on his chest. “I didn’t know we were gonna need a couch. It was more for, y’know, personal expenses.”

“Don’t you have to document what you use those on?”

“As long as some form of research comes out of it, they do not care.”

“You-” she was a little bit speechless. Turning her voice to a whisper just in case someone could hear them, she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Did you just steal state money?”

“They steal our money all the timeeeee. Just look at our student loanssss.” he whined.

Okay, he had a point. A very good point at that. It was questionably moral, but on the other hand it wasn’t like he actually stole the money. He had been granted it to do the research. Which he has all ready and done. The state does in the end get what they were promised, they don’t need to know the truth about the exact dates and nature of the research being conducted.

Danny clearly understood he was going to win this argument. He laughed a little, looping his free arm around Valerie’s elbow. “So…cuddle couch?”

She shook her, not being able to stop the fond smile that took over her face. “You’re so stupid. Fine.”

“YES.” He exclaimed, almost dropping the objects he was holding. “I’ve seen a cool green one. And it was also an ektorp. It would be perfect for the ecto RP consisting of me bleeding all over it at some point probably.”

“And Cujo peeing on it.” Valerie added unamused. “We really need to get on that potty training. It’s been years.”

“He does it only when you refuse to cuddle him and you know it.”

“I have homework I need to focus on sometimes.”

He laughed again and started leading her to the couch he was talking about.

“And you are seriously getting the plushies and the LEDs too?” She asked, taking the BLÅHAJ out of his arm.

“Fuck yeah, I’m a responsible adult like that.”

Valerie smiled and shook her head as they approached the corner couch. To be fair it did look very nice with two wide seats on each side. The light green fabric would fit well with the limited decor of their apartment and as she brushed her hand along one of the cushions, she was amazed at how soft the material was. She sat down to check if it was as comfy as it seemed. And Ancients was it the most comfortable couch she has ever sat on.

She looked at the price tag, sitting on the small table that was meant to complete the living room set, right in front of her. Nine hundred ninety-nine dollars, god damn. That still wasn’t so bad for a corner couch though. She did see two-seaters worth more than this after all.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be letting you use grant money on a couch.” She said studying the information under the price tag a bit more. It was in fact an ektorp. A hakebo grå-grön ektorp. Whatever that meant.

“But you also want the cuddle couch?” He sent her the cutest puppy dog eyes, rocking back and forth on his feet and hugging the DJUNGELSKOG and LEDs box tightly.

She looked at him, trying very hard to muster a glare, but she knew he saw the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile.

“YOU DO WANT THE CUDDLE COUCH.”

She sighed defeated and put her head back to rest on the back of the very comfy cushion. “Yes. I do want the cuddle couch.”

“WOOOO! LET’S GO!” Danny screamed excitedly. A few of the other customers looked in his direction, probably thinking that this grown ass adult doing a little victory dance with DJUNGELSKOG was insane. He abruptly stopped in the middle of his silly moves when a serious expression came over his face. “So like… how do we buy it? Do I gotta carry it to check out or?”

Valerie couldn’t hold it in anymore. She started laughing, which quickly turned into a wheeze. The way Danny raised an eyebrow in confusion at her outburst only made her laugh more.

“Come on, I’ve been joking all day and that’s what you laugh at?” He said, smiling brightly and letting out a giggle of his own.

Valerie stood up from the couch and came over to stand by Danny, trying her hardest to contain the laughter. “How about we just find a worker and tell them we want to buy it?” She suggested, gesturing at the couch.

“And would milady want some meatballs after that?” Danny wiggled his eyebrows, the awful Flynn Rider impression making a reappearance.

“Fine, I guess you earned it.” She said, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, before walking away in the direction of the store front. “But you’re paying for the food too.”

“Oh come on! I’m buying you a cuddle couch! And Blah-hash!” He yelled after her, still smiling.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you pronounce it. You have to pay for the meatballs, so the swedes forgive you for this crime.”

“What? No! You can’t make me pay for food, only because I don’t know swedish! I bet you don’t know how to say it either!” he defended, following after her.

“You don’t see me going around and attempting it!”

“That’s so unfair. I love you so much and you do this to me.”

He did end up making her put away the card when she tried paying for the meatballs. Her boyfriend was such a dork. But she still loved him very much, he was her dork after all.

He was also apparently extremely bad at putting together IkeaTM furniture, as Valerie found out the next day, when she came back from school to an absolute mess in their apartment. The couch wasn’t even halfway set up and Danny was laying on the floor defeated , covered in the remains of poor Djungelskog. Cujo was standing over him with the IkeaTM hex key in his mouth, tail wagging happily. It honestly resembled a crime scene and Valerie couldn’t stop herself from taking a picture and setting it as her new phone wallpaper.

Danny confessed to almost losing a bunch of important screws and barely managing to stop Cujo from peeing on one of the armrests when he didn’t pay attention to him. He also managed to phase one of the wooden parts halfway through the wall, which he didn’t notice until Valerie pointed it out to him. How that could possibly happen was a mystery to her.

Thank the Ancients her dad agreed to come over and help them set it up. Otherwise Danny would probably accidentally destroy it.

#this could be the same universe as cujostody but doesnt have to be so im not tagging it that #kad writes #danny phantom #danny fenton #valerie gray #DP Shiptember 2023 #gray ghost

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 6 months

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You Cannot Run From Your Past

Mobster!Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

The rest of the meal was quiet, save for the noise of knives and forks gently scraping against the ceramic plates. You were thankful for the silence, giving you the opportunity to think about everything that had happened that day. You’d gone from living on the streets to being housed by one of the most dangerous people in the country. a/n:this is a mafia au! so there will be a LOT of violence, MINORS DNI, this is part one of the series, the rest will be linked once posted warnings:mentions of wounds, blood, murder, gore, smut(MAJOR smut) word count:4.5k

Everyone knew who the 141 were, some of the most feared men on this side of the Atlantic. No one with even a single braincell knew to fuck with them. Their leader, Price, had killed men for less than what you were currently kneeling for. You’d gotten caught trying to steal money from one of the henchmen. Your boyfriend had kicked you out of the apartment, after finding out he’d been cheating of course, and now you were homeless. It was either steal from the, what you assumed was dumb, henchman or go hungry for another week until someone took pity on you. So here you were, kneeling before a man who wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet between your brows.

“Did you really think he wouldn’t notice?” Price was more annoyed than truly angry, he felt some sort of sympathy towards you.

“I thought if I was quick enough he wouldn’t, no.” You were ashamed to admit you thought you could get away with your plan.

“Why were you trying to pickpocket anyway?” Price sat on the edge of his desk, staring down at you.

“Boyfriend, ex boyfriend, kicked me out and I’ve been living on the street for the last couple of months. Got desperate if I’m gonna be honest.” You hadn’t lived in England that long, having moved over from Massachusetts earlier in the year to live with your boyfriend.

God you had felt like such a moron, he’d lured you over with the promise of being able to take care of you, only to dump you out onto the street like trash. Of course he’d at least given the courtesy of telling you about Price and his men first, and yet here you were.

“Soap, take her and get her something to eat, I want to have a chat with the ex.” Your brow furrowed, why the hell did he want to talk with Eric anyway?

A man walked over, the strip of hair down the middle of his skull was slicked down yet looked almost fluffy. He helped you up gently, taking you down to the kitchen where a chef was cooking up something delicious. Your stomach grumbled loudly, leaving you embarrassed as everyone’s heads turned to stare at you. It really had been too long since you’d had a decent meal, not counting the scraps that the cook had given you a few days ago.

“Have a seat lass, eat as much as you’d like.” His voice wasn’t condescending and that you were grateful for, people could be so cruel to the homeless.

The chef dished up a heaping plate of what looked like spaghetti bolognese, the scent of roasted garlic and tomato filled the air. Your mouth was salivating within seconds, but before you could pull the plate closer the chef was sliding a heft piece of cheesy garlic bread on top. Oh my, you had definitely died and gone to heaven if this was going to be the case. You picked up your fork and slid the plate closer. The steam rising from the sauce caused a slight bead of sweat to rise along your browline. You couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away as you dug in, knowing better than to eat as fast as you could lest you get sick.

The flavours burst over your tongue like fireworks, this was definitely the best bowl of pasta you’d ever eaten. You swallowed the forkful you’d just eaten before biting into the garlic bread, nearly moaning at the salty bite of the cheese. This was how Price got to eat on the daily? God you would give anything just to eat like this at least once a month. Half the plate was gone before you came up for a breath, wiping your mouth with the napkin Soap had left by you.

“Would you like some water?” The chef was holding out a glass, his hands now clean that you noticed.

“Oh thank you so much.” You took the glass grateful, gulping down the water until there was nothing left.

You set the glass down next to your napkin, digging in once more to the amazing pasta. Maybe he was letting you eat one final meal before he killed you, there were worse ways to go. At this rate you weren’t going to complain, not since this was the first decent meal you’d had in forever. On the other side of town, you were completely unaware that Price had located your ex Eric and was paying him a personal visit.

Knuckles collided with the skin on his cheek, blood pouring from the wound opened by the ring on Price’s pinky.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eric could barely lift his head, words slurred as his vision blurred.

“Do you really think I’m that naive? You worked for me, and yet your little friend is trying to steal from one of my men to get herself some food.” Price was beyond enraged, Eric was one of the lower henchmen, someone to clean up his dirty work mainly.

“Fuck, she’s still alive?” Eric screamed in pain as a blade dug into the skin and muscle of his shoulder.

Simon was standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Price take care of a mistake he’d made. Though no one but Soap, Gaz, and Price were ever allowed to call him Simon, most people who bore witness to him as Ghost. He was the silent killer, slipping into someone’s apartment with ease and slipping out without leaving a trace behind. He’d had nearly as big a reputation as Price himself, for different reasons of course.

“Yes, she’s still alive, however since I’ve come to find out you’ve been stealing money from me you won’t be around to see any of it.” Eric’s eyes widened in fear, lips parted to beg and plea as Price pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was partially muffled, no one would call the police until Price and Simon had fled the scene, giving him ample time to make it home with an alibi. He began to wonder how you were doing, had you been able to eat and take a shower? Maybe you took a bath and soaked in one of the large tubs he had. It was the least he could do, the only thing Price never did was murder women or children, it was against his code. He’d heard about someone else who took anyone down that crossed their path, he refused to be like that.

Goddamn American’s.

“Make sure all our fingerprints are gone before tonight.” Price didn’t wait to see if Simon listened or not before heading down to his car.

His driver was waiting behind the wheel, nodding when Price muttered the word ‘home’. He hadn’t planned on getting messy today, but sometimes things happened that he couldn’t control. It would be less paperwork in the long run, he’d just transfer the money from Eric’s account to one for you. Maybe he could get Kyle to do it, he’d been itching to do something for the last few weeks anyhow.

“We’ve arrived sir.” Alex pulled the car into the garage, knowing better than to open the door for Price.

“Thank you, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? If I need your assistance I’ll call.” Price slipped out of the back of the car and headed inside to look for you.

The sound of two people arguing caught his attention, he could make out Soap’s voice right away, but the other wasn’t one he was quite familiar with. As he turned the corner the picture before him nearly had him laughing. You were standing across from Soap, freshly showered in what looked to be a pair of Soap’s pajamas, arguing about desserts.

“Brownies are clearly the superior choice! You just have horrible taste!” Soap scoffed, rolling his eyes at your bratty attitude.

“Tha’s a lie!” Soap was ready to argue his point on why the chocolate chip cookies were better.

“That’s because you have horrible taste! Even the chef agrees the brownies were better.” You refused to back down, ignoring the way Soap’s chest was heaving.

Price had stopped in the doorway, snickering at the way the two of you were acting like complete children. It was a nice change of pace, and with how his night had gone it was a pleasant surprise to come back to.

“You’re back! I just wanted you to know that your chef is amazing and makes some of the best bolognese I’ve ever had before.” Your stomach was still full, slightly aching with everything you’d eaten.

“Glad to know the food was up to your standards, you settling in alright?” Price kept his hands hidden, knowing his knuckles were bloody and bruised.

“I am, I honestly don’t even know how to thank you for everything.” You were afraid he would still kill you, especially since you’d spent the last hour arguing with his henchman Soap.

He brushed you off, assuring you that you didn’t need to worry about repaying him right then, he could find a way for you to work for him if needed. Maybe you could do the finances, it was an easy enough job for you to do, it would keep you housed and fed as well. You were quite attractive as well, he could take you to any fancy party as his arm candy.

“How well are you with money?” It sounded like such an odd question.

“I worked in finance in the US, so I’m decent.” You didn’t want to say who your employer used to be, lest it cost your life.

“Perfect, you’ll work for me, if that’s alright.” Price raised a brow questioningly.

Your jaw dropped open, nodding quickly to confirm that yes, you would absolutely be alright working for him. It would get you off the streets at least, though working for someone so dangerous was nothing new to you. Maybe you could get an apartment nearby, something that wasn’t infested with termites like your ex's place.

“We’ll get you started tomorrow, the first matter of business is taking you shopping so you can look presentable for meetings.” Wait, you weren’t going to have to be around him 24/7, were you?

“I’m sorry sir, I’d be going to meetings with you?” For some reason the thought unnerved you, what if things backfired and you ended up dead this time?

“Yes, is that going to be a problem?” Price turned to face you, brow raised slightly.

“No, not at all sir.” It was time to keep your mouth shut and do whatever was told, Price was a very dangerous man.

You only had a couple minutes to prepare before Price, along with Soap, were dragging you out to one of the many cars that sat in his garage. Soap would be driving wherever you wanted to go, money not an issue to make sure you would look flawless. Designers were a waste of money, sure having the logo would make heads turn, but thousands for a piece of cloth? Ridiculous.

Price insisted you buy things that at least looked professional, since you seemed to be so against letting him purchase things for you. Soap even tried to interject and get you to agree with Price’s demands, saying it was better not to argue. You wanted to stand your ground and refuse, until you caught sight of a gorgeous dress. There’d be no reason to wear it, but by god did you need to have it at that moment. So you relinquished and gave permission to price to choose things for you, as long as you could get that dress.

He agreed happily, choosing things and letting you find your size so as not to make you uncomfortable. It was nice, knowing that you would be able to get all these new clothes without the stipulation you would need to sleep with him. Your ex would constantly hold gifts and such over your head so you would sleep with him. And yet he’d still had the nerve to cheat and throw you out.

“Awfully quiet sweetheart.” Price turned his head to face you, noticing the way your brow had furrowed.

“Just thinking about the past is all.” You merely shrugged, there was no use in being upset over things you couldn’t change, but it still stung.

“Well, why don’t you tell me about it?” Price had turned to face you fully, attention focused on everything you had to say.

The words turned to ash in your mouth, could you tell him the truth about the type of person you were? How you’d helped someone murder so many innocent people that dared cross his path just by simply existing?

“Do you want the basic rundown, or all the nitty gritty?” You had only ever told one person about your childhood, you’d hoped to never run into him again.

“Everything, spare no detail.” Oh, well this was going to be a long day.

The words slipped out with ease, telling Price everything, from how your father was physically abusive, to how your mother tried to use you for her own benefit. You had run away at fifteen, working odd jobs before you met your old boss at eighteen. He kept you housed, fed, and clothed from when you turned eighteen to a few months shy of when you left entirely. You’d seen things most people who’d gone off to war never dealt with. It was a horrible reminder of how much you’d had to give up just to survive.

“You worked for someone else, someone important..who.” Though it was a question, Price knew exactly who you’d worked for.

“James Barnes, sir.” Your heart was racing, no one except for James, and his right hand woman, Natasha, knew about you.

Price’s expression darkened, causing your heart rate to spike suddenly as you realized how badly you’d fucked up. Would this be the end for you? Having admitted to working for what was essentially his rival?

“How long?” Price could use any information you had on the other man, especially if it meant getting ahead.

“Over ten years, took me in when I was barely eighteen.” It was the truth, you’d basically grown up alongside James.

“And you don’t by any chance know some things that could be useful to me?” It was a loaded question, do you tell him how James had a son he cared so much about. Or how his best friend for over twenty years had cut off all contact after he’d heard of what became of him?

“I’ll tell you everything over dinner.” It was a proposition. You give him information, he gives you anything you could ever ask for.

Soap smirked to himself, pulling down the long road that led to Price’s luxurious home. You would fit in quite nicely with everyone.

Price had everything brought to your room, the closets stuffed full of all your new clothes, shoes, and even the few accessories you picked out. It was nice, knowing you were going to be alright as long as you didn’t step on anyone’s toes. As you made your way down to the kitchen you noticed someone else talking to Price. He was big, arms large enough to crush your skull(though you’d probably thank him). Something about him seemed so familiar though, as if you’d run into him many times before.

“Ready to eat?” Price turned away from the stranger, gesturing to the expansive table.

“I am, thank you so much for all of this, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.” You walked over and sat down, if the food was even half as good that lunch was, you would die happy.

Soap and another man you’d never met before walked into the kitchen, taking their own seats alongside the newcomer. The chef brought out the first course, a delicate butternut squash soup with crusty pieces of bread to dop. You nearly moaned at how silky the soup was, making sure not to slurp and disturb anyone else. The bread had a slight bite to it, the crust just hard enough to soak in the buttery goodness without becoming soggy.

“So, what can you tell me?” Price had finished his soup, sipping on the glass of bourbon that had been brought out along with his food.

“James is someone that’s highly feared in most of the states, word spreads like wildfire and they’re all too afraid to say anything bad about him.” You took another bite of the bread, taking a moment to collect your emotions.

“His best friend Steve hasn’t spoken to him since they were teens, he’d found out about James joining the mafia and just disappeared one day.” You’d witnessed the way Steve had torn the other man apart, it was gut wrenching to watch.

You felt bad for James at that moment, he no longer had his family, and now the one person he could rely on was gone as well. Natasha was the closest thing he had to family anymore, and last you knew they were still friends.

“He has a son, named after himself of course, goes by JJ. Last I knew his son was nearly thirteen and was living solely with his dad.” You sighed softly, grabbing your glass of water to take a sip.

“Surprised he had the time to knock someone up.” Soap mumbled into his food, ignoring everything else entirely.

“Johnny, what did we talk about?” Price stared at the other man like a disappointed father.

“No talking shit at dinner.” Soap, or was it Johnny?

You tried to hide your smile, a soft giggle slipping through as you finished your bowl of soup. Soap looked affronted, how dare you laugh at him being scolded by Price as if he was a child, very uncool.

“Before we continue with our conversation, I’d like to introduce Gaz, and Simon.” Price gestured to the two men sitting across from you.

You were shocked that someone as stunning as Gaz was working for him and not as a runway model, he could bring people to tears with his beauty. Simon wasn’t glaring at you per se, more like he was trying to decipher you. There was something about him that made you want to stare back, but you thought better of it and focused your attention back onto Price.

“Nice to meet you both, I met Soap earlier and his horrible taste in snacks.” Gaz couldn’t help but laugh at your statement.

“Thank you! He’s always had the worst taste imaginable.” Gaz was definitely going to become a good friend, you could sense it.

“Shut up!” Soap threw his hands up, arms crossing over his chest with a huff.

“You do mate, it’s all out of love.” Gaz slapped a hand on his shoulder, laughing when Soap rolled his eyes.

The chef brought out the entree before anymore conversation could continue, a beautifully seared filet mignon with roasted fingerling potatoes and caramelized carrots. You wanted to dig in almost instantly, waiting until everyone had their plates before slicing into the meat. It melted like butter on your tongue, washing over your taste buds as if it were made by god himself.

“Alright, as I was saying earlier about James. He’s a very paranoid man, comes with the territory when you’ve slaughtered as many people as he has. So unless you have a reason to do business with him you won’t be able to get close. I’ve watched him murder a man for less before, and that’s the last thing I want to see ever again.” You cut apart one of the potatoes, popping the half into your mouth.

“So, what you’re saying is that if I need to take care of him, we need someone on the inside.” Price had a point, but James would see it coming a million miles away.

“Partially, but James would see that coming a mile away. You want someone he’s close with, a loved one, or a best friend that knows his every move and can get you the information.” You kept your eyes on your plate, not noticing the way all eyes were suddenly on you.

“And, do you know someone that could do this?” Price was asking something dangerous, sure you knew plenty of people that could, and had reason to kill James, but none of them were willing.

“The only man that would ever want to take him out would be Tony Stark, man’s had it out for him since he found out James had his parents murdered.” It had been the final straw that sent you packing.

“Hmm, I’ll have to give him a look see later.” Price dug into his own food, ignoring the way Simon seemed to still be staring at you.

“He’s a dangerous man, nearly had me killed just for walking on his property one day.” You rolled your eyes, stabbing your potato with more force than necessary.

Simon raised a brow, watching how you seemed to become annoyed at even mentioning Tony’s name. Whoever this man was clearly had a vendetta against you, and you as well for him. That’s how this type of world worked, you were either with or against the people you considered the villains. You seemed to fit in so well that Simon couldn’t be bothered to second guess any of it, not when Price welcomed you in with open arms.

“Have to be precautious, comes with the territory darling.” Price merely shrugged, he’d always kept one eye open no matter what, but some people were just paranoid.

“Yeah, I guess. Didn’t make my life any easier when I was trying to get out of New York though, I swear James has men everywhere.” You’d almost been caught twice before finally boarding the plane to safety.

The rest of the meal was quiet, save for the noise of knives and forks gently scraping against the ceramic plates. You were thankful for the silence, giving you the opportunity to think about everything that had happened that day. You’d gone from living on the streets to being housed by one of the most dangerous people in the country. This was definitely a dream, you were going to wake up in the morning and find yourself under that bridge with everyone else. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this dream only to wake up to reality. Though it usually landed you back in the US and not over in London.

“I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me, goodnight.” Price nodded towards everyone before leaving the table.

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to head to bed or not, after the day you’d had your body was begging for sleep. Soap’s clothes, while a little oversized, were definitely going to be comfortable enough to sleep in. Gaz immediately pulled Soap into a conversation, discussing something that sounded like an entirely different language to you at that moment. You gave Simon a quick nod before leaving the table and heading up to your new room. The only light was from the moon, illuminating the room in a soft ethereal glow.

Throwing back the covers on the mattress you crawled into the plush bed, groaning softly at how soft the comforter was. It felt as if you were laying on a cloud, even with the crisp air the blankets were just warm enough to keep you comfortable. Your eyes slipped closed before you could even try and fight them, slipping into dreamland.

Downstairs Soap, Gaz, and Simon were all sitting around the table. Soap had tried to pull Simon into the conversation only to be shot down immediately. Simon couldn’t explain it, but something about you drew him in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way, always pushing away the prospect of dating as if it was a deadly disease. Soap would catch on to his sudden fixation on you, man was like a bloodhound when it came to women. The very last thing that Simon wanted, or needed, was Soap getting on his ass about you. He couldn’t get a proper read on you, there was something you weren’t telling everyone. And Simon was determined to find out every tiny thing.

Meanwhile in New York

James was angry, nearly panting as he paced the foyer of his penthouse. How the hell had you managed to slip through his fingers so easily? He’d had eyes on you for so long, and yet you’d managed to get to fucking England. Natasha had been the one to break the news to him, stance stoic as the words sunk into his bones. You were gone, and now there was a high chance that you’d managed to get yourself killed. James knew all about Price and his little minions, the fucker was slowly taking control of more countries.

“We need to locate her, now.” James kept his back to Natasha, the only person he ever trusted.

“I’ve reached out to my informants, they’re scouring every nook and cranny to find her. Last we knew her boyfriend was killed.” Shit, if they’d gotten to someone you were dating, you were definitely next.

“You mean that little shit convinced her to leave, and someone got to him before me?” James’ tone was deadly, venom lacing each word.

“It appears so, they’re claiming his death was a suicide, but the autopsy showed facial wounds caused by something small but sharp.” Natasha had seen the photos, it was pretty clear what had caused the superficial wounds.

He sighed softly, stepping away from the floor to ceiling windows to fully face Natasha who was watching him closely. James was the type of man to take out anyone that stood in his way of something he wanted. She could never figure out why James seemed to be so infatuated with you when you’d never shown any interest. You were friendly with him of course, but there had never been romantic feelings. Had he been trying to replace Steve’s friendship with you? It was the only thing that made any sense.

“Why don’t we make a quick little trip across the pond, there’s some people I’ve needed to visit anyway.” James smirked, reaching up to slick back his hair gently.

“I’ll call Scott and make sure the plane is ready in the morning.” Natasha turned away from him, pulling out her phone to make a quick call.

Who in the world did James know that lived over in England? The last she’d heard about that was when she’d had someone killed in their apartment for stealing money. Her phone pinged with a new message, a name she’d never expected to see again flashing before her.

Steve Rogers: We need to talk.

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survivalist-anon · 10 days

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Log 1: The first encounter

It's been a year since my falling out with my boyfriend. What was supposed to be a trip back home to collect my gear has now ended up becoming a whole move back to Pine Hills....talk about going back to square one...

It's another lovely, foggy day in Chehalem Ridge. Hoping to bag at least deer for the next few weeks of meat rations. Honestly, I'm starting to become grateful for grandpa incessively bringing on his hunting trips, this move has done an absolute number on my bank account. Beef here is starting to get expensive ever since that garbage Wonder Mart bought out the local stuff. Well, times have changed. I've always liked the taste of venison anyway.

Things here have been even more worrisome over the past few years too.....farm animals being slaughtered left, right and center....those clowns from the National Guard Tillamook base have been hounding the town for answers on some sightings of "big, metal men". An absolute mess.

What has been giving me a biting gnash on the back of my mind is how poor ol' Grandpa passed away. Well....the fact he died on a hunting trip isn't what's surprising, it's the fact he was killed so brutally that even his buddies believed that no way a bear could have done it. Robbie (our local mortician, ex-butcher and currently the one braincell helping at City Hall) said that "no bear could just tear up a man like a chainsaw can"....the closed casket funeral was already a disaster.

Call it depression, call it suicide, but I going to the very place he died ...I need to know what happened. Yeah, naive on top of the cliche is definitely going to be on my tombstone. It's been 4 months since his death, will I find anything? Fuck no of course not...but hey, it's productive.

As I'm looking at the river bank, I'm not surprised to see what a shoty job local PD did in clean up the place....there's pieces of his old camouflage jacket. He didn't believe in the modern stuff, so he just used an old jacket he had back in when we enlisted in Vietnam. I glanced over the scene, trying to pieces together what the hell could it have been. Walking around, I'm not too surprised how much of a waste of time this was....at least the scenery was perfect...

At least, it was.

I suddenly realized that the birds has just stopped singing, all I can hear was the sound of my heartbeat. But there was something new, a heavy smell of metal and industrial chemicals? I know theres an illegal logging company around here but no one back at City Hall has been able to fight them for years. That's when I heard movement.

This is when I begin to regret not investing in a hunting rifle, but bow and arrow to the eyeball works just fine. I draw and scan for whatever that smell was coming from ....all I saw something big and metal....but for something to be that big....it was no man.

It was in the thicket of the treeline, glowing...angry eyes, it had spikes just absolutely everywhere, it's dark black body was interrupted but glimmers of bronze or gold....at it was coming right at me.

I couldn't move, I just stood there trying not to shake the fucking arrows out of my quiver, I don't even know what I was even doing from that point on.

It just stomped twords me, it knew I wouldn't be able to do much to it.

But like hell I wouldn't.

I locked up, and shot right it it's eye. Going straight in! It's head leaned back at the arrow sunk through......then...it chuckled....that sickening laughter you give when you know you're about to win...it looked straight back at me, still chuckling....now with my arrow sticking out it's face like a complete moron.

Looks like I'm going to get see grandpa. Hell I would probably get to tell him I found his buddy too.

"... aren't you... just adorable........thank you for your.... little gift", snapping the arrow yet keeping its other half in his eyesocket...."a most cherished gift.....from a weaklings like girl like you...just...like that old bastard....". He was now 10 feet away from me.

He pointed to a set of faded dents in his chest, three shots that only chipped the paint.

Grandpa's last shots

"....at least he went out fighting."...I stepped back and fucking tripped on the rocky bank...great I made it earlier for him.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, glanced at the trail behind me and growled.

That's when I heard the familiar click of a trigger pull, than the loudest gun shot I have ever felt! Closing my eyes, it was like a small rocket had been set off just feet away from me.

All I could hear was a loud ringing in my ears, I felt something warm and wet cover half of my body. Shaking, I slowly opened my eyes, and saw gore.... just where.... sprayed on me, on the rocks .....I looked up....half of that monster was there.....I couldn't take it anymore....and i blacked out.

I woke up in the hospital back home, Nurse Amila (town doctor at this point since the last guy quit) said I was found soaking wet near a sheep farm several miles off the course of Chelhalem Ridge. I told her everything I could remember but of course she told me to just rest so I can collect myself a little later. I was in shock, but I had to tell her. The look on her is what worried me, she.... wasn't surprised.

She did tell me that who ever it was that brought me to safe place, left me in good hands .....a gift?

Nurse Amila points to the hospital nightstand, it didn't look like any of the native tribal artifacts I've studied for....it looked.... Nordic? It was a huge candid tooth.

"Looks like a bear tooth, guess someone finally sees you're worth a look, right Lorey?", she chuckled.

"....I....think it's a wolf tooth", I feel like I'm going insane, first the absolute horror movie scene I've just experienced and now...possibly .... giant unextinct......dire wolves?

What the shit is going on......

End of log 1.

@kit-williams

#space marines #space marine husbandry sentience #survival log #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry

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beast-to-be-tamed · 9 months

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ive never gone into anyone's asks before so i'm kinda shy rn aaah but i want u to put me in a mating press while u pump me full of ur thick cock, all the while licking the tears from my face n degrading me for being such a dirty slut :( ajskajsja i wanna be ur free use cockslut sm u have noooo idea !!! i want u to force eye contact w me too while u push onto the bulge in my tummy whenever u thrust inside my tiny cunt bc u're jus so big :( n you'll jus overstimulate me until all i can ever think abt is ur cock bc u've already trained me to become ur good n obedient fucktoy... maybe even throatfuck my mouth while my eyes r already half closed n i'm jus drooling everywhere, already completely fucked stupid but i cant get enough so i still play w my cunt w no more energy left eventho it could never make me squirt like u could... AAAH i'm so sorry kajsajsjaj,

-🧸

Why are you sorry, pretty thing? Don't be sorry! I'm so proud of you for sending this ask, baby, you have no idea! It must have taken allllll your cute little braincells to put together something as coherent as this, especially when you're busy touching your cunt and dripping everywhere for me.

I'd love to fuck you in a mating press, hook your ankles over my shoulders and press your knees to your ears, right baby? You're flexible, or at least I'll make you flexible. You'll be flexible for me, yeah? You'll be good and do what Johnny wants. Anything I want, 'cause you're a dumb slut for fat werewolf cock, hm?

It's cute that you think I'll hold back from just shoving my rough tongue down your throat while you moan all cute for me! Your tears are delicious, and I love the way you hiccup when I hit your cervix, but I have lots of spit for you to drink down, yeah? So just be careful you don't bite down, because I promise my teeth are sharper, doll.

I'd be happy to hold your neck in my claws so you look at me as I rub my paw over your tummy. When I get my knot in you it isn't even a question of whether or not your stomach will bulge - it's a given. And your tight throat would feel so nice around my cock too... why bother with your hands, though, when you can hump my boot, puppy?

#werewolf boyfriend #werewolf nsft #monsterfucking nsft #nsft #monster fucker #nsft text #bd/sm kink #johnny barking #🧸 anon

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hisui555 · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel thoughts bonus

"Reacting to a drawing of them"

Hazbin Hotel thoughts (Hell cast + babysitting kids) here

Hazbin Hotel Bonus 2 (Heaven cast + kids and drawings) here

Masterpost here.

(Because sleeping on it after writing the main thing gives me more ideas apparently. Funny how that works.)

So yeah, my two braincells rubbed together during my bout of nightly unconsciousness (one of the times it can happen without any danger) and coughed up this bit : how would the cast react to a kid giving them a drawing of themselves ? (Quality notwithstanding)

Starting with the obvious, Charlie would be overjoyed. Tears in her shiny puppy-dog eyes, thousand-watts smile, might start hyperventilating in happiness, squeezing the drawing to her chest and fanning herself, and the second she has her breath back it's all VAGGIE !! Look at that ! Look at that everyone !!! running a marathon all over the Hotel. This one is going with the portraits on the walls, so that everyone can see, or on the fridge, whatever, as long as the masterpiece is in everyone's sights at almost all times. Bear-hugs the child at least once, shower of kisses optional. Before you know it she breaks out the crayons and paper and engages in co-drawing activity, oversharing and just being happy - and maybe dragging everyone into it, whether they're willing or not. At the end of the day, no-one knows if those are kiddie drawings or actual Hotel Activities Plans, there might be a script about how to counter bullying with rainbows lost somewhere in the middle.

Vaggie wouldn't really know what to do, but still be touched, even if skeptical about the actual product ("Oh, oh, that's... me ? Uh... why is a triangle planted into my head ?" "It's your hairbow !" "Ah... and that hook in the middle of my face ?" "It's your nose !" "...Yyyyeah... and that stick going through Alastor ?" "Your spear, because you're always mad at him !" "Y'know what, that's the least objectionable part of this whole thing.") but will decide to keep it, and softly smile at it once she gets used to the stick-figure that's supposed to represent her, keeping it in her common room with Charlie (who will squeal with happiness seeing it, and insist it should be on their bedroom wall, them's the rules). Might deliver her thanks later (either skeptically or heartfelt), but knows the intention isn't malicious.

Angel is just plain happy : he loves it. He knows it's bad quality, the way his legs bend is questionable at best, that gold tooth takes half of his face and the eyes are looking in opposite directions, but it's a gift and even Fat Nuggets is drawn on it and he loves it. Might crack a light innuendo or two that he knows will go over the kid's head (How come I'm not on a bed ? It's my natural element, ya know) until someone (probably Husk, more often than not Vaggie) bops him on the head to make him stop. He'll keep it in his room, either around his mirror or on his door like the other photos, so anytime he goes in there or at his desk to prep up he'll see it. Helps his bad days become more bearable, and makes his good days even better.

Husk is very much used to an explanation of why a bunch of two potatoes with spiky claw-ended sticks poking out of 'em, two triangles on his head and flappery estimations of wings sticking out of his back is supposed to be him, so he won't comment on it at all : when an ankle-biter tells you that those two potatoes, sticks for limbs and hay for hair is supposed to be you, you become immune after a while why yes I have siblings, why do you ask. Kid also didn't forgot his perpetual frown, though those eyebrows fill half the page on their own alone. But he'll thank them, and pack the drawing away under his counter. Everyone wants to see it (Alastor mainly to rib on him), searching where Husk could have pinned it, but it mysteriously disappeared. What nobody knows is that he actually put it in the (perpetually empty and useless) cash drawer, will open it from time to time and smile at it.

Alastor, ever the gentleman, will politely accept the offering, making a whole show out of it - and backhandedly praising it with subtle mockery that he knows will fly over the kid's head (A fan submitted your host quite the original interpretation of his likeness ! Why, I've never seen something this adventurously abstract since Cubism* ! Good thing we all know how THAT one ended, ha ha !), but keep it nonetheless, because it's about him. And as we all know, modesty is the mark of great gentlemen like him. He'll pin it somewhere he doesn't go often, but that will still fall into his sight from time to time, pat the artistic fellow on the head for good measure and be on his way. If offered many pics, he'd jokingly make a rating out of it, entertaining himself with seeing the efforts put into it and the kid always coming back to show their latest production. Curiously, the primitive art-style reminds him of something similar he saw once, on TV, when some nobody tried to assess himself and ended up failing spectacularly. Hm. Must've been déjà vu. (*Cubism is from the 1910-1920s at its beginning by the way - more precisely 1907 - so Alastor might have caught wind of it and decided someone made a huge mistake, before he died in the 30s)

Niffty would take it, smile, blink, look, blink some more, then offer critique that her head is not that big, the arms too short, her hair doesn't stick out that way, prattle off everything about it that she finds could be better without point or comma, then conclude with a chirpy but thanks anyway ! and goes to frame it and hang it in the main hall, zips back, gives a pat on the head, and is off chasing bugs or cleaning. She isn't particularly moved or touched by the picture but will make sure no spec of dust can be found on the frame.

Sir Pentious would absolutely treasure it. In secret. Nobody can know how moved and teary-eyed this makes him (everyone already knows anyway). It looks more like a multi-eyed slug with a top hat and a strange case of bed hair, but even the Egg Bois are drawn on it (and more accurately - can't exactly fail that part, right ?) and it's just the sweetest thing to him. Even better if he's drawn activating what approximately looks like machinery and with complete explanation that he's a general with an awesome blimp (nevermind kids being easily impressed anyway). That one goes into the secret HQ room right away. Kid might be promoted second-in-command the next hour.

The Vees :

Vox would have a second or two of mental what am I supposed to do with this, before clocking in that it's him (the square TV head gives it away. The blitzing electricity around his hands too. At least it gives the whole thing a sense of up and down). And the fact that the scrawly handwronging reads "mR. B0x" all over the page. He would give an incredulous chuckling thanks, smile keeping in place in frozen confusion, before setting it aside and give an uncertain pat on the head by automatism. This might encourage the kid to explain their drawings, identifying the blue rakes at the end of his arms as your super sharp claws, the circled red splotch on his face as your super power-eye, the even more ridiculously small top hat and out-of-control antennas as well, what they are, the striped suit (with the stripes outside the suit), the unpractically pointy shoes, and you can do lightning and it's super-cool, and Vox tries to not internally cringe at how close it is to his popsicle design overall (he'll need to redo that one), but the second he hears the word 'cool', here comes the dopamine. The kid finds him cool. After an inner jubilation of take that Alastor ! he decides to keep it, but not in public. More like in his personal appartment, sticking it somewhere on the fridge or in a corner of the room that's not too visible, but he knows it's there. Can't let anyone know about it and point out that his own drawing skills are even lower than that : one time he grabbed one of the kid's drawing by accident and people thought he actually improved. But one of his first orders of business after deciding the ego-boost felt good is correcting the spelling, making the kid practice it (Vox. Vvvvox. Like Voom, Vloops, Vrive, Vatch, Voxtek -) to the voint ov instauving a vpeech imvediment.

For Velvette, well, that kid might as well have a double-death wish. The pic hurts her eyes. That's supposed to be her ?! This ?! This mishappened creature - not even a homunculi - that crawled out of whatever wretched womb after it had already be pushed back once ? Even the man-apes from the dawns of time scribbling on cave walls were better. She's about to launch into a more virulent tirade when she notices the tears starting, and two ideas cross her mind, strutting in and linked by the hand : one, she doesn't want to deal with kiddie tears, you can't fire the brat you're babysitting. Two, this is prime shaming material for her employees - check that out : see what that kid can do ? Your cloth design is even worse, stupid, and you don't even have the excuse of not knowing how to color inside the lines yet ! So she'll plaster a smile on and ask for more, keeping them around and pulling a spot the differences - right, there's none between her employees' work and the pics. Funnily enough, this indirectly helps the kid improve (in realistic measure) and Velvette will find herself accidentally inspired by a detail or two, doing a double-take on the pic, before discreetly incorporating it into her work. She'll never admit it. That, and actually taking the 'design' as-is to knit the ugliest pair of sweaters she can and offer them to Vox and Valentino as a joke on a day they particularly aggravated her. Alongside a "hat of shame" for her worst worker, like a substitude donkey cap. Mocking the whole thing on social media becomes her outlet, and she looks forward to the next crayon abomination the oblivious kid will produce.

Valentino would faux-praise anything to high heavens, then forget it on a table and not miss it if the cleaners threw it away in the meantime. Oh, where did your drawing go ? Ah, don't worry cutie, uncle Val keeps it in a special place ! (the trashbin). However, anything that's about him, he'll keep, more or less, for some moments (before again forgetting about it), but the extra-cool ones deserve some mention : that one when his majestic wings are outspanned in all their glory, even if his body is a weird asymetrical patchwork with his head too small for his hat, yeah, that one he'll at least put in a drawer. Then forget about it and be surprised next time he opens that drawer and finds it again, remember, smile, and close it once more. When enough drawings have disappeared by mysterious circumstances, he'll avoid making the kid upset and instead go hey, I have an idea, cariño/cariña, why don't you keep them for me, hm ? Y'see, uncle Val is incredibly busy, and can't think for everyone, so how about you do that for me ? and the kid will mostly agree, but still wants to show them to him. So he gets the idea of signing them, as a stamp of approval. Then it turns into a game of him signing every drawing, because he loves putting his name on it, and encourages doing more pics of him, and did I mention how he likes when it's about him ? I thought it was too subtle.

The other Overlords :

Rosie will kindly sit next to the child while they draw, chitchatting with them and playing along (Oh ? So is that my hat ? I see you pay attention to detail, sweetie. The color you chose for my dress is lovely, but have you considered that shade of red ? I think it'll fit better), though mainly trying to instaure a better sense of colors than the clashing red/green disaster that's currently happening. She'll like everything that's presented to her, gently guide through and nitpick a bit on the details (Draw inside the lines, darling, you're an artist after all !) for improvement. While she might not hang them around her house (least of all her workplace) because crayon is forever divorced from her general aesthetic, she'll keep an album of them.

Zestial would be quite surprised : a kid offering him a drawing ? Hasn't happened since last century. And it's him to boot ? Well, the gesture is nice. He'll keep it, or ask Carmilla to keep it for him. Might provide commentary and be needed to remember that five to eight years old don't have the same fine motor control and sense of perspective as Renaissance artists.

Carmilla would be perfectly normal about it, she's used to that, just like Husk. A drawing of her is met with a smile, she looks proud of it, and she'll probably keep it on her private desk at home (not at work, she's a weapons dealer and that might distract a bit from the seriousness of trade), in a frame, or like Rosie in an album. She might give points and tips to improve, otherwise she's just content letting the kid do whatever they want on that front.

The one I forgot :

LUCIFER, for hell's sake ! The guy's a dad. As a babysitter, he'll be the goofiest around, hyper and joyful and sometimes maybe a bit too much in wanting to constantly awe them, expect a rollercoaster ride of doing awesome things and napping like there's no tomorrow from all the exhaustion. He'll play with the kid nonstop, always being around, and when not agreeing to something will find a way to break out the "no" in a non confrontative and absolutely silly way ("Nnnnuhuhuhuuuu !" - top quote of 2024 for me, people). Really acts out the stories he's telling, he's a theater dad, dangit - to the point that anyone entering in the room can't tell who's the child and who's the adult. Will often talk about oh, you know, when Charlie was younger she did that just like you ! It was adorable. Best for bedtime stories, and general roleplaying - he'll 'faint' for 6 minutes and a half straight, and blame gravity afterwards. Great at distracting from dangerous stuff, to the point the kid doesn't know there even was danger. He'll just forget which rubber duck can spit fire and which doesn't, but once he realizes his mistake, whopee ! it's gone. Dealing with tantrums ? He'll just let the kid tire themselves out, until he can get his point across and make sure they'll listen. Might even add lalalaaa, can't hear you, talk to me once you're done~ and just be around doing his own things while keeping an eye on them. He'll always be around, but will let the kiddo have time for themselves and play on their own if they wish to.

A drawing of him ? The guy smiles so bright it lights up the whole room. He'll praise it to sky highs, even overpraising, like it's the second coming of Leonardo Da Vinci. Being someone creative himself, he'll be fully on board with drawings - sometimes accidentally one upping the kid in his enthusiasm and unwillingly creating an inferiority complex in the process. This is quickly resolved by offering to work together, and he likes nothing better than the patchwork of ideas and raw imagination. He'll keep whole albums, plural, of the stuff the kid does, and indefinitely gush about it (but a bit less than with Charlie - she's his daughter afterall).

Dunno if I'll do the heavenly side (Sera, Lute, Adam, Emily - boy, Adam's gonna be a disaster. Lute even worse, maybe), but if you're interested (or if, again, my brain says yeah let's do it), why not.

Welp, I seem physically incapable of writing a short post.

Again, Masterpost here.

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gen-is-gone · 7 months

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Doctor Who and 2 for the fandom meme?

2. My three favorite characters and why I love them so much.

Hello hi would you like to hear about the best TARDIS team you've never heard of, right as I've fallen back hard into special interest fixation on them :D :D :D

So there's this book series.

After The Enemy Within, aka Doctor Who the TV Movie, premiered to an astounding lack of enthusiasm in 1996, BBC books decided to steal Virgin Publishing's idea to write novels about dr who, and promptly yoinked the license so they could cut out the middleman and do just that, this time starring Paul McGann's Eighth Doctor instead of Sylvester McCoy's Seventh. This novel series was called, aptly enough, The Eighth Doctor Adventures. So entirely skipping over almost three decades' worth of entertaining intrafandom drama and also how nu!who shamelessly stole basically every good idea the EDAs ever had (the biggest being of course the Time War, tho tragically nowhere near as well done), my favorite TARDIS crew:

The Eighth Doctor (as you may have guessed), Fitz Kreiner, and Anji Kapoor.

I love them, I adore them, they're my best friends. All three of them are amazing in their own right, but they're absolutely phenomenal as a team.

Eight, and the EDA version of them specifically, is my favorite doctor bar none. They're flighty and giddy and tactile and deeply affectionate, they're extremely weird and have a number hyperfixations and special interests and other very relatable neurodivergent tendencies. They are very prone to amnesia in a way which starts off as kind of a running gag and ends up being a huge plot point for the entire second half of the series. They're easily the most genderfluid the Doctor ever gets before textually being played by a woman and going by she/her, which is a big part of why I like using they/them pronouns for the Doctor generally. They kiss people often and canonically date people of multiple genders. Being played by (or at least written in reference to) Paul McGann, they are extremely pretty. They also go through the absolute fucking wringer, both in the sense that their arc plots are really dramatic and complicated and dark, and also in the sense that some of the folks writing for the series are pretty unapologetic whump fans lol. Best Doctor. No notes.

Next up is My BoyTM. The ur-blorbo himself, Fitzgerald Michael Kreiner. He's the best and I hate him. He's the worst and I love him. He's a musician from 1963 with appalling fashion sense and truly awful luck. He's canonically bi and in love with the Doctor (and their kiss in the novel Dominion in 1998 was the first kiss between the Doctor and a man in the history of Dr Who). He's a clone of himself because Eight lost the original Fitz 600 years in the future and then he joined cult of shitty time traveling mall goths. The original Fitz lived 2000 years and was filled with hate and wanted to kill the Doctor for abandoning him but never actually stopped loving them. He's a massive idiot. He's genuinely embarrassing so often but also despite thinking of himself as a coward and an asshole he's very brave despite his constant terror and very kind despite his pretending that he's only out for himself. He is such astoundingly perfect tumblr bait it's not even funny. He's one of the longest running companions in the franchise by number of consecutive stories.

Last of my darlings is the myth, the legend herself, Anji Kapoor. The first Asian companion in the history of Doctor Who, she's a stock futures trader from 2001 and to this day the only example I can think of off the top of my head of a woman of color having her white boyfriend get fridged for the sake of her emotional pain and character development. On the surface, she's the one with braincell, but she's so much more than just the white boy babysitter stereotype. She's a massive closet nerd who loves Star Trek but won't admit it, she's got a very weird thought process that makes her jump to the most absolutely batshit decisions while justifying them to herself as being perfectly reasonable and logical and not at all insane, she thinks of Fitz as a brother and the Doctor as a sister, she once called the Doctor a useless otterfucker, literally what can't she do (other than get back to her own time and planet rip).

The three of them have such a wonderful dynamic together. They're best friends and close family despite them being thrown together entirely by chance. They banter and joke and snark together, they riff off each other and enjoy each other's company, all three of them would catch a bullet for each other and all three of them more or less have. They're in a run of I think 25 books, which is a pretty significant time to spend together, and while there are some clunkers in their run ngl, they've also got some truly amazing books together, including one of my favorite books not just in the EDAs or Dr Who, but as a whole, The Year of Intelligent Tigers. I love them so so much I can't even.

I'm... not sure how accessible anything to do with the EDAs is give I fell off the DW deep end solidly a decade ago and at this point I just have to admit I'm in for life, but I have observed that most people who do read the EDAs tend to put 8&fitz&anji in at least their top five TARDIS teams, if not their first pick. Anyway, I love them, thank you so much for letting me gush about the best TARDIS team in all of Dr Who :D

#mihrsuri #eighth doctor #eighth doctor adventures #fitz kreiner #anji kapoor #megan whines into the empty abyss of cyberspace #listen my love is so strong that I was willing to type this whole mess on my fucking phone that tells you how much I care about them

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pangolin-404 · 1 year

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for ship bingo: gabv1el (i dont know if i got their ship name right. oops)

(x) GAY PEOPLE COMING RIGHT UP

THEY'RE SO. INTERESTING. they want to kill each other so bad but also they are just about the only people who can survive each other. nobody else (aside from V2 Once) has escaped V1 alive and few have walked away from Gabriel unscathed

In canon, I feel like romantic feelings on Gabriel's side is Implied, or at least it's intentionally open for things to be read that way, but V1 is a blank slate which makes sense but man they did NOT have to write Gabriel so Like That. this is not a bad thing ! AND they're fated for one to destroy the other (probably V1 killing Gabriel before his fading light can kill him). can't wait for act 3 when they fistfight in a denny's parking lot

I feel like if they Were together their braincells would cancel out. mostly on V1's part. It is a war machine, it's not built for things like caring for people!! It was never coded with intention to feel anything, let alone romantic love! no idea what it's doing! trial and error! and while Gabriel is very familiar with close bonds and platonic relationships he does Not know how to handle whatever the hell V1 is doing. it's scuttling over him like a rat, it's leaving dead husks at his feet as gifts, it thinks using him for target practice is fun bonding, it's asleep on his legs and now he can't move or it'll wake up, and he's fighting for his life trying to understand its beeping and body language. in a world where gabriel would not collapse in on himself like a dying star I think they would be very closely knit. would care very much for each other

I half-picked "only exists in my head" because I feel I have a very specific view of V1 and if I ever see it super ""out of character"" from the version in my brain I go AGH!! and it's the same w/ Gabriel at times. I'm opening and closing ao3 like the fridge at 3am looking for more fics

and "no way this will end well" less from a relationship standpoint and more from a canon standpoint, because they're both going to die one way or another. canon Gabriel I think would go out with more unspoken baggage about his feelings to V1. there's something sad about that, about Gabriel maybe developing an affection for it, but dying before it can grow or he can confront those feelings. I don't think any of that would be stated but! imagine. imagine

thematically... they are thematically delicious yes.. gabriel driven to revolt by a creature of steel, driven by the very thing he views as nothing, mere object. v1 is a silent protagonist while I enjoy/prefer that this means lots of the juicy bits is from gabriel having a life crisis after getting the christianity beaten out of him twice by a roomba with a knife strapped to it

there are so many ways their relationship can be read!! they're fun to think about. rotating them in my brain

#ultrakill #gabv1el #ultrakill gabriel #v1 #thoughts #asks #ask game #ultrakill posting #🥚#<- thats your mutual tag #youve unleashed something in me (wall of text about the sillies)

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spritehouse · 4 months

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cw: talk of religion (catholicism + christianity) in a positive/neutral way, some religious guilt, mentioned homophobia & religion-based homophobia

i mentioned luke alvez probably being religious/raised religious or at least have childhood ties to catholicism/christianity and i have so many thoughts

so luke grew up in the bronx, which has the highest concentration of catholics (38% of the population) of new yorks borough, most of which (i believe 30% of the population) are hispanic catholics. also, if luke is around the same age as his actor, this sets his childhood around the 80s i think idk how years work

also, i know i said catholicism but (based on my understanding) roman catholics believe in being above other forms of christianity(?) (please let me know if this is wrong, i just looked it up and im not trying to make any religion look bad), and i think, above all else, luke's parents raised him on the belief that everyone is equal, so. Yeah.

anyways, there's a good chance he was raised religious or, at the very least, religion was undoubtedly a part of his life in one way or another

(self-projection headcanon segment now)

so i think it would be neat if luke kinda strayed from religion a little in high school/college bc. yk. being a teenager/young adult is just trying to figure out what The Fuck is going on.

sure, he'll pray sometimes, go to church with his mom, thank God for things, but he's also young and at least a little mad at life, especially while bad things keep happening to him until that becomes resentment toward God

and then he joins the army, and he'll still pray when something Big is going to happen or send his thoughts to someone's family, but it's half-hearted—something he was taught that's ingrained in him rather than something he chose—and continues like that when he's in FTF, too busy to really think about it

it doesn't come up until he's in the bau after he hears spencer's in jail in Mexico, and he's in the bathroom and can't breathe, praying to a God he isn't sure exists to make everything okay

and after spencer gets out, scratch, all that, he has six weeks to reflect on where he stands and what he believes, feeling guilty about only returning to God when he's desperate

he talks about it with spencer, too—prison made luke realize he doesn't want to waste any more time—and even though he's not religious, he never makes luke feel bad or wrong about any of it

spencer talks about his experience with religion and the things he can't explain, like dying in the cabin. he doesn't believe in a God/gods, but he doesn't think people who do are wrong or have misplaced beliefs

he's still weary about everything, but he feels better after talking about it so much with spencer, though that poses another problem

luke has never really bothered to label himself, but he knows the correlation between religion and homophobia, and that scares him just as much as everything else

yes, his parents taught him everyone is equal, but what if that doesn't apply to him, their only son? what if they reject him? what if they tell him that the God he spent so long feeling guilty for abandoning doesn't love him anymore?

at some point, it comes up, and his parents meet spencer and absolutely adore him and they have a Deep Talk and there's Tears because im a sucker for healthy communication between parents and children where luke's parents just tell him they love him so much and aaaaaaaaaaaaa

also: luke and derek bonding over Religion Things. i put all of my three braincells into typing this whole thing, bear with me.

#lex rambles #lex prompts #lex hcs #criminal minds #luke alvez #spencer reid #ralvez #luke alvez hcs #luke alvez headcanon

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unidentifiedseacreature · 8 months

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They find you sleeping on the job

Ahhh, Ruin DLC... you rekindle my love once again.

This is actually old but I never got around to posting it. Inspired by:

I am on my phone and I am lazy so prepare for significantly worse formatting than previous posts ✌️

Freddy 🐻

- He spots you across the mall and smiles and waves.

- He's confused when you don't react at all.

- Squinting, he realises you're asleep.

- He stands there, like 70ft (20m) away from you, trying to decide if he should wake you.

- 'They're at work, they should be working... I don't want them to get in trouble if someone else catches them asleep.'

- He decides it's best to wake you up.

- He walks over and gently shakes your shoulder.

- "Y/N?" Your eyes slowly open.

- "Superstar, you're still at work."

- Once you're up, he asks you if you've been getting enough sleep.

- For the rest of his shift, he keeps his eye out for you.

- He'll probably ask you how your sleep was every shift for the next few weeks.

Monty 🐊

- He's strolling past when he does a double take.

- He smirks when he realises you're asleep, ideas to prank you filling his head.

- Then Monty's braincells kick in and he wonders if he should wake you up.

- 'They should be working, right? But it's not my fault if Y/N gets in trouble.'

- He sits down next to you and leans his head back, glancing at you every now and then.

- Only a few minutes pass before another staff member walks past and he panics.

- "Y/N GET UP."

- You scramble to your feet and pretend you're doing something.

- When your coworker passes, you thank him, saying you had a bad sleep last night.

- He unsympathetically gives you a comment along the lines of "Get better sleep."

- "Oh yeah, great idea Monty."

- "I DON'T KNOW HOW SLEEPING WORKS."

- He decides he won't be able to use this against you in the future because screaming at you to wake you up wasn't his finest moment.

Chica 🐔

- She came looking for you to tell you something but immediately forgot what it was when she saw you asleep.

- Her first instinct was to take plenty of photos to document the occasion.

- She then plopped herself down next to you to hang.

- When you woke up, you were met with two purple eyes staring at you.

- She profusely apologises and insists she wasn't staring at you the whole time.

- You call her creepy.

- She promises not to tell anyone but she'll probably bring up the photos when talking to the other glamrocks.

- It's not like she told your boss.

Roxy 🐺

- When she sees you sleeping she's unsure if she should wake you or not.

- She sits next to you for a while, trying to think of what to say.

- She ends up nudging you awake.

- "Hey, you're still at work" she says sternly but not unkindly.

- She just awkwardly avoids eye contact until you walk off to continue your duties, trying to stay nonchalant.

- She doesn't see you any differently, but she might say "you snooze you loose" next time she beats you at Roxy Raceway.

Bonnie 🐰

- Bonnie didn't particularly want the awkwardness of waking you up.

- So he sat down next to you instead.

- Crossing his arms, he scans the pizzaplex like a watchdog, ensuring no one catches you asleep.

- "Morning, sleepyhead" he greets you when you eventually do wake up.

- "How long was I out for?" You ask.

- "At least half an hour".

- You swear and run off.

- The next time you see him, he says "Hello sleeping beauty" you glare at him but everyone else just seems confused.

- He slips you an energy drink every now and then, you have no idea how he's been getting into the vending machines.

Foxy 🦊

- I'm sorry to all Foxy lovers but he does not care.

- He'd see you sleeping in the strangest situations and would just walk past.

- You were asleep standing up, leaning on your mop and the wet floor bot cared more than he did.

- Though ever since, he has thrown a protein bar at you a few times. One of those times, he threw it full force and knocked you out, so he's not very good at what he was trying to do.

- His arm also came off when he did that if it's any consolation.

Sun ☀️

- Jingle jingle *he spots you* JINGLEJINGLEJINGLEJINGLEJINGLE.

- Unlike the others, he actually knows how to wake people up.

- "Wake up, friend! It's not nap time just yet."

- It's surprisingly pleasant to wake up to him jingling around the room, singing an original Fazbear Entertainment nursery rhyme about waking up.

- "Thanks, Sun."

- "No need to thank me, I wouldn't want you to miss out on play time!"

- 'Playtime, my ass' you think to yourself, getting back to work.

- For the rest of the night he hums the nursery rhyme tune to himself.

Moon 🌑

- To be fair to you, tidying up the lavender scented pillows and blankets from the daycare is hard to do without getting sleepy.

- Moon is used to being around sleeping kids, so he doesn't think it's weird when he spots you.

- That doesn't mean they know how to properly act around sleeping people.

- He just sits there and stares at you.

- Feeling someone's eyes on you, you wake up and practically jump out of your skin.

- "Holy shit, Moondrop."

- "Don't say that, Y/N."

DJ Music Man 🎵

- You seemed to have fallen asleep in the arcade.

- DJ Music Man retrieves a blanket and lays it over you, patting your head goodnight.

- In his hands, the blanket looks like the size of a tissue

- He turns off his music and the main lights in the room, then continues cleaning up or settles down to take a nap beside you.

- When you awake, you're surprised to see your manager was too busy reprimanding Music Man to be mad at you.

- It turns out Music Man is a repeat offender, and you aren't the first person this has happened to.

- He hangs his head in shame. But he will do it again.

33 notes · View notes