#some of its good but a lot of its real bad so like eh
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The one thing I want in life is too see the dangrompa v2 cast singing "cookie cat" from Steven universe
Pretty please
Lol I’m not going to do the whole song bc that would be a bonkers amount of work, but have this!
#it’s been so long since I’ve thought of Steven Universe lol#some of its good but a lot of its real bad so like eh#I liked it a lot when I was in the ninth grade and it was just starting out#danganronpa#sdr2#for this I wasn’t matching characters based off personality#more just who would look okish with the proportions of the SU characters since they’re so stylized#teruteru hanamura#mahiru koizumi#peko pekoyama#akane owari
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𝔇𝔬𝔫’𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔱 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 ℑ’𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 |
ft. sex demon ! 𝗘𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗗 | 🌶 🔞 MDI
“𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡.” — E. Kid, to you
synopsis: on a lonely night you decide to get a bit buzzed and think, fuck it, why not try to summon a sex demon? Turns out to be either the biggest blessing, or biggest mistake you’ve made in a while.
♫: click for inspo song
pairing: Incubus! Kid x Fem! Reader (no physical description of reader, except hair that can be pulled)
cw: *inhales* demon summoning, bully Eustass, brat taming, blood + pain play, cunnilingus, drinking mention, predator x prey, breeding, dacryphilia, dumbification, belly bulge, overstimulation, praise + degradation, size kink af with our 6’7 king, use of pet names, insane stamina, gets softer at the end
tags: @goshitshardtohaveagoodname @nikos-a-clown @pinkcrystal-rose
© Writing & Imagery in this is my intellectual property. Do not plagiarize or repost to other platforms without my permission. Love, DemonBanger
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You stuff your fingers in your dribbling pussy, but just could not get yourself full enough. You felt like such a horny bastard tonight, with so much sexual desperation, and finally decided you wanted to start masturbating again. But nothing worked like when you first started; you’ve just been single for too long and miss the feeling of real cock.
Even a dildo couldn’t do the trick anymore. You needed the real thing, with pumping veins and harsh thrusts, attached to a heavy man that pressed you into the mattress, with low grunts and dirty words moaned lowly into your ear.
You sigh in frustration and set the toys down, taking a swig out of some whiskey to let it take over more of your senses. The liquor burns so beautifully going down your throat…too bad there wasn’t another hot liquid also sinking down your oral cavity.
The familiar floaty headspace seeps in like an old friend that you keep away at arm’s length, as your heartbeat drums in your warm chest. Buzzed you feels like a dragon waking from a slumber, with old runes in the form of dumb ideas filling your brain.
“Might as well fucking summon a sex demon at this point,” you mutter. The idea rolls over in your head for a few minutes, and the curiosity of trying something crazy and reckless like this gets more and more appealing to your buzzed brain, until eventually you think: Wait. Fuck it, what if I tried it at least? You laugh to yourself.
What would you have to lose anyways? Just your soul? You don’t even feel like you have one these days until you drink good old caffeine.
You tap the safari icon on your phone, to research how one would even go about summoning an incubus, and take another swig to invite the madness more.
A few forums say the same thing. People asking if you actually want to invite such a thing into your life, some dude talking about how his wife cheated on him with one of those entities and was never the same after that. Hahah…cuck.
You scoff. You have existential crises every day, no sex demon can fuck your life up like you feel you can. Demons, where you at? It’s ya boi. You think about the meme and cackle way too hard for something so unfunny and possibly life-threatening.
Then you scroll over a comment that is long with a lot of upvotes on it. It looks serious. Seems legitimate. There are no comments underneath, but it reads like a serious spell book.
Eh, why not? You laugh again. The comment warned against masturbating beforehand to make sure your sexual energy was at its peak to really invite any sexual spirits. Welp, already fucked that up, so if this doesn’t work at least you could have something fun to do and then tire yourself out and call it a night.
Then you read how it involves extracting blood from a few…sources such as the tongue and pussy and you wonder if there’s a better way. A paper cut on any of those things sounds gross. Eek.
You look over YouTube and find the first video that pops up. The speaker sounds experienced, and says that it’s much simpler than any methods. Just make a request to the demon Asmodeus by reaching a meditative state, and adamantly focusing on his name.
Simple enough. You try and make sure your room is a little tidy, burn a couple of cutesy candles, and dress in a black spiked collar and a cute, lacey red lingerie set you got yourself a little while back. Scarlet garters hold up soft thigh highs that bring out your thighs and make your lower body look extra luscious. You take in this moment of feminine confidence. What are you? You’re a bad bitch. And what are you about do? Get fucked.
You sit prettily on your bed, take another swig of the burning drink, shake your hips in excitement, close your eyes, and make the signature meditation pose. You even put the sigil of Asmodeus on your laptop to better reach him. Look at you, doing the most. Then, you bite your lip in concentration and your buzzed brain is slow enough to focus on one thing slowly.
Asmodeus. Asmodeus. Asmodeus, are you with me? You think with intention.
Just as you thought. No answer. You continue.
Asmodeus, I know I never spoke to you in my life. I’m Y/n, I know this is silly but I don’t mind giving up some of my energy to get fucked voraciously by a demon boy. An incubus please. Is that ok?
You wait for an answer, peep at the candles. They’re just flickering normally. You try not to psych yourself into micro analyzing the movement of the little flames. Drunk you could do that all night. But you need to keep focused. Then you continue.
Hopefully it is ok, Mr. Asmodeus. I don’t know if I need to give up my blood n shit. I’m just a little drunk girl and honestly I’ve given up so much life energy to toxic exes at this point, you don’t need to warn me,, I know I’m rambling, but uh, yeah. I don’t give a fuck. But also, respectfully, make sure he wants me too. That shit’s hot. Do you even hear me at this point?
A chill up your spine stops you from thinking further. It’s such a chill that you shiver. It’s the same sensation in your nerves that you’d feel if someone ran a finger along your entire sensitive spine. Your window isn’t open.
There’s no way.
Good talk, you think. Don’t know what the fuck that was.
You sigh, keeping yourself open for answers. Maybe he’s thinking? Who knows. For a second you almost feel a little silly for getting all dressed and stuff.
Then you feel a chill up your spine, only more intense. Your hairs stand on end. It’s kind of spooky. You’re drunk though so you’re in more of a relaxed, “oh no!!! anyways” sort of mindset. But none of your windows are open and you haven’t turned on the AC all day.
You take another swig out of the bottle and your face burns. You’re sure your eyes are a bit bloodshot, face flushed. You think about what a male demon would say if he saw you. Probably something like—Put the bottle down, sweetheart.
You cackle in your mind. Sorry about that, daddy, gotta have fun.
Keep calling me that, I like it, the thought says a bit louder in your mind, purring more sexily than you’ve ever imagined a man sounding. Wait, did you make that up or are you tripping?
Dumbass.
You open your eyes again. So that was your imagination…or was it? There’s a little bit of doubt in your mind. Either way your imagination is vivid and you crack yourself up.
Damn it, you play too much, now your drunk ass can’t even tell what’s someone telepathically communicating to you and what’s you imagining someone telepathically communicating to you.
You clear your throat a little.
“Oi, am I wasting my time? Am I making this up? Give me a sign or show yourself , but don’t like scare me, or else I’m just going to sleep.” You try to speak clearly and confidently.
Your head whips around to the wall at something suddenly in your peripheral, and you notice a little area starts to glow, brighter and brighter. It’s a sigil. The same one you put on your computer moments ago. It’s very slow. Your heart feels like it’s in your fucking throat as you blink extra hard. Nope, still there. Holy fuck??
You swallow, slightly nervous besides your sense of fear being dulled down.
A gasp leaves your throat at a sudden tapping noise coming straight from the sigil. A fist punches through your wall, except not actually punching through its material. The glowing sigl must be some sort of portal. You let out a shocked squeal as the fist shakes around the air of your room. The clawed hand opens and the body attached steps out.
“The fuck was that?”
Oh lord. He’s huge. And above all else, irresistibly sexy.
The demon stands before you, towering over most of your room proudly, a wild crown of red hot hair adorning his head. The candlelight flickers wildly as he looks directly at you. His handsome features complete with sharp eyes like glowing amber surrounded by darkness, almost dragon-like. Is that…lipstick? And guyliner. Another shiver runs through you at how attracted you are to this creature from hell. You must’ve made Asmodeus laugh and scored the jackpot in return. That sharp nose.. with the pretty bumps on the side…you wonder how it would feel riding it.
He’s wearing a coat trimmed with maroon fur, that still leaves little to the imagination as his entire muscular, giant torso is bare with a sheen that accentuates carved abs, perhaps sweat because hell is hot. Black pants with chains hang low on his hips. You don’t see visible wings but are sure he can make them appear if he wanted.
Just, holy shit.
Dark maroon lips smirk. His voice is raspy, a little tired, a little indifferent, but the look in his eyes says otherwise. “So…you gonna just keep staring at me all night and get off that way, or?”
You bite your lip. He’s so fucking smug. Your pussy starts pooling more wetness than already built up.
“I-well, yeah, you just appeared through my fucking wall,” you roll your eyes, not submitting so easily. “The hell did you expect?”
The demon flashes a mouth full of beautiful, dangerous teeth.
“Pretty little minx, and a smart mouth on ya too. I guess he was right it’d be worth bothering the admiral of the legions, can’t wait to fuck the brattiness out of you.”
Black, ornate trousers that appear punk and shredded to bits sway as he steps closer to your bed.
“Oh, Careful—” you warn but one of his beautiful, tall, twisty horns hits your ceiling fan, and you find it comical how a 7 foot tall demon is cursing at hitting his left horn in your room.
His eyes squint at you. “Fucking brat. Laughing at me, not even telling me your name. I could drag a rude little mortal like you to hell and eat you alive for lack of manners,” he drawls, little to no venom in his words, his voice so deep and rich you almost get lost in it for a moment. Little does he know you want him to eat you alive.
“Oh—, I mean you’re right, sorry sir,” you spit out the sorry as sarcastically as possible, “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”
He eyes your thighs clenching together and a mocking chuckle bubbles in his chest. “Name’s Kid. But you, little thing, can call me Eustass for tonight when I’m impaling you on my cock.”
A little whimper is forced out of you at how dirtily he spoke, like he made an incantation to turn you on instantly. “Eustass,” you try out, making precum drip out of him more than he’d like to admit. Your eyes flit down to his cock that he mentioned, then back up. He knows you were staring. And he’s so damn smug about it too, because the big guy’s bulge looks absolutely huge.
He looks over at the toys on your bed and scoffs, picking up your dildo, and eyeing it snarkily. Your face burns in indignation at his wolfish, leering smirk.
“Oh princess. Might as well throw these—“ he locates your trash bin, “right here. Because I’m gonna fucking ruin them for you. And you can kiss any man’s dick goodbye.” He drops your sex toys into the trash like a mic drop.
And you’re not even mad. Your thighs shift against the fabric of your bodysuit to gain any sort of friction, so turned on from imagining what’s to come.
“Yeah? You like that? I can just smell how much that turned you on. Such a pathetic, needy, desperate slut. You in heat or something?”
You can only nod your head.
He makes his way back to the bed, walking like he has all the time in the world, and you eye him for how beautiful and dangerous he is, oozing sex appeal. He also eyes you hungrily, like a starved carnivore eyeing its new living meal. Heat from hell radiates off of him, and he smells otherworldly; almost sweet; with notes of pure musk, steel, blood, leather, sweat, and desire.
(You don’t know that the pheromones you’re releasing have a similar effect on him, but he wants to make you beg and whimper; mewl, cry, break).
You take in shaky breaths, not because those fangs could rip chunks out of you if he wanted to…well, that’s hot too.
Kid grabs your bottle of whiskey from your mattress, eyeing you with pure hunger as he gets so close to you, and sets it on the floor. “That’s gonna break if it stays on your bed.” He dips his head closer to you, inhales again to smell your arousal, and his eyes roll shut.
“A-are we gonna have a safeword? I’m not paying any hospital bills if you break my body,” you finally speak up, voice pitch heightened from horniness.
He scoffs. “How fucking adorable, such a needy stupid baby, you didn’t even think before making a contract with someone who could do whatever he wants with you no?” the redhead strokes your thigh as he sounds so mean and condescending, large clawed hand gripping your upper leg, squeezing your supple flesh. His breathing is heavy. Fiery eyes peer down into your soul as he pauses.
“Spikes.” He feels your collar, humming in approval. “But just know, you signed up to be fucked. And drained.” His blackened thumb traces over your bottom lip as he holds your chin. “If you can’t handle the heat, you should know better than to booty call hell.”
“Mhmm,” you say, nodding in his hold, tongue darting out to caress his finger. Kid snarls.
Just like that, a large palm presses on your sternum and shoves you down onto the bed. He yanks you by the hips to the edge of the mattress with a bruising grip, and bucks his clothed hips into yours sharply, trouser-covered bulge slapping your pussy roughly, eliciting a whine from your throat.
“Gonna keep your neighbors up with us all night just like this,” he growls, bucking onto you, hands tracing your hips, fingers dipping under your bodysuit to caress your soaking core.
“Wet kitty, so fucking sinful.” He pulls out his fingers, separating them and admiring how your slick strings up and drips down his hand. Then, glowing eyes gaze into yours as a long, sharp, forked tongue licks your essence up, cleaning them in one stroke. You throb. He tosses his trench coat to the floor and you admire his giant, muscular body. Thick neck you want to scratch up. Giant muscles carved of porcelain and littered with scars that you want to bite and paint even prettier. A fallen angel of vermillion, ready to stab you in the dark, drag you down in lust and weeping to your personal circle of heavenly hell.
Without another word, he dips his head down and snaps the crotch of your bodysuit open leaving you with no room to think. He flattens his large, forked tongue and licks a broad, wet stripe over your sopping cunt.
“ ‘s cunny’s mine,” he breathes, and begins his attack on you with his mouth, squeezing your thighs, large tongue teasing into you.
“Yes it’s all—, ohhhh~” He pulls out and shoves two huge fingers with painted fingernails into your entrance, stretching you out and making you arch your back from the sudden stimulation, pussy smushing into his face further. He growls again, feral in nature, the vibrations going straight to your clit as he intently watches your reactions. Wide tongue lapping at your clit, swirling, making you speak in tongues and whimper at how full you are. You do not regret summoning a demon at all.
He adds a third impossibly thick finger and scissors them in and out of you, then impatiently thrusts his tongue back in to fuck you, massaging every little nook and cranny of your textured walls. Swirling up, and up, and up until your brain rots inside your skull and you’re roughly grabbing handfuls of his hair.
You hear him groan a prideful, muffled “Good girl,” as his nose bumps into your clit so snugly. Your eyes roll back at the praise. It’s too much, all of it is too much. And yet, you need more, more, more, please, please, please. His tongue hits a tender spot that makes you jolt and begins to attack it in a full-fledged assault, causing you to snap your gaze back to him and buck your hips greedily into him.
Greedy. He likes that. He likes how greedy your cunt is, because he’s just as greedy for you. Your thighs clench around his head when he shakes his face, soaked in your juices, side to side to rub your clit with his nose pressed tightly to you. “E-Eustass!” you call out for him, all strangled, and a purr rumbles in his thick chest.
In response, he only clenches your thighs tighter around his face, continuing to torture you with his pink tongue that’s long and mobile like a fucking tentacle.
You cry out as talonesque nails dig into your thighs and little pricks of blood come out, but he doesn’t care. And neither do you. You grind on him, head swimming in lust, probably only worsening the pinprick wounds. He leans back with you and completely sits down on the floor beneath, holding the entire weight of your body on top of his face with the strength of a powerful war demon.
He slides you up and down, and you tremble, spots of white flecking your vision as you ride his face, smearing your never ending slick to his insatiable delight.
His amber eyes glare at you, urging you to let go and come undone on top of him. Yet mocking you for needing to cum so soon.
And that’s what you do, shaking violently, curling over him, death grip on his scarlet tresses, as he groans at how delicious you taste. The orgasm washes over you so hard you almost fall slack, almost, as your moans fall silent from your circuits sparking. He drinks up all the essence you have to offer, lips smacking at how delicious you are, deep “Mmmhfuck” causing your nipples to perk.
He stands back up and sets you back down on the bed, unzipping his pants.
You’re lightheaded from the most amazing orgasm of your entire life, gazing at the ceiling as static fills your brain in ocean waves of dumbified pleasure.
Then your mouth gapes open at the sight in front of you. Beautifully red pubes trail right over his giant hand, fisting the biggest cock you’ve seen.
“Ngh, t-too big,” you whimper.
“Oh, I’m shocked you can speak,” he laughs darkly.
“Barely,” you try to prop yourself up on your elbows, but it’s so difficult and you fall back down.
He laughs at you, humiliating you in his stare. “Such a weak kitten,” the demon mocks you in faux sympathy.
You feel as though you nutting just now made you so insanely tired.
“Just lay back, dollface, you’re giving daddy life energy as a snack. Gonna make you even prettier, so dumb you can’t even speak.”
Before you can protest, he’s spearing you with his cockhead, ripping a loud moan from your throat.
He’s merciless, as no god has shown him, a fallen angel, any mercy. So why should he, an incubus leeching off of your sexual energy, show any mercy to a cunt that’s all his and swallows him in just right.
He continues to sink into you, and your nails pay him back by digging into him now, in his meaty forearms.
Kid’s tongue darts out over his crimson lips.
“Keep,” he thrusts out slightly, admiring the way you grip him, “fucking,” he thrusts back in all the way, making you shriek, “taking it.” The pain is so much, too much, the stretch fucking burns at how large of a cock is intruding you, but he hammers into you without regards to your comfort or pleasure. He’s the one using you, fucking you like you’re his breathing flesh light, like you’re the one working for him though he’s the escort demon. Ramming in, threatening to fuck right into your cervix, overload. You’re clamping down, your walls are rejecting him. It makes him curse loudly at how hard it is for him to move, but he’s stronger than a mere human, so ever the sadist, Kid pumps in regardless.
The pain of his unrelenting, selfish thrusts starts to turn slowly into pleasure, and the fullness and overwhelming stretch feels delicious. Your mind turns dumb and you start to whine.
“M-more,” you moan, and he grabs your tit harshly, twisting your nipple painfully, making tears rush to your eyes. He does so to the other tit, then slaps them roughly. You whimper his name, back arching like an exorcism in progress. Except exiting you, this demon is not.
“Yeah? You need some more, you selfish brat?” He growls, pace deepening and quickening. “Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere, not until the sun is up.” His hips snap against yours, and his nails rake down your body to fold your thighs against your chest, his crushing weight pinning you to the bed. Your mattress hitting the wall. You struggle to catch the breath that’s knocked out of you in this position.
“Fucking look at me,” he suddenly jibes, and you obediently make eye contact with him. “Now don’t you dare fucking look away or quiet those pretty noises. I want to make you scream.”
He’s going at an inhuman speed, and so fucking deep in this mating press, and hits the spot that made you cum before. His balls slapping against your ass, making you scream.
“Eustass! Eustass! Please, please, please, yes, Nnnn! Please!” You beg him to keep going, as he growls, “fuck yes, beg, princess, beg for this fucking cock,” his thrusts getting sloppier as your cunt tightens around him. Your eyes roll back a little, as he’s fucking you dumb.
“Ah!!!” You yelp, as he roughly slaps your ass.
“What did I fucking tell you?” Eustass snarls, and you bite your lip, face flushed as he glowers at you.
“T-to, to uh, look at you,” you say dumbly, gasping for air.
“That’s a smart girl,” he rubs your clit, making you squirm, and he condescendingly coos down at you, “so why don’t you look at me as I wreck you, hmm?”
His body is so big, so hot, he’s so heavy and wide as your poor legs stretch to accommodate his wide shoulders while he opens you like a flower and pounds into you. He smells so fucking good, you think, and you want him to cum inside of you and claim you as his, and you struggle but do your best to keep looking into his wild eyes. He’s absolutely feral, so intimidating, and your body rocks at his severity so you grasp the base of his horns. A little moan leaves him, and if he wasn’t pressed up so close to you, flooding up all of your thoughts and walls and senses, it would have gone undetected.
A darkness takes over his eyes. “Now you’ve fucking done it,” his voice drops ever lower, and he pulls out. Flips you over onto your hands and knees, pulls your hips to face the ceiling, and bottoms back in in one thrust. The new angle has you screaming and moaning his name, “EU—fuck!!!!” You whimper loudly, and he pushes your head down into the covers.
“Yeah—this pussy—is all—fucking mine—you hear that?” he rumbles in between thrusts, slapping your ass again as he arches your back impossibly, balls slapping your cunt. You’re too dumb to understand what he’s saying and he knows that. Your slick is everywhere between the two of you and it’s making him absolutely drunk and feral.
You’re unable to speak real words, you’re babbling and you claw the sheets as he batters your insides over and over like a battering ram. Tears and drool are soaking the covers beneath you, as you moan while you let him use you. He kneads and slaps your ass again. “Look at me.” He reminds you harshly.
You weakly turn your head to look back at him, blubbering, and his pointy, evil grin sends a jolt straight to your core again.
“You’re my fucking pet, and any man you let have this,” he makes a slicing movement with his finger over his throat. “Got it?”
You’re so gorgeous, hair plastered to your forehead and all wild, face flushed and teary, eyelashes fluttering up at him, gasping, as you whimper, “y-yes, Eustass, I belong to you,” and his deep thrusts slow luxuriously.
“Good girl,” he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up until your back meets his sweaty inferno of a chest. He rubs more circles on your puffy, abused clit and you squirm from the buzzing overstimulation of another impending orgasm. He eats up how you clench around him, and as your head spins dizzily from him still thrusting up into you deeply, he sinks his teeth into your right shoulder, claiming you.
You cry out weakly from the pain, and spasm around him like a voodoo victim and he lazily fucks you through your second orgasm, enjoying how you make a mess all over his hand.
“Oh, that’s so sexy,” he groans, lapping at the blood on your shoulder, as you squirt all over his arm, and his cock is absolutely drenched, dripping down to his balls. He moans and with a few more thrusts, stills. He fills you up with hot cum.
The giant incubus turns you both around, you still out of breath, dumb, on his cock. “Look here.” He says, like Virgil from Dante’s Inferno showing the writer the lustful circle of hell.
You peer at your reflection in the mirror. You, so fucked out, almost unrecognizable, crying, glowing, lips plump from biting them. A huge bite mark on your shoulder. Bruised hips. Both of you scratched up with a little bit of blood. Legs shaking as you’re sitting pretty on his cock, a bulge evident in your tummy. His huge hands encircling you, him, possessively overshadowing you. He’s so much bigger than you, his width eclipsing you in the reflection.
You lean your head back tiredly. He whispers lowly into your ear. “ ‘M only just getting started with you, but look at how pretty you are as my pet, yeah? This is what I’m gonna see every single night, aren’t you excited?”
You tiredly turn your head to smoosh into his pillowy chest, his smell overpowering your senses, and you look up to him. “This is all I need,” you whisper back.
He sets you down on wobbly legs and holds you up a little. He cups your jaw in his giant hand, and the white of his canines shines. His lipstick is slightly smeared. He looks gorgeous, sinister, a glowing star of red, black, amber, and pale skin.
Then he kisses you, in a way that’s startlingly soft and passionate, in his ferocious way because Eustass is, well, Eustass. He pulls away, eyes glittering darkly.
“That’s the right response, darling.”
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TO BE CONTINUED 🏴☠️ -> part 2!
#[✏️] speaking in tongues#demon papí draws#eustass kid smut#eustass kid x fem reader#eustass kid x reader#one piece x female reader#one piece smut#op smut#zoro smut#sanji smut#law smut#ace smut#Luffy smut
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to me the magicians is largely a show about how terrible it is to be 23 both in the sense that it sucks so bad and in the sense that 23-year-olds suck so bad (confidential to 23-year-olds reading this: not you, dear, but also, check back once you've gone through your saturn return), so it's very rare that any of the characters do anything that actually bothers much less upsets me because i'm like, the terribleness is the point and much of the joy for me. but we all have our individual pressure points so for the sake of the historical record here is a complete list of times the characters in the magicians do something i dislike:
julia: in the pilot when she tells quentin "you're good at so many things, just pick one!" to me that is not only the meanest thing julia ever says or does to quentin it is maybe the meanest thing anyone ever does to anyone at any point on the entire show. like julia i love you more than life itself but can we maybe let a bitch live
quentin: there's a specific quality to the all-in earnest dorkiness with which he approaches the quest that i just cannot handle. it makes me want to walk into the screen and place my hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye and say "this is why you had no friends in high school." like at a certain point your inability to read the room becomes my problem and that's the point at which even though i would very literally lay down my life for yours i cannot even look you in the eye
alice: when she's super obnoxious and condescending to harriet about signing/communication/etc. this one gets an asterisk because i actually think that scene is good writing in that it's in character with what we know of alice and her flaws to be super weird about a deaf person and i think she is meant to come across as unpleasantly in the wrong and i like it when a show gives its protagonists such genuine types of behavioral errors. but it does make me viscerally uncomfortable to watch
josh: one of the less sung about hate crimes near the end of season 4 is josh chuckling to himself about how margo thinks she's mad at him but really she's mad at herself because he like superhumanly divines her emotional architecture because they've banged twice or whatever. this one gets an asterisk in the opposite direction because i feel like everything i (a known proponent of Josh Rights) enjoy about josh is down to the joshness of josh and everything i don't enjoy about josh is bad writing fueled by heterosexuality brain poison so it feels like i'm holding it against him unfairly when actually the real josh would not do that and it's just that the writers are bad. but that moment makes me feel like we need to send him to the guillotine immediately so on the list it goes
kady: kady doesn't matter enough to rise to the level of bothering me. sorry kady i love the version of you that exists in the universe written by writers who gave a shit
margo: i feel like i had one for margo at some point but i can't remember what it was. i guess i wish she were a little less anti-democracy once established upon the throne but i also read a lot of that as an outgrowth of her habit of being the tough bitch partly because she's worried about eliot getting his ass killed so.... eh
penny: literally nothing ever not even once not even for a second. i tried to think of one and i couldn't. and like i know that he does things on screen that are morally bad or simply not nice or whatever. but i'm like physically incapable of being upset by penny he brings me too much joy it cannot be cancelled out by ethical qualms or empathy for anyone else i'm a simple woman i see his beautiful face and i am at peace. he deserves to be a huge asshole to everyone all the time for no real reason, as a treat and also because it's soooooo funny. i would not want him to change a thing
eliot: ok like literally mind your business about margo's bush this is not being an ally!!!!!!
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Survive a Zombie Apocalypse w/ F1 Teams
Would you survive a zombie apocalypse with your favourite team? Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and just my opinion
(The team logos represent you so if it's coloured, you're alive and if it's in black and white...sorry dude)
Aston Martin
Listen, I know you're confident you'd survive. I'd be confident too. Unfortunately you(we) couldn't be more than wrong. This is a one for all, all for none situation. If they can save their own butts they will. If its at the cost of you, well, you shouldn't have chosen them to begin with. Fernando isn't that mean though so if you do manage to fall into a trap, he'd leave you a little note reading, "Enjoy getting eaten by zombies!;D" as a goodbye as he and Lance disappears off into the distance. Great!!!
AlphaTauri
I don't think you'd survive. Daniel and Yuki have watched their fair share of survival movies but when it comes to actually surviving in the middle of an apocalypse? Yea, no. Even if you managed to survive 99% of your journey, bad luck will definitely hit you during that last 1%. On the other hand, you could be extremely, EXTREMELY lucky and survive but this has a 0.82929292% chance. But hey, it's not 0.
Alfa Romeo
Yes, you'd survive. You have two of the chillest people on the grid with you. With a level head, you'd manage to escape with minimal contact with zombies. Valterri is the team leader here and has quite a lot of knowledge on survival in the wild and you and Guanyu are willing team players so you guys would definitely survive. Don't think Guanyu doesn't bring anything to the table though. With his fashion expertise, he'd manage to blend you guys in with the zombies. Instant survival. (Let's just ignore that zombies might smell your scent and just pretend that they're partially blind and have anosmia)
Alpine
You'd survive, given that the two of them are able to work together. I feel like Pierre and Esteban would be afraid to fight the zombies but if you do encounter them, they'd somehow manage to take down most of them. They're squeamish though so if any zombie guts get on them, they're gagging and trying not to throw their own guts up. They don't really have the foundation of basic survival skills tho. Fighting they can do but making a fire, cooking and foraging? Not so good at so be sure to be proficient in these areas or else you might poison yourselves accidentally.
Mercedes
You'd survive but George and Lewis will not. It's mostly because they didn't believe the apocalypse was real until it was too late. During the few days of the apocalypse they were still alive though, Lewis had endless optimism that kept your spirits high and George's dank humour kept you entertained. Wish he actually listened to your advice of wearing a damn shirt in the middle of an apocalypse but eh. But don't worry, after the Brits meet their unfortunate demise, you won't be alone. You'd have Roscoe and the password to Mercedes' TikTok account so it's not all bad. (It is)
Ferrari
No, you will not survive. With no decent strategy and non-reliable equipment, the zombies unfortunately get to you before you can even say Ferrari double podium. You won't die immediately per say. You'd manage to hold your own for the first couple of days but when almost all your equipment starts breaking apart or stops working, the end seems to be in sight. Charles has no self-preservation skills and Carlos is in his own head most of the time. If they were given the right tools, they would definitely survive the apocalypse. But you know how it is rn... You actually do quite well defending yourselves from zombies, probably all that built up Ferrari frustration. However, if you make an alliance with another team, you'd have a higher chance at survival. If the apocalypse were to be in a few years time though, maybe you'd have a higher chance at survival
Red Bull
You and Max would survive. For some reason, you lost Checo in the middle of a zombie chase. He's not dead, you just have no idea where he is now. Max would definitely know his way around surviving an apocalypse because he's literally the Google embodiment, random facts just stewing in his brain.
Williams
Might be unexpected (or expected), but you'd survive. They have decent survival skills, not the best but decent. Logan can hunt (cause yk Logan HUNTER Sargeant?? Cmon now), with his obvious love for fishing and Alex definitely has a route planned to escape the zombies. They're not skilled scouts but they have the most basic of basic knowledge of survival so yea you'd survive. One thing you didn't see coming was the number of animals you'd adopt on the journey.
Haas
Yea you'd survive. They're definitely one of the most resourceful, making weapons out of things they randomly find but you do have some close calls due to them maybe disagreeing on certain issues. They both have basic survival skills, Kevin more than Nico so if you have no choice but to camp out in the woods, you're not doomed. In conclusion, as long as you're willing to be the peacemaker most of the time, you'll be fine.
McLaren
You survive but barely. You have good strategies but your survival skills are 1 to none. Need to make a fire? Where's the lighter? Need food but only fish is available? Yea, no way. Encounter zombies? Defence is the new offence. You try your best to avoid zombies at all costs but if it's inevitable (which it will be), you'll try an alternative way that doesn't involve hand-to-hand combat with the undead. BUT, if you really have no other choice then to fight zombies, Lando and Oscar would be pretty decent in it. Lando's chosen weapon would be a gold club while Oscar's would be a cricket bat. It's kind of therapeutic actually, just smashing zombies left and right.
#f1#formula 1#zhou guanyu#valterri bottas#lance stroll#fernando alonso#yuki tsunoda#daniel ricciardo#logan sargeant#alex albon#oscar piastri#lando norris#george russell#lewis hamilton#charles leclerc#carlos sainz#nico hulkenberg#kevin magnussen#max verstappen#sergio perez#pierre gasly#esteban ocon#in light of Halloween#based entirely on my own opinion
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Hi! :) first of all, I love your blog and your writing is amazing!
I'm obsessed with peaky blinders for years now and i would love to request a fic about arthur shelby (cause he's my comfort character :') is it possible that you write a fic/imagine about him and a younger female reader (in her early 20s) that had a traumatic past and as a result resorted to unhealthy coping mechanisms (hurting herself, drinking,.etc.). Arthur and her are dating, he gets more and more protective over her cause he wants to keep her safe and as they get more intimate with each other (smut) and he notices her scars etc., he tries to make her feel more comfortable by praising her. So a mix of feelings, smut and a slight power dynamic (arthur is more dominant/caring and the reader is a little insecure). I hope that makes sense!
Also, if the topics make you uncomfortable/you don't like to write about said things, i can totally understand that you turn my request down. :)
~sending you positive vibes ! ♡
Ruined
moodboard by @shelbydelrey
Arthur Shelby x F!Reader I Peaky Blinders
Warnings: smut, mentions of self harm and scars, allusions to past sexual assault, angst, reader has body issues
WC: 2415
AN: Thank you so much for the request and the support, anon! It means so much to me and I'm SO sorry it's taken me so long to get this written. You've been in my thoughts a lot and I hope you're doing well! Actually was holding onto this one for a little while, too, because I didn't think the smut was very good, but I'll give myself a break because it's been a while since I've written anything spicy. Also, apologies for cutting it short; it was getting to be quite a long oneshot. I hope you like it!
---
“He wasn’t even looking at me, Arthur.”
“Nah, Y/N, you didn’t see him. I’ve seen enough bad men in my life to know he was up to no good,” Arthur disputed, aggressively hanging his overcoat on the rack.
You sighed, and closed the gap between the two of you; your hands went to the stubble of his cheek, and you sought his gaze with your own.
“Arthur,” you said, softer this time. “Just because I…” Your words hitched in your throat, your tongue bound from speaking of the assault as if admitting it would make it real. “… just because I’ve been hurt in the past doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.”
Under your touch, he settled, if only slightly; it had been proven, time and time again, to tame the beast inside him. But his chest still heaved, and with a gentle finger you wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
“Arthur,” you said again to ground him, as his gaze began to wander anywhere but your face. “I hate seeing you like this, picking fights everywhere you go.”
Sometimes you wondered if you had made him worse. Ever since you’d started dating the eldest Shelby brother, he’d found more and more excuses to punch or bludgeon whoever looked at you the wrong way. Though your touch may have soothed him, your existence only stoked the fire that burned bright in his damaged soul.
“What am I supposed to do, then, eh?” he said, exhaustion working its way past the thorns of his tone, and his forehead brushed yours, unruly locks of brown hair tickling your lashes.
You inhaled his scent – the sharp spice of his aftershave, the sweat of his ire, the musk that was so uniquely him that you couldn’t help but feel at home each time you breathed it. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you cocked your head at him slightly as an idea formed in your head.
“Maybe some kind of…” You drew a finger from his jaw down the bare of his chest before it disappeared beneath his shirt, and you swallowed as your heart beat faster against your ribs. “… physical therapy?”
Winter-blue eyes clouded in lust, and his Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat. Despite seeing him for a while, the two of you hadn’t gone all the way yet, but it wasn’t that you didn’t want him, or didn’t trust him. You had always been afraid that, when he saw the scars on your flesh, he would discard you for another young woman who didn’t ruin her body.
Ruined, indeed, you thought, with a bitter jolt in your chest. Your eyes lowered from his winter blues so that he wouldn’t see the self-hatred in your eyes.
“Now, don’t tempt me with that, love.” His breath fanned the hair from the side of your face as his hand slid from your shoulder down to your hip. “That somethin’ you want?”
Repressing your anxiety and your sullenness, you drew closer to him, pressing yourself against the heat of his body as you tried to formulate a verbal response.
“Hm?” His fingers tipped your chin back up to look him in his eye.
You nodded, biting your lip as your hips connected and you felt him hard beneath his trousers.
“Yes,” you breathed.
“C’mere, then,” he growled playfully, his hands scooping your legs up. You wrapped your thighs around his waist for balance, and you chimed out a giggle as he carried you to his bedroom.
Though you knew he tried to be gentle, he practically threw you down on the bed, but you didn’t mind. A puff of air escaped your lungs and you sank into the mattress, your head spinning and heat pooling between your legs. Your pointed toe ran down his waist, not wanting to part from him even for the seconds it took for him to shed his shirt. You tried to prop yourself on your elbows to get a better look, biting your lip. A grin stretched apart his lips as he looked down at you, undoing his belt. And he said, with that gravel in his tone that you’d come to adore,
“Going somewhere, love?”
You shook your head, but you managed to sit up, your breaths cast across his navel as you looked up at him from bright, playful eyes. “Not without you.”
Your fingers ghosted over his, knuckles rough against the softness of your palms. They stilled, and you pried them from his belt, your index slipping between the hem of his trousers and the heat of his flesh, your heart skipping a beat when you felt the coarseness of his hair.
Arthur’s breath hitched in his chest as you rose, on your knees, to place kisses along the ridge of his collarbone, tasting his sweat on the tongue you dragged down his clavicle to the center of his chest. An animalistic groan rumbled beneath your lips as you cast his belt aside and tugged the buttons from his trousers.
“Seems I’m not the only eager one,” he rasped as his fingers wove through your hair, seeming to light a trail of fire from the nape of your neck to your scalp and sending a shudder through every nerve of your body. For a brief moment, you stiffened, the sensation of his fingers tightening around your hair familiar to you in a way that had once been most vile but, in this moment, you were most ashamed to find thrilling. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t pulling as hard, and that at any moment if you asked him to stop he would. You reminded yourself that this time it was Arthur. And it was okay for it to feel good.
Heat suffused your cheeks at his words, and you cast a small moan just above the hem of his trousers, having worked your way down in loving kisses. His hand loosed from your hair, and his other came around to tilt your chin back up to look at him, hair flopping in front of those lustful eyes and the light of the chandelier framing his head in a halo, like he was some kind of fallen angel.
“As I much as I want you to continue…” he said, voice coming out ragged. “… I want to see what we’re dealing with.” His fingers ran along the outline of your breasts beneath your shirt, another shiver passing through you as his thumb brushed a pert nipple.
“I want to see you, love,” he said, thumb dragging down to the lip of your breast, your heart rate increasing the further he explored. You wanted to sit still, and be a good girl for him, but the pounding in your ears and the clamminess of your palms just wouldn’t subside.
You shuddered this time out of fear, that jolted through your veins, intense and cold and criminally contrast to the heat that inundated every other fibre of your being. But you hid it well. How could he had known he’d just traced over a scar you’d never shown him?
Your stomach twisted as you wondered what he would think when he saw them… all of them. And while you wanted nothing more than to be laid bare before the man who owned your heart and your soul and who deserved your body, and you wanted to give him it, you also couldn’t help but wonder, what if he thought you were ugly? What if he thought you were ruined?
And in that moment you scorned yourself for ever laying a blade to your thighs, or your stomach. You hated yourself for ruining something you could never have back, something that would’ve been beautiful had you not squandered it, time and time again.
“Arthur.” Your lip trembled, and your hands were shaking as they left the hem of his trousers. You panted out your breaths, your head even lighter than it had been before. And on your lips you could taste the words you yearned to say, to tell him why you ached so badly to do this but feared so cruelly unveiling a gruesome body that he did not deserve.
But all that came out was, “I’m scared.”
Something in his eyes softened at that, and any trace of his grin vanished as his weight sank into the mattress beside you. His hands were on you, but not in a frightening way; one ran across your trembling back and the other rested reassuringly on your thigh. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, as if it would vanquish any trace of fear or doubt that made your body tremble with such pitifulness. As if it would cleanse your impurities and make you whole again.
Arthur’s words seemed to catch on his tongue, and a flicker of his own uncertainty darted through those winter blues. “You’re not… scared of me, are you?”
“No, Arthur.” You cupped his cheek in your hand now, forcing his gaze to yours, even if yours was brimming with unshed tears. “I want you. And I trust you. I just…”
I’m ruined.
The words froze before they could even reach the back of your tongue, instead strangling your throat, your eyes bugging wide as you swallowed against them. All the while, Arthur’s gaze dragged solicitously across your face, and this time, he was the one to press his forehead to yours, his fingers tangling gently in your hair and rubbing soothingly along your back.
“Y/N,” he said, his heavy breath tangling with your short, frenzied ones. “So long as you ain’t scared of me, you don’t have to be scared of anything. I’m going to take care of you.” His lips dragged to your neck, placing a gentle yet firm kiss along your clavicle. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, love. Just let me take care of you.”
A soft moan stirred from your lips as you felt the heat of his lips on your neck, and your heart pounded in your core. Physically, you had never felt so conflicted, but his words, they were all you needed to hear. You trusted him, and that was what was important. Whether or not you deserved to be taken care of, that was a whole other demon, but Arthur Shelby had a way of making you want to submit to his every whim, to let him do with you as he pleased. This was how you would take care of him.
“Is that a ‘yes’?” he said.
You licked your lips, and said, “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
His hands lowered you to the bed, his stronger, sinewy frame looming over you and making your heart pound wilder in your chest. You licked your lips again, mouth dry, and swallowed back your fear as you felt his fingers begin to undo your blouse, revealing more of you until you were certain he could see what you had so desperately tried to hide. But his kisses were trailing between your breasts, and you helped shrug the garment off as he was absorbed in his work. Had your heart not been beating so fast and had your stomach not been turning so much in fear of what he would soon discover, you would’ve enjoyed the attention a lot more.
And there it was. He hesitated, the bristle of his moustache lifting from your skin and a hot breath exhaling across the scar, still fresh, still burning from the other night.
Your heart practically stopped.
“Y/N…” he breathed, the stubble of his chin brushing your skin to indicate that those blue eyes were on you. You peered back at him reluctantly, expecting horror in those eyes.
And they were filled with adoration.
“Is this what you were scared about, love?” he murmured against your stomach.
“Yes.” Your breath came shattered from your chest, still not quite able to believe your eyes.
For a moment longer, he held your gaze, with a pity you weren’t sure you wanted, but a love that eased your frenzied heart. And then, saying nothing, his lips brushed the scar ever-so-gently, as if to pay it reverence, and though the wound stung, you didn’t care in the slightest.
He still wanted you.
Once he had spent time on the first scar, he let his lips trail all across your stomach, with a surprising tenderness, his fingers gripping your hips tightly but in such a way that felt as if you were safe within his touch. He laid kisses across older scars, that had been slashed across your stomach, and as his lips grazed the lowest, you rocked your hips against the bulge in his trousers, drawing a moan from him and casting it hot against your belly.
“Don’t stop,” you murmured. “Please don’t stop.”
“Y/N, you’re fucking perfect. Have I ever told you that?”
“No,” you laughed, a tear pricking your eye but your anxiety and your tension all dissipating in wake of the sensations that the heat of his lips and the firmness of his hands and the tickle of his moustache sent racing along your skin.
“Well, you’re fucking perfect,” he said, as he pulled your skirt from your waist, and you helped kick it off, your legs instinctively crossing over to shield the scars along your thighs.
He seemed to notice this, and cast you a reassuring look before prying your knees open with strong fingers, and saying, “I’m going to have my way with every bit of you, love. Gonna kiss you everywhere because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had in my bed.”
Your head rolled back into the sheets as he began kissing and running his hands along your inner thighs. Chapped only slightly, his lips were hot as hellfire but soft as heaven as they explored each scar in a way you never had. In a way that was loving rather than shameful.
“Arthur,” you moaned, bucking your hips impatiently as his lips fell in the crook of your thigh.
“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, coming up between your legs and cupping your cheek in his hand.
A streak of a playful grin pulled at your lips, and you whispered, “Fuck me.”
That devilish grin that you knew so well plastered itself across a handsome face, and as you felt him shift his trousers down, he murmured into your ear,
“Told you wouldn’t have to worry, love. Because if that wasn’t the plan for even a goddamn second…”
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MASTERLIST • REQUEST
Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!
TAGLIST: @eclecticwildflowers @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife @midnightswithdearkatytspb @poisonedtruth
#arthur shelby#arthur shelby x reader#arthur shelby smut#peaky blinders imagines#arthur shelby imagines#angst#peaky blinders#paul anderson#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfic#fanfiction#writing#my writing#fanfic#oneshot#requests#x reader#dark#dark story#asks
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Written with the prompt “We need to talk.”
Set in the Rosie AU
Tags: Established PriceGaz, trans pregnancy, just some fluff
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After John leaves for his training shift at Credenhill, Kyle tries to lay in bed a while longer.
Tries being the operative word there, since he can already feel the urge to pee again; his little Bee making it known that she’s awake too. He places a hand on his bump and despite his morning grumpiness, he can’t resist a smile as he feels her usual movements.
Just ten more weeks before he’ll get to meet her for real, a thought that both excites and terrifies him.
With a slightly exaggerated groan, Kyle drags himself out of bed to get ready for the day. He promised Laswell he’d go over some intel and he has an appointment with his ob-gyn later in the afternoon too.
Researching intel for Kate is not his favorite job, but it makes him feel useful and he likes being able to contribute to the team, even if he can’t be in the field anymore.
The morning passes by uneventfully, besides a handful of extra pee breaks and one snack craving he can’t resist. The afternoon brings its own challenges.
The weather is slowly getting warmer and the closer it gets to the summer, the less Kyle can hide his growing bump behind coats and sweaters when he goes outside.
It’s not that he’s ashamed - he hasn’t been since he was a teenager and he refuses to be now. He just discovered that he has very little patience for having to explain his situation to random curious strangers.
Today, however, is a typical gloomy spring day, which means he’ll be able to go about the rest of his appointments with relative anonymity.
When Kyle gets home by the end of the afternoon, his limited amount of energy has been spent. He’d planned on unpacking some of the baby stuff they received from Dotty in the nursery, but as he sinks down on the couch, he decides that a nap is in order first.
It’s one of the plus sides of being pregnant, he thinks to himself as he fluffs up a pillow. No one bats an eye when you take a nap at random times a day.
He must sleep longer than he thinks because it’s the sound of a key turning in the lock that wakes him up. Squinting at the clock he notices that it’s indeed about time for John to come home from the base.
He’s still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when his partner enters the living room and throws his jacket over the armrest of the couch. Kyle blinks at him as he notices John’s stiff movements.
“Hey, “ he greets, sitting up. The what’s on your mind? goes unspoken between them.
John’s body language is tense as he puts down his bag and crosses his arms. “So what did you want to talk about?”
Kyle frowns at him, confused as to what he's referring to. “Eh?” he says, wondering what on earth has John so on edge.
“Your message,” John replies, clearly getting frustrated as he rubs his forehead, “You said we need to talk?”
Kyle grabs his phone and opens his messages. “I don’t remember sending you - oh… aw, bloody hell-“
At the top of his messenger app, he indeed sees that he sent John exactly that. And now that he reads it again, he suddenly remembers why and when.
“Kyle?” John asks, almost nervously.
Kyle sighs, cursing the hormone-induced forgetfulness that most definitely caused this. “I’m so sorry, I was gonna say ‘We need to talk about that registry list mum sent’ but I guess I got distracted.”
It’s been happening a lot lately. He thought Dotty was joking when she said pregnancy brain was a thing, but by now he has discovered that she was dead serious. He looks up at John. “You okay?”
John lets out a relieved chuckle as he sits down next to Kyle on the couch. “Fucking- yeah I’m good. Thought you’d gotten some bad news at the doc or something.”
“Like I would have sent a text like this-“ Kyle snorts, leaning into John. He feels kinda bad for causing his partner distress, but it’s also a little funny.
John turns to him abruptly with a raised eyebrow. “I distinctly remember you texting me the same thing before you told me you were gonna keep her.”
Kyle has to wreck his brain for a moment, but then he remembers what John is referring to with a wince. “…Yeah okay fair,” he says, before leaning towards his partner and kissing him on the cheek. “But no, everything’s good. Me and Bee are right on track.”
John sighs again, but this time Kyle recognizes it as one of relief. It’s sweet how much he worries, making Kyle feel a wave of affection for him.
“Good. That’s good.” John grunts, then asks, “You hungry?”
Realizing it is about dinner time, and that Kyle definitely has no energy to cook anything whatsoever, he nods. “I could go for some food, yeah.”
John already reaches for his phone, giving him a questioning look. “Anything you’re craving?”
Ah, how well his partner has gotten to know Kyle and his particular pregnancy moods by now. He gives John a grin as he leans back onto the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table.
“Thai, I think,” he hums thoughtfully, putting a hand on his stomach and feeling Bee nudge it as if she agrees. “Yep, definitely Thai.”
#kyle gaz garrick#gazprice#pricegaz#rosie garrick price#call of duty#modern warfare#trans pregnancy#ro writes
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Jojolands: A Charming New Addition
Well that was quick. We start off with some backstory, you know shit gets real when Araki opens with a geography lesson. We did end up recruiting the new guy! As people have pointed out, early villain turned ally with a lost little sibling fueling his backstory is immedately reminiscent of Polnareff which is neat. But here he is, the one and only Charmingman! Which of course its a musical reference...to The Smiths. Eh, I thought they were pretty pretentious even before Morrissey went all racist so not my favorite nod in this part. That's Dragona and you'll have a hard time topping my love for Smooth Operator. Coast to coast, LA to Chicago...
Where was I? Oh yeah. My lack of fondness for The Smiths aside, and I can at least respect that's a solid reference with some lyrics that play nicely into his backstory, Charmingman is a welcome addition to round out the five-man band. I loved the aesthetic of his stand in action and am more than ready to see more. This bit of him and Jodio was so fun too, immediately asking what kind of music he likes instead of other more pertinent questions. I still have high hopes Jojolands will feature my favorite core cast. And his backstory reinforces the sibling dynamics that seem to be a core idea for this part. I'm also not fully up to date on Part 8 but we have a potential rock human? Also gotta note we're keeping up this theme of hostile police which is pertinent to a modern day American setting.
Moving on, I love this dude. Just materializes out of the aether when a cutie is talking about souvenirs. Accurate. And lookit! The fancy schmancy watch made its way back to Dragona just as hypothesized. The lava rock works in mysterious ways. A lot of this chapter was getting us back home and introducing the new guy, but especially with talking about similar concepts in Egghead for One Piece it is intriguing we skipped over the conclusion to the fight and we have this bit of weirdness. But where that really came to a head...
Aww yeah Meryl Mei! It's not just that she's pointing out oddities in their return. There's an ominous edge to this, I don't know how much we should trust this lady so it troubles me that Dragona seems to be the one closest to her individually. How does this one girlboss do so many different jobs? Worth pondering given this series has a huge running theme of bad guys with time powers. Just something to think about. Hope she's not wicked because I do like Meryl but you could have a great twist having her pull the rug out from under the gang.
Still, we're back home and ready to likely embark on something new. I liked the trip to another island, fun picking up a new friend and working Rohan in the way we did. The panels of him tossing money around on the beach to study the lava rock were classic Rohan weirdness. Personally I hope we get a couple of chapters now to play with the characters a bit. Flesh them out more. Usually Jojo's parts spend a little time on that after the first big leg of the story it seems. Something like Jodio & Dragona taking their mom Barbara Ann out and having to deal with a weaker stand battle could be solid or just letting them live their lives as some weird things happen. We have such a good group and setting I'd hate to spring too fast into heavy plot stuff while we're still figuring this part out.
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Fionna x fem!enemy reader headcanons
Thank me later ;)
-This woman did NOT sign up to fight a hot female villain, what???
-She was sent out by Prince Gumball to find some evil do-er that had been messing with his stuff for ages, and when she caught you messing with someone, she confronted you but froze for a second at your beauty.
-She fought you still, and (tried) to put up a good fight but with the way you were clearly flirting with her, the way you called her sweetheart towards the end made her freeze and you bested her, pinning her down.
-"i'm straight i'm straight i'm straight i'm straight-"
-Afterwards, you just left, leaving her speechless.
-Cake was off to the side the entire time just like "???"
-she told Gumball that you'd bested her and he just sighed and said 'she's persistent, keep trying'
-She kept trying again and again, but you kept besting her!
-and got flirtier
-eventually she got used to the unusual flirtatious encounters, starting to jab back with her own lines, and now she was noticing you were starting to flush and freeze sometimes with some of things she'd say.
-Yeah no you guys got really flirty, real fast
-You started calling each other petnames before you even started to date...
-But when things REALLY started to ramp is when the prince decided to go to you himself and try to best you.
-And Fionna was there to watch because plot
-And she noticed how you were different when you fought with him, you were a lot more sadistic and just all over evil, the un-similarity of when you fought with her was actually weird.
-you did get captured, unfortunately
-And she visited you in captivity, she asked you questions and seemed to be interested in what made you like this, you gave vague answers at first, but with the way she was trying so hard to crack you, she eventually succeeded.
-She was quiet, letting you rant and as you finished, offered comfort and let you collapse onto her chest as she hugged you tight.
-And after that whole ordeal, you guys became... closer.
-You guys were acting like friends???
-That's a win on Fionna's part
And the next time she saw you, she asked and I quote:
-"Why were you so flirty with me? I mean, we were fighting but-"
-"You're really pretty."
*long pause*
-"wait wha-"
-After a bit of convincing, Gumball let you out on the one condition you live with Fionna to have her as a supervisor.
-You hesitantly complied.
-Cake was so confused at why you were there, but slowly noticed how much Fionna liked you, and then so did BMO. You guys would flush at the tiniest bit of physical contact, and sometimes flirt jokingly.
-But how you got together is one of your old allies sent an assasin that came looking for you and you protected Fionna from them, they said the only way they could leave her alone and abandon the contract was if they were the romantic partner of you.
-So you did the only logical thing, you kissed her.
-They left you alone, and you both talked over it a bit and ended up dating.
-Then the enemies to lovers yuri had reached its peak and watchers were invested- I MEAN
Sorry guys, it's bad, but I rushed this
Eh, I got it out, hope you enjoyed, byeee
#adventure time fionna#adventure time x reader#adventure time#adventure time fanfic#fionna and cake#fionna and cake x reader#fionna x reader#fionna the human#fionna campbell#fionna campbell x reader#lesbians#lgbt#enemies to lovers#fionna the human x reader#fionna
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It is 2022, and there is time for Potion Permit.
Maybe not, like. A lot of time. But enough.
In this twist on the farming sim genre, you are a chemist (read: alchemist) from the capital of a vaguely steampunk country, sent to the remote island of Moonbury as an olive branch to the community. Many years ago, chemists wreaked havoc on the island's flora, and the bad blood still lingers.
As the new local chemist, you spend your days gathering ingredients from the local flora and fauna for your potions so you can treat the townsfolk when they fall ill. The townspeople are pretty standard vaguely-steampunk folks, though out in the boonies and so more reliant on traditional trades than it's implied the big city folk are. Like any good farming sim, there's a dating sim element, too: some of the townsfolk are romancable.
It's all very cozy and reminiscent of the early days of a Stardew Valley game, where gathering wild resources provides a supplement to your farm as you get your feet under you.
Except...
Well, that really is all the game is built around. To explain, it's a very shallow experience compared to your Stardew Valley or your Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons. In particular, it really suffers from the lack of any real in-game calendar.
One of the big draws of these kinds of games - farming sims and close relatives - is the wish fulfillment of getting out into nature and feeling its rhythms. And on the nuts-and-bolts gameplay side of things, these kinds of games rely on the feeling of time passing and natural cycles to break up the monotony of the gameplay loop. For example: sure you might still be farming the same nine squares you tilled in spring, but it's autumn now and the harvest festival is around the corner, and after that will be winter so if you don't have a greenhouse you'd better be ready for mining.
Potion Permit does have an in-game week and the characters have schedules based on it, but there's no real sense of time passing. It doesn't have to be a four-seasons temperate climate or anything (the development team is the Indonesian MassHive Media, so a wet/dry season system would've been pretty cool) but without it, the game becomes an unending samey drone after a while. There are no festivals or birthdays to look forward to. Potion ingredients don't cycle. Hell, diseases don't cycle: characters just come down with random ailments that usually don't have anything to do with each other.
As for the townsfolk themselves, eh, they're fine. There were, I think, a few baffling decisions about who's romancable and who isn't (whyyyy is the farmer not romancable, his mother is even trying to get him hooked up with somebody), and I sense some amount of 'swing and a miss' with their handling of sensitive topics and mental health concerns. Still, it's a small indie team, and for me at least I can forgive it as a sincere effort with some rough edges.
That said, the relationship system is pared down compared to other games in the genre. No one has any favourites: everyone gets the same gift of the local tea, which you earn for treating patients and for completing relationship quests. The romances never advance past dating, either. And the event flags for the main quest and for relationships are completely decoupled: I dated my former rival and got his relationship to that point before doing a few endgame things, and this wasn't acknowledged At All. It does let you romance whoever you want regardless of gender, at least, and perhaps because of the shallow system you can date multiple characters without issue.
Speaking of the endgame, the game just kind of... peters out, storywise. Oh, there's a party when you Become The Local Hero, but it doesn't take any ingame time and you don't even rest after it. There isn't even a credits roll. You're just booted out of the party cutscene to outside of the tavern with the same ingame time as when you started.
For all my misgivings, though, I enjoyed most of my time with Potion Permit. I don't think I'll be buying it (I borrowed it from the library for my Switch), but it occupied the time and felt nice while it lasted. Not really recommended, but not really not recommended, either.
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do you have any miscellaneous thoughts on the owl house now that it's over :0 your media takes are always interesting reads
eh not really. i'm sleepy so maybe tomorrow but i think its just too basic of a show to have any Deep thoughts about. idk. it operates on such simple, comforting notions of good vs evil where you never have to challenge yourself - questioning your own morality is always an angst-driven mistake, rather than an opportunity for real growth. so its like. what is there even to talk about?
i feel like so much meta around this show is just like. "my poor baby went through so much, their story is so sad, let me retell you how sad they are." in text form. which is like. its cool, media exists partially to help you explore your emotions. but there's just very little else there.
especially after season one. i guess my spiciest hot take for the night is that the owl house stopped having interesting character conflict after lilith was redeemed. at that point, nothing new that happened was ever driven by anything real. there were no interpersonal conflicts between complex characters - there were good guys, bad guys, and that was it. if a good guy had drama with another good guy, it was due to some kind of misunderstanding. if anyone was temporarily working with a bad guy, it was due to being a manipulated smol bean. not due to real choices. so its just not real.
all of that is fine for a baby show, btw. but it makes it hard to analyze, unless you're approaching it from like, a lore perspective. or a meta perspective talking about how character motivation could be a lot stronger if they let their characters be flawed, and refusing to do so speaks to an immature mindset where maybe you're afraid of challenging people. maybe you're afraid of any real darkness in yourself. maybe you smother yourself in reassurances that any doubt is just the product of self-hatred, so you just need friends and their validation that you're already a good person.
but hey, it's ok to need that. so yknow. enjoy?
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All of our models have been thoroughly tickle-tested, and every purchase comes with a personalised booklet of all their worst tickle spots, scans of their feet with tickle-mapping, and of course access to the hours of testing session footage, should you wish to watch your purchase getting introduced to what tickling really means. Pretty good deal, eh?
Yes, Florian here is one of our most popular models, and as such is only available to buy for two week, four week, and twelve week periods. He's our very own handsome boy-next-door type. Very polite and charming. One to bring home to your parents...if your parents are fond of tickle torturing twinks. I've had the pleasure of sitting in on some of his sessions and boy is he just a delight to tickle. Sure, he's polite at the start, trying to butter you up to get you to go easy on him, no doubt, but get him howling and he becomes a lot more honest. Quite the stunner, isn't he? He's even hotter when he's laughing his head off.
Ah, I see you've spotted another of our popular models.
Bryce is a bit of a bad boy as you can tell from his catalogue pictures. Very cheeky, very bratty. Very fun to whip into shape. Yep, those nipples are a real hot-spot. I've seen him change his tune real quick when two electric toothbrushes were taped down on them. Those muscles might look intimidating, but they're no use when they're strapped up above his head. If anything those juicy pecs just give you more meat to massage and molest. I would advise you to have a thick skin if you opt for this model; he doesn't hold back when he's frustrated...but that just gives him more to punish him for, am I right?
And yep, Toby is another best-seller. He's a real shape-shifter this one, perfect for any kind of roleplay you want to do. Workplace bully you want revenge on? Troublesome spy you need information out of? Sexy poolboy who caught your eye? Toby will commit to any roleplay, and I mean that sincerely. The man's quite the little actor. Of course he's not infallible - you tickle him hard enough he's likely to beg for real even if his character wouldn't...but nobody's perfect.
Ah, you've made a decision? Excellent. Florian? Great choice you guys, he's popular for a reason. It's always fun to crack a goody-two-shoes. Push his politeness to its limits as you oil and tickle his soles. I'll just get that sorted for you guys. So you want the twelve-week package, correct? Plenty of time to expore the depths of his soul. And you fellas don't need to hire any additional bondage equipment? You've got an at-home tickle dungeon? Amazing. Florian's gonna have a lot of fun with you guys by the sounds of it.
In that case that'll be $58,800.
...And that's gone through for you. Florian will arrive in three days as requested, and of course he'll have gone through our thorough grooming and styling procedures so he's spick and span when he comes to you. Ready for his little holiday. Or exercise retreat, he may consider it, ha ha.
Okay, guys. Thanks for coming in to Twinkxpress today. Come again soon.
#tickling#maletickling#tickletorture#barefoot guys#tickle interrogation#male tickling#male foot#m/m tickling#m/m#f/m tickling
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I think my primary reason for playing around so much with the Astarion Ascendent Ending is I sincerely don't particularly subscribe to the idea that a singular choice can put someone on a path of no return to becoming just like their abuser. Particularly not if that transformation is largely biological in nature.
Don't get me wrong I'm very into it as a bad choice for Astarion. Not only is he being monstrously selfish in sacrificing 6000 lives but he's also choosing power and security over real fundamental escape. Its not a good person thing to do and has set him back AGES in terms of healing. I'm also very into the emergent thread that Tav can't expect love to be enough, that the nature of your relationship is going to be so shifted by this decision that he will lose significant respect for you and be that much harder to call him out on poor behavior because of it.
My ultimate *handwaves* eh on it is like. The thing with DND vampirism (or at least FULL vampirism)is it basically seems to be like pushing an evil button in the brain. That's, to me, both extremely silly and also, sort of a cop out for guys like Cazador. How accountable can you really hold someone for bad behavior if they have a biological impetus to be the Fucking Worst. I understand the metaphor but also. You don't just get baptized in blood one day and become Cazador. There are a lot of choices to be made, and made every single day, in order to be that guy. Its not that Astarion isn't CAPABLE of making those choices. Everyone is on some level. But the fact remains they're still in front of him. Its up to players if they decide he's made a choice he can't ever walk back from for their own character, but I don't personally agree that he's doomed from now on to KEEP making bad choices. Whether or not your Tav is the person to pull him back, whether or not he does ultimately grow to resist the cycle. Its important to me that he'll always have the choice
#like even for cazador there was always a choice#you find the skull of his master and understand how much was groomed into him#and me i dont personally like the idea that you can either accept the grueling physical limits of being a spawn#or just be Innately Evil Forever#cazador is like that because he chose not to be better#astarion can be like that but there need to be choices always#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion#baldurs gate 3 spoilers#cazador
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Tried to follow only to discover I already am. Good job, past me. Thoughts on the changes made to Rose’s character with each reboot?
YES i have so many thoughts
first of all. the new 52 was the worst thing to ever happen to rose and im not exaggerating even a little. she started out as a superboy side character (???) as an assassin that was hired to kill him if he didnt do what they wanted ? then she became a ravager and hunted people down
but the WORST part of the new52 is that they either didnt know or didnt care about lillian worth and they just. made rose one of slade and adeline's kids. and had him raise her.
also she was the oldest child of her and joey, which is nowhere near the same level of awful as the whitewashing but still makes me uncomfortable
yeah so. new 52 was fucking terrible. that is not rose even a little i do not know this woman
but REBIRTH fixed so much <3 christopher priest my bff <3 i am once again recommending deathstroke 2016 bc it has so many good moments and i think its worth reading
the first time rose showed up lillian worth was mentioned!!!!! she was there!!!!! <33333 the timeline was changed a little but i can forgive that bc!!! LILI!!!!!
the problem is that the book made her hmong instead of cambodian and i dont really know why??? but also ive said it before but,,, as much as it makes me upset bc asian identities shouldnt just be interchangeable,,,, this was the first time it was even mentioned that she was half asian since the 90s!!!! and she had a whole arc about her hmong heritage and her family!!!!!!
AND she didnt kill anyone in that book iirc :') the closest she got to killing someone was when she was in the middle of a breakdown then shado killing him for her instead which!!!! i love so so much bc rose does not kill a lot despite what some writers want you to believe. pre52 she has like maybe 3 murders that i would consider in character so the fact that she doesnt kill anyone in ds2016 is so fucking real
anyways ill also count infinite frontier as a reboot bc i love to talk about my opinions
there werent a lot of clear changes in infinite frontier BUT. technically her cutting her eye out is canon rn. in deathstroke inc theres a flashback of her stabbing her eye, and also in dark knights death metal (?) shes drawn with an eyepatch
then she was in robin 2021 which was . eh. it wasnt BAD for her but it was just kinda her continuing to kill ppl ig :( but she was drawn so nice in that book so ill forgive it
side note i still hate the idea of respawn so that bothered me in this book. also what they did to connor hawke is unforgivable so its a net loss but whatever
anyways i think thats all my thoughts. in conclusion: new52 bad. rebirth mostly good. infinite frontier eh. and my own personal interpretation is perfect always.
#thats not even mentioning the fact that she gave up the name ravager in ds2016#which i LOVE but everyone just. forgot about it.#not fair#also im choosing to ignore the fact that that hmong family was paid by slade#bc i have a lot of thoughts about what that means for her but i dont want to derail all of this#but also also. ds16 is so fucking funny. remember when rose got married just to spite slade#rose wilson#dc
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hello hello! if u ever do decide to get more into prime defenders, the first seven episodes are a little iffy but i can attest to it getting better (WAY WAY better) after that, and apparently season 2 is even better. so it might be worth getting into at some point if ur interested ^^
also would HIGHLY recommend blood in the bayou if u like horror because. my god it’s my favorite campaign BY A LOT which is saying something cuz i love all the campaigns i’ve listened to so much, but blood in the bayou hits different. it’s run by charlie, very horror based with a really cool premise that charlie executed fantastically, and it’s only got four episodes ^^
either way i’ve finally caught up w riptide and can finally go through your art for it and oh boy it’s literally so so so cool i’m losing my mind, i love how you draw la alma he is so friend shaped
i hope you’re having a great day, and be sure to Just Roll With It! (<- very funny yet incredibly subtle reference. i’m so tired)
hehehhehe i love the reference >:)c always hear it in grizzly's voice in my head ("and just roll with it baybee!!") and also waaa thank you, i love drawing la alma <3 kitty <3 need to draw more of him, but also there's so many cool npc's that i also want to draw aughh not enough hours in a day smh i need twice as much, maybe thrice.....
about other campaigns!
i think someone said in the tags (or replies, don't remember) under my post that first 7 episodes of pd were kinda eh, and it did feel like the first episodes were less serious and less engaging. like, literally my favorite characters after watching them are tide and wavelength, which is like???? one of them barely talked even. but i do believe that it gets better, i saw some of the art and it looks amazing and super interesting!
blood in the bayou. im so absolutely INSANE about. charlie as a dm is SO fucking good im kicking screaming and crying im not normal. everything from the voices he does to the way he explains things and creates atmosphere to the way he treats players and characters augghhbhhbbbbb words cannot explain how much i love it. i LOVE blood in the bayou, its literally perfect in every aspect. the setting, the game, the art (dont get me started on the art), augh augh augh augh--
both of them (and apotheosis!!!) are on patreon tho, which i sadly don't have access to, no matter how bad i want to watch them or to know what happens next. don't want to get into politics much, but. its not that i don't have 10 dollars or however much the lowest tear is, patreon just doesn't work where i live. same as spotify, paypal, steam, and all the other payed services. vpn works for twitter, instagram, ao3, tiktok, but everything that includes banks and dealing with money and paperwork doesn't get fixed by just changing connection unfortunately. it has its benefits, i don't get ads on youtube or twitch, but everything else sucks. and atm the only real way to deal with it is move to another country... (which sounds pretty good, ngl)
#yagotalk#also fun fact. had to watch bitb with a vpn. it literally got censored for how good it was-- or for the amount of drugs mentioned... whoops
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Angel the Series for the ask meme thing 👀❤️
my favorite female character: with each rewatch I’ve loved Cordelia more and more, but it’s… complicated. She’s a character I like a lot, and that on paper I should gravitate towards above others, yet. I think it might be, in part, that I always knew what would happen to her and refused to get seriously invested LOL (I watched BTVS on tv as a child and practically unspoiled, but ATS years and years later). I also enjoy Lilah a lot, and LOVE Faith’s arc, small as it is.
my favorite male character: Angel and it’s not close. I like quite a few of the characters in the show, but the way Angel is crafted as a character, the way he works as a male lead… unparalleled.
my favorite book/season/etc: season 4. It has some of the most troubling stuff of the show, of course, but also concentrates some of my favourite things: Lilah/Wesley, the Angel-Faith-Wesley dynamic, Angelus’ return (with a gr10 example of a plot twist episode done right), Angelus-Connor… I love all the seasons in different ways but this is the one I find most interesting.
my favorite episode (if its a tv show): toss up between “Epiphany” (2x16), “Forgiving” (3x17), and “Home” (4x22).
my favorite cast member: I think all of them do a great job tbh, but I just LOVE what Julie Benz brings to the screen. And her voice *-*
my favorite ship: Lilah/Wesley!!!! I also love Angel/Darla and Angel/Faith/Wesley but. LILAH/WESLEY. They’re the ones that reduce me to tears, so (IT MEANS SOMETHING THAT YOU TRIED).
a character I’d die defending: eh. I get defensive when I see someone interpreting a character in bad faith, but it just doesn’t come close to what I feel for, say, Buffy.
a character I just can’t sympathize with: honestly? Fred. It has less to do with her as a person (although she had some moments xD), and more with how she’s built as a character. The only moment where she felt ~real to me was the episode with her parents’ appearance. It was gutting (especially paired with everyone else’s reactions like. Huh. Good parents? Now THAT is something I’ve never seen before!! Añsdkfjasdf).
a character I grew to love: hmm… idk. Wesley, maybe? Full disclosure, I liked Wesley even back in his BTVS days lol, but the love part definitely came with ATS.
my anti otp: nothing goes that far. I dislike Fred/Wesley and the way the triangle was written definitely made me dislike Fred/Gunn, I don’t care for how Angel/Cordelia was developed as a romance outside a few key moments… but nothing as rage inducing as that.
#talking to the void#my thoughts#replies#elviriel#angel the series#buffyverse#buffyverse thoughts#ty!
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Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 109
A true fact about this series is that it’s composed entirely inside the tumblr app on my phone. This is several flavors of bad idea, and I don’t doubt it has a dampening effect on the speed of composition, or, for that matter, the goodness of it. Alas and alack, eh and oh well.
Marilynne Robinson, yeah? Yeah. Housekeeping. 1980. This is a Picador reprint standing in for the original release under Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
The How
If you read these posts in any quantity, you’ll know @strawberrycinema is the closest thing they have to an executive producer. She handed me a copy (probably this one, which I fear I inadvertently stole in the most recent move. Sorry, man.) a couple years back, around the same time as I was starting in on Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle (which selfsame copy is now with Sylvia. If you’re her and you’re reading this, keep it.).
I believe I read this one first, though they blend together a bit in my head. I further believe that’s for the best.
The Text
I grew up watching a lot of baseball. I played a bit; my brother played a lot. One consequence of this — there are several — is that I have a deep and maladaptive appreciation of the sorts of hooting and snarking slung out of dugouts. I’ve read this twice now, once in approximate parallel to Sylvia, and once over the last month or so, alone save for a couple choice cuts read out loud to @krieper.
This book is at its best as a spectator sport. The prose is so often stunningly pretty, and the pace is reliably so driven (though sometimes not in obvious ways) that I suspect reading it properly alone would feel claustrophobic. I am a bad fit for its real audience, what with the very Christian water imagery and the haziness near the end, but maybe that enhances the experience of talking about it. Griping from the fence is worth a lot. Even better is admiring a genuinely good game. Have some peanuts.
By way of justifying the mention of We Have Always Lived in the Castle: as an anti-coming of age story (leaving of age story, maybe?) these both excel. Very different books; different characters, different sensibilities, different kinds of world; lots of shared space. I like that.
The Object
Trade paperback. Mealy paper. Unpleasant.
You’ll notice I slapped on one of my staunchly hideous and heinously strong self-adhesive book wraps in addition to the usual spine label and semi-gloss label protector. The overall effect is one I’ll generously call uninviting. I don’t recommend handling this copy, though if you need something to throw in a travel bag it’ll do great.
The Why, Though?
It’s set in a town called Fingerbone. There’s trains and talk of housebuilding. There’s a mournful air about it. That’s at least three reasons right there.
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