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#sorry it was the only rhyme I could think of lol
lucifers-simp · 5 months
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Okay I have not even watched the Loki show yet but I just saw someone saying that he's not gay and FUCK THAT
I think we as a queer community should get together and bring the public queering of Loki to the next level cause I try to keep my patience when people treat straightwashed characters like they were never gay to begin with but Loki is off limits
So please if you have any comic panel, fanart, fanfic or any other queer loki related thing (not necessarily from the show, just anything) that you would want to share, please reblog this
(nsfw is fine just make sure to tag it properly:) )
(Also comic and fanfic recs please)
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homeslices · 1 year
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Atta Girl
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A/N: Do I keep dropping off the face of the earth and reappearing with smut fics? Lol yeah. Also this feels a little rushed to me so I’m sorry 😭 I tried but still, lemme know what y’all think.
Summary: Just a little drabble of eating Ellie out 🤭
Pairings: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 958
Warnings: Smut
“Fuck baby, that’s it.”
Ellie’s voice cuts through your sex-induced mind which was clouded with lust and you weren’t even the one getter eaten out.
Your face was covered in spit and Ellie’s slick and your doe eyes stared up at her as you let out whimpers into her wet cunt.
Ellie’s hand had a firm grip on the top of your head, using it to yank you where she wanted. A particularly hard pull had you whining so loud, Ellie could hear you from where she was sitting and over the sounds of her sopping heat.
Hearing your girlfriend’s heavy panting and moans of pleasure, the throb in your core was almost unbearable. You knew that you soaked. So much in fact that you were positive you could feel it through the tiny shorts you were wearing.
Not being able to ignore your needs any longer, you use your free hand, the one not holding on to Ellie’s thigh, and slip it into both your shorts and panties.
Vigorously, you start rubbing at your poor neglected clit as you were eating Ellie’s cunt even sloppier than before. Your little whines and whimpers have turned into full blow moans, which of course drew the auburn haired girl’s attention to what you were doing.
Tugging you to look up at her, while still having you close enough where you could continue to pleasure her, she lets out a tsk.
“What do you think you’re doing baby?”
Only pulling your mouth for a moment you answer her, like the good girl you are.
“Can’t- can’t wait any longer Els,” it’s a whine and as soon as you finish your lips are around her clit sucking, and your hand in your panties moves even faster.
“Fuck babe,” Ellie stutters out. Turns out being in charge and getting eaten out to the brink of an orgasm is kind of hard. “So selfish, can’t even wait for me to cum.”
“M’sorry,” you slur out, not even removing your mouth from her, too pussy drunk to give her your full attention.
That coil in your stomach was starting to build up and you couldn’t possibly stop your hand movement now.
However, with another yank, Ellie's voice cuts through your mind once again.
“Can’t cum before me babes, you wanna be my good girl don’t you?”
You nod and let out a little whimper at the pet name she only calls you in the bedroom, or anywhere you fuck. So with reluctance, you remove your hand from your shorts.
Putting your full attention on her cunt, you eagerly start, what seems like, making out with it. There was no pattern of your movement, no rhyme or reason for it, it was messy and clouded your brain in the best way possible. Spit and Ellie’s slick was running down your face at this point making a mess all over your naked chest, which was rising and falling sporadically.
And, once you add two of your fingers, the ones that were previously being used to rub yourself, you knew it was almost a matter of time before she fell apart.
Her moans were louder and more often, her thighs were trembling, the grip on your hair was strengthening, and the most telling sign was her cunt tightening around your fingers as you made them go in and out at a rapid speed.
Curving them upward just slightly, you find that spongy spot inside her that always had her finishing within moments.
“Shit I’m cumming,” Ellie groans out.
Her cunt clenches hard around your fingers and her entire body tenses with her release. You lustfully stare at Ellie from between her legs as her eyes roll to the back of her head and she mumbles your name over and over again. You rode her through her orgasm, making her get the maximum amount of satisfaction.
You forget all about your own needs at that moment. How could you even think about that when your god-like girlfriend was saying your name repeatedly as she came?
But when Ellie finally came down from her high out of breath and looked directly at you, pupils still blown wide, you couldn’t stop the whine that came out of your mouth. That throb in your cunt felt 100x more powerful, and worse.
Smoothing out your hair that she had a firm grip on the entire time soothingly, your girlfriend finally speaks.
“Go ahead baby, make yourself cum.”
Finally, with her permission, you bring your hand, the one still covered in Ellie’s essence and cum, into your shorts and panties once again.
You found your clit easily, and began to massage it hurriedly. You rest your head on the auburn haired girl’s thigh as you let out little huffs of air. Your eyebrows furrow as your pace quickens even more.
Finally, after what felt like ages, the coil that had been tightening in your stomach finally snapped. You let out a squeal as your cunt gushes and your vision turns white.
You feel like you’re on fucking cloud nine. All your senses turn fuzzy and the only thing that you could identify is the immense amount of bliss that takes over your entire body.
As you slowly began coming down from the euphoric feeling, you started to gain some of your awareness back. The first thing you noticed was Ellie soothingly stroking your hair. Your eyes flutter as they begin to refocus and you’re greeted with the sight of Ellie looking at you with love, lust, and proudness. She seemed to be talking, but you were still out of it and couldn’t fully comprehend what she was saying until a few moments later.
“There you go,” you’re finally able to make out. “Atta girl.”
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magicalbats · 7 months
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Day 14: Orgasm Denial
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Rating: R-18+
Word Count: 7925
Warnings: Afab!reader, (lots of) gendered language, social power dynamics, boss/employee, upperclass/lowerclass, tbh I’m not entirely sure how to tag some of this xmdkxkdnd, manual masturbation, dacryphilia, I wanted reader to be a bit of a bimbo in this one so if she seems stupid that’s why lol
A/N: sorry this one is late! I am officially behind on my prompts now but regardless of how long it takes I WILL be completing this Kinktober challenge! Unfortunately the real world demands attention sometimes but I’m not giving up 😤
Stamping down the urge to nervously fiddle with your hands, you clutch at the front of your arpon to keep them still and try very hard to focus on what the man in front of you is saying. The Palais Mermonia housed a great many regular faces, some of which you only saw from time to time and could not seem to commit to memory, and yet you’d been seeing mister Danon’s more and more often than anyone else’s recently. You didn’t understand why that would be though, and had at first written it off as mere coincidence. A simple matter of happenstance and nothing more. 
But then it kept happening at an ever increasing frequency until it seemed like you were running into him almost every day now. Only then had it occurred to you, in a far off, distant sort of way, that he must have been making a concerted effort to talk with you like this. That was the only reasonable explanation for it that you could glean, because the one person you saw at the Palais with any amount of real regularity was the honorable Iudex himself and certainly not the man who’s job description you could not seem to recall. But that didn’t exactly explain why. 
You wanted to understand what would make him seek you out like this, so you attentively listen to mister Danon when he speaks even though you sometimes find him a bit difficult to follow. He seemed like he was probably a good person and respectable enough, but he had a strange habit of jumping from topic to topic without much rhyme or reason that you could discern. One moment he would be talking to you about matters of work, about documents he needed to have signed or the latest gossip that had everyone all in a buzz, and the next … why, he would suddenly say something off hand about recreational activities to do in the city or places to dine, a book he’d read recently and even the types of food he fancied. 
It was all very strange, and listening to him talk does not help in the slightest. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse. 
You didn’t have the slightest idea why he would want to discuss upcoming stageplays with you nor why he should feel the need to announce that his favorite dish was aspic as if it was something that should be of great interest to you. It was all really quite strange. 
“You see, if you take a few fish when they’re still flopping around and fresh,” He tells you, eagerly gesturing his way through an explanation you hadn’t asked for. “That will guarantee their taste and ensure your aspic comes out just divine. Like something straight from the Gods themselves, if you want the honest truth of it. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything more sumptuous!” 
“A - ah,” You make a valid attempt to smile politely but it was difficult to keep up with him like this. What did you care for the precise steps to make such an unappetizing sounding dish? 
“You know, if you were interested, cherie … I could make it for you to try, if you would like. Ah, what I mean is — it might be nice if we can sit down together and chat over a meal at my residence. Just the two of us.”
Your brows slowly crawl straight up to your hairline. “Oh.” 
Before you can think to say anything else, an attention grabbing thud against the marble floor makes you spin around and a smile quickly overtakes your face. 
“Monsieur Neuvillette! It is a pleasure to see you today.”
The kindly man sends you a slow, vaguely bemused half-smile. “Good afternoon, mademoiselle. Mister Danon. You looked like you were having a rather lively conversation just now. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?” 
“Of course not, monsieur. It was nothing important at all.” You beam up at him, eager and happy to hang on his every word no matter how benign or minuscule. Much to your surprise, though, he sends another unreadable look over your shoulder and when you turn back to Danon you’re more than a little surprised to find him slouched as if in defeat. Your eyebrows quickly make the climb up to your hairline again. “Mister Danon, are you alright? Goodness, you suddenly look quite unwell.” 
“Yes, everything is fine. Nothing to worry about.” He waves off your concern, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he makes a concerted effort not to look directly at you now and instead turns his attention towards monsieur Neuvillette. “Forgive me, your honor. I’m afraid I must be going now. My break is almost over and my presence will be sorely missed if I fail to show up on time.”
The stately Iudex inclines his chin in a brief nod of acknowledgment. “You needn’t apologize, mister Danon. On behalf of all of Fontaine, thank you for the hard work you do.” 
Giving monsieur Neuvillette a stiff bow, he turns to do the same to you. “Mademoiselle.” 
You quickly bob a perplexed curtsy back. “Monsieur?” 
Ignoring or perhaps not hearing the question in your voice, Danon pivots on his heel and makes a hasty retreat down the long corridor without so much as a backwards glance. You can’t seem to shake the feeling you’ve said or done something wrong though, and you watch him go with a tiny flutter of anxiety in your chest until another soft thud of monsieur Neuvillette’s cane on the marble floor pulls you around again. 
With a small frown in place, you tip your head back to look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Monsieur Neuvillette?” 
He offers you a small, gentle smile, no doubt meant to placate and soothe, though it does little in the way of good. “Please do not look so put out, mademoiselle. Would you like to accompany me to my office?” 
Nodding, you fall into step beside him. You find yourself listlessly fiddling with your hands now, unable to stop it when it felt like you'd made some horrible faux pas, and they anxiously flit over your front to smooth out invisible wrinkles. What a strange and confusing situation to end up in, and with no idea how to navigate it either. It seemed like you’d done the exact opposite of what you’d initially set out to do … you didn’t understand it in the slightest. 
“Forgive me for asking you such a strange question so suddenly, but … did I say something to offend mister Danon just now?” 
Noising a quiet sound of consideration, monsieur Neuvillette thinks on that for a brief moment. “I am certainly no expert on the topic, mademoiselle, but if I am not mistaken I do believe mister Danon harbors a romantic interest in you. I believe he may have felt slighted when you said what you were discussing was of no importance, and he took it as a sign of rejection.” 
You jerk to a sudden halt with an inelegant scuffle of your heels. “Romantic?” Eyes widening in mute horror, you feel your cheeks start to grow uncomfortably warm. That did make sense, you were more than just a little stunned to realize. The way he made the effort to find you wherever you were working, stop you and talk to you; the way he would casually sprinkle in bits and pieces of his personal life and subtly suggest food, diners, places to go and things to do … had he really been laying out suggestions this whole time hoping you would show an interest in him back? But — “But he never said … oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I had no idea!” 
He looks at you with a soft, sympathetic smile where he’d stopped half a pace in front of you. “It is alright if you didn’t know. Situations like these can be difficult to — parse sometimes, and I do not think you acted with malicious intent. Come, let us continue this over a cup of tea.” 
Embarrassed and roiling with a crushing sense of guilt, you slowly trail after the Iudex to his large, exquisitely furnished office where you quickly fall into your usual habit of preparing the chinaware while he situates himself on the ornate lounge. It is muscle memory alone that sees you through your task, motions practiced and subconscious after working at the Palais for so long, which comes as a great relief in that moment. You were far too preoccupied with this startling revelation to give the pouring of the tea much thought. Mister Danon’s intentions were shocking enough but, perhaps even more so, you’re surprised at your own lack of awareness on the matter. 
You felt rather bad now, for listening to him so attentively and humoring the conversations he was always keen to share with you. Had he mistaken it for budding affection on your part? Have you unknowingly encouraged him to keep trying or, somehow worse, made him believe you were merely toying with his feelings this whole time? What a terrible thing to do to another person, intentionally or not. 
Monsieur Neuvillette silently regards you when you bring the tea over on a silver tray but you can’t bring yourself to look at him while you set everything down on the low table in front of him. He was always nothing but kind to you despite your lower station of housekeeper, just as he was with all of the staff that kept the Palais functioning as it should. Everyone from the notarizers and the title clerks right down to even the janitors were treated with nothing but respect and dignity, and that very much included you. But you were a bit too ashamed, too guilty to meet his gaze right now, and you quickly shuffle back a polite distance once everything is laid out so you can further avoid his eyes. 
A stretch of quiet settles over the room, and you have to try very hard not to start fiddling with your uniform again. 
“Won’t you make yourself a cup and join me?” He ventures at last. 
“I couldn’t, monsieur Neuvillette. But thank you.” 
He seems to deliberate over something for a short beat before half turning his body on the lounge to look up at you. “I must apologize for prying like this but what about the situation with mister Danon has you so upset? If you didn’t know what his intentions were then you certainly cannot be held responsible for not acting accordingly.” 
You hesitate to discuss this matter with him, well aware that it was improper and impolite to talk over such things with not only the aristocracy but also the man who was effectively your employer. It felt very much like an unspoken boundary that should not, under any circumstances, be crossed but … when you take in monsieur Neuvillette’s imploring expression your resolve starts to crumble. He was a wise and exceptionally astute figurehead who always treated every case laid out before him no matter how small or insignificant with the utmost care and consideration. Perhaps he would have some insight to share with you, or at least some advice. 
“Well,” You finally relent, tipping your chin down to shyly regard your buckled shoes. “I’m aware that this might sound a little odd but I just feel so guilty about everything … I should have realized sooner why he kept seeking me out like he did. As silly as it is, I can’t help but feel like I tricked him somehow.” 
“That is a silly thing, isn’t it?” He agrees in a soft, endlessly patient tone. “How could you have tricked someone if you weren’t aware of what they wanted from you? In the unlikely event that a case such as this were presented to me, I wouldn’t even be able to rule in favor of misrepresentation on the defendant’s part. You have to act with knowing and intention to be held accountable for trickery.” 
You despondently mull that over for a long stretch. Logically, you knew what he was saying to be true and you, as everyone else in Fontaine, trusted his judgment implicitly. It wasn’t so much that you doubted him but, rather, your guilt was so great that it couldn’t accept this answer. The thought alone that you might have broken mister Danon’s heart after stringing him along for months almost brings tears to your eyes. 
“Does that mean you wouldn’t deign to punish me for it?” It’s barely more than a whisper. 
“No, not unconscionably. No one in their right mind would.” 
It feels like you're withering on the spot. You didn’t understand it yourself, why you were so upset to hear this rather than relieved at finding you hadn’t broken any laws or regulations that would hold you accountable. Even if mister Danon were to try to file a suit against you to mend some of his bruised ego it sounded like he wouldn’t even have a case to stand on — and that was good. 
So why did it feel as if you were skating by without making proper amends for the transgression?
“Mademoiselle?” 
You finally bring your head up to look at him. “Do you think mister Danon will forgive me if I apologize?” 
Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression softens, taking on a truly remorseful edge. “I don’t know, little one. He might. I can’t see into the future any more than you can, but I think if it’s something that bothers you so much then it certainly wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it.” 
Blinking back a sudden deluge of tears, you take an impulsive step towards him with the tray clutched to your chest. “Oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I don’t know what to do! How can I possibly ameliorate my actions if he might not even accept my apology? I — I didn’t mean to lead him on!” 
Very neatly, calmly, monsieur Neuvillette folds his gloved hands on his lap and studies you for an indeterminable amount of time with that closed and shuttered expression. You aren’t sure how many minutes pass when you’re a right mess inside, all your emotions kicked up into such a veritable whirlwind that it’s all you can do just to hold it together. But, at length, he eventually draws a careful breath. 
“What I’m hearing is that your guilt over this matter will not be dissuaded until you feel appropriate action has been taken against you to right what is, in your mind, a very serious wrong, intentional or not. Is that correct?” 
You blink, more than a little surprised at how concisely he’s grasped your thoughts on the matter. It almost sounds foolish when he puts it like that, in such blunt terms, but there is no denying the pang that resonates within you. “Yes, monsieur. I feel terrible for what I’ve done …” 
He seems to hesitate, his brows drawing inward almost imperceptibly. “Guilt can function as its own form of punishment as well, and a very effective one at that. But you must understand something, mademoiselle. The law simply is not applicable here. There is no legal recourse and, therefore, no system in place to enforce any sort of repercussions against you.” 
You take another step closer, feeling fervent and hot. “Then will you punish me, monsieur Neuvillette?” 
Abruptly, he goes very still. “I am hardly in any position to mete out such discipline,” He says slowly, carefully. “And, far more importantly, I’m not quite sure what you would have me do. I don’t believe this situation would call for a monetary fine or even any corrective action on an employment level … and I’m certainly not going to spank you over my knee like a child.” 
Flustered heat crawls up your neck to settle in your cheeks. You hate the way your knees grow weak and knobby at the thought of that, but you were decidedly in agreement with him. It would have been inappropriate for him to strike you in any capacity, least of all over something like this. Still, though … 
“Isn’t there something to be done?” 
Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression settles back into that somber mask again, eyeing you for a drawn out beat before he finally issues a clipped sigh. Leaning back to recline against the lounge, he stiffly crosses his legs and once more settles his folded hands atop the bent knee. “Come here, little one. Stand next to me.” 
Your feet almost don’t want to move from the spot but you force them to uproot so you can cautiously shuffle forward. You aren’t sure what to expect when your cotton stuffed head was such a mess, but all he does when you come up beside him is hold out an expectant hand. It takes you a moment to realize what he wants and you flush even hotter as you pass him the tray. Taking it from you, he sedately sets it aside on the cushion before fixing his attention on you once again. 
“This is another topic in which I lack expertise but I might have something in mind that could satisfy your need for penance. However, I will not force or otherwise coerce you into it, and you will likewise be free to walk away at any time. Once you have decided you’ve made the appropriate dues for leading mister Danon on, as you put it, then this arrangement will end immediately. Is that agreeable to you?” 
You bob your head in a quick nod. “Yes, monsieur Neuvillette. Thank you.” 
Squaring his broad shoulders, the usually kindly disposition with which he carried himself outside of the courtroom fades and is replaced by the stern set of his mouth, the slight tension along his brow, to indicate that it is the Chief Justice sitting before you now. A chill runs up your spine at the change in him, so subtle yet unavoidably obvious, and a sharp look from pale lavender eyes stops you from saying anything. You’d never before been subjected to such a hard expression from him and you can’t quite stop yourself from sympathizing with whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves standing before him in court. It really wasn’t any wonder why he held the title of supreme judge in all of Fontaine when you saw him like this. 
“Do not thank me yet, mademoiselle. If you would be so kind, please lift your skirt for me.” 
Your spine stiffens with a tremor so powerful it very nearly bowls you over on the spot. Obediently, though, you reach down with numb hands to gather the full, flouncy material of your uniform and shyly hike it up along with the lace petticoat underneath. 
“Higher.” He commands, intently observing the slow ascension of your skirts. “That’s it, up around your waist. Good.” 
Sucking in a faltering breath, you sway unsteadily on your feet and try not to lose your nerve. The thought that you would be able to alleviate your guilt with this steels your resolve though, and your hands start to shake as your stockinged upper thighs are revealed to him, the simple garters holding them in place and, finally, your lace panties. Your face is on fire while you nudge everything up a little further to make sure it was satisfactory and to his liking despite still harboring some very real doubts about this in the back of your mind. 
He did say he wasn’t going to spank you … didn’t he? 
Casually, monsieur Neuvillette reaches out a hand to slip long, elegantly poised fingers into the space between your thighs and you suck in a sharp gasp when he nudges them up against your cunt just so. The touch is featherlight and barely there, but it makes more blood rush into your face to leave you rattled and a bit dizzy. But you don’t pull away from him as he takes his time petting over the apex of your fleshy mound and the slit running along your body, determined to see this through. Somehow having him touch you like this was not nearly as embarrassing as the way his expression doesn’t change while he does it, you’re quite ashamed to realize. 
“Are you sensitive here?” He asks you softly, prompting you to swallow. Hard. 
“I … I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 
Quietly clicking his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette presses up against you a little more firmly, gloved fingertips digging into your defenseless clit to make you jolt and give a startled yelp. “You seem responsive enough to me. I only know of this particular activity in theory but … well, it doesn’t really matter. I believe we should have no problem at all using this method for your penance.” 
“W - which is, monsieur?” 
“I believe I’ve heard the people call this ‘edging’ before. It sounds rather dreadful, doesn’t it? Like some sort of barbaric torture technique.” Carefully observing your face, he pushes up even harder to grind tight, mean little circles against that sensitive pleasure button, and your eyes grow big as you stiltedly rock forward on your toes. “I suppose it could still be called that, depending on who you asked. The instigator or the receptee. I’m sure they would have drastically different opinions on the matter.”
Whimpering, you numbly readjust your hold on your skirt to make sure it stays up and out of his way while he’s doing this. Not that you were entirely sure you liked this specific method in terms of punishments when it was so obvious your body was eagerly responding to it – from the way your pussy clenches around nothing and starts to slick for him and even to the way your nipples stiffen against the inside of your shirt – but perhaps that was a good thing. Would you have really been able to say your penance was paid in full if this trial were not appropriately challenging?
“Wh … where?” 
Blinking at the little mouse squeak noise, monsieur Neuvillette just keeps rubbing over you with that steady motion of his hand. “I beg your pardon?” 
Trying valiantly to keep the fluster off of your face and failing miserably at it, you shyly avert your gaze. “I was just curious … where did you hear of this?”
“A reasonable question.” He relents, allowing the smallest note of humor to color his voice. “While it is true I don’t often partake in such crude conversations, it can be a little hard to avoid at times. Even here, in the Palais Mermonia. I believe they refer to it as ‘water cooler talk’.”
“Oh.” You’d overhead such things before too, now that you thought of it. The other women who worked at the Palais were more prone to gossip, joint complaints about their husbands or beaus, fawning over babies and first days of school, and academic achievements, while the men … they would sometimes change topics when they saw you coming but more than once you’d caught snippets of inappropriate conversations. A recent visit they’d had to a brothel or perhaps how they fantasized about doing certain things to their partners. You always felt mildly scandalized whenever it would happen, shocked that such discussions were being entertained at the Palais, and yet — 
Letting out a slow, stuttering breath, you carefully glance down at yourself to look at monsieur Neuvillette’s hand disappearing between the soft pudge of your thighs. This was vastly more inappropriate than any ‘water cooler talk’ and that realization embarrasses you a great deal. Your cheeks feel a little hotter, your blood pumping harder, and you whine, very low in your throat. Was this really an acceptable form of punishment? 
You think it probably is, because the shame that comes with it is potent and cloying, especially when your hips give a weak judder at what he’s doing. To think that the Iudex himself was touching you like this … 
“Does that feel good, little one?” 
Twitching at the sound of his voice, you give a stilted nod. “Yes, monsieur, thank you … but — but I don’t think I quite understand. Are punishments supposed to feel good?” 
“Not necessarily, no. But this is only a part of it. Relax, sweet girl. I will ensure your guilt is appropriately mitigated in due time.” 
You still don’t truly understand it, but you allow yourself to ease into it anyway. Relax into his touch. Slipping your eyes closed, you just take a moment to feel the sensation of him rubbing over your cunt. The press of his firm fingers pudges your lips to highlight how soft and pliable they are, the blunt tips of his gloves sinking into the slit. Even the thin layer of your panties is not enough to lessen the drag in any meaningful way, and it doesn’t seem to take long at all for you to start feeling sticky with arousal. It’s copious and excessive, almost implausibly so considering that he’d only touched you in this one specific spot thus far. Hardly at all. 
You hadn’t thought you would be so easily excitable and yet the proof of it is in the way you tremble for him, the way your breathing gradually picks up to make your breasts heave under your blouse, and it quickly becomes difficult just to stay standing in place. You wanted to twist and pull away, give your drooling cunt even a moment's reprieve, but you don’t give in to the urge. That wasn’t what he’d agreed to, and you trusted his judgment … 
So you stand there, trembling, while your stiff nipples cut up into your shirt in search of the same friction, and you try not to cry out. Your pussy tingles against his hand, the pressure it exerts so constant and steady that it rapidly starts to feel like the building pressure in you is reaching critical mass. Much sooner than you could have anticipated or guessed, it was as if your body was particularly weak for monsieur Neuvillette’s dutiful attention. 
Softly wheezing when your legs buckle and threaten to give out, you subtly tip your pelvis further into his hand and it becomes that much more apparent how wet you really are. How stiff and engorged your clit had gotten. A violent shudder tears through you at the meaty, swollen drag of it under his fingers, head tipping back and. - - 
He retracts his hand so suddenly it leaves you lurching in place. Raggedly gasping at the sudden loss, you turn wide, wild eyes on monsieur Neuvillette but he merely gives you that same somber expression as he interlaces his fingers on top of his bent knee once again, unfalteringly casual about it. 
“That will be all for right now, mademoiselle. Thank you.” 
You just gape at him, stunned and confused, with your skirts still hiked up around your waist like a shameless fool. “Wh - wha —“ 
A look of sympathy flashes across monsieur Neuvillette’s face. “This is the penance you wanted so badly. As many times as you like, I will bring you close to orgasm but I will not let you actually reach climax. It is the only suitable punishment I could think of for your specific … transgression.” 
It takes a great deal of effort for you to do it, but you suck in a slow, shuddering breath to steady yourself. “I … I see. Thank you, monsieur. I understand now.” 
“Very good. Now, run along. I’m sure you’ve got work to do elsewhere.” 
He offers you a small smile that you think is meant to be reassuring but it does very little to distract from the throbbing ache in your cunt or calm your pounding heartbeat. Numbly, you drop your skirt and petticoat back into place and run your hands over it to smooth out the (now real, not imagined) wrinkles as you slowly make your way towards the door. It was like you were in a trance. 
“And mademoiselle?”
You pause, turning to look back at him. “Yes, monsieur?” 
“I would like to see you in my office again around noontime. Please do not forget and don’t be late.” 
~*~
It hadn’t taken you long to realize just how insidious and cruel this strange brand of punishment truly was. You left his office such a sticky mess between the legs that even trying to clean yourself in the powder room did little good against the slick oozing out of you to stain your panties and make them stick to you, moulding against your cunt. It serves as a near constant reminder of how close you’d been to climax, how monsieur Neuvillette’s fingers had felt touching such an intimate part of your body, and how torturous it had felt to have that friction taken away so suddenly. 
The wisdom of the Iudex impresses you even now though, for you did indeed see why he’d deemed this the only appropriate corrective measure that would fit the crime. You had unknowingly strung mister Danon along with your feminine charm and wiles, so it did indeed make sense to turn that back around on you in some way. 
And although it does take a while, the distracting pulse in your cunt slowly fades into an afterthought in the back of your mind while you flit about the Palais tending to various tasks and seeing that everything was as it should be. At some point you even start to forget how your damp panties cling to you and that makes it much easier to view this trial as an easy obstacle to overcome. You would simply allow monsieur Neuvillette to carry out this task a handful of times, consider your self flagellation completed and then move on with your life. 
Yes, this really was the best method of making your peace with the situation. 
Comforted in your conviction, you return to monsieur Neuvillette’s office at the appointed time and issue a gentle rap at the door. His voice filters through without missing a beat, calling for you to come in, and you enter without reservation. 
Perhaps you should have been more wary of underestimating him or this game you were playing but you think nothing of it as you make your way across the room to stand in front of his stately desk. He looks up at you with a brief smile that inexplicably makes your pulse thrum a little faster, and that surprises you slightly. Catches you off guard. 
“Thank you for your punctuality, little one. I have a meeting scheduled after lunch is over so I wanted to tend to you before I got too busy.” 
Self consciously, you avert your gaze. “Are you sure this is alright, monsieur? I don’t want you to go hungry because of me.” 
“Nonsense. I planned accordingly and already ate before you came by.” Not lingering on the thought for very long, he takes a moment to straighten a stack of papers and neatly set them aside, out of the way. Nudging his high backed chair out from under the desk, he half turns and situates himself first before reclining against the backrest and finally looking up at you again. “Come. No need to feel shy.” 
His words have the opposite effect of making you feel ten times more shy than you originally did, and you can feel yourself starting to blush again as you slowly round the desk to come up beside him. Standing just a scant few inches from him like this it occurs to you, suddenly, that you probably should have been a bit more apprehensive about returning to his chamber like this. He was going to touch you again … oh, perhaps you had not thought this through all the way.
“Here.” He says, drawing you back into the moment with a gentle pat against his leg. “Sit on my lap, little one. This should make things a bit easier for both of us.” 
The flush that crawls up your face is an intense and overwhelming one. “M - monsieur, I — I couldn’t possibly be so presumptuous!” 
“Is it presumptuous if I’m telling you to do it?” 
Your spine stiffens at the slightly hardened tone in his voice, the edge that seems to cut across any of your weak excuses, and you quickly realize it is once again the Chief Justice sitting before you now, not the kindly monsieur Neuvillette. And he was looking at you very expectantly. 
Swallowing your nerves, you reluctantly shuffle closer and turn to lower yourself onto his leg with a slow, stiff motion of your body. The firm pressure and warmth of him underneath you is almost enough to send you running from the room in hysterics, but before you can even think to change your mind his arm comes forward to secure itself around your middle. A surprised little yelp bursts out of you when he hauls you back against him to settle more firmly on his lap, completely disregarding how you tense up and shudder on top of him. 
“There. Isn’t that much better?” He softly coos at you, tugging you back to lean against his front. Your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t fight it, only whimpering quietly when he at last has you situated how he wants. 
“M - monsieur …” You mewl into the suddenly statically charged office, unable to stop it, but he just quietly tuts at you as he turns his head to press his mouth against your hair. 
“Now, now, you’re alright. I’ve got you. There isn’t any reason to be so nervous.” A violent tremor tears through you when you feel his lips purse against the side of your head in what you think must be a brief kiss — but you don’t get the chance to fully process the significance of that as he bends a little closer to put his mouth near your ear now. “Spread your legs for me, little one. Let me see you.” 
Dizzy with the surge of white hot arousal that abruptly crashes into you with all the force of a sack of bricks, you give a weak, twitchy roll of your body against him and reach down with trembling hands to grab at your skirt. Slowly inching it up, you tip your chin down to watch with him as more and more of your thighs are revealed. The soft pudge around the tops of your stockings embarrasses you somewhat but not nearly as much as your panties do. Even from this angle you can see a dark, wet spot staining the crotch when you ease your legs open and you whimper softly at the sight of it. 
“Goodness, you certainly soaked yourself earlier didn’t you? Poor thing,” With a quiet click of his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette reaches down past cotton and lace, and voluminous frills to slide his hand over your mound. Your breath hitches as you watch him do it, cupping your pussy with an almost apologetic squeeze, and you quickly turn your head away before you can say or do something else you’ll regret today. 
You had to admit, it was very naive and shortsighted of you to consider this an easy penance just because it was not a constant, pressing concern at the forefront of your mind. How very foolish you had been. 
“I was thinking about it earlier and I found myself quite curious,” He admits, still just holding your cunt in the palm of his hand. “Would it be too impolite of me to ask how often you usually pleasure yourself?” 
Your chest dramatically heaves with the ragged gasp you suck in. “Monsieur Neuvillette, that’s … why would you ask me something like that?” 
“Oh dear, I hope I haven’t offended you. That was not my intention, little one. Please forgive me.” A pause, while he turns his head to press his lips against your hair again. “It is just that you are so shy and your body is so sensitive. I wondered if perhaps you were too ashamed to take care of your own needs in this manner, that’s all. I’ve heard some women are.” 
Lungs painfully constricting inside your chest, you stiffly lift your hands up to cover your face. Having the Iudex pet you so intimately was one thing, but discussing such matters with him was something else entirely! 
“P - please forgive me, monsieur … you haven’t offended me it’s just — I have no experience with this sort of thing. I do it, sometimes. Pleasure myself like that. But I’ve never had anyone else t - touch me in that way before …” 
“I see.” 
Silence settles over the room for a long, drawn out stretch that soon starts to ride the line of being uncomfortable. You can just start to feel the sting of hot tears creeping through at the corners of your eyes when he gently pats your cunt with the flats of his fingers, startling a surprised noise out of you. Lowering your hands enough to see, you gape down at yourself as he somewhat possessively cups his hand around you again and gives the pudge of your labia a light squeeze. 
“Such a silly thing you are.” He says against your head, displacing some of the little flyways there to send them dancing at your peripheral. You barely even notice it though, trembling at the faintest hint of a growl in his voice when it sets your guts to vibrate and seems to reverberate inside your chest cavity. You’d never heard him sound like that before but don’t get the chance to linger on that thought or question it, because he nuzzles further into you until it feels like he’s speaking directly into your ear now. “In the future you should try not to be so forthcoming with your body when it comes to men. Had I been any less honorable I could have all too easily taken advantage of you earlier and I could still do it now had I wanted to. I understand your desire for wrongs to be appropriately righted as that is the very foundation Fontaine was built on but this is not the way to go about it, mademoiselle.” 
Your mouth warbles open but nothing comes out. All you can do is sit there, quaking on monsieur Neuvillette’s lap, while his fingers slip into one side of your panties and tugs them aside. The sight of your own cunt lips, puffy and flushed with arousal, surprises a faltering animal noise out of you that seems to echo endlessly inside the room. He pays it little mind though and simply curls his thumb to brush over your slit and the clitoris hiding within, smearing sticky slick with that fine leather glove and nudging your body into opening up to him. Legs twitching, you jerk your hands down to latch onto the arm locked around your middle, clutching at him even as you fitfully writhe against the sensation. 
All at once your earlier arousal comes crashing back with a vengeance, temporarily forgotten but not near as snuffed out as you would have liked it to be. Your clit thrums under his stilted caress as if the climax you’d been close enough to taste but not able to experience had lain dormant this entire time while you ensured the water pitchers were filled, the snack tables stocked and the fireplaces were appropriately stoked wherever they were needed. It shocks you a great deal to realize how powerful your arousal truly is, and you buck your hips with a whiny moan that would have embarrassed you under better circumstances. 
But better circumstances would not have found your cunt absolutely flooding with a deluge of fresh slick, nor would your clit have been swelling as eagerly as it does. You can feel the meaty, engorged drag of it under the soft petting of his thumb, almost idly drawing it back and forth with a total lack of urgency that makes your head spin perhaps even more so than the sharp stabs of pleasure do. You wanted to cum, and the knowledge that he would not permit you to just makes you want it even more. 
“Please, monsieur —!” 
Softly humming, he presses his thumb down a bit more firmly. “Are you already getting close, little one?” 
You tip your head back to rest on his broad shoulder, panting up at the ceiling while shuddering waves of yet unrealized ecstasy crash over you, each somehow more powerful than the last. Instinctively, you inch your legs further apart even as they tremble fiercely for him and you think, idly, you probably would have vibrated right off him had he not been keeping you pinned against his front. You’re helpless to do anything except sensitively quake like this, and you do so with great enthusiasm. 
“It is too much … I - I can’t take it!” 
“You will.” He assures you, his voice soft again but it still carries that subtle hint of an edge underneath the surface. You didn’t understand it, why he would sound like that. What had brought it on. Was he even more displeased with you than he’d suggested? 
The thought alone brings tears to your eyes almost as much as the cresting pleasure making you writhe on his lap, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to make him feel bad for causing you to cry when you were the one who had asked for this … but oh, it was so very hard not to give voice to the sobs threatening to wrack your body when it was all so much. The firm, weighty pressure of his thumb petting over your cunt, his other fingers idly teasing along your slit where they were still holding your panties aside. The smell of him, the taste of him lingering on the back of your tongue, his sturdy weight underneath you. It was all too much, and it felt like you were drowning in him. 
“Let this be a lesson to you,” He continues, unconcerned with the way you twist against him and choke on stuttering gasps. “Even more pressing than the matter with mister Danon, I’m far more concerned about how easily you gave yourself up to a man to do with however he pleased for the sake of penance. Needless self sacrifice is not justice, sweet girl. I do hope you’ll remember that.” 
Bending his head close once more, monsieur Neuvillette presses his mouth to your hammering pulse, and you mewl at the contact. It is not so much a kiss, you abruptly realize, as it is a not very subtle threat. Like there was a beast lurking beneath that kindly gentleman facade … 
“Oh, monsieur, I — I’m going to —“ 
“No, you are not.” He cuts across you, practically hisses it against your jugular, and you nearly jolt right off him when the arm around your middle slides up to lock across your front at an angle. Suddenly he pinches your nipple through your shirt where it’s stiff and straining against cotton, giving it a mean little tweak to make your back bow. Trying to twist away proves futile and you yelp at the pleasure laced pain even as your cunt drools even more obscenely in response. 
You felt like you were going crazy. Truly wild with potent, cloying arousal so powerful, so overwhelming, you can’t even process what’s happening to you while you shake right to the edge of your release. 
And just like that, the hand on your pussy retreats, pulling away altogether to leave your panties shamelessly askew in favor of latching onto the swell of your inner thigh and keeping them spread when you frantically buck your hips in search of that fleeting touch. You heave and groan, reeling at the total loss of friction, but it is useless. Monsieur Neuvillette is an unyielding presence at your back no matter how earnestly you squirm against him, and his gloved fingers give your aching teat another cruel tug to further stave off your release. 
You’re more than a bit horrified, in a delirious, hazy sort of way, to find that the pain serves its purpose in chasing away your climax enough to leave your pussy absolutely throbbing in the wake of this denial. No longer teetering right on the precipice, it seems to force you back a pace or two and all you can do is look on longingly at the promise of oblivion beyond with yearning and desperation. Wanting, but not allowed to have. 
You truly had underestimated just how tortuous this punishment technique could really be … 
Through the murky fever you feel monsieur Neuvillette brush his mouth across your cheek to press at the corner of your eye, effectively drawing you out of your groaning stupor. Sucking in a ragged gasp, you clutch at his arm all the tighter and try in vain to lean away. 
“M - monsieur?” 
“You’re crying.” 
Noising a soft sound of confusion, you blearily blink your eyes open to realize that they were in fact clouded with a swimming sheen of tears making them burn. Sniffling sadly, you start to reach up to swipe them away in shame but the hand on your breast comes up quicker and locks under your jaw, physically turning your face towards him. 
Laying spread out on top of him with your head forced back against his shoulder, you look up at monsieur Neuvillette from just a scant few millimeters away. His expression is still somber and unreadable but … the glint in his pale lilac eyes makes your chest hitch. It wasn’t hunger the same way you’d on occasion caught other men looking at you — men like mister Danon, you realize in retrospect — but it is a hunger all the same. Something old and primal, from a long forgotten dark age that inspires a slow curling tendril of uncertainty low in your gut. You don’t think it’s lust per se, not in the usual sense, but a kind of lust,  perhaps. One you didn’t have a name for. 
One you weren’t sure if you wanted to learn the true nature of. 
After silently studying you for a long moment, he finally drags his gaze from your face to regard the tall, stately clock standing sentry in the office, the only witness to this lurid state of affairs. “I still have some time before my meeting. I think we should be able to squeeze in one more session before I have to go.” 
You very nearly give voice to a hysterical, broken sob, just barely managing to choke it back with a frazzled whine instead. “Monsieur —“ 
“Hush, little one.” He murmurs and leans close again, stunned surprise washing over you when his tongue flicks out to lick up a wet tear from under your eye. You gape at him in shocked disbelief when he pulls back enough to look at you again, leaving behind residual moisture on your skin, but he doesn’t even look the least bit put out or sorry for it. Like it was a perfectly normal thing for him to be doing. Perhaps it was. You had no idea – and if he recognizes your surprised reaction for what it is, he certainly doesn’t show it. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will ensure your punishment is properly administered and then we shall further discuss your other behaviors in greater detail. Rest assured, you will be appropriately corrected in time. I will personally see to that myself.”
Crossposted: here
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kidstemplatte · 7 months
Note
I love your work so much it always bring a smile to my face :) I was wondering if you had any headcannons or info on Violetta? I’d love to hear all about her!! (If you’re not saving it for your stories ofcc!)
terzo/reader’s daughter headcanons
thank you so much!!! here is just some super random (mostly baby lol) info i have on her! it’s a bit all over the place so i’m sorry about that! i hope you enjoy!
-before violetta was born, when primo found out she was going to be named violetta, (he was the only person who was told), he planted violets in his garden🥺
-i know i’ve mentioned this before but it makes me smile ——> the only thing that was guaranteed to stop her from crying from ages 0-3 was swiss’s smile. (in this universe swiss is a ghoul while terzo is papa okay) she thought it was the funniest thing ever, it was kind of like peekaboo, the way it just appeared under his darkly colored mask. (omg it’s so cute i’ll never get over it i’m DEFINITELY writing a fic about that )
-terzo would take her anywhere he could. literally could not put her down. heck, he’d be sitting in a meeting with her in his lap. sometimes you had to jokingly remind him she was your daughter too.
-her first word came about in a funny way., you and terzo were trying to convince violetta to say your name.
“say mama, violetta!”
“no, say papa!”
“no, don’t listen to him, say mama!”
“no no no, il mio pipistrello, say papa!”
she looked at you two, and with great confidence, imitated you, saying,
“no!”
which left you two rolling on the floor, tears nearly escaping your eyes. it looks like she inherited the sass from both you and terzo.
-violetta developed a habit of pronouncing certain words in an accent depending on who said them the most. she said “seestor” rather than “sister” for the longest time. everyone thought it was adorable, so nobody corrected her. there was nothing a sister of sin loved more than little violetta running up to them and saying, “seestor!”
-babysat by not only the ghouls but “uncle copi” a lot🥺 i think he’s the one who teaches her to ride a bike for the first time. (maybe i’ll write something more about this, the concept is so cute😭)
-violetta is a scorpio ♏️ (i also headcanon terzo as a scorpio or a gemini hehe but i think the idea of them having the same sign is cute)
-still working on her MBTI type but i think she’s an enneagram type 4.
-was raised on spooky/witchy/fantasy things like harry potter, tim burton movies, the labyrinth, the dark crystal, as well as a lot of musicals. (phantom of the opera, cats, and wicked especially)
-violetta has a passion for fashion and costuming (hehe rhyming), sometimes her dad goes to her for advice.
when he’s getting fitted for a new robe for a special event, he’s having trouble making some decisions.
“would you prefer the gold or silver trim?” the seamstress asks.
“eh…” he says, honestly not sure.
“give me un momento.” he says, taking out his phone and texting violetta:
“Need your advice in the fitting room per favore”
within a few moments, she bursts in, and as she catches sight of him, instantly says,
“i like gold.“
“gold it is, then.”
╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝
i hope you enjoyed this!!! it gave me some fun ideas coming up in the future!! ❤️
if you have sent me a request, it will be posted!
<3, alice
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mrs-toohot · 9 months
Text
Ryder, decoded
So the THTH writers apparently googled “Australian slang” and went copy/paste into his dialogue with absolutely no concept of what any of it means or how commonly it’s used.
So, as your resident Australian, I’m going to translate for you.
Below, you’ll find the examples I found so far, a translation, and a rating out of ten for how commonly it’s used / how accurate the slang is.
Disclaimer: I am born and raised Aussie. My ancestors were convicts. And while I do live in a major city, I grew up in the most country of country towns; population 847. So I am fluent in Aussie.
So without further ado:
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Buggers.
If you look up the word buggers you’ll find it’s short for buggery which is the act of engaging in anal sex. But it’s not really used that way any more. I would never use “sexy buggers” that’s kinda weird. It’s only ever used these days as a light-hearted term, such as “cheeky bugger”(usually said with a hair ruffle). Alternatively, you can say someone’s “playing silly buggers” which means they’re messing around/being silly.
Accuracy of usage: 6/10
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True-blue.
I see this and I think of this song which I believe they may have played at Steve Irwin’s funeral. It’s basically the same as “proper” or “right” for the Brits. Interchange with “verifiable”. Is entirely a stereotype and wouldn’t even be used ironically these days. In its place, we would use “fuckin’”. The only time this word is used is when you’re describing someone as “he’s a true-blue Aussie battler” (he’s very Australian)
Accuracy of usage: 1/10
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Sheilas & blokes.
No. Absolutely not. Sheilas 🤢 is a way of describing a group of girls, but it’s very outdated. You could still call a guy a bloke, but it’s not interchangeable with “guy”. A bloke is specifically very traditionally Aussie & masculine, and you’d almost be more likely to use it as an adjective (I.e. “he’s a bit blokey”). I’ll be honest, you want someone who’s “blokey”, think “Gary from LITG”.
Accuracy of usage: 1/10 and 4/10 respectively
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Ripper
Means ‘great’. And unless it’s in relation to specifically calling someone else a ‘ripper legend’ (shortened to ‘ripper ledge’) it’s not used commonly whatsoever.
Accuracy of usage: 2/10
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Bonzer
No. Absolutely not. Never in a million years would bonzer be used today. It also means ‘great’ but this can’t even be used ironically. Even in the deep dark depths of country western NSW, using this word will get you looked at weird.
Accuracy of usage: -10/10
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Crikey
Sorry to disappoint, but this one’s also a no. It means essentially “wow”. The only time we’d use this is to amuse internationals. We associate this word with ol’ mate Steve as much as you do.
RIP buddy 🪦
Accuracy of usage: 2/10
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Fair dinkum & arvo
You’d ask if something was ‘fair dinkum’ if you were questioning if the aforementioned statement was true, or you were trying to figure out if someone was for real. “I’m Spider-Man”, “oh, fair dinkum?” It is… not common. Very outdated and only your countriest of the country boys would use it (and only if they’re 60+)
Now- ARVO- this is a different story. I use arvo EVERY DAY. It is short for afternoon and I don’t remember the last time I used the full word. “What’re you doin s’arvo?” Absolutely used every single day.
Accuracy of usage: 3/10 and 10/10
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Have a squiz and take a gander
Both mean the same thing: take a look. Do not ask me where they come from but welcome to Australia. I have definitely said “give us a squiz” or “I’ll take a squiz” lol. The latter is still said but only by much older people. A funnier version ( only said ironically) is ‘have a captain cook’ (rhyming slang for ‘have a look’)
Accuracy of usage: 9/10 and 7/10
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Have a yarn
Means ‘have a chat’, ‘talk’, or ‘shooting the shit’. This is actually really commonly used by indigenous Australians, and ‘yarning’ culture is really crucial and involves a cuppa tea 😁 I liked seeing this one pop up.
Accuracy of usage: 10/10
Possible upcoming slang:
Yeah, nah: No
Nah, yeah: Yes
Have a root: Sex
Pull your head in: Calm down, get it together, wisen up
Ta: thank you
Sweet as: sounds good
Righto/Righteo: alright
No worries: not a problem, that’s okay. Often said in conjunction with ‘she’ll be right’
No wukkas: no worries, short for “no wukkin furries” which is an intentional mispronunciation of “no fuckin’ worries”.
Bloody oath: bloody hell/Fuckin’ hell
Ocker/yobbo: super Aussie guy, see “bloke”. Specifically very country.
Drongo: forbidden phrase. Never used ever. Means an idiot/dork. If they use this I quit.
Flamin’ galah: said ironically, very funny. Said seriously, no.
Dropkick: super common. Similar to derro or deadshit. A loser, someone who is going nowhere in life.
Derro/deadshit: derro is short for derelict. Someone who bums cigarettes at the train station. Wears thongs (flipflops) everywhere even in winter.
Bum: (verb) to bum sth: to beg for/ ask for / grift for. “Can I bum a smoke off ya” (often followed by “I’ll pay you back”)
Let’s see what gems they come out with this week, shall we?
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radiant-reid · 2 years
Note
Ok hear me out…
Cute little blurb where Spencer and his pregnant wife bicker about baby names? 🥹 Like she’s thinking kinda ordinary ones but he comes up with all the unique and special ones instead, idk if this makes sense lol
aw like that tiktok trend where it's the moms saying why the dads rejected certain names. also, btw, if you're name is one mentioned in this, i'm sorry, just going off some criticisms for the plot
"Okay, here's one." Spencer starts, flipping through the book of baby names he'd brought.
He insisted you wait to do this together and banned you from looking online- like a normal person would- until he found a book of names.
So there you are, sitting up against the headboard, under the covers as you sift through hundreds of names to find the perfect one for your perfect baby.
"Yeah?" You ask, fingers pausing on the trackpad of your laptop as you turn to look at him.
"Wren, it means small bird." He says, eagerly waiting for your reaction.
You giggle a little at him while you shake your head. "Wren Reid? Give the kid a chance."
"Oh." He realizes, looking like the news is hitting him all over again as his eyes gloss over with tears, happy tears. "They're going to be a Reid."
Seeing him tearful at the most seemingly insignificant moments only makes you so much surer that there's no one you'd rather do this with than him.
"Yeah, they are, so they need a name that's not so...rhyme-y." You direct him back to the book as you look back at your laptop. "Something noble like Spencer."
"Spencer came from the name for people who used to dispense goods to affluent households in Middle English." He recites to you, clearly having looked it up before.
You nod, continuing your search before hitting a name that you think could work. "Agnes."
He can't shake his head fast enough. "That's my great-grandmother's name, no way."
"Eleanor." You try.
"If it's in a Beatles song, it's too old." He rules.
"Damn, I guess that takes Rigby and Pepper off the table then, too." You joke, earning a fond eye roll and chuckle from him. "And you know Hotch would say the Beatles are timeless."
Spencer laughs at that. "Yeah, the guy who named his kid after an infamous serial killer." There's silent contemplation for a moment before Spencer's next idea comes. "River." He suggests.
"We're not celebrities, we can't name our kids' random nouns." You remind him.
"Kids? Plural?" He asks curiously.
Three had been the agreed number, but he knew how hard the past three months had been on you, and he wasn't going to hold you to any idyllic promise made before you were pregnant, or parents.
"Sure, as long as this one, or naming this one, isn't too unbearable." You answer with a shrug.
"You won't be unbearable." He says, although it's not to you, you realize when his hand touches your lower stomach. "Baby...Pascal." He tries out.
"The chameleon from Tangled?" You ask, a little shocked he was coming up with such unconventional names.
He frowns back at you, not getting the pop-culture reference. "Uh, maybe? It's cute, though."
"Yeah, for a chameleon." You agree. "How about Darcy? You love Jane Austen."
"Maybe." Finally, some sense of agreement. "Jane's nice too or Attie, like Atticus but for a girl."
You frown a little at him. "I really didn't think you'd be the one with the quirky suggestions."
"Neither." He agrees. "Are we going to struggle to come to a decision on this?"
There's a little bit of concern on his face which you're quick to wipe off. "No, we'll figure it out. Just nothing too old or too weird."
"Okay, I have the perfect one." He declares a few minutes later, closing the book and putting it on the side table as a sign of his devotion to the name. "Matilda."
You wait a minute to draw out suspense. "Yes, absolutely."
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got-ticket-to-ride · 4 months
Note
I want to ask you this cause it seems like you’re the lyric person here in the fandom. I was listening to Paul’s ‘driving rain’ album and I just wanted your opinion on it Mclennon wise. Lonely road I’m sure is a definite Mclennon song with lyrics like
“tried to get over you
I tried to find
something new
But all I could ever do
was fill my time
With thoughts of you
I tried to go
somewhere old
To search for my pot of gold”
aka that dream that John and Paul both shared when they were younger about them finding gold in the dirt or something. But what I want to really know is about ‘riding into Jaipur’. It just feels Mclennon to me? And I did some research and found out that Paul recorded ‘lonely road’ and ‘riding into Jaipur’ On the same day…. Thoughts ? ( sorry I hope this all came out clear English is not my first language)
Hey Anon,
thank you for your message! I am also a Mclennon-newbie and in no way an expert (having only read 3 books so far because of laziness lol). I hope I will make sense with this. Feel free to correct me or add any additions @/everyone.
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"Driving Rain" being the album title song, is probably the theme of the album, the song suggests that Paul's mental health has been dwindling. I guess due to Linda's death in 1998 at the same time, George Harrison had been struggling with his health around the same time this album is being created. So those are probably triggers.
Letting sunshine in the darkest places When I've been going there again
I think John's influence and memories will always be a huge thing in Paul's songwriting.
Here are my thoughts on the songs you mentioned:
Lonely Road Paul himself said that pot of gold was used to just rhyme with old and that it is half imagination/half reality. "He does not need gold anymore". But I think gold is more of a metaphor for "love" in this sense.
"I hear your music and it's driving me wild Familiar rhythms in a different style I hear your music and it's driving me wild again"
"Paul went into his past". Especially this latter part sounds like something he is saying to John. I guess even listening to new music makes him think of John. It was their thing to listen to LPs, so that's just intensely sad.
Riding to Jaipur According to Paul this song was not written in India but during his vacation with Linda in Maldives. (Though Paul had visited Jaipur in 2001).
Weirdly enough, Jaipur is called the Paris of India. Connecting these two places of significance to the Beatles. This might actually be a Beatles dedicated song.
The guitar he used sounds like a sitar and that's George's thing and then Jaipur being the Paris of India would connect it to John.
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vyntilador · 1 year
Text
Your eyes tell
What kind of flowers do the boys represent?
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Genre: idrk can be fluff or angst
Headcanons btw
A/N: I saw a tiktok that showed a bunch of flowers n their meanings so I went with it lol
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Artem Wing —Lavender Rose
Now first of all, Lavender Roses mean love at first sight which is pretty self explanatory tbh. The moment he laid his eyes on you when you walked into the lawfirm for the first time, something in him...bloomed (heh)
Suddenly, he notices how your hair shone from underneath the hues of the sun. He notices how you often smiled brightly whilst looking at animal videos during your break, he notices how your forehead creased as you desperately concentrated on a certain case.
Whenever you were within sight, everything around you just slowly fades into white, highlighting how you looked even more.
During a very difficult case, it bothers him how often you sighed as the echoes of your keyboard filled his ears so the very next day, you walk to your desk only to find a variety of Roses with Chocolates attached to them. As you lift the Roses, you see a note fall out with "Don't overwork yourself. Take breaks every now and then. I'll be rooting for you." written within it.
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Vyn Richter —Snapdragons
Snapdragons are known to mean both deception and graciousness. And honestly, I think it fits him very well like, hes a red flag but a hot one at that EHEM but his deceptions usually have a reason behind them.
More importantly if he's in love with you, he'll probably try to protect you with deception like, we all know how the royal family customs(?) in Svart are like (talking about CN server card of VynRosa visiting Svart and having to sleep in different rooms) He'll try to keep you away from his family in fear of hurting you in some way, or just overall preventing your relationship turn into one like his parents'.
Yellow Jasmines are also an option me thinksss
At this point I'm just focusing on his graceful and formal etiquette as a member of the royal family but honestly, it's his grace that makes me fall for himmmm
But if he could describe you or his feelings for you as a flower, he'd pick Cosmos. It's meaning is Order, Harmony, Beauty, Self-reliance, Resilience, Kindness and infinity.
Order and Harmony describes how you always put his mind at ease or make him drop his shoulders and relax whenever you're within the vicinity. Beauty, Self-reliance and Resilience because he likes how independent you are and how you always push to do the right thing even if it might bring misfortune to you. Kindness is pretty self explanatory whilst Infinity represents how his love for you will remain everlasting.
(go give him a peach and/or light pink rose and watch him short-circuit right in front of you lol)
Seeing how much of a flower boy he is, he's probably the type to confess to you, or ask for your hand in marriage using flowers and we👏love👏him👏for👏that👏
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Luke Pearce —Forget-me-not
Honestly, does anyone even think that there'd be pure Luke fluff here LMAOO SORRY
Forget-me-nots aren't like full on sad tho,,it also symbolizes true love and respect which fits him perfectly
He's loved you since you were children and always looked up to you. He loved how you always stood up to him against the kids who'd tease him for uhhh his family reasons and he loves u sm for that ! !
Omg I'm so sorry but I thought of this rlly angsty thing while writing this but Imagine Luke... Expiring close to death and while he laid unmoving on his hospital bed, you gave him a soft peck on the lips with those fairytale books in mind. About how a true loves kiss would always wake up your beautiful prince(ooh rhymes n shi).
Or for a more softer approach, Imagine getting awakened by Luke giving you a kiss on the lips and the moment you open your eyes, you see your beloved Luke's smile as he greets you good morning</3
Go give him blue and/or purple hyacinths too. Don't ask questions, it's better to not know<3
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Marius von Hagen —Daisy
For starters, it means Innocence, Loyal love, and 'I'll never tell'. The last part can be interpreted in two ways; that he'll never tell his feelings towards you or that he'll always keep your secrets.
For the first one, we saw how he hesitated momentarily if he was going to confess to us in the 1st anniversary cards. He keeps in mind his uncle's warnings of how brutal the media can be. Marius always wanted to protect you so if his presence in your life brings you harm, he'd rather stray far away from you than bring a threat to your life.
For the second one, despite his annoying attitude, he's always someone that you can lean on. Someone that you can trust or tell your deepest secrets to. He appreciates how much trust you put in him which in turn would make him even more determined to be someone you trust so much that you'll give yourself over to him and vice versa.
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A/N: Ik that the other 3 look so short and I SWEAR THAT ITS NOT VYN FAVORITISM, but i was rlly sleepy ok😭😭😭
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jukeboxjackal · 10 months
Text
Headcanon- Dating Jock! Carol Danvers
Carol Danvers x fem! Reader
A/n: Hey guys, hey guys. Haven’t been here in a while. If i’m not here, it’s either because of writers block, i don’t feel like it, low motivation, or just general laziness. But enjoy my first actual piece in a while though! I just write sometimes now lmfao
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Ok ok so first of all, just in general information I feel like she is the softball captain. Reason being is softball is stereotypically a gay sport LMFAO but I guess it’s kind of right (I say this as a softball player and a friend haha) and I think she’d be utility playing either pitcher, catcher, or 3rd base
Anyways to follow with the last bullet, I feel like she would definitely have an undercut and show it almost allll the time. She also has a varsity letterman jacket that may or may not on the tag on the inside say: ‘Property of: Carol Danvers ⁺⁽ʸ/ⁿ⁾ ⁽ˡ/ⁿ⁾♡) You definitelyyyy did not write the second part
More in the popular crowd, whether you are too is up to you
Her arch-nemesis has got to be the volleyball captain Valkyrie. For one, they don’t get along and two, she so obviously has a thing for you
She’s usually hanging out with her friends in the halls or the courtyard, but when she sees you walk by she immediately goes to catch-up with you
She’s superr protective of you. When she’s walking with you she’s always holding your hand or she has an arm around you at all times. If anyone says anything even slightly snarky to you she’ll look them dead in the eye and say ‘Wanna repeat that?’
She also loves when you wear her clothes and especially her sports jackets, helps to show people that you’re hers
Her nicknames for you are the cliches, such as: Babe, baby, sweetheart, (Y/N/N), princess, and my lady/ girl. Whereas you like to call her: Care-bear (she acts like she hates it but you know she doesn’t), bubs, captain or cap, and baby
She does get jealous, but only when you’re clearly interested in the other person. Like when you were hanging out with that one ballet girl Natasha Romanoff who was teaching you but was also way too close to you and she told the dancer to back off
As much as I might get some hate for this, I do feel like she might have been a bit of a bully. Not in the way that she’d go out of her way to be mean to others but just to uphold a reputation. Like if she’s with her popular friends she’d snicker and make some snarky rude comment about a less-popular kid, but if you ever saw her do it she’d apologize to you and to the other secretly
She’s super sweet to you, always going over to your house and bringing you something whether it’s food or flowers
She usually gives you rides to and from school
Don’t forget about y’all’s after-game dates!
#6 on the field but #1 in your heart that’s for sure
If you were to also be on the softball team as well, she’d still treat you the same as the other girls (but behind closed doors that’s different) Like the one time where the team had lost a game and she made you guys do laps for every base you could have stolen but after that she took you out to eat and she apologized profusely
Make-out sessions in the locker room and the bleachers
If you don’t play, you still make sure to be at all of her games. Home or away, you find a way (ooh that rhymed)
Let’s not talk about that one time she was pitching and behind the cage she saw you talking to the opposing team member who had to use the bathroom
She’s your #1 gym buddy and vice-versa
Oh and she definitely said I love you first
Overall, she is the sweetest and you would consider her damn-near perfect. She definitely has her flaws but that’s with everyone. Your love is unmatchable.
Hey guys! Sorry if this wasn’t as straight to the point as my last headcanon was, but I just had a lot to say I guess lol. Anyways, I’ll probably come back to edit this in a few hours I just wanted to put something out for now. Until next time!
Thanks for reading! Feedback, requests, and inquiries are always appreciated and welcome!
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goldensunset · 9 months
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How does death work in the TWEWY universe, from the perspective of the living?
Thinking logically, I might believe that the Players are merely in a coma, stubbornly refusing to die until they either get erased or win.
But it's also so amusing to have the idea of a Player winning the game and crawling out of their own grave because they were, in fact, Actually Deceased.
REAL this is bonkers to me
•the coma idea is neat but i doubt there’s any doubt in the minds of living people that these guys are dead. we know eri referred to shiki as having died.
•i believe it was established in the reports in the first game that by the composer’s power they are reformed with a new body (iirc). which begs the question of what happens to their old body that’s been buried or cremated or w/e. wouldn’t that be wild if it just remained so when the person died again now they had two bodies in the same grave or w/e lol*
•i think it was implied in neo at some point that once someone comes back to life the living sort of just. forget??? that the person ever died??? which is insane. like their memories of reality are overwritten by the lie that the composer feeds them. only the reborn person knows the truth which. ouch. that has to be a horrible burden to carry. but it makes sense
•but i also think. if i remember correctly shoka has a line (i think she was talking to beat?) that’s like ‘geez how does she even remember you’ when he’s talking about how he’s communicating with rhyme. which. girl what do you MEAN. is she implying that the living forget the dead ever existed at all even if the dead have not been erased yet??? that can’t be right. we know eri remembered shiki. or is it specifically because of the weird thing that happened to the people who got pulled into the game without dying. where like their entire presence online got erased (why exactly did that happen? idk)
•i think they say something about how rhyme and shiki, as former ug residents, can see beat, rindo, fret, and nagi even across ground lines because those guys are not truly dead. ordinary rg residents can’t see them at all and no rg residents can see neku and shoka are truly dead. idk. but still i would like to know what the situation was like for, say, nagi. someone alive in the ug. did the people who knew her temporarily forget her. dude
*another set of questions has been raised. sorry <3
•first question: do all of the recent dead in an area automatically join the game? most are probably erased, and probably immediately. twewy week one has dialogue that implies the size of that week’s game was a mere 12 people. idk what average number of people in a given population die per week in real life so idk what conclusion to draw there. but probably more than 12 in all of shibuya lol.
•anyway, if it’s not everyone, if where do the other dead go??? instant erasure?? i think it might be that as a test to see who’s worthy of rebirth, only certain people even get a ticket into said test. like the reapers use their prejudice to determine if you’re even worth inviting. or if that’s not the case, the people who get in could simply be the people who WANT to live again. a lot of people probably just accept oblivion. the reason we only see plucky young kids (or like. nerds and influencers in neo lol) is because they still had entire lives ahead of them and were not at all prepared for death. so the reapers might’ve just like read their souls and determined their desire. of course we see like the twewy main 5 all being like ahhhh idk if i have anything to come back to am i even worth it… but that’s just them lamenting the state of their lives. that’s not the same as openly welcoming death.
•second question: could you die and play the reaper’s game multiple times? cheating death infinitely because you’re just that good at solving puzzles beating noise? imagine a player on their fifth life and death the reapers are like ‘c’mon man just join us already it’s the only path to angelhood aka the ideal highest state of being. every game is a gamble and you’re only getting older and less capable. don’t you want to chill out and live in peace?’ and the player’s like ‘no shut up i don’t want your crummy job. i still have so many books to read and my cats need me. i’ll see you in like a month when i inevitably fall down the stairs again’
tldr: ‘oh simple ask i’ll respond right away with just a few words and a normal amount of thoughts about the twewyverse’
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jovenshires · 3 months
Note
*Disclaimer: I'm brainrotting so hard I'm sorry. Feel free to ignore/don't answer this if you don't want to, I don't mean to dictate the way your AU should be
So... I came up with little lyrics for each song lol. They're very much sad boy era and they don't rhyme sometimes, but I like to think that these songs are just a way for them to let it all out, since they'll probably never share them with anybody.
Best Interviewer Now that the silence engulfs me And I'd kill for a single word Please talk all you want, I'll just listen I'm the best interviewer in the world
Birthday Card It's still sitting in my window Sometimes I can hear it tell me So many stories from the past I know there's no one here But I feel like I'm the one being watched
Quota of Self-Importance Did I make you feel less? Did I treat you poorly?
I guess we'll never know I guess I'll never know I bet you could answer these questions If only I dared to pose them to you
Nostalgia I find myself looking back At all those memories we made They're like little bread crumbs That lead me back to you again
Magnifying Glass 'Cause the Sun is shining bright today It's time to take out the glass And when we're done doing our magic We will burn this to the ground (This last rhyme is a direct reference to the song with the same name)
Compartmentalize I look around my mind, all I see are cabinet files They keep notes on everything I see It is funny though, you would think I'd be able to remember more And to forget what I wish I could
Where Are You Where are you? I ask myself (where are you?) It's a stupid question, too (and i know, i know) I'm well aware of where you are But it only matters where you're not (right here, right here
The President It's like a table with a short leg Uneven, unstable, useless I can find nothing to brace it And so like that it stays
I can't worry about that now 'Cause the clock still keeps ticking I have to take control now There's a new President in office
Bummer I keep on writing regardless Doesn't matter if it sucks What I am supposed to do otherwise? I'm just Ian from Smosh
Hope you enjoyed :D
THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME i literally. LOVE people writing lyrics for these songs (i cannot write lyrics for Anything which is ironic bc i write poetry), and especially these that you came up with yourself??? incredible, 10/10. once again i am SO honored that you took the time out of your day to write all this and THESE ARE SO GOOD. magnifying glass... NOSTALGIA.... THE PRESIDENT AND BUMMER. im feeling ill. i adore this and you 10/10 tysm <3333
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jerzwriter · 2 months
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Now, if y'all don't know my #1, you clearly don't know me! lol
TOBIAS. FREAKING. CARRICK. (OH) Dude- PB - WTF were you thinking? Or not thinking might be more appropriate here. Not only did this ho want to romance him, but the juicy story that would have delivered in Book 3... it was RIGHT THERE ... low hanging fruit... and PB blew it.
Olivia Nevrakis (TRR) - I mean, who doesn't love a sexy, hot redhead who dresses to the nines with at least six switchblades hiding in her couture? Liam, who? Drake, who? Maxwell, Who? And Hana is sweet and all, but I am not that into sweet. Liv, they did us dirty!
Robin Flores (TNA) - OK, I only liked TNA1 (2 caused me pain, so I stopped reading & never opened 3), but I enjoyed 1. It's fun, babes; you want a McDonald's burger every now and then, right? But I digress. The story would have been SO much more fun if Robin had been an LI, and not for nothing. I think he had much more in common with my MC than Sam ever did. I said what I said.
Aurora Emery (OH) - I really thought they were going there... then they didn't. She had the same curmudgeonly attitude that Ethan did at the start, and MC wore her down, the same way she did Ethan (at least in my playthrough). I think they could have worked well, and how could you say no to Aurora in that red dress?
Jackie Varma (OH) - Oh, wait? What? She was an LI you say? Wow, well, based on the four mediocre scenes per book we got... I almost forgot. Jackie should have been given equal billing... because it almost feels like she was not an LI.
Baz Mirani (OH) - I freaking love Baz. Like... love Baz. He is the perfect best friend, and buddy, a little frumpy with a tummy character that is so adorable, caring, and fun that one day he and MC could be playing video games together, look at each other, and just go - "Oh, fuck, yeah... we could do this!"
Harper Emery (OH) - Again. The storyline could have been great. MC falling for Ethan's ex... come on! And I'm sorry, but Harper is a gorgeous, sexy, brilliant, badass woman - what's not to fall for? (Let's not talk about Book 3, Harper, Book 3 is NOT canon.)
Cassidy (WTC) - OK she didn't last too long, but if she would have lasted longer, she would have been a fun LI. I loved her edge, and she would have been a 10 times better option than Sledge. (Look at me, I rhymed! lol)
Horatio Santos (LH) - We could use another quality Latine LI in the Choices galaxy, and I don't know. He reminds me of the guys from Brooklyn that I used to date back in the day. He would have been a good choice.
Xanthe (ACOR) - Because OMG, was she hot as hell.
This was fun! :)
@choicesfandomappreciation
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calypsolemon · 1 year
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In your totally banger epic new PiB AU, does the incantation thing ppl say to make wishes appear on Puss' cape? Sorry if it's a dumb question, but the cape looks like the map and I was thinking it does the same things the map does, changing paths, showing the words of the wish, and shifting based on the person Puss peers into the hearts of.
Not a dumb question! Words can appear on the cape but it doesn't quite have the same function as the map itself, which still exists and serves an important role in how things work.
With Puss being the incarnation of the Wishing Star, it means he now has to actively create the paths others walk through the Dark Forest, as well as write the words which appear on the map. These things do not happen automatically for him, he is in direct control of it, which means he can fail at creating a meaningful path for someone, even with the power to peer into their hearts. It also means his only mode of communication with the outside world is the map. Aaaand somehow the rules of the wishing star limits him to rhymes, so he's really putting those songwriting skills to good use lol.
Since his outfit is still a reflection of his personality, just warped by the wishing star, I think words that appear on the cape would have more to do with his own thoughts and feelings than it would serve a function. Bits of scrapped poetry probably end up on there, as well as ideas for locations he could create in the dark forest. If the occasional stray thought about his broken friendships or his past lives shows up there too, well... nobody but Death is there to look into his heart, anyways.
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rosiesramblings · 2 years
Text
Scribbles on a Canvas
Fandom: Stranger Things
Characters: Robin, Steve and Eddie
WC: 1.5k
A/N: It's not explicitly stated but anytime I write Robin know that I'm writing her as neurodivergent :) I took a lot of inspiration from my friends who let me draw on them lol. Ticklish palms don't get talked about enough imo. I feel like this doesn't flow super well but I'm never going to make it better so i figured i should just post it. Hope you enjoy!
One of things Steve first noticed about Robin was that she was in near constant motion. It wasn’t always obvious, but she was always tapping, wiggling, rocking, or fluttering around their little ice cream shop.
After the disaster that was the Starcourt “Mall Fire” and once the two of them had so firmly solidified their friendship that in everyone’s minds they were no longer two separate entities, but RobinandSteve, Robin snagged them jobs at Family Video. Steve thought it was a lot like working at Scoops, but with the added bonus of stale candy and Keith as a manager (that was sarcasm, he told Robin). It was nice, though, because Family Video was almost dead in a way that Scoops Ahoy never was. Really, Steve figured, they only had more than two customers at a time for a few hours each day. 
He honestly wasn’t sure how Family Video was still in business.
The first time Robin used Steve to fidget, she didn’t even realize she was doing it. She was rambling about a new film that she was going to bring over for their next movie night, when she caught sight of the black nail polish that now coated Steve’s nails. Without pausing for breath, Robin reached out and took his left hand, sliding her own fingers over his and staring intently at the way the lights reflected off the inky black.
“-and of course I’m not going to spoil it but there’s this <em>huge</em> twist, and you’re gonna love it, Steve, I swear - oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Robin snatched her hands back as if she were burned.
Steve tilted his head in confusion, “What?”
“Steve, man, you gotta tell me when I cross a boundary, I don’t always notice, despite the constant voice of my mother that seems to have taken residence in the back of my brain. Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I’ll try to be more self-aware and - “
“Robs,” Steve said gently. “Breathe.”
She took a big breath. “Right.”
Steve held his hand back out. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I really don’t mind.”
Robin regarded him critically. “Are you just being nice because you feel like you’re supposed to? Like it or not, Steve, you are a born people-pleaser and I know you don’t always feel like you can tell people ‘no’ - “
“Robin,” Steve laughed. “I promise, I don’t mind. It’s kind of relaxing, honestly.”
Robin broke out into a toothy grin, grabbing Steve’s hand back and running her fingers over his nails again. “Thanks, Steve,” she said, uncharacteristically soft.
From then on, the moments where the two of them <em>weren’t </em>touching became nearly nonexistent. Robin was always fiddling with his fingers, running her fingers over the material of his polo, and, most recently, doodling on him.
Usually, it was his arms and the backs of his hands that received the doodle treatment. “C’mere, Steve, I’m going to give you a sick sleeve,” she would cackle at the rhyme. Steve would roll his eyes but hold out his arm obediently.
Today, Robin had already covered half his arm with her scribbles. She didn’t even look up when the door opened, promising a customer. Steve did though, and relaxed when he recognized the owner of the familiar shag haircut.
Eddie strode up to the counter with a half-smile, taking in the familiar scene amusedly. “Harrington, if video peddling isn’t your calling, you could always pursue a career as a human canvas.”
“Hey, Munson,” Steve grinned. “That would be a pretty sweet gig, I think. Maybe I should start charging Robin for my services.”
“No, I’m eligible for a 100% friends and family discount,” Robin said, still not looking up from Steve’s arm.
“It’s not a discount if it’s fucking free, Robin,” Steve said good-naturedly. “Anyway, what brings you to our humble storefront, Munson?”
Eddie fell dramatically forward onto the counter. “I have been given the arduous task of choosing a movie for the brats to watch this weekend. Why me, you ask? In the words of Dustin Henderson, ‘if you don’t get us an R rated movie, I’ll tell Steve he’s my favorite,’ can you believe? The audacity of this child.” Eddie looked up with a grin. “So, I’m here to maintain my title of Dustin’s favorite parent and secure them an R rated movie.”
Steve gasped, offended. “Bullshit, I’m Dustin’s favorite by a fucking mile. Also, why do they want an R rated movie? Their whole childhood was a goddamn R rated movie.”
Robin snorted in agreement.
“Ah, the complexities of youth,” Eddie said. “Anyway, Stevie, what would you recommend? Nothing too crazy, cause I’m not about to deal with their nightmares for the next month.”
Steve smiled. “Eddie, these are R rated movies. All of them are going to be a little - ah!” Steve tried to cover his yelp with a cough. Robin had finally run out of room on his arm, but instead of moving to the other one, she simply flipped his left arm over on the counter. The pen dancing over the crook of his elbow vaguely reminded Steve of giving blood. And, unfortunately, it tickled like hell.
“You good, Stevie-boy?” Eddie asked, chuckling confusedly.
“Yep! Yes, all good here just - just swallowed down the wrong pipe, I thihink,” Steve cursed as a giggle slipped out. He bit down on his growing smile, face burning.
Eddie saw through him instantly, an evil smirk rising to his face. “Mmm, poor thing. I hate when I have a <em>tickle </em>in my throat.”
The pen inched further and further down his arm, light and oh-so-tortuous. Steve, best friend that he was, didn’t want to keep Robin from fidgeting, so he shot Eddie a glare, trying to tell him to shut his mouth with only his eyes.
“So, anyway, I was thinking that - that R rated movies mihight not be the behest,” Steve bit down on his tongue when a particular scribble of the pen on his forearm made his whole face scrunch up. “The best idea for our paharticular group of children.”
Eddie’s shoulders shook from repressed laughter at Steve’s plight. “You don’t think so?” He grinned. “Please, enlighten me. Why not? And don’t skimp on the details, Harrington. I want to hear <em>everything</em> you have to say.
<em>Fuck you,</em> Steve mouthed at Eddie, smile bright on his face despite his words. “I just think - given the cihihircumstances -” Steve fisted his right hand through his hair, desperate, “it would be irrespohohonsible - and reheheckless to - oh my god, Robin plehehehehehease!” Steve finally broke when the pen glided over his wrist.
Robin jumped back, startled by Steve’s outburst, but before Steve could pull his arm away, Eddie’s hand shot across the counter and pinned Steve’s arm down. “Where do you think you’re going, Stevie?”
“Goddamn you, Munson,” Steve tugged at his arm uselessly.
Robin watched the exchange with confusion, until it dawned on her. She quickly resumed her doodling. “Seriously, Steve? Here?”
“Shuhuhut up, Rohohobin,” Steve snickered. “Cahahan’t help ihihit.”
“You’ve been doing so good, Stevie boy, surely you won’t have a problem if Robin continues,” Eddie said, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.
Steve hid his red face behind his one free hand, too flustered for words. Until, that is, Eddie took his fingers in free hand and spread them out so that Robin could scribble that fucking pen along his palm.
“SHIhihihihihit!” Steve was fully laughing now. “It’s sohohoho bahahad, plehehease.”
“What’s the matter Steve? Too ticklish?” Robin teased, switching between tracing the lines of his hand and drawing tiny tickly circles.
“I swear to god, I’ve never met anybody with ticklish palms,” Eddie laughed.
Steve frantically shook his head back and forth at their words, “Guhuhuhuys, plehehehease!” The longer Robin drew on him, the more ticklish he felt. Their teasing certainly didn’t help, either.
Robin drew a few long swoops from his palm to his elbow and back, and Steve’s laughter got louder the closer she got to his palm. Steve didn’t bother begging anymore, he just sagged against the counter.
Finally, finally, with one last devastating scribble, Robin dropped the pen. Eddie followed suit and released Steve’s arm.
“Fuhuhuck, guys,” Steve said, firmly rubbing his arm to get rid of the ghost tickles. He looked at Eddie reproachfully. “Thahahat was mean.”
“Me? All I did was hold you still!” Eddie protested.
“Yeah, but Robin didn’t know what she was doing at first,” Steve said. “You knew the whole time and gave a concentrated effort to make it worse.”
“I appreciate it, Steve,” Robin said. “If I promise not to tickle, can I have your hand back please?”
Steve squinted his eyes at her suspiciously, unsure if she was serious. However, one quick look at her puppy dog eyes and (against his better judgment) he thrust his hand out to Robin yet again.
True to her word, she didn’t make any effort to tickle him again, just fiddling with his fingers like she usually did. After the ordeal he just went through, Steve suddenly felt his eyes get heavy.
“Stevie,” Eddie said, and Steve jerked his head up.
“Mhm?”
“I have to take back what I said earlier,” Eddie said seriously.
“What?”
“You are way too ticklish to be a human canvas.”
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fullmetalgirl98 · 3 months
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30 days Hypnosis Mic challenge
DAY 2: favorite member of your favorite division
🎤 Dice Arisugawa (MC name: Dead or Alive)
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If it weren't for the fact that Dice is also my favorite character ever, the battle here would've been extremely tough with Gentaro, ngl.
But here I am, talking about him, as it should be.
Dice was the first Hypmic character I interacted with even before I knew about the project. I remember seeing fanart of him around (it was right around the time of Hypmic's early days) and I immediately thought he was so cool, with that pearl chain with the small dice attached to his hair lol
So I could say that it was thanks to him, if I met Hypmic :')
Of course, as I got to know him more deeply, I found that the idea I had of him was completely different AHAHAH: I thought he was an asshole who thought he was better than everyone else, with that beautiful pointed canine peeping out from between his lips (sorry, professional distortion) and that disheveled double-cropped hair, which gives him that stray cat look (and I LOVE cats, so fine with that) … but NO?!!! He is one of the most naive and genuine characters in the whole project, always ready to help someone in need, especially if it's his Posse!
Initially, then, he was definitely not my favorite…but I gradually came to mature that realization as I got deeper into the story (the battle was very hard, I won't deny it…he had to compete at least with Gentaro and Ichiro, at first eh).
And leaving out the fact that, minus the ludopathic jerk facade he displays most of the time, he too hides a "dark" past that makes him terribly charming, so much so that he never talks about it and gets that beautiful serious, pissed-off expression that he so rarely wears, and also leaving out the fact that his style of clothes is something I LOVE (despite the fact that you definitely need to buy new ones, man…thank goodness for the new wardrobe churned out recently, because WOW?! Finally he can not die of cold in winter and hot in summer), these are NOT the main reasons why I grew up loving him.
But the main reason is his rap style.
GUYS.
DON'T GET ME STARTED.
I absolutely LOVE his rap, his flow, his rhymes, his VOICE (Nozuyama is so damn talented ahhhhhhhhh!!) and all those vocal steps and scratches he adds in many of his verses (I don't know how else to describe this stuff, I apologize). So yes, I love any part of him in a song, because he has an ability to make even rocks cool, my baby boi.
Not for nothing do I truly believe that he is the only one (aside from Kuko, perhaps) who can stand up to Ichiro in this respect and that of freestyle. And singing his parts always gasses me so much, it's an idescribable thing, I swear.
In conclusion, then (I've talked EXCESSIVELY a lot), I think Dice is relatable enough for many people: wearing a cheerful and idiotic facade is much easier than showing others the darkness inside, isn't it? (a concept that nevertheless fits well with all the Fling Posse)
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riddle-me-ri · 1 year
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Hello!! :D Hope your day has gone well!!
What are your thoughts on various Mad Hatters? Which one is your current favorite??
(Also could you recommend a Jervis comic mayhaps?? Been wanting to try read Batman Rogue comics ^^)
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Asdfghh where how where how...where do I begin with the mad lads asdfghh I'll give a tiny explanation as to why I love the versions I write for, that's a decent place to start lol. So, sorry not sorry you've opened the floodgates lmao, because of that there's a read more tab, sorry if you weren't quite expecting this lengthy response.
Arkhamverse Jervis: Definitely one of my favorite voices for him by far (Roddy for BTAS/TNBA is still a huge favorite). Also, his voice tapes with Strange in City absolutely twist my heart every time (not to mention the end of his mission when you go back to see him. He only wanted a friend hng), I think they could've done a lot with him, his short mission in City left much to be desired. The Wonderland hallucination in Origins and the storybook from Knight where amazing. While the writing is a wee topsy turvy, I do adore how they showed progression to his unyielding mental state (via, rhyming, literally Batman or anyone being Alice, and any word associated with Wonderland must be a part of it in Knight). And in City hinted at just how unnerved Jervis can be about himself and how he feels when he's lucid. I definitely get inspired by a lot of his character beats and traumas for sure (in my writing btw lmao)
BTAS Jervis: Ahaha the golden mad lad, my first Hatter encounter! I've always been a fan of Alice in Wonderland when I was watching BTAS (wanting to know what the hype was about as an animation student) so when I saw an episode called Mad as a Hatter I was intrigued lmao. I had no idea Jervis even existed and what a super strong intro episode too. Again Roddy is probably my favorite voice for him. Just...it's so warm and pleasant to listen to. I also appreciate that they didn't make this Hatter a one-trick pony? Nowadays a lot of DC writers sorta stick to the kidnapping/murdering women thing but BTAS Jervis literally tried to stop Batman before Batman could even do anything, so he can get Batman out of the way, he stole from Gotham's elite so he can run away on an island of his own? Also probably one of the more mentally stable of the Hatters and definitely the most romantic.
TNBA Jervis: Aww Ratter, sweet mad lad. I love rodents so the fact that the fandom has dubbed this version ratter and for the right reasons makes me so incredibly giddy. He's supposed to technically be BTAS just a different design, and as jarring as the changes may be, I think it still works, and again we see different motivations of Jervis other than him finding an Alice.
Secret Six (2006) Jervis: Hehehehe definitely one of my favorite Jervi. I absolutely love this mad, brilliant, druggy, powerful, silly nudist. This version is a prime example of just how powerful Jervis can be and why he should be depicted more as a threat (I have a thought that most of the time, Jervis leans more into his whimsy/playful attributes as a way to catch enemies off-guard, that's not to say he isn't that way in general, but I can see him using it to his utmost advantage). Also just wanna point out that this version was written by a woman, Gail Simone, who has canonically pinned Jervis to having amazing rizz and not to mention fangirls/fanboys that wanna marry him (and has an incredible "head" game) and I will forever love her for that.
Joker's Asylum Jervis: Aww, ohh, dear sweet mad lad, gotta grab tissues for this guy. One of the stronger of the Mad Hatter-centric comics. This comic delves into Jervis' psyche which a lot of DC writers almost refuse to even look at or consider (like...guys, I can do it...if I can do it I KNOW you can too). This comic shows what the Arkham games hint at, and that's that Jervis has/feels REMORSE. Probably one of the few rogues that do, he genuinely can't help it. He wants to get better, he wants to not be a threat. He wants companionship but fails miserably every time and the cycle continues. When I read this comic, it wouldn't leave my head for days. It is definitely what inspired my fic Love and Suds because my story is somewhat of an "what if" scenario like what if he did have someone there when he was spiraling and trying to fight off the delusions and madness.
Gotham Jervis: asdfgjkjj it...it took some time for me to like this one lmao. I have grievances across the board with Gotham as a whole. What they did to Jervis is no exception to that, he's interesting that he's a pure hypnotist and how apparently there are rules to that. It's one of the first (if not the only time?) Jervis isn't a scientist, but purely a hypnotist (before becoming a hypnotist criminal, it happens). I won't go too deep into him, esp. if you haven't seen this version but yeah just...he has potential he really does, he's just another example of a Jervis done dirty (and not the fun way)
Harley Quinn The Animated Series Jervis: red-head jervis, red-head jervis, red-head jervis my beloved. I love Jervis with red hair almost as much as blonde (and that's just personal preference cause I'm blonde lmao) From an artist stand point, his design is just really, really appealing to me. The bright complimenting colors, the wild spiky hair, the teeth, and the coke fingernail was a neat added detail (a buddy for S6 for sure). He was so criminally underused I will never forgive the show for what they did (him and other rogues as well). He's also very giddy, fun, but also still demented and violent.
To say the least...I can't choose just one current solidary favorite, I have grown to love them all in various ways, from their design to their personalities and voices. But my top three will definitely have to be; BTAS, Arkhamverse, and Secret Six. Joker's Asylum is also a super super close fourth. When I write for my "general" Hatter, I usually borrow traits, traumas, and mannerisms from these four.
As for comics I would recommend, here's a couple Jervis-centric ones to get you started. Also be weary and make sure you have an ad-blocker just in case. You shouldn't have to know too much backstory from other comics to understand them.
Secret Six (2006) Issue #1
Joker's Asylum: Mad Hatter
Sorry this got so long lmao, but thank you for letting me infodump and fixate on the Mad Lads, I've been having a rough time lately, and this has definitely lifted my spirits thinking about these guys lol.
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