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phonydiaries · 7 months

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Beautiful Dreamer - P x Reader

Notes: This is a bit of a shorter fic from me and it's pure unadulterated fluff and sap and nobody gets stabbed! Which is really stretching myself as a writer, to be honest. You guys know I love nothing more than a good life-threatening injury. Anyways, no warnings for this one! Enjoy the cozy vibes <3

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It seemed somewhat magical in the beginning.

Pino came running to you once, at the very break of dawn when you had just barely opened your eyes; too-bright sunlight stinging them as the puppet shook you from sleep. It was difficult for you to grasp what he meant, at first, to wrap your head around what he was trying to describe. His speechless manner of communication and your general grogginess certainly didn’t help matters. But through a series of signs and expressions from Pinocchio, you came to understand. In his slow but sure gaining of humanity the boy had begun to dream at night.

You were vaguely aware that he did not dream before, and didn’t exactly sleep in the way humans did (although he did something similar enough that you personally couldn’t tell the difference).

“Is it… pleasant?” You asked him, genuinely quite curious as to what a strange thing dreams must seem to someone who had never known them. It had the potential to be wondrous and peaceful, but at the same overwhelming and utterly confusing. P seemed to take your question into careful consideration, really mulling it over. His eyes shone bright as he finally nodded decisively.

For all his excitement over this newfound ability, Pinocchio was frankly dreadful in his attempts at describing his dreams to you. You tried earnestly to follow along, but his gestures and expressions would eventually become too complicated and frenetic for you to follow and so you found yourself utterly lost in his recollections. It was after one such frustrating night that you gifted him a pocket journal to write in. This was much preferred for both of you, and you came to enjoy the routine of him eagerly handing off his scribblings for you to interpret in the morning. You would sit elbow to elbow at the table, sipping morning tea and reading his writing aloud, while he listened and nodded along captivated, his chin resting over his hands on the table.

His writing was uncharacteristically scratchy, with words often misspelled or crossed out implying that he was simply transcribing for speed and not coherence. Now and then there would be an addition of a crude drawing, sometimes the vague outline of a rabbit or a rushed impression of beaming stars.

One day, when it was particularly gloomy, you and Pino wandered to the library. Silence between the two of you was not uncommon, nor was it in any way awkward or uncomfortable. With the heavy fall of rain against the roof on this day, you found the quiet between the shelves especially peaceful. By the orange glow of a lantern, you turned the pages of a dream-interpretation guide. It was a small and somewhat battered thing and had been picked up eagerly by Pinocchio of course, who sat on the floor with crossed legs, chin resting in the heels of his hands as he listened to you, enthralled. In hushed tones, you ran down bulleted lists of common dreams and all the cryptic mysteries they may contain.

“Here, how about this one, have you ever dreamed that your teeth were falling out?” You asked, pointing to a passage in the book. P slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head vigorously, looking suddenly very concerned with keeping said teeth firmly in his mouth. You couldn’t help chucking as you turned the page.

The day wore on, and the oil in your lantern burned down to nothing, the dim light flickering across an eerie illustration. You’d been leafing through an art book of the romantic era painters and left off on a Fuseli painting of a tormented woman being peered upon unknowingly by some manner of devil. You found the page quite off putting honestly, and closed the book.

“I figure that’s enough of that. What do you say, Pino-oh.”

As you addressed your puppet companion in the dark, you came to see that he sat on the floor still, slumped against the foot of your chair. His cheek was sunk into his left shoulder, eyes shut, breathing soft and shallow. The serenity of the scene warmed your heart some, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Pino…” you whispered, and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to wake him. But he didn’t stir, seemingly in a deep sleep. You were sorry for the uncomfortable condition he seemed to be posed in, but you didn’t want to disturb the poor puppet. You gathered your things and left quietly, shuffling off to your quarters.

It was around midnight that the puppet woke with a panicked gasp. He was surprised to find his legion arm held up defensively, as if in anticipation of an invisible attack. His eyes searched his surroundings frantically, and only when he recognized the library did he hesitantly lower his arm. In the darkness he felt quite uneasy and disoriented. He tried to recall your soothing hushed voice. It had put him into quite a state it seemed before he eventually drifted off. It was in stark contrast to the current thrumming of his mechanical heart and the uncomfortable quickness of his breaths. He had dreamed something wholly unpleasant, and with some sadness realized this new facet of humanity came with drawbacks. He did not care much for these dreams at all.

Pinocchio made his way down the corridor to your quarters, his steps echoing eerily. He threw pointed glances over his shoulder frequently, half expecting some monstrous creature to appear suddenly in the halls of Hotel Krat. The simple casting of shadows had never before made him so on-edge. When he reached your room, he opened the door slowly and peered inside. You lay there in the dark beneath silk sheets, curled in on yourself and sleeping soundly. With great care not to startle you, he knelt by your bedside and nudged you in the back. Your head flinched momentarily, but you otherwise remained still. With some urgency he took your shoulder and shook until you stirred. Rubbing your eyes wearily, you rolled over to face him.

“Pino, it’s ah…it’s late isn’t it? Can’t it wait til morning..?” You grumbled. He shook his head almost apologetically and squeezed your shoulder. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were able to make out unfamiliar anxious creases in his expression. You willed yourself into a greater awareness and sat up promptly. “What is it, what’s wrong?” You asked, your tone softening significantly. P gestured in the direction of the library and rummaged around in his pocket for a moment. He retrieved the pocket journal you’d given him and pointed several times at the most recent entry. You squinted. On the left page he had simply blacked out the entire thing with a pen, and on the right page the phrase “strung up” was written several frantic times with increasing disregard for legibility.

When you looked up at him to clarify, he raised his hands limp above his head and dropped his chin to his chest. The image was admittedly shuddersome and he cast a long and spindly shadow across the wall.

“I see.” You said, closing the journal. “You had a nightmare, hm? All strung up like an ordinary puppet.” Your heart fell for the poor boy. It must’ve been terribly frightening for him.

Pinocchio nodded solemnly, not meeting your eyes. He stared off blankly and rubbed his wrists, as if easing a phantom feeling of restraints. You took note of this and hummed softly.

“Here, may I see?” You asked, and pulled his arm towards you. You made a show of inspecting it and tapping your chin thoughtfully. Holding his arm with one hand, you stuck up two fingers like a pair of scissors and pretended to snip the invisible puppet string. You repeated this mimic on his other arm and then took his hands in yours, placing a kiss on the back of each.

“All gone.”

Pinocchio looked at you with a kind of boyish wonder. He raised one fist to the crown of his head with a smile, making a pshhh sound and opening his hand, giving the impression of a miniature explosion.

“Think you’ll be alright for the rest of the night?”

At this he shifted a little. His fingers busied themselves, twisting in the bedsheets. He was obviously still shaken up somewhat. You could understand that, although it was a bit of a surprise to learn that someone so nearly indestructible could be afraid of the dark.

“Alright,” you sighed, lifting the sheets. “Get in here.”

P’s chin jutted forward and his brow furrowed at your offer. You just gestured to the space beside you with your head. “Go on, before I change my mind.” You teased. At this, Pinocchio clambered up into your bed and nuzzled his face into the pillow. As he got settled. You pulled the sheet over his shoulders and snaked your arm up around him from behind. Your nose pressed against the nape of his neck and you breathed in the smell of him, like fresh rain.

“Have no fear, my puppet.” You said sleepily against his skin. “Your trusty human won’t let anything steal you away from me in the night.” You heard him snicker at this, but you knew without a doubt he felt safer here with you and vice versa. It was sweet, really.

By the time the sun rose you were both still sound asleep, all tangled in each other’s limbs, looking like lovers in the warm morning light. The day could wait a little longer.

#originally this fic was called sing me to sleep bc I was listening to the suckerpunch soundtrack version of Asleep on loop #so if you want the full experience queue that song up while you read #lydia dropping art history refs like a fucking nerd #extremely soft pino #lies of p #lies of p fanfic #lop #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #lies of p fanart #fluff #my writing

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pettyprocrastination · 1 year

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whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her.

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak.

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place.

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him.

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening.

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail.

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench.

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency.

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.”

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself.

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found.

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there.

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames.

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.”

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did.

He became a smuggler because of it.

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way.

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course.

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him.

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles

“You think she would have wanted this for you?”

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence.

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.”

All he can do is nod.

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit.

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live.

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago.

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo”

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them.

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands.

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face.

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity.

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?”

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be.

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.”

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again.

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.”

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples.

“One.”

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun.

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.”

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins.

“Four.”

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet.

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?”

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless.

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same.

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head.

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun.

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #i had an idea of something similar for tommy but on outbreak night he uh. abandons you instead of getting separated from you #because. angst :D #people say nice things #this was incredibly generous of you anon thank you so so much!#i may get myself a little starbucks drink this week now because I havent had starbucks since like january 1st lol #joel reeling from taking in all this information and also realizing he suckerpunched HIS OWN KID #id like to apologize for all the grammatical issues with this. this is just a bulletpoint word vomit to get my thoughts on the page before-#-beginning the actual fic. also I have to do a midterm tonight and this is my treat to myself hehe #but yes. joel getting separated from his wife on outbreak night and having to accept that shes probably dead #meanwhile youve lived this entire life without him because you think HES dead ad raising your boys all on your own #which just- further digs into his insecurities about failing in his role as a protector #he couldn't save sarah. he can't save ellie and he couldn't even save you #he thinks about you pregnant and alone. fending for yourself in a world full of infected and raiders and his chest grows tight again #this is all followed by Ellie going >:O 'you KNOW THIS PSYCHO?'and then joel immediately snapping at her to WATCH HER MOUTH #because that kid has no filter and he has to explain that youre his wife #anyways joels wife is a badass mfer who also maybe has a little garden and some chickens that you and your boys take care of <3 yeah .#reunion tag #ill be using that for this specific couple because I dont have a fic title yet but if anybody has suggestions!

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coffeehelly · 9 months

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the relationship between saiki and toritsuka later in the series is so funny to me. its like "this is toritsuka. hes scum and i fucking hate his guts. if anything were to happen to him id trigger the heat death of the universe"

#the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki k #saiki kusou #toritsuka reita #toritsuka writhing in pain after being suckerpunched by saiki for being a perv:#''heh.........theyll never understand our warriors bond............''

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boredzillenial · 4 months

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Double-Edged Desire

Blue’s noticed how good you’ve been and wants to reward you.

Themes: DEAD DOVE - DNE, Blue is his own warning, dub-con (power imbalance), f!reader, fingering, oral, biting, threat

Wordcount: 1.3k

The Lennox House is too loud, too dingy, and above all is the constant stench of fear. You can’t tell whether it’s mostly you or the other girls but fear permeates the very walls. You do your best to get the stench off your skin the first couple days of your stay. Showers were short and often cold, but the frigid water helped to keep you grounded. You could feel eyes on you but could never pinpoint where.

After your first week is when you noticed him, Blue. He was breaking up a fight between a couple of the more rowdy girls. The way he commanded the room, grabbed them by their collars and pulled them apart as if it took nothing. You knew you shouldn’t have watched so long, but you couldn’t stop. Not even when his gaze met yours and he gave you a cocky grin.

His dark gaze lingers on your skin like a heavy blanket as you adjusted to life here. In the days after your first caught glance you tried to move so someone, something could be between his gaze and you. You were already overstimulated from the moment you arrived and now? You’ve got his undivided attention…

Today it’s too much. You pad softly to your room, enjoying the quietness as you lay down and settle the covers over your head. Here in your own little world with the distant sounds muffled by the blankets you can almost picture yourself elsewhere, until a gentle voice and the click of your door’s lock interrupts the stillness.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” Blue’s tone sent a shiver up your spine. “Can you come out?” His voice is so near you jolt upright, covers still up to your neck. “Attagirl that’s better.”

There’s that scent again and this time it’s definitely coming from you. “I read over your file, such a shame.” He tuts as he slowly pulls the blanket from your grip. “But I think I already like you. You’ve stayed out of trouble, you do as your told…” his smile is reassuring, but his eyes? Their intensity tells you all you need to know.

“I’m trying to be good, please I don’t want any trouble.” you’re soft plea is met with widening grin.

“Oh no no no, there’s no trouble. I’m here to reward you.” You shrink back against the wall to no avail as he leans forward. “I just need you to lie back sweet thing.” The juxtaposition of his cooing words and rough tug at your pants sends your mind spinning. Shame bubbles up at your exposed lower half. Your feeble attempt to close your legs is met with strong hands on your thighs.

“What are you-“ his finger on your lips cuts your protest short.

“None of that, open.” His voice is still low but there’s an edge of warning. You obey, opening your mouth ever so slightly. His breath catches as his finger slips past your parted lips and across your tongue. “Oh good girl, such a good girl.” He coos, “suck on it.”

The groan you pull from his throat as you suck shoots straight to your core, “Oh just like that.” He dips his head down, pressing his lips against your mound as you continue. “Fuck - what a sweet little cunt.”

The first swipe of his tongue up your slit sends you bucking forward. “Shh.” He hisses as he slips another finger past your lips.

Heat rises in your body as you obey, sucking down both his fingers in a steady pace. His other hand wraps around your leg to keep you open, at the mercy of his mouth. Fingers dig into your thigh and his face flushes as he works. His dark gaze flickers up to you, something in your expression makes him smile against your core.

He squints for a moment and focuses on your face as his tongue adjusts. Flat and firm against your clit earns him a soft groan, flicking the tip of his tongue against it elicits a sharp inhale.

He hums as he furrows his brow in thought, then you felt him chuckle. Something dark and low then, he gently sucks on your bundle of nerves sending you quivering. “There it is.” He growls, pulling his fingers from your mouth to get a hold on your other leg.

He adjusts to lock your legs open with his grip, looks up to you with a wink and sucks again.

“P-please!” You gasp, grabbing at the sheets beside you. You weren’t even quite sure what you were begging for at this point. For him to stop? For him to not stop? You bit your lip to try and muffle the noises that’re trying to escape your throat.

“Shhh it’s okay,” he coos, coming up to press his forehead against yours. “Just enjoy it.” He whispers against your lips before pressing a soft kiss against them. It was so gentle, so sweet that you start to melt into it.

He pulls away, shimmying back down to your exposed core. He looks up to you through thick lashes as he sinks a finger into your soaking heat. You suck in a breath, gripping the sheets till your knuckles turn white. “One more,” he encourages as another finger sinks deep into you. You arch against the sensation, breath coming unevenly. “So good, so fucking tight.” He purrs as his kisses your sensitive bud.

Blue began pumping his fingers slow and steady, curving them every time they sink deep. You felt your channel tighten and the swelling of pleasure low in your belly. “B-Blue I,” you voice rang out between ragged breathes. “Blue ple-AAHH!” He cut your sentence short by once again sucking on your oversensitive clit.

Your hand flew up to clamp over your mouth, to stop the startling noises that jumped out of you. This lasted only a moment when Blue turned and bit hard into the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You gasp and twist but his arms keep you firmly in place.

“Don’t you dare cover your mouth, do you hear me?” He growled.

You nod, tears welling up as you plead “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Blue I didn’t mean to -“ he kisses and licks softly where he bit.

“It’s alright, don’t let it happen again. I want to hear every sound. Every groan and scream from that perfect mouth.” He stopped, pinning you with his gaze. “And if you do it again I’ll fuck your throat raw.” He punctuated his threat with a kiss on your swollen clit.

“O-okay.” You sniffle, wiping tears from your eyes. He held your gaze for a beat longer before returning to what felt like him sucking the soul from your body. Every nerve feels alight as his fingers work and curve, his lips locked over your overworked nub. Your noises ringing out in your room till you were sure the whole of the Lennox House knew Blue has claimed you.

Sweat beads across your forehead and your breathing comes in pants as you reach your peak. With a choked cry your legs lock and squeeze around Blue’s head. He continues till you felt as if you were about to squeeze his head clean off his body. “Shhh shhh,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers free from your fluttering core and sucking them clean. “Relax, just breath. You did so well.” He smiles.

His praise feels, unnerving to say the least as you come down from your high. You wince at the pulsing in your thigh and look down to see the angry red circle Blue left with his teeth. He tuts as he runs a thumb over the mark, causing you to flinch again. His eyes meet yours “This’ll be a good reminder, for you to keep listening.” He presses his thumb into the tender spot.

“Okay!” You yelp, “Okay I’m sorry, I’ll keep being good.”

He smirks, moving the thumb that’s pressing into your thigh to press against your clit. “Yes, you will…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Blue Jones Masterlist

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @ominoose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie

#blue jones #suckerpunch #blue jones x f!reader #blue jones x you #blue jones x reader #blue jones fanfiction #blue sucker punch #blue x reader #blue jones smut

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swanhili · 7 months

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blue bird

#infamous #infamous second son #delsin rowe #reggie rowe #suckerpunch #Morgan’s art #artists on tumblr #I miss Delsin and Reggie and I’m so overdue for a new piece

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kidcooperart · 7 months

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Happy 21st Sly! The mood for this is based on the fic "It takes and it takes and it takes" by elinadsy on ao3, it's basically a novelization of Sly 3, and their tag lines slays my whole existence

"A single, traitorous thought: would his father be proud?"

#sly cooper #sly 3 #suckerpunch #Sony #playstation

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euxellis · 18 days

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these 2 panels from batman/scarecrow: year one did something irreversible to my psyche

#bruce wayne i hope you die miserably and alone #reading this for the first time i had to go lay down for a sec #came out of nowhere and suckerpunched me p much???#dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics

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linzer-art · 2 years

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s,,so... binxhera huh?

#did not see coming until suckerpunched me #acofaf #binxhera #a court of fey and flowers #binx choppley #andhera #prince andhera #court of craft #court of air and darkness #aabria iyengar #linzer art

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scalproie · 3 months

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Kazuya's ending was amazing firstly bc Look At It but also bc it validated a thought I've always had in the best way possible for me.

Sure, Jun wants to save Kazuya, she wants to free him of his devil gene and I'm sure she wants for him to stop fighting his own family and to stop causing so much pain in the world, we can assume as much bc Jun is a Good Person™️. But other than that? I don't think she wants to change, let alone "fix", a damn thing about him.

"How can she love Kazuya? He's a monster" Very easily actually. I should know bc I love him.

"So she's just as bad as him then?" It depends. Is Jun actually a bad person for loving someone who causes pain to others? Or is she actually an angel incarnate for still loving and wishing better for the one person that everybody else has given up on? Kindness to some is cruelty to others after all, and vice-versa.

"It feels very unbalanced and one-sided" She indulged him. She caught the statue and smiled at him. Do you not believe she is strong enough to handle him? That because of how she is and how she looks, she cannot hold her own against him? That because she is kind and he is not, they do not stand as equals? Why is that?

"So they'd just fight? He still threw a statue at her" He also keeps a framed picture of her in his office. Why would Kazuya keep a memento to think of her when she's away if he didnt enjoy her company? She indulged him, but he also indulged her with this little bit of sentimentalism.

"Why would Kazuya even like her?" He literally said why. His life is nothing but conflict and battle, and he detests weakness. Conflict is familiar. So how could he not enjoy the presence of the one (1) woman who challenges him in every way, physically and morally, from the very first moment they met? And Jun doesnt just "keep up" with him, she is his match in everyway. The literal Yang to his Yin. She is strong.

"She still deserves better." Yes she does. I dont think she'd want better though.

Also ever since my friend said they have the same smile my life has not known peace.

#boss make a dollar I make a dime I write kazjun essays on company time #also if we also take jun's ending in consideration. even in her dream-that-may-be-real he still suckerpunched jin #and when she wakes up in the cold. she has a g corp blanket. and g corp has only ever been associated with kazuya #anyway hi jun is amazing i love kaz so much and i do nothing but win #tagging later #tekken

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immortallindemann · 11 months

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#lindemann #maggie #maggie lindemann #maggie lindemann icons #suckerpunch world tour #jordan clarkson

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ominoose · 8 months

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𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

Pairing: Blue Jones x Reader Blurb: Blue does your makeup for you since you suck at it apparently. Warnings: None, it's fluff. WC: O.6K

The vibrations of the music tickled your fingers as they laid splayed over the chairs worn leather armrests, muffled by the walls of the dressing room, yet still loud enough to be felt. Blue’s breath fanned across you face, humming along absentmindedly as his eyes traced over you intently, focused on each feature, each detail. He was so close you could see his nostrils flare softly with each breath.

Blue had been dissatisfied with your makeup skills for a while. At first he only quirked an eyebrow when he gave you a once over before your first performance. Then it escalated into a pointed look, then a sigh, a tensing of his sharp jaw and now this. He’d found you an hour before your set, one of the few shows on a slow Tuesday night and seated you in front of a vanity, turning the chair so your back was to the mirror as he leaned down and looked you over.

“I’ve had enough of you embarrassing me in front of customers because you use eyeliner like a fucking crayon.” He mutters bluntly, dark eyes flickering over your face one last time before turning towards the vanity, going through your supplies, the sound of plastic clattering across the wooden surface was the only noise besides the remnants of the club's music.

His hand pushes lightly on your forehead, tilting your head back to find a comfortable position to leer over you properly as he starts applying primer to you, dabbing it all over your face with a warm, rough thumb. Despite the usual ferocity of the man, and the way he held your chin firmly, his touch wasn't rough. It certainly wasn't light, but he applied everything to you with uncharacteristic gentleness you didn't often see from him.

Blue moved through the motions, more practiced than you'd have expected as he brushed foundation onto you, rubbing a light counter under your cheek bones. His dark eyes were intense as they kept on you, like a painter eyeing his muse. "Stop blinking." He snipped as he applied eyeshadow to your eyelids, the constant tapping of the brush to get off the excess powder was oddly soothing. You pouted, but shut your eyes as he commanded, resigning yourself to be his personal little barbie doll.

The way he tenderly dabbed glitter on with a single finger, the warm breathes that tickled at your nose when he got close and the way he held your chin so delicately had your skin erupting in goosebumps. Such a soft moment was quite off-brand for him, but as he dragged a creamy lipstick over your bottom lip, staring down at you with an almost fond look in his eyes, you yearned for more. Yearned to be treated like you were his frail little doll, something he didn't want to break.

"There. Don't you just look beautiful." He cooed, the usual cheshire grin curled at Blue's lips as he stood back from you, tilting his head to marvel at his work.

"If I had more time on my hand's I'd come baby you like this more often, but I'm going to trust you to learn how to do your makeup like a big girl and not look like a five year old that got into mommy's makeup bag." Blue spoke over his shoulder to you as he buttoned up his sparkly suit jacket, already dismissing you to run other business as he walked out of the room. He stopped once he got to the door, glancing back at you, a proud smirk on his face as he bit his lips and admired you before he finally left.

Maybe you could get away with messing your makeup up just a few more times.

#blue jones #blue jones x reader #suckerpunch #oscar isaac #sucker punch #omiwrites #this has been in my drafts for missions

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