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celtic-crossbow · 8 months

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I Get My Lovin’ on the Run

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: The Kingdom

Warnings: Drug and alcohol use

Summary: You and Daryl party a little too hard after a long day.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. It didn’t take much to finish it. It’s just pure idiocy, really. Something funny and exaggerated to maybe help me feel like writing again.

It had been a bad day. A long, exhausting, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. More walkers than you could count. You had stared down the business end of a handgun, not once but twice. You and Daryl had taken a beating, not once but twice. The supplies you had secured on your run had been jacked, leaving the two of you sprawled out on the pavement while the truck disappeared into the distance. The long walk back to Daryl’s bike was filled with alternating tense silence and heated arguments.

You had parted ways when arriving at the Kingdom, opting to stay in different apartments rather than the shared one that had been set aside for you. You truly had no intention of following through, so you had made certain Daryl had left toward the designated housing. There was something special you had found on the run, small enough to fit in your jacket pocket. The one item you had been able to bring back.

You weren’t sure of Daryl’s stance on your peace offering but hell, you’d lie on a bed of hot coals if it would cool the animosity between the two of you. You gave him a few hours to calm down before showing up at the door. He opened up after the second knock, giving you a once over before leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Your hands came up immediately, palms out.

“I come in peace.”

“Thought ya was stayin’ somewhere else?” Maybe you hadn’t waited long enough.

“Come on, Dixon. You know you’d miss me.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, your bottom lip jutting out. “Don’t be that way. Look! I brought a peace offering!” The little bag dangled between the two of you, two slender white joints inside. Daryl’s expression didn’t change.

“You’re jokin’.” The archer shook his head and turned to walk away. He didn’t shut the door so you took that as an invitation to follow. The heel of your boot caught the door’s edge to kick it closed before jogging after him.

“It’ll be fun!” You offered, making yourself at home on the couch. Daryl eyed the bag while you removed one of the joints. “Probably old as fuck, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

“Don’t be stupid, Y/N.”

“You, sir, can continue to entertain your attitude of majestic stick in the mudness or,” you waved the offering again, “you can smoke with me so all these bruises don’t hurt as badly and we can forget about this shitty day.” His eyes narrowed while he quite obviously chewed the inside of his cheek. “What’ll it be? Mud?” You gestured vaguely toward where he stood. “Or epic?” You placed the joint between your lips.

Arms still crossed, the fingers of one hand drummed against the forearm of the other. Just when you thought he might turn you down, his shoulders dropped and he reached inside his vest to pull out his lighter and toss it to you.

You snatched it out of the air with ease. “Hells yeah!”

Carol had seen you heading toward the apartment earlier after already talking with Daryl about the day’s events. When you didn’t return, she decided that maybe bringing some dinner wouldn't be a terrible idea. You were both pretty banged up and she knew Daryl, at the very least, was in quite the foul mood. She excused herself from her conversation with Ezekiel and Jerry to put together two plates. When she headed over, the two men quickly followed along.

“I’m sure they’re fine. If nothing else, they’ll enjoy something to eat.” She pacified, knowing full well that she at least wanted to make sure that you two weren’t in the process of murdering one another. Your tempers were equally matched, only rivaled by your stubbornness.

The three climbed the stairs and were several doors down when the smell assaulted their senses.

“Alright!” Jerry whooped. “Someone’s having a good time.”

“Ugh, smells like a dispensary up here.” Carol’s lip curled. She glanced at the other apartment doors after knocking, waiting for one of you to call out or answer.

“Enter!” Your voice sing-songed from somewhere inside.

The moment the door swung inward, Carol put her hand over her nose. “Oh my god.” The entire apartment was fuzzy with a thin veil of smoke. “Daryl? Y/N?”

“Livin’ room!” Daryl’s voice was as gravelly as ever but something about his tone had Carol’s jaw already dropping.

“Oh my god, she didn’t.” She quickly placed the plates on the kitchen counter, next to an empty ziplock bag and open bottle of whiskey, and all but ran to the living room with the two men on her heels. The sight had her choking back a cackle, hiding her smile behind her hand.

You were on one side of the couch, hanging upside down off the cushion with your ass against the back and your feet up against the wall. Daryl, bless him, was lying across the coffee table, one foot propped up on the arm of the couch while the other was settled on a nearby chair.

“Right on.” Jerry chuckled, smile fading when Ezekiel cast him a stern look.

“Sup, Jer-bear?” Daryl drawled, twisting around to see the newcomers without lifting himself up in the slightest. You made what you thought resembled bear claws at the man but really just looked like you were trying to tickle someone.

“Y/N, you I get but,” Carol almost snorted and had to cover her mouth again, “Daryl Dixon, are you high?”

“As a goddamn kite.” He answered after a moment of just smiling widely up at her. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen all of his teeth, but there they were. “Drunk too!”

“He’s not mud!” You chirped, trying and failing to pat his chest when you couldn’t quite reach. Ezekiel wasn’t even aware he had started to smile while Jerry was about to absolutely combust trying to hold in his laughter. Carol, tears in her eyes from the strain of controlling herself, looked from you back down to Daryl.

“Not mud, huh? What are you then?”

With a slow sideways glance at you that lingered somewhere between mischievous and proud, he shoved a fist in the air. “Epic!” He hollered, his right foot sliding out of the chair.

“Epic!” You echoed, pushing your feet against the wall so you could stretch your arms and drum both hands on Daryl’s stomach. The motions all seemed so fast to you and Daryl, but to the other three occupants in the room, you were moving in slow motion.

“Should we, uh, get lost then?” Jerry asked, turning toward the hall that led to the door.

“Absolutely not.” Carol, still somehow managing to keep her composure, crossed the room to sit on the chair previously occupied by Daryl’s boot. “I brought you two some dinner.”

Your eyes lit up as you let yourself tumble to the floor, followed equally as gracelessly by Daryl. “Food!” You crawled across the archer, who seemed to find it hilarious. “Daryl. Daryl!” Finally sitting beside his head, you were shaking him forcefully. “She brought food.”

“I want pie.” He replied with an expression that was entirely too serious. “Didja bring pie?” The archer reached over to grasp Carol’s pant leg and tug repeatedly.

“I didn’t, but I’ll make you one tomorrow, Pookie.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed deeply while you lost your mind at the nickname. “Make me what?”

“Pie.” Carol chuckled. This was just too good.

“I want pie!” He repeated, appearing just as excited as the first time he got the idea.

“But Pookie,” you placed a hand on either side of his face and squished. “She brought food. Do you know what this means?”

“What?”

“I don’t remember, but there’s food! I’ll race ya!”

“Ya win.”

You pouted. “You didn’t even start your engine!”

“Ain’t a car, woman.” He made a show of slapping away your hands.

“You’re a motorcycle!” You threw up your arms and twisted to fall backwards across his torso while he nodded from his spot on the floor.

“M’a goddamn motorcycle.”

Carol cleared her throat, earning two sets of bloodshot eyes to focus on her. “Should we bring your food in here for you?”

“Ya brought food?”

“She brought food!”

Jerry was barely keeping it together, finally laughing when Ezekiel failed at withholding his own giggles.

“I would give anything for a video camera.” Carol told the two men while she got to her feet. Reaching down, she pulled on your shoulders and helped you to stand.

“Whoa.” Your wide eyes blinked. “You shrank, Carol.”

“What?” She chuckled, reaching for Daryl, who apparently thought it was hilarious to start wiggling from side to side in order to avoid her. “Daryl! Stop!” She laughed, finally just latching onto one of his belt loops to keep him from sliding across the floor again.

“Hey! Them’s my pants! Get your own!”

“Yeah, get your own!” You swatted Carol’s hands away from Daryl until she threw them in the air and stepped back to stand beside the two men. “C’mon, Dixon!” Your fingers latched onto the front of his shirt and you pulled, not budging the man an inch. The effort you put into backfired and you lost your balance, tumbling face-first into his chest.

“You’re clumsy.” He laughed.

“And you’re standing between me and food.”

“Technically, m’layin’, short stuff.”

“Don’t call me names, douche canoe.”

“This may be the best thing I’ve seen in my entire life.” Carol snorted, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes.

“I agree that it is indeed entertaining.” Ezekiel met her eyes with a smile and a nod.

“Uh, guys.” Jerry cleared his throat and jerked his chin toward the floor. The other two granted him matching quizzical expressions before following his gesture.

“Oh.” They breathed in unison.

You were now thoroughly straddling the archer, lips sealed over his and fingers wound tightly in his shirt while his twisted into your messy hair. When clothes started being pulled at, the trio scrambled out of the room in a manner that would have otherwise been comical.

“Should we stop them?” Jerry whispered after the front door was pulled closed behind Carol.

“Are you kidding?” Carol admonished with a grin. “I was wondering what it would take to get those two to finally start figuring things out. I just didn’t think it would be a little liquor and weed.”

“I sense there will be a lot to discuss between them come morning.” The King noted with a raise of his brows.

“Yes there will.” Carol smiled, looking back toward the door before they began to descend the stairs. “I am personally looking forward to it.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #Spotify

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writersarchivex · 2 years

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Just The Costume Designer: E.P

Elvis x Reader

Summary: You've been Elvis' designer for years, finally you got to do something useful

word count: 2k

theres a part two! click here loves <3

not that proud of this one, but eh. you can imagine austin!elvis or the real thing. whatever floats your boat.

enjoy, or dont its up to you my loves.

You were sat at your desk, going over some papers when you got the call. You had a meeting in ten minutes with Elvis, and his people. You had worked for Presley Enterprises for five years. You were Elvis' personal costume designer. Sometimes, at the beginning of your time working there, you found yourself doubling as his assistant.

Since he's been doing more movies than shows though, you were needed a lot less. It was sad, but of course you can always find plenty of ways to pay the bills. You owned the business, working this Elvis put a bit of fame behind your name, just enough to make it big.

You were successful.

You weren't sure why they wanted to meet with you, you didn't design his outfits for the movies he was in.

He was your friend though, so of course you would sit in on the meeting as long as he wanted you there.

Your feelings for Elvis had been placed on the back burner in your mind for years. You liked him.

A lot.

The two of you grew closer over the years. Designing costumes was sort of an intimate thing when you really thought about it. You're in the room alone with a person, hands on their body, just a measuring tape in hand, sometimes they had less than minimal clothes on.

You wrapped up a few more things realizing the meeting quite literally started in a minute.

You pulled EP's file, making your way to the meeting room feeling excited to see him.

Your heels clicked against the floor as you nodded to your employees.

They gave you warm smiles as you walked.

You opened the door, knowing that they would all be in there already. They were busy people, but so were you.

The table was full, leaving a spot for you, right next to Elvis of course.

"EP. Good to see you." You smiled, as you saw him.

He smiled back and stood giving you a quick hug.

"We called this meeting to discuss a design we need for EP. It's for the upcoming Christmas special." Jerry stated, throwing a file over to you.

Your eyebrow's furrowed. You didn't do Christmas specials.

Elvis knew that, they all knew that.

"Well, this looks big, so I believe a congratulations is in order,"

"I'm not sure why I'm needed though. This seems pretty, simple." You said politely.

You hated being so professional. These were your closest friends at one point.

"That's the thing Y/N. We need to make it bigger. We want to bring the real EP back, and we have to make a statement with it. He needs a costume. Something bold. He needs you."

Now this, was interesting.

"Hm, and whose idea was this?" You said looking at all the men that lined the table.

Elvis cleared his throat, leaning against the chair.

"Mine."

Pride swelled through you. You were beyond proud.

"Fucking finally. I'm in."

The men laughed as you stood to walk towards the door,

"Beth clear my schedule for the rest of the week. Give all the high-profile cases to Gemma, only contact me for emergencies."

Your assistant nodded, looking a bit confused.

You opened his file, memories flooding your mind as you did so. He always wore your best work. Nothing you ever designed for him was ever below par.

"Okay. EP and I will take it from here." The men smiled at your direction.

As a designer, you knew that managers had far too much impact on what thier clients wore.

As his friend you knew he was far too quick to give them all the power. This had to be between the two of you.

As the boys exited the room, you were pulling out sketch pads and pencils.

The room was clear, and you were left alone with Elvis.

"I don't know why you wear them old shoes darlin'. They look like the most uncomfortable thing.'

His voice was deep. Raspy. You loved it, then again so did the rest of America.

"Gotta be professional and lady like." You smiled, taking a seat next to him.

You took a look at the file again, if you were gonna bring the old EP back you had to go back to the origin.

"What're you thinking EP. I want this to be up to you. Your choice."

Pencil in hand, you wrote as he spoke passionately.

"I want it to be hard. Like intimidating, but I want it to be me. This is the biggest thing that happened to me in a long time, Y/N.

You smiled and the thought came to you immediately.

"Leather baby. You want leather."

------

It had been a couple of days since you've seen Elvis.

Today he was due for his fitting appointment, you took quick measurements the day that they all came in.

His measurements were still pretty much the same. He had filled out a bit over the years, but that was just him becoming a man.

You had the suit ready, you just prayed you got it right.

This thing was your pride and joy. You swore that part of your soul was literally stitched into this suit.

Damn.

You had just gotten everything together, when Elvis opened the door. This was your personal office, and everyone knew not to come in. You knew he would appreciate the privacy.

"Hey lil' mama. How're we doin' today?" He called out.

You spun on your heels, and you took in the sight of him. He looked gorgeous as always.

The both of you made small talk after you convinced him to not look too hard at the suit as you were helping him try it on.

"God damn this thing is hot."

"Baby it's leather, it's gonna be hot." You laughed.

You were focused on the pants, making sure they reached the proper point at the bottom of his leg, turning him around, you definitely approved of the way his ass looked in the pants.

As he turned back around you came face to face with his bare chest, feeling a blush creep onto your face.

You could practically feel his smirk. You knew him all too well.

Cocky bastard.

You continued to work, pinning a few things here and there, but you had to admit you did a wonderful job.

You were nervous now. It was time for him to look.

"Okay, you can look now." You voiced, sharply inhaling as he took a look in the mirror.

He was silent. Like, pen drop silence.

The silence was deafening.

He was just staring at himself.

"Its,"

"If you don't like it I'll redo it, or make you something else,"

He turned to you and took your face in his hands.

The metal of his rings were surprisingly cool.

"It's perfect. It's me." He had never been that sincere about the work you had done for him.

"It's so perfect mama, I could just,"

His eyes darted to your lips, and before you knew it his lips were on yours.

This was pure heaven.

The kiss was everything you've ever wanted, and more. He was everything you wanted.

You loved him.

"Kiss you." He said as he pulled away.

You were a mess, cheeks read as a cherry and at a loss for words.

He let out a light laugh at your state, turning to look in the mirror again.

----

You had seen Elvis more often during the time leading up to the Christmas special. He wanted you around, wherever he went you went.

The two of you spent every moment together.

The two of you were basically a couple, but of course not officially one.

After the recent tragedies, you and Elvis were sitting with some of his guys, and they were writing a song.

A very beautiful song, nothing like you had ever heard before.

He was laying on the floor, looking at the lyrics in front of him. You could tell he was sad. The excitement he had felt before, was gone.

Of course it was, something terrible happened.

The day of the shooting, you had made sure everyone at your company was safe, and you gave them the next day off with pay. No one should have to suffer more than they already have.

As they wrapped up, the boys left you and Elvis in the room alone. His eyes were still fixated on the paper.

"The Colonel ain't gonna be happy 'bout this one darlin." He said placing the paper on his stomach and turning to you.

You smiled at him.

Now obviously you had a lot of words for and about the Colonel. He was a slimy old man.

You knew he needed something from you, reassurance maybe?

"Baby I don't think it matters what the Colonel thinks this time. It's about you, and the message you want to send. Not just to your fans, but to everyone. Lisa. Your daddy. The world." You stated, looking him in the eye the entire time.

He nodded and moved his head to stare at the ceiling. He took hold of your hand.

"You're right darlin. Always are."

-----

Tonight was the night. Elvis had performed his songs beautifully, and it was time for the number.

You were sat, with the rest of the producers, as Tom Parker hobbled his way into the glass room

"Hey! It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!"

You rolled your eyes, heart still pounding in your chest.

The camera turned to the giant backdrop. It was simple, but it still made a statement.

There he was.

Dressed in white, a suit you of course picked and tailored for him, his song started.

It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard.

You could practically feel the passion radiating off of him, everyone else could as well.

The men in the room were in awe. Even the Colonel had shut his fat mouth, for a change.

If I can Dream

By the time the song ended, you were standing. Your eyes bore into the man who was sweating and out of breath.

"He did it." You smiled, earning quite the nasty look from Tom.

You waited for a while in Elvis' dressing room, still feeling dazed from his performance. Soon the door opened, and you excitedly jumped into his arms.

He was sweaty and gross, but you didn't care.

"You did so amazin' honey"

He held your lower back and smiled at you.

"Couldn't have done it without you mama."

The little bit of praise received a blush from you. All you could is stare.

He was so powerful. Everything about him completely amazed you. His confidence, his voice, his passion.

"I love you."

There it was.

The words had come spilling out of you like a waterfall, there was no stopping it.

He pulled away slowly, causing dread to spread throughout your whole body.

"What'd you just say to me?" He questioned, an unidentifiable look in his eyes.

You couldn't help but look at the floor.

You felt nothing but shame.

"I'm sorry."

That was all you could muster up. It took everything in you to barely mutter those simple words

"Why would you love me?" He questioned, causing your head to shoot up.

What? Is he blind?

"Elvis Presley. You aren't too quick sometimes,"

"I've loved you forever. From the beginning."

He took a seat.

This was incredibly awkward, and not how you had wanted it to happen.

Christ, the two of you weren't even together.

You had never been officially together.

"You are the most incredible, talented, and caring man I have ever met."

You put it simply, because to be frank, you could go on for hours.

"Hm."

"I think it would be best if I left." You sighed, not wanting to get hurt.

His silence in the moment was enough for you to walk past, grabbing your bag on the way.

Just as you had taken a step past him, he grabbed your wrist.

"You know darlin' I've made a lot of mistakes."

You sighed, not really wanting to hear it, but you decided to stay anyway.

"Not askin' you to be my girl when we met was probably the biggest."

Now that was a bit of a stretch, you figured that the Colonel was his biggest mistake, but you chose to ignore that.

"Really EP?"

He nodded, pulling you to sit with him.

The two of you were sat incredibly close. Not leaving much space in between.

"I want you to be mine baby."

His words were deep, and husky.

"Then I'm yours."

That was all it took for him to grab your chin and pull you in for a kiss.

Nothing about this kiss was innocent. Unlike your first one, you could feel the tension between the two of you.

A few moments passed, and he pulled away.

"I love you too mama."

#austin butler elvis #elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis presley fanfic #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #fanfic #austin elvis #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis film #austin butler x reader

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drinkinboilingcoffee · 2 months

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🍒

❓

🎊

yes I have ramble permission-

(Game here)

🍒= William’s main motivation for killing was to bring back Evan, and the missing kids were his first attempt at actually testing that revival. As such, he thought it fitting the people who caused Evan’s death be the ones to suffer through the process of fixing him. Gabriel, Jerri (my name for Jeremy to avoid confusion with Mr. Fitzgerald) and Susie were Mike’s friends from fnaf 4 and the only ones William was sure he was going to kill. When their revivals had unsatisfactory results, William killed Fritz (who he tries to justify as being present at the party and not trying to stop Evan’s death) and Cassidy (who didn’t have any connection to the event at all).

❓= Gabriel and Jerri are both 13, Susie is 14 (only a few months older than Gabe and Jer and about the age of Mike at the time), Fritz is 9 and Cassidy is 7

🎊= Oh boy I suck at describing personalities (I’m much more of a show-don’t-tell for this stuff) but here goes- Susie is kind of the tough one in the group (I based her a lot on fnaf 4 rather than ffps so sorry if that bugs anyone). Kind of person who would beat the shit out of you if you cut her in line but takes bugs and puts them outside rather than crushing them- probably a big animal person (her dog Chestnut possesses Mr. Cupcake). Gabriel thinks nothing through. Has eaten many live insects on dares and has probably been hospitalized as a result. Actually helped design some of the Fredbear and Friends characters- his dad works as one of the voice actors (he boasts about it a lot) and got some of his designs submitted to William. Ngl I kind of see Jerri as the quiet one? The kind of person where even with close friends he wouldn’t speak unless he was 100% sure people would agree (me). Was probably a theater kid. He was closest to Mike and knew the most about his situation at home (Michael would sometimes have to stay over at Jerri’s for the night if there was a particularly bad episode) so he didn’t trust William as blindly as the others. I like him. Fritz is that one 9 year old on every public transit who’s a wearing full Avengers outfit and running around away from his parents talking to all the older kids about his Spider-Man sona. Was obsessed with pirates (he’s missing an eye and had to wear a patch that he drew a skull and crossbones on). Gabriel’s cousin but they live practically next door and act like brothers (Fritz looks up to him a lot). Cassidy is an only child and lived with various relatives on and off while her dad was sick when she was younger, so she didn’t really have a chance to form an sort of stable friend group until she was older. She’s definitely a quiet kid and the kind of quiet kid who will bite you. She spent most of her time at Freddy’s (her dad worked there) and had the entire layout memorized, including how to get into places she wasn’t supposed to (she would go over to where Golden Freddy was stored and leave flowers and toys. She didn’t really know why, but she felt sorry for it. It drove William crazy when he kept finding dolls and dandelions surrounding the animatronic that killed his son like some kind of shrine).

#fnaf missing kids #mci #Fnaf au #sleepwalking insomniac #gabriel fnaf #susie fnaf #jeremy fnaf #fnaf cassidy #mentioned child death #Hm yes the floor is made of floor #Coffee rambles #ask #ask game #canon divergent au

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diabolus1exmachina · 11 months

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Piper GTT

Before the dominance of the big conglomerate car manufacturers took hold in the late 1960s, there was room in the market for niche companies whose products fulfilled the demands of a few drivers who wanted something a little different to the everyday, somewhat bland mainstream offering. Some companies such as Lotus thrived and are still with us while the likes of TVR have come and gone (several times), hopefully to return. Others had their day in the sun but ultimately disappeared after a relatively brief but bright life; Piper sits firmly in the later camp. Though the end results were fairly diverse, these companies’ approaches had remarkable commonality with cheap to produce fiberglass bodies (no need for expensive tooling which required high production volumes to amortise its costs) sitting on bespoke chassis while their running gear, which was financially impossible for a small business to develop and manufacture, was sourced from the industry’s major players.

Piper were kept pretty busy trying to build cars so production records are sketchy to say the least and it is thought that just eighty road cars and some twenty racers were built making them rare beasts today, though their survival rate is undoubtedly higher than that of propriety sports car such as say MGBs. Formed in 1966 by ex-racer George Henrotte, owner of Campbell’s Garage (hence the Scottish Piper logo and company name) in Hayes, Kent with the able assistance of engineer Bob Gayler (ex Harry Weslake), machinist Ken Packham and artist come designer Tony Hilder who had been responsible for the McLaren M1A, their first ‘whole car’ effort started as an evenings and weekends project until a customer, Gerry Hall, showed an interest in buying one. With his role as Works Gemini Formula Junior team manager winding up, Henrotte gave the green light for a limited production run of the pretty sports racers with four being completed for customers to add their powertrain of choice to; Hall put an Alfa Twin Cam in his, Bobby Bell a Lotus Twin Cam while racer Jerry Titus opted for a Buick V8. With a Mallite (balsawood/alloy sandwich) monocoque F3 car another Piper product, the company was building a reputation as a hotbed of outside the box thinking and a road-usable GT car was the next project. Approached by some Austin Healey Sprite racers who were looking for a light and sleek home for their running gear, a mock-up of what was to become the Piper GTT was shown at the 1967 Racing Car Show, apparently yielding an impressive seven hundred enquiries.

With Henrotte being kept busy with the tuning side of the Piper business, there was a timely intervention by Clubman racer Brian Sherwood who had not only bought a Piper GT but as the Sprite guys gradually fell by the wayside, was instrumental in more suitable Ford components being introduced at the expense of the BMC kit. With Sherwood now very much hands on, the Company was split with car production moving to his Wokingham premises while Henrotte concentrated on the aftermarket components business, though the companies remained closely linked both financially and practically. Through the late 1960s production increased from a drip to a trickle until Bill Atkinson, an enthusiastic GTT owner who had joined the company in the summer of 1969 as Works Manager, and Tony Waller (Sherwood Holdings’ Company Secretary) made great strides getting the GTT into some sort of series production. Instrumental in saving Piper’s car business, Sherwood was at heart a racer and he took them on an ultimately ill-fated foray to Le Mans in 1969 with the ultra-low, mid-engined GTR, an ambitious project that is thought to have cost £250,000. His untimely death late that year coupled with strikes at Ford ultimately resulted in the company being wound up in June 1971, despite the strong progress being made by Atkinson and Waller on the car production and development front (the longer wheelbase P2 was eventually launched in early 1971). However, this was not quite the end of the road for Piper; reborn as Emmbrook Engineering under the same management team, the Piper P2 remained in production until 1974.

#Piper GTT #Lotus #TVR #McLaren M1A #Ford

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youeitherselfshiporudie · 11 months

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my sinister six sonas REVEALED!!!

Green Goblin (AKA Greenie AKA Michael Osborn)

He was a streamer and social media manager for Oscorp but showed pretty much no potential to be the next head of the company so in his anger he stole some thing for a project that was supposed to make some kind of super hero or monster or something g who knows but he drinks it and he turns green gets sharp teeth pointed ears and acidy spit! he’s a gross little freak who bites and spits on people his little pumpkin bombs are full of his own spit because it’s like green and orange and gross he is so so disgusting YUCK YUCKY LITTLE MAN!!! also instead of the little hoverboard that green goblin usually has he has COOL BOOTS idk what his universe is like yet tho i imagining a lot of skater imagery and such if that makes sense? sort of like,,, jet set radio? a little? very fast paced place!!!)

The Vulture (AKA THE BEAST OF THE VIDEO STORE aka Michael Tooms)

A disgruntled worker at a video store and lover of monster movies, Michael Tooms loves not only to watch the movies but to replicate props from them, collect them and discuss them. But one day after a particular run in with an escaped lab bird… he BECAME a movie monster! Claws and feathers! Beaks and fangs!! The Vulture is coming to a video store near YOU!!!

i like to think his crimes consist of him stealing movie things and just shiny stuff that he kinda hoards away in his old store (that has since been wrecked and turned into a bird monster nest)

Electro (AKA Ellie AKA Michael Dillon)

A 60s scientist who was just trying to show the marvels of super computing to children when a lighting strike hit the building just so and trapped his very soul and being in the electricity of the building itself! He is a being of pure electricity and i imagine he’s very shaped! sort of like jerry from the movie soul (he’s made from one line of electricity idk idk! i want to draw him but i have had no draw skill lately)

Doc Ock (AKA Doktor Oktopus AKA Virgil Octavius)

I don’t have much for him but his extra arms are more doll like in nature with joints and human like hands and what all i am very very inspired by old automatons, specifically the one created by David Roentgen that plays harpsichord !! so the design is there but the story is not :0

Mysterio (AKA Michael Beck)

His is the closest to the og character of the bunch, he is a guy with a big interest in practical effects but since that job is kinda defunct (for the most part) he turns to like crime or something idk this might change!! i haven’t put much thought into this one!!!

Venom (Michael Brock)

I am running out of steam he is a weirdo victorian/steampunky doctor who is studying the symbiote very weird sleep deprived man!

#mike thots #sinister sonas #more like sinsister SUX #ok to rblog ok to comment ok to ask questions if u have them hgggg

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pakmains · 2 years

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Grateful dead steal your face

To miss with them and as they was looking for him it left the Fillmore almost cop free. The hiring ever radio station in San Francisco. The cops over that radio station with a fine tooth comb. He was where by pay the biggest radio station in San Francisco to play the show life but from patching him life thru without being in the radio station. Kesey put it off by be one of the true Pranksters that he was the leader of of the Mary Pranksters. The Greatful Dead was playing the last Acid test at Fillmore West. Witch seemed impossible because Kesey had a number of warrants and not for small stuff. You can read all about it in Living With The Dead by Rock Skully. You don’t have to take my word on this, after the acid test was over. Yes he was an alcoholic, but didn’t like LSD. If anyone knows anything about Pin Pin he loved to drink. Enjoy a ripping performance of “He’s Gone” from 5/6/81 at Nassau Coliseum below. Today the logo is all over the place, and in some towns you’re likely to see at least one a day, usually pasted on a tie-dye shirt or in the form of a bumper sticker on somebody’s Subaru. By association and increased performances of “He’s Gone”, the Grateful Dead’s skull and lightning bolt logo took on the meaning of Steal Your Face” and the symbol became synonymous with the phrase. 1, which also features the dancing bears), but the release of Steal Your Face! was perhaps the first time fans ever called it the “Steal Your Face” logo or “Stealie”.ĭeadheads also took the “steal your face” lyric and album title and applied it to having your “face stolen” by the music, meaning that the Grateful Dead (and specifically, Jerry Garcia), are blowing your mind with their improvisational jams. The logo had already been a part of the band’s culture by that point, and had in fact already been used on official artwork in the past ( Bear’s Choice Vol. The cover of Steal Your Face by the Grateful Dead (1976) These shows were also the focus of the Grateful Dead Movie, released in 1977. The album features recordings from October 17-20, 1974 to close out the final tour before the band’s touring hiatus in 1975. In June 1976, the Grateful Dead released a double album titled Steal Your Face Which features the iconic logo front and center on the album’s cover, and thus officially connecting the logo to the phrase. The lyrics actually refer to the father of drummer Mickey Hart, who had served as the band’s manager but stole a bunch of money and left, but it was soon taken to have another layer of meaning by the fans. Later, (on 4/17/72, to be precise) the band introduced the song “He’s Gone”, which includes the line “Steal your face right off your head”. The band stenciled the design on their road cases and used it in their album cover art and soon it became engrained in the culture surrounding the Grateful Dead.Īt first, though, the skull and lightning bolt symbol was not referred to as the “Steal Your Face” logo or as some call it a “Stealie”. Bob elaborated on Stanley’s initial design and came up with the Steal Your Face skull and lightning bolt that has become so famous over the years. The initial idea was to use a lightning bolt as the dividing line between the red and blue half of a circle, because apparently he thought it would look cool, though some speculate that the lightning bolt has something to do with LSD.Īnyway, Bear made a stencil with his circle and lightning bolt design and showed it to artist Bob Thomas (who also designed the dancing bears). It started because the band needed a way to easily identify their road cases while out on tour or playing festival-style events with other bands. According to the official website of the late Bear Stanley, the Grateful Dead skull and lightning bolt symbol was first designed out of necessity way back in 1969, right near the beginning of their long, strange, trip. Much like the Grateful Dead bears, the Steal Your Face logo is one that both Deadheads and non-fans of the band are familiar with at this point.

#Grateful dead steal your face

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shelllong · 2 years

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Grateful dead steal your face

#Grateful dead steal your face

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neven-ebrez · 7 years

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Wayward cocktails with Jerry Wanek in Hawaii

Okay! So I was extremely lucky to get to sit down right beside production designer Jerry Wanek along with some other fans and talk to him for over an hour on Sunday night after Honolulu con wrapped. I recorded a bit of the audio of the meeting for notes so here’s some highlights from our group chat.

Jerry has an office upstairs where the studios are. There’s no doors. There’s nine people in the art department including the art director, set designer, and the graphic director. The whole process is extremely collaborative and the best idea usually wins! I brought up the fact that there’s always discussions of intent when analyzing the show and how its very hard to pin down because there are so many hands in the cookie jar! Jerry said a lot of it goes back to the boys, which provide the most focus in his opinion.

Jerry says he reads lots of scripts every day, some of which have stupid ideas (”This is so stupid I want to cry” his words, lol). He said after they get the first draft that they all submit their ideas, “What if we do this? What if we do that?” Jerry works very close with every director. He looks over the scripts and helps point out what is pretty much impossible (or otherwise VERY tough/expensive). He says he has a script right now that is 14 pages long at NIGHT, OUTSIDE, and RAINING. (FYI: this is a production/cost/logistics/timing nightmare for those who don’t know this). Jerry says they can’t even get this done on their 8 day schedule, that there’s simply not enough TIME. He says he had to call up Andrew Dabb and be like, “Uh... Andrew... you’re gonna have to cut some of this!”

Jerry spoke well of John Showalter and Phil Sgriccia, saying Phil’s history in editing helps him tremendously in directing (and I guess fixing problems like being given a script with 14 pages of night shoots, lol). He spoke of how Phil cares about the show’s mythology and legacy compared to some writers who do things that change the mythology. He said everyone was confused by Asmodeus in the fact that he could shapeshift. He didn’t like the fact that all the other Princes of Hell didn’t have that ability but apparently Asmodeus did.

I asked him if there’s ever been a set that he especially hated to tear down and he said “Yes and no.” He went on to talk about the lake house from 12x23 and 13x01. He looked for 2 weeks for a house for that shoot. He was out looking for a spot to shoot the angel blades from the AU and the guy that had that property mentioned another spit of land he had and then he and Jerry drove out there and then Jerry saw that it was perfect and so he immediately called up Bob and they decided to build the house as a complete set there instead of finding a house already built.

I told him it was amazing that they could build these things all so fast. He said that it’s taken a lot of years to acquire those skills. He’s been in the film business for 40 years. He spoke of the freedom he had on the Dark Angel set, that they told him “just take care of the sets” and that James Cameron and them had other things to worry about, so there was a lot of trust there. He said that since then he’s only had to get “okay’d” on maybe half a dozen sets. Basically, he has a lot of free reign on whether the location is a bunker, an abandoned warehouse, whatever. He spoke fondly of the distillery set from 10x21 and said it had been written as an abandoned warehouse. Coming up in 13x07 the script called for a concrete bunker in the desert, but Jerry designed a church instead. I suggested that “concrete bunker” was just script shorthand for “let Jerry do what he wants” and he said, “pretty much” lol.

@obsessionisaperfume then piped in about the wallpaper and how you could write a dissertation just on it. I mentioned the Hansel and Gretel wallpaper and Jerry said that one came from France. Dori said her favorite was the Siren wallpaper. I said my favorite was the red/green tartan codependency wallpaper because it was so striking. (Here is where @nicky36 and @ibelieveinthelittletreetopper arrived). Jerry said anytime Misha calls something a “masterpiece” is when he knows he hit a homerun. :’) He said set reveals are somewhat like an art opening and he loves all the reactions they get. He said that any time the reaction to a hotel set is low, that it’s “game on” and it’s time to raise the bar with the wild and wacky. I asked him what his favorite themed motel was and then immediately told him my favorite, which was the “Too Tired” motel and that it was a motel dedicated to me. He loved that one. He said it was two tires in the “too” and that the location of that motel was in one of the biggest tire manufacturers in the country, so the whole thing was a pun with a double meaning!

I thanked him for not giving into the motel 6 suggestion and he said he would have left the show, no doubt. Jerry loves Americana and time period stuff, classic stuff like the 50s and 60s, Route 66. I mentioned the Elysian Field motel from 5x19. He said that that was when the Olympics was in Vancouver and that he told the writers “whatever you do, DO NOT write an episode that is motel heavy right now” because all the motels were booked up. “So what do the writers do?” Jerry asked, “They, of course, made a whole episode in a motel.” I said, “No one listens to you?” He laughed and said, “No, they don’t!” He said that whole motel was built on a stage and that he was very pleased with it because of all the detail they could do. He then went a little in depth into intention so I’m going to simply transcribe the next bit:

“You can get as wacky as you want, but, if you just put something wacky in, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the script, and it doesn’t have any support- You know, if I put a screen in, then there’s going to be another complementing element in there, in color, in texture, in glass, whatever that makes it seem integral, that when someone built that motel room, that they had a plan. It wasn’t just like... ‘Oh I want a cool screen to shoot through, that’s not good enough! Because it just sticks out, I mean, this guy who was watching the show, he was friend of mine, and he did a headboard and he was a young person so he put bubble wrap over it and twinkle light behind it and I'm going like... ‘Well, well it’s different. You know, but it looks- It looks-’ (me: laughing, “I appreciate your input”) ‘Yeah. But it looks really stupid. It wasn’t on our show’. Which.. he showed me a picture of his show. And I went, ‘Oh yeah... Nice... nice... real nice.. yeah...’

Someone goes on to say that it infuriates them that someone would go on and say (about set design), “Oh, they just went and found whatever.” I then said that I would fight somebody. “You can hit them for me.” (cheers) I said one of my favorite things was the sunshine rag rugs that cropped up when Cas was back and “home” and I told him I recalled a story on Tumblr a few seasons back where someone said their mother/grandmother was commissioned by him to hand make those. I asked him if that was fake. Jerry thought for a second and said, “No. I don’t think so.” Jerry then switched topics to the beer on set. We all knew the story behind “the mom beer” and we told him that’s what we all called it. He said it’s based on a real beer in Wiscousin called Leinenkugel’s (I remember this but didn’t want to tell him in case others didn’t know). Jerry’s Winnipeg graphic artist wrote the story on the back of the beer label.

Someone mentioned the set design coffee table book and I told him I was upset that it existed and that I couldn’t buy it. Someone mentioned the Impala they were restoring and that they wanted some beer bottle labels for it. I asked the fan the name of their Impala (Angel) and said that I had one, too (Grace)! Jerry was surprised to hear that two of us in our small group had bought the car. He asked if I got mine from the guy in Kansas and I said that I got mine from a guy in Maryland. The other fan asked if it was possible for her to get some beer labels and Jerry said absolutely, that he’d be happy to do that. <3

Jess then said that she was glad to see he was doing well from his surgery from the last time she saw him at the Wayward Cocktails thing. Everyone agreed and was grateful he is doing good! He said he was out for 3 months (end of October, November and December). And that he really got upset about some of the diners in his absence. I said that we could tell he was gone right away. He said that he almost got out of his hospital bed, threw things at the tv over some of it. He said the guy that had took over in his absence was a really good friend of his, but that he couldn’t really replicate his style, nor did he include subtext from the script like he does.

Okay this is where my recorded audio ends so the rest is by my memory.

I asked Jerry about this piece of graffiti from my business Twitter earlier in the day. I asked about whether it was intentional and that some of us saw it as a shout out to those that read into the graffiti and set design. He said, “Everything is intentional.” :) In regards to graffiti especially, they have to do all their own graffiti and that if graffiti exists in the shot that is NOT THEIRS, then they have to remove it, otherwise they could get sued by the artist. Someone joked about how the front bunker location always gets graffiti’d IRL and how if they couldn’t clean it in time they could just write it into the script and have Dean complain that the door had been tagged. They have several of their own graffiti artists that they use when they want graffiti. Jerry praised the artist from 8x19. I brought up warding and whether or not Jared or Jensen had messed up a set by accident and if they had ever had to repaint it and reset and he admitted, “Yes” with a chuckle. He said that they try to do 95% of it so that the boys only had to spray like one line/curve so there is a low chance of them messing up. I asked how challenging 4x01 was with the warding on the barnyard and he said it was quite a challenge! He said he felt like he was seeing symbols in his sleep after that! He was very pleased with the end result tho!

When he talked about the S12 finale lake house to another fan he said they tore it down after the finale and then had to build it again for the S13 premiere! So that entire set was built twice!

I asked about who made Billie’s new scythe and Jerry said I was forgetting the most important thing! The library set! He said originally the set was supposed to be a little country cottage with lots of books but that he was like, “Nah.” and did the polished minimalism set instead. Everyone praised it and we all said we loved it very much and that we felt it had a similar style as Heaven so they coordinated in a way. It’s been one of his favorites of the season so far. He never answered the scythe question, lol. He said that overall that he’s been loving the new season very much and that the whole thing has felt very fresh. He brought up the new stunt coordinator and praised him. He said that the old guy was good but he had some very dated (old school) ideas and that the new guy was a real breath of fresh air. I told him that everyone could instantly tell that we had a new guy doing the fight scenes and that everyone was really impressed and that there was even a lot of symbolism in them.

Tula (Jerry’s dog) came by a few times and everyone petted Tula. Jerry said that Tula isn’t allowed on set very often because of regulations. He also has to screen Tula three months early for travel to Hawaii because of the strict pet regulations here (Hawai’i doesn’t have rabies for example).

I asked Jerry if he would be directing again anytime soon and he said probably not, due to something about crew being unable to direct because of some law or complaint or something. Everyone was sad because 9x14 was one of our favorite episodes. Jerry said that he still didn’t have *complete* freedom the way he wanted on that episode, that there were all these neat different shots he wanted to do but that he couldn’t for whatever reason. I said I love the door/screen transition there and he said he wished he could do more stuff like that.

We talked about Jensen directing and I asked him if Jensen asked for any advice and he said that Jensen didn’t, but that didn’t stop Jerry from talking to him and giving him some anyway! He praised Jensen’s directing and said that it was good to switch between directors with different backgrounds (acting, editing, set design) and that they all would bring something unique to the directing chair.

Jerry showed us the photos he later posted on Twitter from the church in the alternate world in 13x07. He said the script just read “concrete bunker” and he was basically like “fuck that” and built the church with the iron maiden instead.

I asked Jerry if things ever got left on set and ended up in the shot that weren’t strictly intended and he admitted that it didn’t happen often but it had happened before (the example I used was crew cell phones lying on the table). It’s worth noting that Jerry admitted this with extreme reluctance lol.

+EDIT+

Oh! Three more things I forgot to mention!

Jerry spoke very well of Misha and how S4 changed everything for the show and how everyone became so excited to work on the show again! The mythology of just demons had gotten really stale and to throw angels into the mix just really got everyone pumped.

Jerry said he loved Alaina Huffman as Abaddon. We all agreed she was great. Commenting on her exit, I said that we loved the foreshadowing of the martini shot that signaled her departure and how clever it was at least.

Jerry also spoke about the challenges of building train sets and how he was excited to be working on the “Stakes on a Train” episode but that it ultimately got scrapped because of the budget. He said it was going to have a similar feel to 11x14 (which he LOVED), and he was sad it fell through and that he hoped they’d bring it back another season.

+ +

This is all I remember being discussed and at this point Jules asked everyone to switch it up so everyone would get the chance to talk to Jerry. We all stood and hugged him goodbye and thanked him. After this @thevioletcaptain and @deathbycoldopen took mine and @nicky36‘s spots beside Jerry so I’m going to open this write up up for them to include anything interesting they learned. ^_^

#zerbe does hawaii #bless wanek #silent storytelling #if anyone tells me this show is just thrown together ever again i'm going to hunt them down and punch them in the face #jerry puts so much thought into his designs for this show #he crafts everything with a purpose #i've heard these words straight from his mouth #fight me #drinks with wanek #wayward cocktails #4x01 #10x19 #13x07 #5x19 #12x23 #13x01 #9x14

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mortimermcmirestinks · 2 years

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I love Twitter.

I love how it's full to bursting with so, so many artists, poets, essayists, and philosophers, all regularly checking, so if you shout out to the guy who wrote your favourite episode or the lady who drew your favourite picture, they might respond. if I draw a fanart of Ezri Dax right now and post it to twitter, there's a very good chance that Nicole DeBoer will see it and maybe even like or comment.

I hate Twitter.

I hate how the very structure, the bones of it, the muscles and sinew and code, all drive the conversation toward hatred and vitriol, because that's what sells. I hate how it rips apart anyone who goes there for parts, and I hate how it only shows you things that will make you angry because when you're angry, you're engaged.

I love TikTok.

I love the low barrier of entry for art. I could make a TikTok just for silly funsies and make a silly little joke and then immediately meet five hundred people who all laughed at my silly little joke. I love how easy it is to find and explore different ideas and stories and works of art, and I love how the rigid restrictions of form promote creativity in creation.

I hate TikTok.

I hate how it erodes attention and I hate how it promotes unhealthy lifestyles. I hate how it encourages every kind of opinion for content, with the good opinions and the bad opinions at the same volume, and I hate the lack of transparency about how anything works makes it insanely unreliable -- using TikTok for anything beyond brief, momentary giggles feels like trying to tightrope walk over quicksand during an earthquake.

I love Facebook.

I don't use Facebook anymore, but I love how my parents can reconnect to people they haven't spoken to for fifty years. I love how they talk excitedly about "remember Jerry? he's on Facebook!" and how they talked to him for hours about his new wicker business. I love that the structure makes it so easy for them to communicate with others from their lives.

I hate Facebook.

I hate how it's slowly pulling apart my dad's ability to concentrate. I hate the structure of the site putting ideas and images and thoughts into the minds of millions of people to dangerous result. I hate how they have a vested interest in dismantling democracy and harming people, and I hate how it's so ingrained in our world that there's nothing we can do.

I love Instagram.

I love all the art, and the comics, and the videos, and the comedy, and the memes, and the screenshots, and the designs, and the photography, and so, so, so much more. I love how easy it is to scroll through and see all the creation going on from the people I follow.

I hate Instagram.

I hate how it makes people envious and needy. I hate how the structure of it makes you addicted and weakens your self-reliance and confidence. I hate how obsessed it is with visual appearance and superficial things, and I hate how all the things I love about it are such a small part of the platform.

I love Reddit.

I love how it's full of a thousand little gardens of fandom, with each garden full of its own flowers and fruits and succulents. I love how easy it is to find and connect to other people with your interests. I love so much of the long, winding, rambling, silly, memey conversations in the comments. I love the AskReddit threads on ridiculous topics and I love the stories I read on WritingPrompts.

I hate Reddit.

I hate the culture of dickish egocentrism. I hate the Musk fandom. I hate the smug self-righteousness. I hate the fact that the people who run Reddit keep trying over and over again to reinvent and intrude on the users on the site, and I hate the anti-progressivism that seeps into every corner of it.

I love [tumblr].

You know why I love [tumblr]. I love the art, I love the fandom, I love the culture, I love how the shitty design of the site makes it so much healthier of a place than other social media, I love the customisation of posts, I love the energetic nature of people here and how willing they are to support newer people. I love the memes. I love Out Of Touch Thursday and I love Neil banging out the tunes. I love writing my Shakespearification posts and I love when people reblog them with excited tags. I love how so many of the people here have their eyes wide open to the injustices of the world and, weirdly enough, I love how the absolute lack of mutual respect here makes it so that nobody's afraid to voice their weird-ass opinions about how Spider-Man would make a great My Little Pony, and I love how immediately twelve people will not only jump to their defence but will make fanart. I love the sheer, unrestrained, and genuine creative energy.

I hate [tumblr].

I hate how it's so small and weak now that so few people see the art and the fandom. I hate how the culture is slowly seeping out into the wider world and weakening. I hate how the shitty design of the site is slowly making it unsustainable (for the love of Jesus, please give [tumblr] your money). and I hate, I hate, how the fact that so many people on this site have their eyes wide fuckin' open means that the injustices of the world are laid completely bare to see, and if you spend enough time here, you'll learn all about all of the genocides and gentrifications and political collapses and destruction and bigotry that so many people experience every day, being posted on this little hellsite because that's all they can do in the face of existential horrors.

oh, and I hate the antivaxxers and terfs. fuck terfs and fuck antivaxxers.

and more than anything else here,

I hate how capitalism did this.

There's nothing to love about capitalism here. Capitalism is why artists on Twitter can only do art in their spare time because they're struggling to survive and capitalism is why Twitter spends so much time making people miserable to drive engagement. Capitalism is why professional TikTok creators are so scared about the unreliability of the platform and capitalism is why TikTok sucks "content" from everything you create on it. Capitalism is why my parents are so tired that they wind up spending time on Facebook and capitalism is why Facebook has so much power to fuck up democracy. Capitalism is why art is such a small part of Instagram. Capitalism is why Reddit is trying so hard to reinvent itself. Capitalism is why Tumblr has to pathetically beg for money. Capitalism is fucking vile.

#long post #fuck capitalism

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

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Out of Sight

Guys! Here it is is!! Dick and Damian week! I am obviously super excited. I’m loving all the content you all are posting, and I’m here to share a fic of my own.

Day 2: Dami’s First Birthday with Dick / Comfort / “He’s my son!”

Summary:

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

Ao3 Link

“So there Bruce is, standing in front of the most gorgeous lady I’d ever seen laughing like she’s not just stunning and--”

There was a tug at his elbow. Dick ignored it and continued with his story.

“And I’m 16, slack jawed, and carrying a blue raspberry slurpee. So of course I’m going to trip over my own two feet.”

This time it was an elbow in his side. Dick shifted a bit. The two women he was talking to didn’t seem to notice.

“One foot catches another and down I go. I thought for sure I was going to faceplant, but someone caught me. When I looked up, I saw Bruce, absolutely coated in my drink! He was-- Damian please .”

His little brother had closed the distance between them and dug his heel into Dick’s foot. When Dick looked down at him, the boy was all innocence, foot already snapping into place beside the other. A trick he was regretting teaching Damian right now.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but our tickets to The Pirates of Penzance say we are to arrive ten minutes early and if we do not leave soon we will be late.”

Damian was laying on the innocent act really well. They had no plans to see the musical. In fact, Damian had vehemently rejected Dick when he’d asked him a few weeks ago if he’d wanted to attend. So this act, for that’s what it had to be, must have been a ploy to go home early. Most days, Dick wouldn’t mind the kid giving him an out from social affairs, but this wasn’t something he wanted to miss. Lucius had specifically asked him to come.

They were in the middle of a special party thrown for Wayne Enterprise’s new hires. Everyone, from full time staff to interns, who’d been added to the staff in the last six months had flooded into the building’s first floor ballroom, they’d brought family along with them and friends. Dick was pretty sure there were people here who had nothing to do with the staff, but had shown up for the open bar alone. Lucius had stressed how important it was for them to meet at least one of the Waynes, and of how inspiring it’d be for Dick to give a stirring speech.

Dick made a show of checking his watch and beamed down at his brother, “We’ve still got some time, I promise I won’t let us be late, alright?”

His brother puffed out his cheeks and pressed his lips together, obviously trying to decide if it was worth it to keep the eager child routine up. At last he nodded, a single sharp nod.

“Fine. Then I will amuse myself elsewhere.”

With that, the kid spun on his heel and stomped away.

Dick shot the ladies an apologetic smile, “One second, I want to make sure he’s not upset. Then I’ll be back to regale you with the story’s thrilling conclusion.”

“Of course.” one of the women smiled.

He darted after Damian, and ahead of the boy to walk backwards until Damian stopped with a huff. They were in a crowded room, but somehow Damian had already made his way to one of the few quiet bubbles.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Dick asked.

Damian crossed his arms, “I simply do not wish to waste any more time with these plebeians.”

“Aaand?” Dick pressed.

The boy glared at him, “And it should be obvious.”

Okay, he was not expecting that. Dick wracked his brain for what he could have missed. Any signs Damian was upset? Any people who’d bothered him? Had he forgotten an important date or something?

“Remember what we talked about with using our words. Misunderstandings are made and broken by stating clear intentions.” Dick said.

“Tt. If you cannot remember, then apparently I am the one who misunderstood.” Damian snapped, and pushed past him.

By the time Dick turned around, his brother had melted into the crowd of unfamiliar faces. He swore. He wished he could remember what it was that had Damian in such a grumpy mood.

He thought back on the immediate. On Damian’s mood and actions over the course of the day. The kid had been happy enough when Dick had suggested they go to the meet and greet together. He hadn’t wanted to go alone, and he figured after they could do something after like go to the arcade or-- Oh .

“Crap.” Dick muttered.

They really were supposed to see that musical tonight. Days after Damian had told Dick in no uncertain terms what he thought of people who watched musical’s he’d barged into the Penthouse with three tickets to a showing of it at Gotham’s Summer Musicals in the Park event.

“It is something you enjoy doing, correct?” Damian had asked, “You and Pennyworth used to go?”

How Damian had figured that out Dick would never know. He didn’t think Alfred would have told him, not outright. It had been their thing, and Dick was hoping to advance the tradition.

And, well, lately Dick wanted to share everything with Damian. The kid had wiggled his way into Dick’s heart in a way that made him feel warm to think about.

“Damian!” he called, not too loud as to make a scene, but loud enough he hoped his brother heard him.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Well, he could. He hadn’t known about this event until yesterday, and in the flurry of scheduling it and figuring out patrol in case it went really late all thoughts of fun had gone out of Dick’s head.

A short tuft of dark hair made for one of the hallways and Dick moved towards it. The next moment, someone was shouting.

“He’s got a gun!”

The words were followed seconds later by two unmistakable gunshots.

The crowd around him swarmed. Like a pack of terrified gazelle being chased by a lion, the room exploded into movement as the people all around him began running, pushing, and shoving in an attempt to get out of the building.

Dick was caught in the swell of people, his body being pushed towards the door before he could stop and find his brother.

“Damian!” he yelled this time, “Dames!”

He stopped, doing his best to plant his feet as a stone against the tide. His gaze ripped across the flood of people. Dick only had a moment before someone shoved him from behind and he was moving again, stumbling along with the crowd, jostled from position to position until he burst through the doors and the remaining rays of sunlight hit his face.

Dick tumbled out of the crowd as soon as he could, and went back to his search. He moved along the edges, knowing Damian would do the same. They’d drilled this time and again. Damian knew the rules, if they got separated in a crowd, get out and find the other along the edge.

His heart was racing. He could hear sirens coming closer. The police detail for the party must have already called for backup. Dick could hear them now too, corralling the crowd, moving everyone to a designated safe zone, but doing their best not to let them disperse.

Dick was still moving, prowling in his search for his little brother.

He took a few seconds to pause and shoot off a quick text to Damian, asking where he was, and telling him to follow procedure, and that he was looking for him.

“Damian!” he called again, hoping his voice could be heard above the din.

Where was he? They should have met up by now. Dick should be dragging his kid into his side and holding him close, apologizing for forgetting, and the fact that they were sure to miss the play. His heart should be slowing down.

But he couldn’t find Damian. What if? What if he was still inside?

Dick rushed back towards the door only to be stopped by one of the officers moving to stand in front of him.

“Sir, please, I need you to move over there.”

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

“There’s still some people inside, but--” the officer trailed off.

“Tell me.” Dick did growl now.

The officer straightened against Dick’s anger, but his face was pitying, “The gunman’s locked himself up in the ballroom with hostages. We don’t have much information right now, but when we do we will let you know.”

The phone in Dick’s palm buzzed two short quick bursts that were Damian’s signature. He checked it, and saw one word: inside.

Dick’s head flooded with white static. His thumb hovered above the phone, wanting to send a message, to beg for more information. He couldn’t, couldn’t risk alerting anyone to Damian’s presence or the presence of a phone. If Damian was safe enough to text, Dick wasn’t going to put him in danger by messaging again.

The officer turned his head and seemed to catch someone else’s attention, waving them over while Dick stood frozen, “Jerry! This guy’s kid is inside, talk to him for me?”

Dick didn’t bother correcting the man, his mouth had gone dry. His heart once racing, now felt like it had all but disappeared.

Jerry, took Dick by the shoulders and moved him away from the other officer. They didn’t head towards the main crowd, but to the police cars that had rolled up to the scene. Vaguely Dick noted that police tape had been drawn up, pulled across barriers, and officers were working to soothe worried nerves.

As they moved to a group of officers, a familiar tan coat stood out from the crowd. Salt and pepper hair that was more salt than pepper at this point shifted around uniformed officers until Jim Gordon stepped towards Dick, his face a look of relief.

“Dick, I heard you were inside, thank goodness you’re alright.” he said, before glancing at Jerry, “I’ve got him.”

The officer nodded, and moved away, the absence of his hand leaving Dick’s shoulder cold.

“Dick?” the Commissioner asked.

“Damian’s inside.” Dick said, still not quite believing it.

Jim swore.

“I brought him with me because I thought it’d be a nice night. He always wants to see more of his dad’s company.” Dick rambled, head still lost.

Lost. He’d lost his kid. He’d let Damian slip away and now he was stuck inside with someone who’d brought a gun to a party. With a kidnapper . All of a sudden the shock that had been freezing him cracked, and he came back to himself. He was Batman, he could deal with this. He had to, for Damian.

“What do we know?” he asked, “How can I help?”

Jim looked him over for a moment, as if considering the possible consequences to telling Dick to let them handle things. Dick squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

“He’s got them in the ballroom. From our officer inside it’s just the one guy, but he’s claimed to have planted a bomb inside. We have no real way of knowing if that’s true or not, so we’re treating the whole thing as if he’s telling the truth.”

Dick nodded, it was a safe play to make, “Any demands?”

“Money.” Jim crossed his arms, eyeing Dick, “I get the feeling he came in looking to grab one person, not a whole room full.”

Dick swallowed. Lucius had said he’d sent out an email letting everyone know Dick would be there and be giving a speech, as a way to get them excited and convince more people to come. The lure of snatching a Wayne at a busy party was obvious.

“I’ll pay. How much does he want?” Dick said It was the safest way to get Damian out of there.

Jim shook his head, “I can’t let you do that. We’ll find a way to neutralize him.”

Heat flared up in Dick’s head, his hands tightened to fists at his side, “This is the best way to get him to let everyone go.” he argued, “And if need be, you can lure him out so you guys can grab him.”

“You know Wayne Enterprises doesn’t give into ransom demands.” Jim countered, “They won’t authorize the payout.”

“Then I’ll pay.” Dick said, “Tell me how much, I promise I can get it.”

He was frantic now. His earlier worry doubled into panic and fueled by frustration. If only he wasn’t outside. If only he weren’t in this crowd. He could take care of things in the building as Dick Grayson, or even as Batman. But no. He was stuck arguing with the one man who should understand his predicament.

“Dick--”

“He’s got Damian,” Dick snapped, “He’s my son! I won’t let him die because you won’t let me pave the way to get this guy!”

Jim’s eyes widened, then his face softened, “Alright. We’ll try it. It’s going to take some time though. He wants cash, not a wire transfer.”

“I can do that.” Dick nodded.

Moving released some of the tension built up within Dick. Not all of it. His chest felt tight, like a vice had been wrapped around it and was squeezing. He knew it wouldn’t let go until Damian was in his arms again.

He checked his phone frequently for texts. Hoping that Damian would update him, and praying he didn’t risk it.

At some point Alfred arrived to help. Together they put in phone calls to banks, tallied up how much cash was hanging around the manor for just such an occasion --Bruce really had been prepared for everything-- and worked to collect the rest of the cash as quickly as possible.

Dick kept one eye on the building, and the police. Hours passed as they waited on money to transfer and banks to make this one time exception. Pizza was sent into the building, the scent making Dick’s stomach twist. The sight, like something out of a tv show.

His only comfort was that the kidnapper was keeping in contact with the police and promised no one had been hurt yet. He seemed mollified that his requests was being taken seriously.

At least, he had been at first.

In order to collect everything, Dick had needed to leave the scene and get the final part of the cash from a bank personally. When he returned from his last stop it was to a Jim Gordon wearing a very concerned face.

“What happened?” Dick asked, the vice across his chest tightening further.

Jim shook his head, “He’s afraid it’s all a trap. Thinks we won’t let him leave. He stopped responding right after you left.”

He wasn’t wrong. The last thing the police really wanted to do was let the kidnapper walk free. But they shouldn’t have let onto that. Dick didn’t think they would have.

“Good thing I’ve got the money together then.” Dick said, hefting the briefcase, “Let’s see if he answers to that.”

Dick insisted on being there for the call, and was rejected.

“I can’t let you do that. It’d be a new voice when we’ve established communication already.” Jim told him, “Besides, Dick, you’re too invested. You yell at him like you yelled at me and things get a whole lot more complicated.”

He didn’t have a good argument against that. So, Dick moved back, not into the crowd still piled up at police barriers, but to stand along with some other officers. They were watching him closely, probably warned by Jim already to keep him from doing anything stupid. For all the perks of personally knowing the police commissioner, this was not one of them.

Tension shifted in the group as Dick watched Jim on the phone. The call went on too long. Dick knew these kinds of calls, it should have been faster. And the way the Commissioner's jaw tensed wasn’t a good sign.

He wanted to push out of the crowd and snatch the phone. Demand Damian be given back to him.

All Dick could do was worry. Worry and wonder how his brother was doing. Worry that he was safe. He’d been drilled in this too. They’d spent hours going over the procedure for what to do if one of them was ever stuck in a multiple hostage situation. It was, unfortunately, a common enough occurrence in Gotham and Dick had wanted Damian prepared for anything.

He hated that it was coming in handy.

If only he’d just kept Damian close. If he’d remembered their plans, then his brother wouldn’t have felt rejected and walked away from him.

Jim was moving. Handing Dick’s briefcase over to a plainclothes officer they’d picked just for this. Just in case the guy demanded a civilian do the hand off. How Dick wished he could be that guy.

He shifted so he could keep an eye on the front doors of the building. The men and women around him shifted to match his stance. Dick didn’t care, his eyes were locked onto the scene in front of him.

It took forever, but at last the doors creaked open and out came two figures. A man in a long trench coat with dark messy hair and a wild look on his face Dick could read from back where he was. And Damian.

Dick was afraid his chest might crack open.

His brother was pressed close to the man’s chest, the barrel of the gun flush against his skull. Before Dick could get a good look at his expression or see if he was hurt at all, people closed in around him. Towards the front, the officers beside him, everywhere police were preparing for the worst.

When Dick went to step forward a hand shot out. He looked over and found Jerry. The man shook his head. He knew it was better if he stayed still and let things play out, but all Dick wanted to do was shove through the crowd and slam his fist into the kidnapper’s face.

All he could do now was listen.

There was a low murmuring across the crowd. Then the kidnapper’s voice, high and panicked.

“Slide the briefcase over!”

A quieter response Dick couldn’t make out.

“I said do it! Want me to blow the kid’s brains out?!”

Dick stepped forward, heart in his throat. He was stopped by Jerry, his hand now holding him by the arm.

A beat of silence. Another. Dick felt like a speedster, ready to vibrate out of Jerry’s grip he was so tense.

“I told you to stand back! I’m warning you! I--”

Two shots rang out.

Dick bolted. Ripping free from Jerry’s hand he shoved his way through the crowd. They were buzzing with activity, but not the absolute flood he’d fought earlier. Dick cut through them like a warm knife in butter.

He burst forward to see three of the bomb squad officers swarming to the front doors. They were already entering moving in to start clearing the place. But that’s not what had Dick’s attention. No, his eyes were glued on the prone forms a few feet in front of the doors.

A pool of blood was already spreading on the ground, stark and red against the grey concrete. There was an officer hunched over them. Dick couldn’t even see Damian, just the kidnapper and that trenchcoat, flared out as he’d fallen.

“Damian!” Dick yelled, sprinting now that no one was in his way.

He slid to a stop, dropping to his knees so fast and hard they cracked against the ground painfully. He ignored it, and the admonition from the officer beside him, as he shoved the other man up, and off his brother, ignoring the man’s grunt as he did so. Nothing but Damian mattered.

Curled tightly on the ground lay Damian. Blood soaked a shoulder and some of his hair, but even in his frenzied state, Dick could see it wasn’t Damian’s.

“Dames.” Dick breathed, and reached out for his brother.

Slowly he put a hand on Damian’s shoulder, away from the blood, and squeezed, “Hey there, Kiddo, it’s me, it’s Dick.”

It took a moment, but Damian uncoiled, head lifting from where he’d buried it in his arms, body ever so gradually loosening from how he’d wrapped in on himself as they’d fallen.

“Richard?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re safe.”

At those words Damian launched himself, up from the ground and into Dick’s arms. Heedless of the people around them or the buzz of the crowd. Dick wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, breathing freely at last as he felt Damian’s warmth in his arms, weight against his chest, breath on his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Damian murmured.

“Me too.” Dick said, pressing a kiss against the crown of Damian’s head, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He wanted to apologize for forgetting. For letting Damian out of his sight. For not being there every moment his kid was in danger. But there would be time for that. For now, he relished in the fact that Damian was back, he was here. He was clutching Dick like a lifeline and hadn't let go yet.

Beside them, someone else had moved forward. Jerry knelt down and looked them over, a small smile slipping across his face.

“I’m glad you found your son.” he said.

Damian made to wiggle out of Dick’s arms, but Dick just tugged him a bit closer, “Me too.” he said, “Me too.”

#dickanddamiweek2021 #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #hostage situations #guns #gunshots #gun #gunshot #canon typical violence #panicked crowds #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #precious posts

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kurooisdbest · 3 years

Text

Bokuto bakes a Cake

Genre: Fluff, Crack (?)

Pairings: Bokuto x F!Reader

Synopsis: BOKUTO tried to bake you a cake. He swore that he followed the recipe Akaashi sent him but….

WC: 1064

Being best friends with Akaashi Keiji meant being close friends with the Boy’s vbc. You would often wait for Akaashi to finish with training so you could go home together. The both of you tried your best to convince the team that your relationship with each other was not deeper than being childhood friends and neighbors but of course, seeing their stoic setter all flustered when he would get teased was something they all enjoyed.

No matter how much you and Akaashi would deny being romantically involved with each other, the team kept pestering. Their teasing ranged from small nudges on your or Akaashi’s shoulder, to winking, to straight up calling you Akaashi’s baby (courtesy of Konoha Akinori, folks)

Eventually, the both of you got used to their teasing and just learned to brush it off, hoping one day, the team would get the message. And besides, the one you were crushing on wasn’t him and he knew quite well how long this crush has been going on but you were too afraid to actually act on it.

“Where’s you girlfriend, Akaashi?” Konoha asked before taking a swig from his water bottle. “She had something urgent to attend to.” Akaashi deadpanned at his senior before getting pulled to set for the owl captain.

You weren’t able to wait for Akaashi today since you had to visit your grandparents’ house in Miyagi and instead of walking home with you, Bokuto tagged along. The walk to the station was silent. ‘A little too silent’ he thought.

“Hey Akaashi, are you and y/n really dating?” Bokuto asked, raising his head to look up at the sky. For some reason, Bokuto was not acting like himself. His usual loudness and energetic self was no where to be seen rather this was another side of Bokuto, Akaashi has never seen.

Sure, he could be serious especially when Volleyball was involved but he has never seen him get serious after asking about another person. Not just any other person, but his best friend. The one the whole team has been pairing him up with ever since they met her.

Akaashi wasn’t sure what brought this up but maybe he could play wingman for you just this once. Of course, you’d owe him if things go well and he’ll owe you when things go rough but it’s a risk he was willing to take. (and to be honest he was tired of taking care of ur lonely ass, dragging him to watch cringey, romantic clichés) It was time to get you a boyfriend he can actually vouch for.

“Why do you ask?” he asked, turning his head at his captain. “Nothing… it’s just that I never really see you guys being all lovey dovey. You two are more like… more like… what do you call the cartoon? the one with the cat and mouse?” Bokuto scratched his chin, racking through his brain what the name of the cartoon was.

“Tom and Jerry?” Akaashi nonchalantly replied.

“Yes! that one!” Bokuto exclaimed while hitting Akaashi’s shoulder, forgetting how strong he could hit. Akaashi rubbed his shoulder where the ace hit, to hopefully numb the pain. And even if Bokuto compared your friendship to a children’s show, he somewhat knew why Bokuto asked.

“No, we aren’t dating” He smiled at his best friend.

“Oh… I have to go now, bye!” Bokuto ran to his platform, leaving a slightly amused and confused Akaashi.

Afternoon training came to an end. Akaashi had to stay back to talk to the coach, leaving you with Bokuto to walk with. Walking with him wasn’t awkward. It felt warm and comfortable. He was like the sun and you were basking under his warmth. You couldn’t deny that you liked Bokuto. You liked how easy going he was, how he manages to keep the team morale up, and how nice he was to everyone. And that is why, you can’t screw up whatever you had with him now by confessing your feelings. Besides, he’s graduating this year, just a few more months to keep it to yourself and you’re safe.

“Y/n-chan!” Bokuto shook your shoulders. “Sorry! I was deep in thought. What’s up?” you absentmindedly responded.

“Nothing! I just thought you weren’t feeling okay. You’ve been staring at the ground for a while now.” He placed one of his hands on your forehead and one on his, checking your temperature. His eyes examined your face, lingering over your features. You can feel your face heat up from his gaze and his touch, making you look away.

“I’m fine Bokuto-san.” You remove his hand gently from your face before giving him a small smile.

“Actually… I’ve been meaning to give you something.” he mumbled under his breath before reaching for something in his duffle bag.

In his hand was a medium-sized bento box. It was a yellow tinted metal can, designed with little drawn owls. On top of the bento was a messily written but legible note.

Bokuto handed you the box before slightly stepping back. ‘I like you’ the note read.

You stare at him in slight disbelief before sweetly smiling at him. You opened the container, revealing a small, round, chocolate cake.

”A cake?” you take breaks between looking at Bokuto and the cake he made for you.

“Yes! Akaashi told me you liked cakes. You don’t like it?” Bokuto pouted, his hair slightly drooping down.

“NO! No, I mean, I love it” you flash him a cheeky grin.

“Oh and Bokuto-san? I like you too” you add before putting the box away and wrapping you arms around his waist.

“HEY HEY HEY!” he yelled, raising both of his hands in the air before scooping you up and spinning you around, ignoring the looks the both of you were receiving.

“Y/n, you don’t have to eat it you know?” Akaashi offered you a glass of water, his eyes full of concern.

“I have to! Bokuto made it for me” you say with your mouth full, trying your best to chew through the rock-hard pastry.

The cake was hard and dry but you didn’t have the heart to tell Bokuto. He was so proud of the cake he made you and he promised to bake one for you everyday. Instead, you suggested that you two bake together, and he couldn’t express how happy he was to hear that.

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northoftheroad · 3 years

Note

1) Favorite all time suit Dick wore as either Robin and/or Nightwing?

2) You are awesome and God bless you ;-)

I'm not sure that I have A Favourite Look... But I'd like to grab the chance to say a few words about the fact that I prefer the original Robin suit over the New 52 one.

See, I can get why people don't like the short shorts of Dick's original suit. If they had updated those in New 52 with long pants, kind of like Jason Todd's New 52 Robin suit, I would have been fine with it. But to me, Dick's New 52 Robin suit is a reminder of the story when he was 15 when his parents were killed, and he really couldn't have much of a relationship with Bruce. So on purely emotional grounds, I loathe it. (It's also pretty complex for something he supposedly made himself from spare bits... Pants, top, vest and cape would be much simpler to put together.)

Nightwing vol 3 # 0

I think the creative choice to give Robin short pants back in 1940 was partly because long pants were, at the time, a marker of maturity for boys. Giving Robin shorts was simply a way to show that he was a child and junior partner.

If circus acrobats ever wore what the DC artists of 1940 imagined is highly questionable, but I'm sure they thought the Robin suit was a reminder that he used to be a trapeze performer, too.

Detective Comics # 38.

Jerry Robinson, co-creator of Robin, has also testified that the medieval look was inspired by The Adventures of Robin Hood, illustrated by N. C. Wyeth.

There are quite a few versions where Dick basically wears his original suit but with long green pants. For instance, BTAS, "Batman: Turning Points. # 2", Dick Grayson of Earth-D... With contemporary eyes, I like that for a Robin suit.

Dick Grayson of Earth-D. Legends of the DC Universe: Crisis on Infinite Earths. The Untold Story (1999).

When it comes to Nightwing, I like both the fingerstripe, the BTAS and the current suit – and I confess I liked him in red too. I prefer when he doesn't simply have a Nightwing logo on his breast but when the blue (or red) design goes over his shoulders and back. His first Nightwing suit, the “discowing”, is kind of fun and very much a child of its time.

Different artists draw the blue on the current suit differently - sometimes it's slim, sometimes broad. I prefer a wider version.

Nightwing vol 4 # 43 👎

Nightwing vol 4 # 77 👍

#dick grayson #nightwing #robin #batman #superhero fashion

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kazoosandfannypacks · 2 years

Note

1, 4, 8, 9 and 14 for asks!!

(Okay sorry this is very rambly)

1. what’s your aesthetic?

Oh, darling, YES! Daisies and stars and piracy is a way to put it? I've got this kind of soft pastel daisies and hedgehogs and ukuleles and campers and punchbugs and fireflies and twinkle lights and dandelions vibe but then I also recently have really liked the stars and space and galaxy and flannels and scrunchies and star wars and steampunk vibe and then I also recently have enjoyed the pirates and flowy coats and swords and boats and sails and rope and unnecessarily extra outfits and treasure and romance and old papers and maps and a thirst for adventure aesthetic? Ik that's a lot and those highly contrast. It's a vibe tho, ig. Here's some snippets of aesthetics of mine I guess?

Sources: Inspirobot·my edit·my design

bogkeep on tumblr·my edit and photos·my edit

my edit and mostly my photos·my edit·my edit

4. what’s the closest you’ve come to dying?

Um. Idk? When I was a kid I certainly thought I was gonna die that one time when I was swimming but I can't swim? And I think my sister pulled me out of the way of a car once? And then I suppose I'm pretty close to death when I zipline or do climbing wall at camp and am 40 feet in the air, but even then I have a harness.... WAIT I GOT IT!

One time at school a group of us all decided to go get coffee at, like, 7:45am. My friend and I couldn't drive, so we got a ride from my friend, we'll call him Jerry. Now, Jerry is notorious for waking up five minutes before our eight am class and getting there right on time for it and being tired all the time, but we didn't think much of it. He got there right at 7:45 when we all met up to head out, we got in the car with Jerry, and drove down to the coffee shop. It wasn't very far, but I think both me and my friend knew that Jerry was so tired he was practically already asleep. I wouldn't say that it felt very near-death at the time, but we were the last ones to the coffee shop and the barista could tell Jerry was tired just by looking at him and made his coffee first, despite that he ordered third to last, because he looked like he needed it and that was when my friend and I looked at each other like "dude, we almost died."

8. describe your taste in music?

If it slaps, it slaps! I listen to musicals a lot, and disney movie and show soundtracks *cough cough, tangled*, and christmas music, and christian music (usually small bands that I've seen in person in some way) and also a few songs I'll hear at work or from friends and be like "oh that's a vibe, I like that." Idk if I have a distinct style though, but I definitley like listening to poppy music that feels fun and bouncy, and/or songs that have really deep lyrics or tell a story that I connect with. I find myself listening to a lot of those videos you can find on yt of ben fankhauser or jeremy jordan singing, and I think my favorite song ever is "who I'd be" from shrek the musical. Ik that's a lot I just can't define my tastes idk.

9. who do you love the most in this world?

My little brother! He means the world to me and whenever I'm away from home, he's the one I miss the most <3

14. describe your tattoos/ones you want to have?

Okay so I don't have any tattoos, but I know what I would get! I like the idea of a feather on my ankle- I draw feathers on myself a lot, because sometimes I'll accidentally just draw a line on myself and then make it look intentional by turning it into a feather. I also draw a flower very frequently that would be cool there! I'm most likely to get an arrow on my wrist, because I like the idea that some things have the most value when you let go, but at the same time wrists hurt for tattoos. I also like stars and think they'd be a cool tattoo, but idk where. The final tatoo idea I have for myself is the quote "if it can be broken, it means it still works" from once upon a time because I love it. I write that one on my arm a lot, because it means so much to me, and it always makes me smile when I see it written there!

Thanks for the asks, teacup!

#kazzy answers asks #kazzy rambles #kazzy's kazootuals #star sparkled teacup #introducing me

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lsvdw-blog · 3 years

Text

Okay (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst; General

Premise: The aftermath of MC and Ethan's fight about their date night debacle, with an alternate ending.

Author’s Note: This is Part III of the "Already Here" series with an alternate, very angsty, ending. If you want the happy ending... this is not it 😅 The happy ending can be found here. Thank you to @choiceskatie for helping me bounce ideas and pre-reading!! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

She struggles to unlock her front door, vision blurry from the tears. She hopes to any and every deity that the apartment is empty as she stumbles through the entrance.

“Serena, you’re home! How did it go?”

Sienna is at the dining room table, jumping excitedly in her seat. Her face falls as she takes in her roommate’s running mascara.

"It didn't go."

“What?"

Serena staggers to the couch, falling face first onto the cushions. "He didn't show…"

"Oh sweetie… " Sienna stands and makes her way to the couch. Sitting on the unoccupied end, she strokes her best friend’s hair.

“Then, I went to his apartment and we had this huge fight and he called us a mistake," she says through her sobs as she sits up and puts her head on Sienna’s shoulder.

"Do you want to stuff our faces with takeout and junk food and binge watch Marvel movies?"

Serena just sniffs and nods her head.

Two hours later, the television is playing a soft melody as they share their second pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"Even after everything… Steve is Peggy's Lobster, just like Ethan is yours."

Serena looks to her left with incredulity.

"You know! Lobster! They fall in love and mate for life!"

Serena snorts. "Have you seen the claws on those things? Ever been pinched by one? Shit hurts," she says as she puts another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Serena’s dejected voice rings out. “Why does he keep doing this to me?”

Sienna scrunches her nose. "Lobsters always were finicky."

~~~ One Week Later ~~~

“Here are the test results you requested, Dr. Ramsey.”

She places the manila folder in front of him and takes a step back, keeping her head down.

Ethan stares at her for a long moment, willing her to look at him. It’s been like this for the past few days: she only speaks to him when absolutely necessary and avoids eye contact at all costs. When she continues to evade his gaze, he sighs, and opens the folder.

His brows furrow. “This isn’t the test we decided to order.”

“Oh. I'll go fix that right now.” She finally meets his eyes and says, “I must have made a mistake.”

His chest tightens: Did she make a mistake with the test… or with me?

~~~~~~

She approaches the office and knocks softly.

“Come in.”

She slowly pushes open the door and sees Naveen look up.

“Ah, Serena! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my grand-mentee?”

She gives a small smile as she shuts the door behind her. “I was hoping you would have some time to talk.”

“What did he do?”

She spills the story, only stopping halfway through to take the tissue Naveen hands her. After she finishes, she wipes her eyes, and reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out something folded. “And I was hoping you would approve this.”

Naveen unfolds the paper, skimming over it. “A leave of absence?”

She nods. "I'm not asking for this solely because of what happened. I've been homesick for a while now; it was my first holiday season without my family and I haven't seen them since I moved here… and I don't know, I guess what happened with Eth—” she clears her throat, “Dr. Ramsey, was the last straw. It all feels like it's too much: Edenbrook, Boston.” She shakes her head before continuing. “I just… need a break. Please."

Naveen sits back and takes her in. She’s slightly hunched over, strands of hair falling out of her topknot, the concealer no longer hiding her dark circles, and she’s been wringing her hands since she sat down. The woman in front of him is a shell of the usually confident and exuberant young lady he is used to seeing and his heart breaks for her.

“I will grant you this leave of absence.”

She perks up at his words.

“On one condition.”

She eyes him warily.

“When you feel like you have reset, you must return and talk to him. I am not saying you have to make up with him, or even forgive him. Just talk to him about what happened.”

She is unmoving for a few seconds, then nods soberly. “You’re right, I know.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a grand-mentor if I wasn’t, now would I?” He says with a smile.

~~~~~~

Ethan is walking down the corridor to his office, trying to comprehend the words on the file in his hand, but his mind is elsewhere. The sun has long set, but he refuses to go home. To the place where, everywhere he looks, he's reminded of her. It's not like he'll be able to sleep anyways; he's lost count of how many sleepless nights he's had since their argument, tossing and turning for hours, as her side of the bed remains tucked and cold.

Not only has he been unable to sleep, he's been unable to focus on anything but her: her melodic laugh lilting through the hospital corridors, her sweet perfume lingering in the office, her animated way of chatting with anybody but him.

He opens the office door and a voice in the back of his head reminds him: You miss her, you idiot.

He rubs his bleary eyes and looks at his watch. 8:09pm.

He groans and goes to sit at his desk when a purple sticky note catches his eye. There, scrawled in her loopy half-cursive is a note: Need some space.

He immediately grabs his bag and rushes to the parking garage, hoping he's not too late.

~~~~~~

He knocks urgently, stepping backwards as the door swings open.

"Dr. Trinh, hello. Is Serena here? I really need to speak with her."

Sienna stands there, unblinking.

He awkwardly clears his throat and begins to try and look into and around the apartment.

Sienna follows his movements, trying, and failing, to block his line of sight.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Dr. Ramsey."

Before he can speak, she continues: “Even if she hadn’t left yet, she wouldn’t want to speak with you anyways.”

His blue eyes turn a shade stormier at this information. “What do you mean ‘if she hadn’t left—”

“Nothing!” Sienna goes to close the door, but is stopped by Ethan’s hand.

“Dr. Trinh. Sienna… please.”

His eyes are conveying a plethora of unspoken pleas, and after a few beats, she sighs.

“She’s at the airport.”

“What? Where is she going? For how long?”

“She’s going home and she didn’t say.” She shrugs.

Ethan immediately turns on his heel.

"Flight 936!" Sienna yells after him as he sprints back to his car.

He hurriedly weaves between the leisurely drivers and dodges through the lackadaisical travelers in the airport lobby, stopping in front of an information screen. His eyes scan the monitor furiously until he sees it.

Flight 936: Boarding Now.

He bolts to the nearest desk, buying the next available flight, and rushes through security.

He's running like a madman, frantically looking for her, hoping that she hasn't boarded yet.

He arrives at the designated gate area, but she's nowhere to be found. He's about to approach the help desk when a familiar voice rings out from behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

It’s not lost on him that she utters the same words he so callously said to her in front of his apartment that night.

He heaves a sigh of relief. He turns towards her, taking a step forward, only for her to take a step back, and the small smile on his face fades.

“I need to explain myself.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” She begins to walk around him.

Ethan lightly catches her wrist, stopping her. “Rookie… I know I've hurt you, innumerable times, and I am so sorry. Please hear me out and if you still want to leave afterwards, I will buy you a new ticket home.”

She looks into his imploring orbs and sees nothing but honesty. She continues to stare at him silently.

“I didn’t mean it, I—"

She gives a dry laugh. “Oh, come on. Surely you know that phrase not only disregards your behavior, but also dismisses the pain it has caused.”

He shakes his head in disagreement and opens his mouth to refute when she removes her wrist from his hold.

“Ethan, you have always been brutally honest. With interns when they’ve made a mistake, pharmaceutical reps when they’re trying to schmooze you, and with me, concerning the nature of our relationship. So I believe you. I believe that you know you’ve hurt me. I believe that you’re sorry. I believe that you want to make things right.”

He’s unsure of where she’s going with this and his palms are sweaty from the anticipation.

“But I also believed you the other night. Why wouldn’t I when you’ve never shied away from delivering the truth? No matter how painful.”

Her voice gets smaller at the end of her statement.

“But that’s just the problem, isn’t it? You are honest to a fault and that’s wounded me more times than I can count anymore.”

His breathing is shallow, heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“There is a grain of truth in every joke, Ethan, and although I know you weren't joking that night, the sentiment still stands: we mean what we say."

"I made a grave error that night, but I'm here now.” He takes a step towards her. “I ran through the airport to find you before you left and I'm here, in front of you, and I mean it when I say that I want you to stay." His eyes are pleading with her.

"What would you have done? If I had chased you through the airport when you left for the Amazon? Would you still have abandoned me?* Abandoned us?"

His jaw goes slack at her challenge. He wills himself to speak, say anything, but his mouth is dry. Overflowing with guilt, he looks away.

She was sure her heart couldn’t break any further, but it splinters just a bit more at his silence.

She nods in resignation.

"I thought so," she whispers.

She takes a shuddering breath, steeling herself for what she is about to say next.

“It’s clear now, Ethan. I respect you and your feelings, but it’s obvious the same can’t be said for you about me. I keep waiting and hoping that someday, you’ll give me the same effort I have given to you, to us. But I am so exhausted from getting my hopes up, only to have them crash back down each and every time. I fell for you, slowly at first, then all at once. But each time that I fell a bit further, the cuts got deeper, and you were never there to pick or patch me up until the scars had already formed."

He's panicking now, eyes frantically searching her face.

She sighs. "I just… I am always the one getting my heart ripped out. Down this road? I won't survive." She shakes her head. "I can't do it anymore."

Tears are pooling in his eyes. No. No no no.

"I can't do this," she motions between them, "anymore."

The intercom sputters to life. "This is the final boarding call for flight 936 to Kansas City."

She grabs her suitcase.

"Serena," he places his hand on top of hers, momentarily stopping her. "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave us," his voice breaks and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

She shakes her head slowly. "There is no us. Not anymore."

She moves her hand and suitcase out from under his, and turns around, showing her plane ticket to be scanned. Ethan watches her disappear down the jetway, with a single tear sliding down his face, as he's left standing there, alone.

~~~~~~

*Disclaimer: Huge thank you to @choiceskatie for this line!!!

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #playchoices #choices open heart #open heart #open heart ethan #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey fic #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey open heart #open heart fic

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weasleywinchester · 3 years

Text

Unless I’m Allowed Dessert

Tom “Redfly” Davis x Reader

Summary:

You made one comment, ONE, that your friend’s relator was attractive in that rugged-military-man kind of way and now she drags your to every house showing she has with him. The first couple of times you gazed from afar, mostly because he was working. Your friend always tries to push you to start a conversation, or better yet ask for his number. And you can never seem to get the words out. So the next house she buys, she ditches you at the scene. Leaving you and one Tom Davis alone.

Warnings: Smut (p in v, fingering, car sex), age gap

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” You ask, staring out the passenger window. Suddenly you’re thrown forward, looking up to see the light turned red.

“I need you to help me make a final decision on this house. Jerry’s... caught in a meeting.” Stacy lazy replies, fluffing her hair in the mirror.

“So he’s being a dick again?” You raise your eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes and huffs dramatically, looking over at you.

“Yes. But we are still in agreement to buy this house.” The light turns green and she floors the gas pedal of her fancy Mercedes, barely making the next light. You don’t prompt for more information, and she doesn’t elaborate.

“Ok… So what house is this one? And why did we need to carpool?” You move back to the topic at hand. She perks up at the thought of her new house.

“ The one on Cherry Street. It’s in a cute little housing track, old as dirt but the yards are much bigger than anything else I’ve seen in ages. Tom says they’re asking too much for this property anyways so we could get it for a steal! And I mentioned you we’re coming with, he seemed to perk up at that.”

“I highly doubt he remembers me. Anyways, what are your design plans for this house?“

And that’s all it takes for her to start talking about her future design plans for the new property and not about trying to set you up with Tom... again.

She whips into the driveway of a three story corner lot house. It definitely needs paint and a good refresh on the landscaping, but otherwise it’s one of the nicer houses she’s bought.

“Good call on the outfit, and the hair. He’ll definitely notice.” She comments as she steps out of her car. You frown, confused that she would comment on your outfit. It’s just a plain white tee, cut a little lower than average, and a pair of light denim shorts. And the curls in your hair are left over from your work function yesterday and held in with dry shampoo.

“Yoo-hoo!” Stacy hollers as she opens the front door. There’s a bang and a ooff! You can smell cookies, and it makes you wish Stacy had taken you to lunch first.

“Hey Mrs. Ruth, I was just putting some cookies in.” He half smiles, the bags under his eyes matching the dark stubble along his jaw.

“Good for you dear, now let’s begin the tour shall we?”

Tom shows both of you around the house, the style is classic, with too many bedrooms that Stacy will never use but will decorate the crap out of. Tom doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about selling homes but he’s nice, giving us details that you imagine most people would steer away from.

Toms in the middle of explaining that the laundry room should probably be gutted when Stacy’s phone rings.

“What Jerry? No, that’s for the Hayworth family. The one you’re asking for…” she makes her way into the one acre backyard looking like she could strangle her husband through the phone. You and Tom stare at her for a moment, not sure if one of you should go out there and calm her down.

ding!

You both turn toward the kitchen, Tom taking a few strides to the oven, taking out a tray of your favorite cookies. You slide onto one of the bar stools that’s opposite of him.

“So do you think they’ll buy it?” He mumbles before putting a whole cookie on his mouth. He extends the tray to you.

“Oh ya. Stacy can spend everyday designing and shopping with a new house. Plus Jerry will be a bit happier since it’s a tad closer to his job.” You take a cookie, both munching and silently observing each other. His beard is starting to go a little wild, his face is tan to match his muscular biceps (which don’t really seem to get along with his polo sleeves).

“And why are you here?” He asks in between cookies. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind one bit that you’re here. You’re nothing like Mrs. Ruth; you’re kind, quiet and when you smile the room gets brighter. And you’re sexy as hell, not one thing about you says self-conscious; you wear those little shorts with a low cut top and it drives him up the wall. But he’s recently divorced, you’re a good deal younger... last thing you need is some old guy hitting on you.

“I have the day off and nothing to do. Stacy pulled up to my apartment, said get in the car and so I did.” You shrug, smiling at him. He smiles back, putting another cookie in his mouth. “What made you want to sell houses?” you ask, leaning towards him. He presses his lips together before answering, trying to not look at your tits.

“Want is not the word I would use, but it pays the bills.” He leans on the counter towards you, his eyes gently scanning your face. You lean a little closer, like a little invisible string pulling your face closer to his. His eyes are a bit sad, but somewhere underneath there’s a flicker of fire. If you leaned a little further...

Your phone starts ringing. You sigh and sit back onto the stool.

“Stacy why-”

“Had to run, work emergency with the company potluck, let’s meet up when I sign for the house!” And she hangs up. You glance out to the backyard and see she is no longer pacing the patio.

“She ditched me…” You frown. Your phone dings and you lean on the counter to look at it.

Stacy: Now stop drooling and make a move!

“Hey Tom…” You turn, almost bumping heads with him.

“Hmm…” He gives you a little crooked smile, he never noticed you have very faint freckles across your nose...

“Mind if I hitch a ride with you?” You flash him a smile.

“Sure, where to?” He clears his throat, turning his attention to the mess he’s made.

“Don’t go out of your way, I live on the southside of town. In the Salt Water Apartments.”

“I can drop you off at home, no problem. Let me just shut everything off and we’ll head out.”

You help Tom throw his collection of yard signs into the back of his giant ass truck and launch yourself into the front seat. He starts the truck, habitually rolling the windows down.

“So does she always ditch you or...” He turns to the back of the car, resting his hand on the shoulder of your seat as he backs his truck out.

“Not normally, but it’s also very rare that we actually ride together. We normally just meet up.” He hums in acknowledgement. “Do you normally give rides to strangers?”

“Only if they’re as beautiful and small as Tinker Bell.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and laughs. You roll your eyes, huffing in amusement, you may be short but nowhere as dainty as Tink. You both go silent, the radio barely audible over the wind from the windows.

“What apartment block?”

“Take the first right and the second left.” He slows to a stop and turns the car off.

“Thanks for the ride...” You softly say, putting your hand on the door but not wanting to open it.

“Ya, anytime” he half smiles. You smile back, turning to the door.

“Would you like to get dinner later?” He blurts.

“I would love to.” You answer eagerly.

“Pick you up here at 6:30?”

“Yes.” You nod, quickly opening the door all the way and sliding out, trying not to show the smile that goes from ear to ear.

When the door slams shut, Tom watches you let yourself into your apartment, letting a big goofy grin appear on his face for the first time in a long time.

_______

It’s 6:24 according to the clock on your nightstand. You quickly pat a little bit of lipstick on and head out to the corner to meet Tom. If you fuss over your outfit any longer you’ll go insane. You threw on a cute red ruffle dress that some may say is too short and revealing but what do they fuckin know anyways.

You hop down the stairs and see Tom standing on the corner with his hands in his pockets. He’s rocking back and forth on his heels looking at the beautiful Florida sunset. He changed into a navy button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show off his macular forearms, and a pair of medium wash denim that hug his ass really nice.

“Hey Tom!” You sing song, lightly putting your hand on his upper arm.

“Hey,” he pauses, his eyes moving slowly over every curve of your body. He figures since it’s a date he can do that freely and slowly. He sees you bite your lip, confused on why you would ever be self-conscious. He tentatively wraps his arms around your waist, and you automatically move your hands up his biceps. “You look beautiful.” He remarks, moving his arms tighter around your waist, a smile plastered on his face. He guides you to the truck and helps you in.

“Interesting choice” You remark, looking at the Crazy Mama’s Mexican Food sign.

“Have you been?”

“No, but you’re lucky I’ll try any Mexican restaurant.” You smile at him. He huffs in amusement and walks around to your side to open the door.

First step in and it’s like your eyes have been assaulted and dazzled. The ceiling is just a mass of Mexican themed fairy lights. Their combined glow gives the restaurant a dark atmosphere. The mariachi music is slow and romantic coming from the live band on the left side of the restaurant.

“Ah Señor Tom! Back again are we?” An older man cries out, slapping Tom on the shoulder.

“Sí Señor Cuz.” Tom replies, pursing his lips in embarrassment.

“And I see we’ve brought a guest!” Cruz gestures to you.

“And a beautiful one at that!” A woman moves her hand across your shoulders and steps next to Cruz, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Uh, ya, table for two.” Tom mumbles. They lead you to a small table in the corner furthest from the band.

“We’ll give you a few minutes alone…” Cruz says, as he sets a pair of menus on the table.

“You do look very beautiful tonight (Y/N).”

You look up from your menu, his goofy smile back..

“Thank you Tom. You clean up pretty good yourself.” You bite your lip. You noticed he trimmed his beard and ironed the navy blue button down he’s wearing.

After staring at each other you both quickly turn your attention to the menus for a few minutes. A server takes your order, quickly coming back with a beer and a glass of wine. You raise your eyebrow at Tom and he shrugs in reply.

“Compliments of Señor Cruz.” The server nods towards the bar. You both pick up your glasses and salute in thanks.

“So anything exciting in the world of real estate today?” You ask as you take a sip of wine.

“I don’t think there's ever anything exciting.” He laughs.

You talk all through dinner, learning a little about Tom's military past and he lets you drag on about your job at the state university. Dinner is beyond words, and when the check comes it simple says

Enjoy all the moments together!

You both smile and head out to the car. It’s sprinkling ever so lightly, the smell of fresh rain in the air. You stand in the middle of the parking lot, face to the sky as the rain sprinkles across your face.

Tom shakes his head at you, amazed that someone could be so carefree and in the moment. He looks up to the sky, he’s had mixed feelings about the rain; sometimes it’s welcomed after being in a desert for a week, and other times it just muddies everything. He turns to you, lightly putting his hand on your back to get you into the car before it starts pouring.

“I love the rain” You whisper into the window. The beads of water steadily roll down faster as Tom pulls out of the parking lot.

“We can drive for a bit.” He replies, making a turn away from your apartment. The city lights stretch out further and further as you head away from the sleepy little city. You turn toward Tom, bringing your knees closer to your chest. His expression is calm, only the occasional flash of sadness can be seen as car headlights intrude on your drive. You let your gaze wander over his body. He’s very muscular, big burly arms and strong broad shoulders. You imagine there’s abs underneath his shirt but they’ve been hidden by just a small layer of fat that makes you want to bury yourself against him. His legs are so long he has his seat pushed all the way back, leaving the perfect amount of space for you to straddle him if you wanted…

“Enjoying the view?” He flicks his eyes to you.

“Very much.” You smile. He pulls into a little side street near a strip of stores that’s normally abuzz with people. Tonight it looks like the rain has everyone staying inside. The glow from the sidewalk lights illuminate the cab just enough that you can make out his face. He turns off the truck and the pitter-patter of rain mingles with the sound of your breathing. You scoot into the middle seat, wanting to feel him close.

He turns toward you, one arm laying on the back of the seat while the other tilts your chin up. He brings your mouth to his, your lips brushing lightly. Your heart is hammering inside your chest so fast he might hear it. So you press your lips harder against his; his beard tickles your face and that’ll burn later but right now you need his hands on your body.

You move to your knees, pressing forward into him. Following your lead he moves just enough for you to hook your right leg over his lap. His hands settle on the small of your back, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip. You open your mouth to let his tongue tangle with your own. His hands begin to explore your body, his fingers dancing around the edge of your dress sending a shiver down your spine.

He smiles, moving his lips down your neck, slowly sucking every inch until he finds the perfect spot.

“Oh Tommy…” You exhale. He groans in reply, the vibrations multiplying throughout your body.

His fingers begin playing with the hem of your panties, and he thanks god that you didn’t wear anything else under your dress. He pushes one finger between your folds, already amazed at how wet you are for him.

“All for me?” He whispers into your ear as he slides one large finger inside you. You gasp, his finger reaching places only toys have ever reached. He brings your mouth back to his, gently pumping his finger in and out of you.

But the small friction isn’t enough, you want more and he seems to be reading your mind because one more finger slides in. You push back from him, shocked at the feeling of him stretching you so perfectly. You start rolling your hips, fucking his fingers purely for your pleasure. Your eyes close, all concentration is on his fingers curling and sliding inside you.

He hasn’t been this turned on from watching someone pleasure themselves in a very long time. It doesn’t even matter that he’s not getting himself off, this is about watching you fall apart for him. He quickly moves his mouth back to your neck, sucking harder and leaving no spot untouched. He moves his thumb to your clit, the build of your orgasm rocketing through you. You throw your head back, fucking his fingers faster until you completely come undone. Your orgasm rips through your body so hot you lean your head into the crook of his neck, arms loosely draping over his shoulders as you ride his fingers to get every ounce of pleasure. As your hips slow to a stop he removes his fingers, your cunt still clenching around what’s no longer there.

“That was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.” He whispers into your hair; you lean back to so he can see you roll your eyes-

BEEP!

You both jump at the noise of the big ass truck horn.

“Guess I can’t be too sexy for long, leaves the world unbalanced.” You breathe out a laugh.

“You’re always too sexy.” He hums, his fingers massaging your thighs.

“I think it might be your turn, Redfly.” You whisper in his ear, rubbing his hard on through his jeans.

“You are naughty (Y/N).” He leans his seat back, putting his hands behind his head. You smile as you slide your panties off, it’s truly adorable he think’s his hands will stay there. You spring his cock free, the head red and ready for you. You pump him with one hand, unbuttoning your dress with the other. Tom’s smirk quickly disappears as he realizes what you’re doing.

He sits up a little, taking the front of your dress from your hands and unbuttoning the rest. You tits bounce free, Tom’s eyes gleaming at the site.

“You shirt too Tommy.“ You purr, your free hand trailing down his chest. He makes quick work of the buttons as you slip a condom on him. He tries to sit up a bit in order to take his shirt fully off but you lower yourself onto him and he falls back into the seat. He grips your thighs, you’re so tight and wet his brain short circuits.

You smile, moving his hands to your breasts, showing him how you like to be played with. And then you start bouncing, his dick throbbing at the site of all of you jiggling as you impale yourself over and over.

And your pretty little mouth is wide open, every noise like music to his ears. He sits up, bringing your open mouth to his, your tongues dancing until his mind wanders back to your tits. And his mouth follows, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking each one in turn.

He knows he won’t last much longer, not with you feeling this good and looking that fucking sexy. He slots a hand between your bodies, his finger finding your swollen clit. And he rubs fast, making you double over from the stimulation. Your mouths find each other again as he pushes you over the edge.

You let out a small fuck as your walls flutter around him. And he let’s go, spilling into the condom as you ride out your high on top of him.

After a few minutes you pull him out of you, letting him take care of the condom as you lay down on the seat. You’re trying to desperately catch your breath when he looks over at you. Your legs are spread for him to see your juices spilling from you; your dress open like a robe, tits out in the open and nipples erect.

“Unless I’m allowed desert, close your legs“ He laughs, tucking himself back in his pants.

“If you’re hungry you’re more than welcome Tommy.” You sass, spreading your pussy lips for him.

He looks up towards the sky, thanking whatever brought you into his life; and then back at you, sprawled and ready with the sweetest treat, just for him.

#tom redfly davis #tom redfly davis x reader #redfly x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier #ben affleck #redfly smut #triple frontier smut #tom davis x reader #tom davis smut

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leejungchans · 4 years

Text

juliet’s relationships with ateez.

they’re so beautiful i’m gonna fucking cryhdjhfjshsjs i’m going through it 💔

#HONGJOONG; (HONGLIET)

juliet is the self-proclaimed favourite child of hongjoong

she was very shy pre-debut and was scared of clashing with him, so they never fought

they became a lot closer when she asked hongjoong to help her with her rapping; she was always trained to be a vocalist so she thought her rapping needed work and (shyly) approached him asking for his advice

as they became more comfortable with each other, she learnt to honestly communicate her thoughts with him

makes sure hongjoong doesn’t overwork himself; brings him food, coffee, or just accompanies him silently when he’s working; will not hesitate to use her sad puppy eyes to convince him to go back to their dorm so he can get proper rest

she always looks on with a very proud smile when she hears hongjoong speaking in english; he picked up a little bit of her aussie accent too :>

actually doesn’t mind being a little shorter than him but she wears platform shoes a lot to tease him; he has jokingly threatened to throw them away

she is very worried about his scalp; but she loved his red and blue hair, and of course the famous mullet

with hongjoong especially it’s literally “juliet see, juliet do” :c

hongjoong dotes on juliet especially because she will always be a baby in his eyes; when they first met she was around 15, so he has always been really gentle with her; he looks after her extremely well

never lets her pay for anything despite her protests

she wants to treat him to stuff too :<

overall a very wholesome relationship

#SEONGHWA; (HWALIET)

another very, very wholesome relationship

he’s so, so gentle with her but will goof around with her too :(((

is the one who brings snacks, an extra jacket or blanket for her because she always forgets

when they first debuted, juliet would be very uneasy before public appearances because of the hate and comments she’d get; seonghwa was always there to calm her down and support her

when she was still in school he would nag her to do her homework hajshwjsj

she’s close with all the boys’ family but perhaps the closest with seonghwa’s and will sometimes visit his family with him during breaks!!

seonghwa is usually the first person juliet goes to if she’s having a bad day

she clings to him a lot, like, a lot; she will attach herself to his arm like a koala any chance she gets

sharing almost identical disgusted expressions

he always makes sure she’s eating; he gets sad if she doesn’t

late night talks with warm tea

each other’s #1 hype man; as much as she acts disgusted when seonghwa does aegyo or purposefully acts sexy, you can always hear her cheering him on in the background

that doesn’t mean she doesn’t tease him though

“excuse me, please put your tongue away” “mY hiPs aRe fLeXibLe” “sO hAwT” “wOw, AmAziNg” “...please stop”

#YUNHO; (JUNHO)

two babies

juliet lives to see yunho smile and it’s her life’s mission to make sure he stays happy forever

yunho always gives her piggyback rides

the height difference between these two is the funniest thing ever because she isn’t even that short but she always looks like a dwarf next to yunho

“uh...excuse me, you’re forgetting something :/” “huh? ohhh...[crouches down to match her height]” “thank you :D”

yunho brings out juliet’s happiest side effortlessly because it’s just impossible to be sad around him

that being said, yunho is her designated giant teddy bear whenever she’s sad

they always start dancing out of nowhere

you will hear her whooping and cheering very loudly in the background whenever yunho twerks and stuff

yunho’s fellow harry potter fan

he likes pinching her cheeks, patting her head and playing with her hair

but if he tries to use her head as an armrest she will kick him (out of love :3)

#YEOSANG; (SANGLIET)

someone save ateez from these two because they love roasting everyone

will not hesitate to roast each other as well

best friends who judge people together

when the others say or do something questionable, you can sometimes see yeosang and juliet exchange looks or hide their faces from secondhand embarrassment

little beans who get shy easily :(

she is yeosang’s biggest hype man; he could literally just be breathing and she will still go “wow, a living statue, absolutely breathtaking” “an angel sent to us from the heavens above” “yes, vocal king! yes, dance legend!”

they do everything in tiny :((((((((

they dance to the ponytail song together

she loves his birthmark so much and practically tells him that every day; she thinks it makes him even more beautiful and unique

he likes her cooking a lot so she always makes him food and lets him help out

“please don’t cut off your finger...” “do fingers grow back?” “i don’t know but i don’t want to find out from you.”

The™ best comedic duo but no one is ready to admit that yet

#SAN; (JUSAN)

juliet constantly judges san jokingly but she’s honestly just as chaotic

he once spun her ipad on his finger and almost dropped it; she didn’t speak to him for an hour

like hongjoong, san also picked up on her aussie accent a bit

juliet goes :OOOO every time san shows off his martial arts skills

if they’re not wreaking havoc together, then one of them is filming the other wreaking havoc alone while laughing hysterically behind the camera

she looks up to san so, so much; the way he improved his dancing tremendously through hard work and determination inspires her deeply

they learn other groups’ choreographies together

hypes the other up for everything

loves his voice so much; listens to him sing with heart eyes and vice versa

so, so clingy :((( they’re just tiny babies who need a lot of love and affection

juliet loves san so much and it breaks her heart knowing that he struggles with self-esteem like she does; they have a lot of deep talks where they talk for hours in the dark

#MINGI; (2MIN)

2Min!!!!!! 🥺

a giant and a baby

that only applies to their heights, though; because they’re both babies personality-wise

juliet is either being loud and dumb with him or she’s going “ahsjajsj please stop, we’re idols •_•”; there is no in between

she’d let mingi give her more piggyback rides but the first time he gave her one he almost dropped her

juliet never shuts up about how good mingi is at rapping and dancing; she’ll tell you that at least once a day

“anyways, mingi is such a good rapper and dancer. did i mention how phenomenal he is? because he is the best rapper and dancer :]”

whenever juliet sings/dances, mingi always looks on very proudly

“our main vocalist/dancer, everyone!”

her designated giant teddy bear number 2

like with hongjoong, she makes sure mingi is eating and sleeping because he works a lot too :(

it makes mingi really happy when she tries to rap his parts

juliet is the leader of the mingi protection squad, if you hurt him she’ll actually k word you in your sleep

#WOOYOUNG; (2YOUNG)

2Young; when they get paired up together for stuff, they introduce themselves with “2!” “Young!”

dear god, they are so loud

she’s either the first one shushing him or the others are telling both of them to shut up

wooyoung screams a lot so to juliet the only solution is to be even louder

siblings who annoy each other but also love the other to bits and will kill for each other

one time they did a v-live together and an atiny pointed out how when juliet says “no” it sounds like “noerrrrr”; wooyoung hasn’t let it go since and clowns her for it every chance he gets

one minute they’re bickering over something stupid and the next they’re cuddling on the sofa and laughing at random stuff on their phones

wooyoung teases her for literally everything, from her height to her australian accent; it’s a miracle she hasn’t killed him yet

“wooyoung dance king!”

she loves his vocals so much :(

she also loves his laugh; she thinks it’s very contagious and it always makes her laugh even harder

very clingy pt.2 :(((((

they like to cook together; despite juliet’s constant teasing, she genuinely loves his cooking

the biggest army’s

the duo that has everyone wrapped around their fingers

#JONGHO; (JONGLIET)

they’re the youngest ones so they’re bound to be chaotic together

they have a secret handshake!!

since they’re the only ones who don’t share a birth year with anyone in the group, they call themselves the “21st century duo”

another tom-and-jerry relationship but they love each other to bits i promise :’)

high note battles that make the others go •_•

their duets though :’)))) a blessing

when they sang miss a’s “good-bye baby” together at mama 2019

vocal legends

jongho always use the fact that she’s the youngest against her, especially when they’re asked to do aegyo

“i think the maknae should do it >:)” “jongHO SHUTUPJAGSJAJS”

“well, he’s the youngest among the boys, so i think he should go too”; cue his look of ultimate betrayal

imagine her face when she saw his red hair for the first time :(

“omgomgomg now you’re a real apple!!!” :(((((

more piggyback rides!!

okay, but juliet is honestly so grateful for jongho; they’re the closest in age so it’s always very easy for her to talk to him and she loves him a lot :’(

they understand each other very deeply and usually they don’t need to exchange words to know what the other is thinking/feeling

she can overthink a lot and in those moments he’s her voice of reason and is always there to help her through those times

partners in crime :>

#about.juliet #ateez 9th member #ateez ninth member #kpop oc #idol oc #ateez oc #kpop addition #idol addition #ateez addition #kpop imagines #idol imagines #ateez imagines #kpop au #idol au #ateez au

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