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peachesofteal · 2 months

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Ghost/Soap/female reader 18+ mdni - dark content Running from Simon at the bar because he’s the scary man who wants to pick his teeth with your finger bones… only to find an angel waiting in the wings.

Your second martini is stronger than the first.

You’re not sure how it’s even possible, considering the contents of a martini is mostly just alcohol, but it stings a little sharper on your first swallow, and you eye the skewer of olives skeptically.

Oh well.

More bang for your buck, you suppose. Better to get the job done faster, and cheaper, than the alternative.

The bar is bustling, and you watch it all from the corner you’re tucked into. Coeds from across the city pack like tinned fish against one another, yelling and breathing in each other’s faces, loud laughter and boisterous conversations bouncing off the walls. Cigarette smoke cloys, orange-red ends flickering in the low light of the evening, blazing bright before they’re snuffed out and replaced.

Your phone buzzes with a text, ten minutes late, and surprise is few and far between when you read that your activities for tonight have now evaporated, plans cancelled with a simple six-word sentence.

Sorry, I can’t make it now.

Asshole.

The vodka is stiff on your lips. Your tongue seeks the rim of your glass, flicking at a leftover drop of olive and alcohol, vermouth herbaceous in the back of your mouth.

“Seat taken?” A gruff, rough dipped voice calls over your shoulder, gesturing to one of the only bar stools left in the building, and you answer without looking up.

“All yours.”

“Thanks love.” The pet name straightens your spine, and you sneak a glance, eyeing the bulk settling at your side. “Usin’ that?” He points at the ashtray, thick finger alone in the air, and you shake your head.

He meets your eyes head on as you turn to look at him, curiosity burning a hole in your brain, and good sense has your stomach tightening into a pit.

A five-alarm fire rages, gusts of wind and pockets of brush fueling it’s spread, encouraging it to burn far and wide inside you until it consumes everything in its path.

Danger, it shrieks. Run.

The man’s face is scarred. His nose is crooked. His eyes are dark. He’s a hell baptized image of Ares, a gladiator, a solider. A monster of men.

And he stares at you like he knows you.

It’s unnerving enough to set you adrift, free falling through the possibilities.

It’s danger, but so much more. So much worse. He transcends lethality, strength and bloodlust shining in his expression, a dark beacon lighting the way home. Pine and cigarette smoke, drifting in the stale air.

Just finish your drink and tab out. Leave.

“Out by yourself tonight?” You blink at the croon in his voice, serrated tip of a knife dripping with honey, and answer automatically.

“No.” It’s a lie of course, but you were raised with good self-preservation instincts. You’ve been a girl alone in a bar before, on a train, in an Uber. You know how to tilt the table, load the dice. Pretend you’re with someone, or on the phone, or have someone waiting for you. Lie and pretend. Make it believable.

The flick of a lighter draws your attention, and he extends a fresh smoke towards you. An olive branch. A trick.

“Want one?” You twist your face into the most disgusted mask manageable, and he chuckles. “Suit yourself. I’m Simon, by the way.” Lie. You give him something tugged from thin air, something you’re not going to remember in ten minutes time.

The bartender comes by, and you’re both grateful for the reprieve, and a chance to close out. Until-

“An’ another one of those.” He points at the glass, your eyes going round, cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck.

“Oh. No, that’s-“

“C’mon. One won’t kill ya.” You should tell him it would, it might. Should get loud. More insistent.

All the rebuttal evaporates when his shoulder shoves against yours, effectively pinning you between the bar top and the wall, heavy thigh bleeding heat against your exposed leg. Your too short dress is now a colossal mistake, and you curse your date for bailing, and yourself for believing he’d even show up in the first place.

The man, Simon, makes a show of looking around, head on a swivel, roving over the crowd before turning back you with a glint. He knows. He knows you’re not here with anyone. “So, who’d you get all pretty for tonight then?” Smoke rolls from his lips, and the lump in the back of your throat is so thick, it tries to choke you.

“My- my date.”

“Where are they?”

“Not here.” You grit each word, glaring. It only earns you another smile, eyes crinkling in the corner, a shark sniffing blood in the water.

“Poor thing. An’ your dress is so nice, too. Little short, but… that’s alright. You didn’t know.” He takes a swig of his drink, neat bourbon, room temperature gasoline, and your mouth dries up.

Didn’t know what?

The subtle alarm bells ringing in the back of your head become nuclear sirens.

The martini sweats on the bar top, leaving a wet ring around the base of the glass. Your stomach sours. “Thank you, for the drink, but-“

“Drink it.” You haven’t looked away from it, you think, know it hasn’t been tampered with… yet the idea of doing something this stranger, this man asks, terrifies you.

“I uh…”

“Don’t wanna be rude, do ya pet?” Fuck. You survey the room, looking for anyone who has noticed you, who has observed this interaction, who has realized what’s happening in this little dark corner.

No one pays you a lick of attention. If they do, they spot the hulking mass of a man at your elbow and avert their eyes immediately. A few glance back in disbelief, like they recognize him somehow, or know him, before pointedly looking away.

You’re all but invisible.

Everything flows around you like water. You’re a rock beneath the surface, affecting a swell, an eddyline, and yet, no one knows. No one can see.

You swallow half the drink in one gulp, hope and prayer on the wind.

He’ll leave you alone, once you bore him. Once he realizes he won’t get anything out of you, he’ll move onto someone else. Someone more interesting.

“How is it?” His leg presses harder on yours, a quadricep like cement halting you effectually, securing your immobility against him with a simple movement.

He’ll pick you clean, and then pick his teeth with your bones.

“Fine.”

“Jus’ fine, eh?” His jaw flexes, and a split second of confusing emotion controls you, forcing new words from your mouth in a desperate attempt to appease.

“It’s… good. It’s good.” Ice layers across the top of it, and you take another sip for the show, half smile painted on loosely.

You have to get out of here. You have to go now.

“If you’ll excuse me…” you flex, trying to stand, but he shakes his head.

“Where you off to?” Your neck snaps back, indignant, and then you raise your voice over the din, too loud to be considered casual, fingers gripping the edge of your seat until your knuckles hurt.

“I have to use the bathroom.” Eyes half lidded, he traces you from head to toe before nodding, turning back to his drink almost as if he’s uninterested, grim line of his mouth twisting into a smile and settling around the end of his cigarette.

Once you’re in the hall, you take a left to the emergency exit, not a right, spilling out the back and into star studded night, gasping for air so cold it shocks your lungs.

“Whoa, hey there.” An accent croons, and you turn in a panic, palms out. “Easy, easy bonnie. What’s got ye all upset?” Your entire body flags with relief, a rip cord pulled against your sense and judgement. The man, the Scottish man, seems friendly, seems kind, wide blue eyes alarmed and worried, brows creased gently as he helps keep you upright.

“S-sorry. Sorry, I just… I just had… the weirdest-“ It doesn’t make sense, to try to explain, and nothing sounds right coming off your tongue, so you flail, and he tries to comfort you.

“Shhh, ye’re alright now. Just breathe.” His palm is firm against your side, and you shake your head, trying to put words to the madness brewing at your back inside the bar.

“There was a man, and he-“ The streetlamps flare, burning as bright as the sun, and you blink, grasping for your bearings. “He…”

“He what, bonnie?” His voice is distorted, and the arm at your side now creeps around your back. “What’s wrong?” Your adrenaline surges, leaving your head throbbing, and nausea claws it way up the back of your throat.

“N-nothing, I…” You’re fuzzy. Everything out of balance, and you gasp for air.

The door behind you creaks open and slams closed, jolting you in the grip of the Scotsman.

“It’s alright.” He coos. You’re weak limbed, malleable in his hold, and he turns your face into his neck, rubbing your back, his chest vibrating with every syllable. “Just close your eyes.” He smells good, woodsmoke and juniper, pine and cigarettes, something familiar enough to prickle, far away awareness digging at the soft sinew in the front of your brain.

Pine and cigarettes. Pine… and cigarettes.

It’s the last thing your rational mind pieces together before you’re lost to the darkness.

#ghoap x reader #not edited so mind the mistakes #peach uses PET for the first time everyone #peaches writes #simon riley x reader #sorry had to get this out of the brain

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sthavoc · 3 months

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𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

𖥔 ࣪˖ pairing: enzo x fem!reader

𖥔 ࣪˖ summary: with all the events enzo is attending, he thinks it would be a good idea to learn a bit of english, especially with the Oscars coming around. lucky for him he had the perfect person.

𖥔 ࣪˖ warnings: just pure fluff

𖥔 ࣪˖ note: I wouldn’t mind teaching him if he asked 😅 this one is short and I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes.. I didn’t have enough time to proofread.. ohh and btw I will start taking requests for enzito! :))

“Dale nena. Un poquito na’ más.” Enzo’s arm travels around your waist as he brings you closer to him on the couch.

He had been attempting his very best to persuade you by showing him a few basics of English. He wanted to involve himself in additional conversations with other celebrities, and when the idea popped into his head he thought you would be the perfect help.

“Enzo.” You giggle pushing him with your hand on his chest. You noticed how he tried to look serious. “Que quieres aprender.” He smiles at how you give in.

“Lo básico.” He shrugs but then he thinks. “A ver cómo se dice—” he licks his lips, his elbow resting on the couch with his sight on you. “Es un gusto conocerte.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s.. a pleasure.. to meet you.” Enzo repeats. His eyes squint as he somewhat tilts his head to the side due to the bit of struggle of pronunciation.

“Nada mal eh.” He smiles at your compliment.

“Gracias, gracias.” He brings his hand to his chest. “A ver cómo se dice… estoy muy contento de estar aquí.”

“I am very happy to be here.”

“I am.. very.. very—” he shakes his head making you giggle. “happy to be.. here!” He drops his hand in a sudden movement making the both of you move.

“Enzo!” your chuckles muffled into his chest. Your head looks up into his eyes as his arm remained wrapped around the back of your neck.

“Ya pero, como se dice-” he whispers with a hint of raspiness in his voice close to your lips. He speaks “Tengo a la novia más hermosa de todo el mundo” before giving your lips a peck as you smiled.

“I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the whole world.” You look into his eyes as he gave you one of his oh so charming smiles.

“I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the whole world.” he managed to say before he kissed your lips again. This time he brought your bottom lip into his own lips as his hand reached for your cheek. His thumb rested on the sculpture of your cheekbone while the rest of his hand rested on the back of your neck.

“sabes a dulce chiquita.” he whispers into your lips. The two of you chuckled at his comment. You pulled away licking your lips not even attempting to hide your growing smile as you stared at him.

Enzo somehow would always find a way to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was with a silly comment or him showing you affection and loading you with compliments.

Your fingers traced the strands of his hair that hung on his face or on the side of it. “que cosas dices En.”

“Te las digo a vos.” You roll your eyes jokingly as he shrugs. “Eres beautiful.” the word exaggerates coming out of his lips making you laugh at his goofiness.

“Pues tú eres handsome.” You give him a quick peck.

The two of you stayed in the couch enjoying each other’s comfortable silence. Enzo’s fingertips traced up and down on your bare arm, almost leaving goosebumps. You rested on his chest next to him as you kept your hand next to you while the other rested beneath you.

“Estás nervioso por los Oscars?” Your mumbled words vibrated on Enzo’s chest as you spoke.

“Un poco, pero entusiasmado.”

You bring your head up to look him in the eye. “No tienes por qué estar nervioso. Ya verás que se lo llevan, ustedes hicieron un gran trabajo.” His eyes had a glint in them as he softly gazed onto you. You seemed so positive. “Traen a todo mundo loco En. Ese Oscar es de ustedes. Y les voy a echar porras cuando digan las nominaciones.” You boop his nose with your finger tip making him blink before a smile appeared on his lips followed by—

“Ay, te amo chiquita.” He kisses you again. Your words eased him.

“Yo te amo más.”

#enzo vogrincic blurb #enzo vogrincic x you #enzo vogrincic imagine #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic

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luceracastro · 3 months

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Sabia que ibas a volver

(Enzo Vogrincic x Reader)

Summary: you and Enzo get in a fight before the big premiere and end up ending your relationship, but he should have known that after years of loving him, you would never miss the biggest moment of his life.

Warnings: just loads of fluff and some angst and sadness at the beginning. (also literally a Spanglish fic but I am more than happy to do it individually in Spanish and english too) (Esta historia estará en spanglish pero estoy más que feliz de hacerlo individualmente en español e inglés.)

The mate you had made yourself had gone cold, and the shared apartment you and Enzo lived in was also freezing between the open windows and balcony, it was late and he still wasn't home, of course, he went out with the guys and you trusted him but he must've gotten carried away still out and about and even though you tried not to think about it too much you couldn't help yourself

a few moments later you heard the sound of keys rustling, the door clicking as it opened and you turned your head to the side seeing him slip in and take off his jacket "¿Ves qué hora es?" you asked as you looked down at your hands and he sighed "Si" it was all he said in a dry tone and it made you annoyed and angry but you were too tired to even try

"Enzo, ¿por qué me haces esto?" you asked with a ting of pain in your voice and he could only look down at his feet not even saying a word as he leaned against the counter in the kitchen, "¿Qué hice? ¿Hice algo mal porque parece que ya ni siquiera quieres estar cerca de mí?" you told him and he shook his head slowly and sighed "no, solo piensas demasiado" and that was it before you got up "Enzo! estas ciego?!" you yelled and he furrowed his brows confused

"llegas tarde a casa, cuando estás aquí estás en el juego o en tu teléfono, ¡incluso ignorándome si te hablo!" you told him and he stood taller "estoy trabajando y me canso!" he said and you sighed "Enzo, créeme, lo entiendo, pero también me gustaría que mi novio me preguntara de vez en cuando cómo fue al menos mi día, siempre te ayudé, estuve ahí para ti cuando llegaste a casa cansado y, por supuesto, planeo hacerlo todavía, pero Yo también quiero saber que estás ahí para mí" was all you could say as your voice cracked and tears streamed down your cheeks

"Ya no eres una niña, lo entiendo y lo siento pero estoy trabajando y también necesito ayudarme en este momento, créeme lastimarte es algo que nunca quiero hacer." he told you and you rolled your eyes "Enzo, literalmente sales todas las noches y vuelves tarde a casa, ¿en qué te ayuda eso? No me importa que salgas pero sería bueno tener una de esas noches dedicadas a mí tu novia" you said as your heart crushed

"nena, Llevamos cinco años juntos, te he dedicado mucho tiempo y ¿es tan malo que quiero un ratito de tiempo con unos amigos?" he asked but his tone had some bitterness to it and you sighed getting up "Nunca dije eso, pero sabes, si eso es lo que quieres, entonces como sea, tal vez deberíamos romper si me dedicas demasiado tiempo como dices tu" and he chuckled "Entonces tal vez deberíamos, si vas a intentar seguir convirtiéndome en el malo, tal vez deberíamos simplemente separarnos"

that broke you entirely, seeing him mean it even though you couldn't see the way his heart broke when those words left his lips you moved to get the bags and suitcases you brought when you moved in and started tearing your clothes from the hangers and pulling your clothes from drawers as his eyes rimmed with tears seeing you pack and the small sobs escaping your lips, he knelt beside you as you packed your belongings

"Espera, espera, no, no lo dije en serio, bebé, para," he put a hand over your arm carefully but you shrugged him off "No, Ya no quiero estar aquí Enzo ya terminé me voy a casa con mi mamá no puedo" you cried louder and covered your face with your hands and you could hear Enzo sniffle "No, no, chiquita no te vayas, por favor quédate conmigo. Lo haré mejor, lo prometo" he said with his hands moving to hold you but you extended your arms to keep his away "No, yo me voy," you said and moved around to pack while he continued to follow you around and plead.

he tried to hold onto you and your stuff but to no avail and he couldn't forcefully make you stay so he watched outside as you drove off tears drenched his cheeks and eyes and his fingers intertwined with his hair as he sighed "Mierda, Mierda!" he moved to get his keys and went to his car, he couldn't stay there not at all he knew he's just remember you not being able to sleep so he just drove, where? who knew.

it had been around a few weeks now, you'd been moved back in with your mom who was there for you helping you unpack and what not, Enzo called and texted constantly and even Matias joined in trying to reach you and some of the others but you didn't answer anything, "Enzo ya levantate, asi no la vas a recuperar" Matias had walked into the room he was allowing Enzo to stay in, his girlfriend was making them food at the time and she herself couldn't make the boy eat anything as he only laid in bed most of the time

"entonces que mas hago? ya la llame y le mande textos y no se que mas hacer," Enzo groaned out and Matias sighed "Luego levántate y ve a la casa de su madre y pide perdón como un hombre" Matias told him and Enzo looked at him "No puedo, ella no quiere hablarme" Enzo's voice was low and his attitude was worse as he didn't even look like he had emotions anymore "La amas?" Matias asked with his arms crossed "más que nada" Enzo said as he sat up "entonces lucha por ella" was all Matias could say before leaving the room

and that's what Enzo was going to do, for once he finally took a shower and got presentable leaving to go over to your mothers house with hopes of taking you back home with him. but that was not the case as your mom stood at the front door a small frown on her face "por favor, solo dile que necesito hablar con ella" he said in a pleading manner but the woman sighed "Lo hice pero ella me dijo que te dijera que te fueras, no se siente muy bien" your mother did try to get you to speak to the boy at the front door but you refused

so Enzo left with his heart broken, he had to get used to the fact that you'd probably hate him forever and ever but it was a stab to the heart to deal with that fact, he loved you and now it hit him how it was pointless being without you, he didn't really have much without you.

so then the time for the premier rolls around, it was the night before and Enzo was sitting in his hotel room just thinking, the TV played in the background but as all he could think about was you everything blurred out for him, he could only have you on his mind and even though his castmates tried to reason with him and even reach out to you for his sake, there was no success.

however what he didn't know was that you were in a hotel a few streets down situating yourself and getting ready to rest for tomorrow, even though he hurt you and said some hurtful things, your love for him is bigger than any of that.

Enzo was getting dressed and ready, the day was here and he was prepared for anything or so he thought, the flashing cameras and lights as well as the loud voices of people, photographers, and interviewers was pretty overwhelming however one huge relief was seeing your face amongst the crowd wearing a beautiful dress made just for you, a big proud smile on your lips as he smiled a small giggle escaping his lips as he was himself again and in a better mood.

once Enzo was off the carpet he spotted you speaking to Matias girlfriend and he rushed over arms engulfing you as yours wrapped around his neck "viniste" the slight crack in his voice made you frown slightly "Obviamente, hablamos de este momento desde siempre y no me lo perdería" you told him a small smile on your lips as tears rimmed your eyes "Te amo," he said and you nodded "yo también, bueno ya no llores," you laughed a little cleaning his cheeks and eyes with your thumbs as he chuckled to himself

"Sabia que ibas a volver," he said with the biggest smile on his lips as you did too "Obvio, eres el amor de mi vida boludo," you chuckled kissing his lips, "vamos," you both interlinked arms and he guided you proudly presenting you as his girlfriend, the light of his eyes, his heart.

"que linda pareja," Fran's voice rang out a little teasing tone as both you and Enzo smiled "Entonces ambos volvieron a estar juntos?" Juani asked as he smiled "Si," Enzo said as he held onto you tighter "Entonces debemos de celebrar, vamos por unas cervezas," pipe's voice rang out as the others laughed "no me opongo a una cerveza" you shrugged and Enzo smiled, the night was well spent at the end.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this as I did, I honestly have been listening to this song for a while and thought of this plot and enjoyed writing it so I hope you all liked it as well and I am open to doing any request :) (Espero que hayan disfrutado esto como lo hice yo, honestamente he estado escuchando esta canción por un tiempo, pensé en esta trama y disfruté escribiéndola, así que espero que a todos les haya gustado también y estoy abierto a hacer cualquier solicitud :)

#enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic #Spotify

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oh-stars · 3 months

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Topps

Love is secretly studying up on the nerd shit he’s into.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 2249 words | CW: N/A | Rating: T

It’s not often that they all make their way to Indianapolis. It’s no Chicago and getting everyone together to make a big trip of it is getting harder and harder every month. But Will’s birthday falls in line with the grand opening of a new collectibles store that promises shiny new dice and rare items among their comics and board game memorabilia. How could anyone deny his pleading eyes to make it a part of his birthday celebration: to go see the store and find a place to eat, a day trip that’s on the simpler side.

Eddie’s just as excited as the boys are, but he’s more surprised to find Steve is practically vibrating out of his skin with how eager he is to get to the store. He’s just not showing it in the same way the others are. It’s all vibrant eyes and small smiles, bouncing knees and one too many questions.

Eddie’s still trying to figure out what he’s excited about.

Over the last year, Eddie’s learned how to read Steve Harrington. The man may think he keeps an even, cool composure about everything, but Eddie’s an expert in the minor details to figure out how Steve really feels. When he talks to Hopper about some sports thing, his hands will have a small tremor and he stumbles over his words sometimes, always playing it off as some headache or not getting enough sleep if you point it out. Eddie knows better, he knows Steve gets so excited that he can’t contain it and is embarrassed at how eager he is to share it, about his interests all together.

The kids don’t help, he knows. Outside of Lucas, the others just tease him for being a meathead jock or some other bullshit insult – pulling the same shit they get bullied with, the same shit Eddie encouraged. He’s trying to get them to see how fucked up it is, but it’s a work in progress.

They’re driving separately so Eddie doesn’t get to watch Steve’s excitement build other than the glimpses he gets in his rearview mirror of Steve, Robin, and the girls singing along to whatever mundane Top 40 shit they’re blasting. He’d listen to the shitty music with Steve over Dustin and Mike arguing over D&D editions any day, though. At least he can control the volume of the music…

“I’m this close,” Eddie holds up his pinched fingers, “to leaving you on the side of the road,” he tells them.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Steve wouldn’t let you.”

“I think I can convince him,” Eddie says with a smirk. Only Robin knows about their relationship, even now after it’s been a year, but that doesn’t mean the kids don’t know they’re close. They know they’re inseparable and good friends. Just not… naked in bed, touchy-feely ‘friends,’ ya know? “We’re nearly at the store. Can you at least pause the screaming match until you have the editions in front of you for proper comparison?”

That buys Eddie a few minutes of just his music as the boys have a more reasonable discussion to figure out how to split their small funds to maximize their haul. They may be turning sixteen this year, but they’re not exactly loaded. It’s the same shit he and the guys used to pull, and sometimes… still do. It’s nice seeing them like actual kids for a little while longer.

But he’s still happy to climb out of his van and meet back up with Steve and the gang.

He slings an arm over Steve’s shoulders, feels how keyed up he is and how his muscles are tense despite the relaxed looking posture. “Are you mortals ready to blow your minds?” Eddie asks, voice rumbly as he leans in to stare at the girls.

Max rolls her eyes as Erica levels him with a stare of her own.

“Let’s go already!” Dustin calls back as the guys are already booking it toward the store.

Nancy and Jonathan have only just pulled up as the group passes. Robin, Jane, and Max wait for them, happy to hang back from this particular stop on their day. Or maybe they’re scheming about Will’s surprise that the rest of them have been left in the dark about.

Either way, Eddie doesn’t drop his arm from Steve’s shoulders until they reach the door.

The store’s packed with nerds of all ages, shuffling here and there as they browse the small space. It’s like nerd paradise, with walls of collectibles and big crates of comics and books, and big displays of art and promotions everywhere. It even has that musty book smell he loves so much!

Eddie squeezes Steve’s shoulder before he completely drops his arm. “Permission to go feral?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but shoves Eddie lightly. “Go. Have fun,” he says.

“You could always follow me, you know. Don’t want you getting lost,” Eddie says, getting back into Steve’s space even as his eyes flickered around the space.

“I’ll come find you, okay?” Steve says, then he walks away with his hands in his pockets like he’s just strolling through the store. But Eddie can see the sharp way his eyes are searching the space, hunting for something. It’s enough to have Eddie trailing behind him, eager to figure out this mystery.

Okay so Eddie gets briefly distracted by a wall of dragon figurines, but he manages to pull himself away when he sees the price tags are dangerously close to having commas. He stumbles his way around, only getting swept into conversation with Will once about the variety of figures they have and able to dodge Dustin’s badgering about the new Justice League comic.

He finds Steve hunched over a glass case that’s near the cash register, at the far end where people aren’t huddled around looking at trading cards or the pricer collectibles. Eddie tucks himself partially behind a bookshelf so he can see Steve from the side. He watches as Steve’s eyes squint and he squats lower to look at the case from a new perspective. It takes a lot of effort to not let his own eyes wander to how his ass puts his Levi’s to the test, but Eddie’s stronger than that (sort of).

And because of that strength, Eddie gets the rare experience of seeing Steve’s eyes light up as his jaw drops. He looks… in awe of whatever he’s found, like someone just showed him the Holy Grail.

Eddie can’t help himself as he walks over. Steve’s so entranced, he doesn’t even notice. For a split second, Eddie feels that familiar panic creep up his throat before he hears a soft “holy shit,” from Steve.

On this side of the case are… sports cards. Trading cards of different sports people in various conditions, some are in little wrappers, some in packs, and others loose in the glass display case. Huh. Go figure.

He’s kind of surprised, if Eddie’s honest with himself, he never would have taken Steve for a collector of any kind, much less trading cards. But here he is, so amazed at whatever he’s found that he still hasn’t noticed Eddie’s presence.

Eddie squats down beside him, knees popping with the movement, and rests his forehead on the glass. “Which one is it?”

Steve curses under his breath as he jumps, snapping out of it. “Jesus, Eds,” he says, standing up.

“Sorry,” Eddie says with a grin. “Seriously, though. Which is it?”

His face is red and he looks almost ashamed to be caught staring at the cards. “Find anything cool yet?” Steve asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Eddie frowns. “Steve…”

Steve just shakes his head and turns his back on the glass. “Looks like Lucas found something,” he says with a forced laugh as he points to where Lucas is struggling to carry a few different boxes of figurines as he searches for the others in the busy store.

“And so did you,” Eddie says softly as he stands beside him, shoulders touching. “Trading cards, huh?”

He just shrugs.

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Eddie says. “I don’t know anything about them but,” he glances back at the rows and rows of cards, some with tiny words and charts, “those stats have to mean something. And you know how I am about stats, Stevie.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re player stats, Eddie. It’s from their games and shit.” He sighs. “You don’t… don’t have to pretend it’s cool, man. Just sports shit, right?”

“Hey,” Eddie says, a little more forceful, “I don’t mind sports shit, remember? We had fun watching that basketball game the other day.”

“You were just being nice,” Steve says.

“No,” Eddie counters, “I was a little confused on the language and how it works, but I love seeing you get passionate about something you love, Steve. Even if it means seeing how angry you get at whatever the refs are saying.”

Steve’s face darkens as he grumbles out, “It was a shit call.” He hasn’t been able to let it go since they watched it.

“C’mon,” Eddie says, turning back to the case, “will you just show me which one you like?”

“It’s not necessarily about liking them,” Steve starts, turning as well, “but the players themselves.”

Eddie hums. “So which player did you find?”

“Nolan Ryan,” Steve breathes out, pointing at the card, “he’s a pitcher for the Astros and that,” he lets out a whistle, “is a rare 1985 Tiffany.”

“What makes it rare?” Eddie asks.

Steve waves him off. “Don’t worry about that–”

“No,” Eddie insists. “I told you, in detail, about my Lord of the Rings theories and you listened to every word. Let me hear about your Tiffany card.”

“It’s not mine,” Steve reminds him.

Eddie nudges his shoulder. “Steve.”

Steve lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, so the cards are printed here, right? Like it’s one of their things? But the Tiffany cards aren’t, they’re printed in Ireland. And you see how that one is a little brighter than the one next to it?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response. “They printed the Tiffany sets on white cardboard instead of gray. And they only made a limited run of the sets, right? So to just… find one,” he says, voice soft and light, “and Nolan Ryan’s card at that?” He whistles. “Kind of a big deal.”

“So you’re getting it, right?”

Steve shrugs again. “Maybe I’ll drive up later for it. I don’t want to deal with the kids–”

“We’ll put it in my bag. I haven’t even really started to look, but you know I’m emptying my wallet in here, right?” Eddie says, smiling.

“Why haven’t you looked?” Steve asks, brow furrowing. “We’ve been here for twenty minutes, Eds, what have you been doing?”

Eddie feels his face soften as he tilts his head and plays with a strand of his hair. “There’s this guy I’ve got a thing for,” he whispers, “and he was really excited to come to some nerd store, but wouldn’t tell me why. So I had to figure it out myself.”

Steve’s blushing again as he looks away. “C’mon,” he says, grabbing Eddie by the elbow, “show me what you want to look at.”

He allows Steve to change the subject and does look for himself, but he doesn’t forget the wistful look in Steve’s eyes when they end up by the case again for check-out.

“Hey,” Eddie says, mostly to Nancy and Robin who have joined them in line, “should we send some of us down to the restaurant?”

Nancy looks at her watch, then at the line. “Yes, that’s not a bad idea.”

Steve nods and hands Eddie some cash. “Just in case the kids need help. Nance, Rob and I’ll go check in at the restaurant. See you there?”

Eddie lets the three of them walk out the door before he steps out of the line. Sure, he’ll lose his place, but it’s worth it.

“Excuse me,” Eddie says to an employee behind the counter, “I need to get this card.”

The guy knows his shit, so while the line dwindles, Eddie takes the opportunity to ask some questions. He even gets a few more card packs from the newest run, card holders and sleeves to put them in, and a booklet that explains the set. There’s even a book on the history of the game that the cashier suggests; Eddie doesn’t hesitate to buy it all. Sure, he had to put away a few figures and the new dice set he found, but it’s worth it.

He hides all of his new goods in with his other nerdy shit and carefully puts his bag in the glove box so it doesn’t get mixed up with the kids’ bags. “You guys ready?” Eddie asks, arms draped over Mike and Will’s shoulders.

As they walk to the restaurant for the next stop in their plans, Eddie listens to the kids share about their hauls and what they want to come back for. It all goes in one ear and out the other, too busy mulling over the information he learned from the cashier. He’s kind of surprised by how excited he is to read the materials he bought, but he really can’t wait to give Steve the card.

Now if he can just get Steve to admit he’s a nerd, too, it’d be icing on the cake.

Thanks to @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #whatislovedailyprompts #ohstars posting challenge

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 3 months

Note

Hey hun! I love everything you post, it's all so good. Umm I've never requested anything before so I have no clue if this is the right place or right time.....but honestly I love domestic fluff drabbles with normally really tough men (aka Tangerine or Bucky etc etc). So if ya wanna do that I guess you can use this as an excuse. Keep being amazing :]

hii honey!! you’re so sweet, thank you! very happy to write your first request. will never get tired of saying how much I love soft dominant men. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

DOMESTIC FLUFFY BLURBS.

implied fem!reader || bucky barnes & tangerine

BUCKY BARNES —

You and Bucky often had movie nights together, using it as a time to catch up on popular ones he missed during his time as a weapon. You had a watchlist which you regularly worked through, making progress on it almost every week.

Tonight, on the schedule, was 10 Things I Hate About You - one that you secretly snuck on, one you've been meaning to rewatch for a while now.

Both of you snuggled on the couch - Bucky slumped into the corner with his legs reaching out to rest on the coffee table, a lazy arm draped over your shoulder as you huddle into his side, your lower half sprawled length-wise across the sofa.

The curtains closed, the room mostly dark - the only light coming from the tv and lamp on the side. Each of you dressed in pyjamas under the large fluffy blanket you shared, cosy and comfy with a bowl of popcorn slotted between you both.

TANGERINE —

When Tangerine had the time from work, he liked to utilise as much of that as possible with you - doing things he wouldn't often be able to. Tonight on the agenda was cooking. Each of you taking time to create a hearty meal together.

Both of you in the kitchen, standing side by side at the counter as you chopped and diced the vegetables. Each of you on a job to lighten the load - you on onion duty, Tangerine on carrots.

You sniffle from the onions, the diced vegetable irritating your eyes. Tangerine places his knife down on the board, turning to look at you with a smile.

"C'mere," he grins, firmly placing his palms over the sides of your face, thumbs grazing under your eyes - blotting the tears as he softly chuckles. "Wanna swap?"

You nod sweetly, his hands moving with the gentle motion of your head.

"I know a trick," he faintly smiles, his bushy stache twitching up at the sides, taking the knife from your grasp.

Once your meal is ready, you each sit at the kitchen table, the surface decorated with the vase of flowers he bought you earlier, tealights and an open bottle of wine. The ambience homely and warm, both of you enjoying your homecooked meal together.

#request #anon #bucky barnes #tangerine #bucky fluff #tangerine fluff #bucky barnes x reader #tangerine x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #tangerine x fem!reader

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ren1327 · 4 months

Text

The fight scene analysis

I LOVE this scene!

So lets do it~!

We start with a barrage of bullets from the shark gangsters/loan sharks (if ya know, ya know). Husk and Angel are taking shelter behind a car when we start.

Husk has his eyes on the sharks, hand up to protect Angel. Angel has his eyes on Husk.

"Stay down. I'll deal with this."

We also have one of Angel's posters in the background. This is the Angel we and Husk are familiar with.

Husk pulls some cool knife throwing via papercut cards and actual loaded dice.

I'd like to point out the poster of Valentino in the back. Husk against Valentino shows us how different he is in regard to Angel. Val beats, assaults and exploits Angel. Husk risks himself to protect Angel without a second thought. This was seen earlier in the bar when he stopped Angel from being roofied and helped him escape the sharks earlier on. Val would probably have just charged the sharks money by the hour and sold the footage.

But this is where that earlier shot comes into play. Angel is more than his porn star persona. And he shows us and Husk that via crackshot into a nostril.

After shooting the shark into an actual puddle, Angel helps Husk up, continuing the theme of both supporting each other from the "Loser, Baby" duet right before the fight.

Angel goes full old school mafia, placing himself between Husk and the sharks with excessive force, switching the protector role with Husk.

But Husk joins in with more loaded dice. Notice his wings again. Angel has an arsenal of guns and rains bullets on the sharks, but Husk's wings are spread wide to protect his back.

Both are taking pleasure in the very one sided battle now that they've joined forces, the tension lessened just by each other's presence. (Vaggie was right.)

If Angel was wearing makeup to cover his black eyes from Val, its gone from the gunpowder, explosions and blood splash zone. Husk doesn't relax until the sharks stop moving, still on alert.

"Heh...well...That wasn't something I expected to see." He says to Angel, taking a breath and smiling at him.

And Angel tries to smooth his blown about, blood covered hair and replies "Like I said, you don't know me. Sex aint the only thing I'm good at." Angel is showing us a glimpse not only of himself...but of Anthony. And it seems as if they're blending into the person he is now.

And Husk has gotten his point across. This mess of a man covered in blood, soot and dirt...black eye, messy hair and clothing...the man who just decimated a gang of men and had his back...smiling through the violence and standing tall...

"Good to know. Cause this guy..."

"Ain't half bad."

This is who Husk wanted to see.

Angel Dust.

#hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #huskerdust

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robthegoodfellow · 2 years

Text

See, it had all started right before Christmas break, at the end of the Gatsby unit in his English class. Billy had gotten a real kick out of the story, which had been mercifully short and jam-packed with… well, it was gay as shit, basically—to the point where he’d tormented Harrington one afternoon reading select passages aloud, really dialing up the loaded phrases.

“Question for ya,” he’d said, sprawled on Harrington’s bed—his favorite place for half-assing any homework—or really his favorite place, period. He skimmed the paragraph, plucking choice words, glanced up where Harrington was propped against the headboard, eying him placidly over his History notes. “What would you think if you heard me describe an old buddy as ‘sturdy… dominant… leaning aggressively forward…’?”

Billy rolled and crawled into his lap—leaned forward with as much sturdy dominance as he could muster. Ignoring how his audience had snapped to attention, he cleared his throat, stuck the book between their faces, and continued, voice comically husky:

“…Or if I said the guy’s body had ‘enormous power’ that ‘seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing—’” As he read, Billy had reached down between them with his free hand, rubbed until Harrington was himself straining the zipper of his jeans. “‘—and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved…’?” A whine as Billy abandoned his ministrations below to trail up Harrington’s torso, caressing his collarbone, the meat of his shoulder, and finished: “‘It was a body capable of enormous leverage—’”

Planting his feet, Harrington arced his pelvis off the bed and Billy toppled over, snickering. In a blink, he was bowled onto his back, grinning up into a smug face.

“I’d think you wanted to fuck him,” Harrington said, and slotted their hips together, grinding where they were both hard.

“Right?” Billy panted. He weakly swatted Harrington’s head with the book he’d somehow kept hold of. “Man, I haven’t even gotten to the part where he fucks this random photographer guy—or when he describes Gatsby’s car and it’s just—it’s just—”

Harrington had sat up, hands tugging at their jeans, trying to get them undone. Rather than help, Billy raised the book above him and leafed forward a bit. “Hold on… I’ll find it…”

“You are such a little shit,” Harrington muttered.

Billy feigned distraction. “I swear, it was right after…”

Harrington had them unbuttoned and unzipped when Billy flipped to the scene.

“Here it is!” He cleared his throat and deigned to lift his ass so Harrington could drag his jeans and briefs down around his thighs. “So Gatsby’s ‘balancing himself on the dashboard’ of this huge car—picture it just jutting out from his crotch, okay? And then Nick’s all randy about it—saying how the car’s ‘swollen here and there in its monstrous length—’”

The book was snatched away and sent sailing off the bed, then Billy’s bookless fingers were anointed with the preferred dollop of lotion and drawn down to Harrington’s dick. No instructions necessary.

“Am I nuts?” he demanded, grunting as Harrington reciprocated. “Like—that car is a—” He gasped as Harrington upped the pace. “—a fucking… monster cock—a la verga—”

“Billy,” Harrington said, tightly, though he seemed on the verge of laughter. “Can we… focus on our actual cocks for a sec?”

That earned him an obnoxious smirk and slow, lingering stroke. “Damn, babe,” he said, admiring. “You held out way longer than expected.”

The ohmygodIhateyousomuch was mumbled directly against his lips, but he was smiling—Billy knew because he kissed teeth a moment before Harrington adjusted, and then he was pulling Harrington down, sucking tongue until they’d made a mess of their hands.

So anyway, that had got him thinking, and when it came time to write an essay, he’d rolled the dice and composed an unwieldy manifesto on Nick’s latent queerness. He’d had to look up all kinds of fancy words for gay and dick—homoeroticism and phallic had heavily featured—and maybe it was because this was the first time he’d ever felt personally invested in a writing assignment, but what had started out as a bit of a joke topic had morphed into… something else. Something he really meant. Nick was repressed as fuck and it had fucked him up.

He hadn’t run it by Pendergast—aside from the mere thought making him want to set himself on fire, he figured it wasn’t necessary; she’d given them a list of possible prompts, and the last one amounted to Choose Your Own Adventure. Plus, she’d gotten up on a soapbox at the start of the year, banging on in her twangy accent about how their approved booklist was too “narrow”—got as close as she could to calling it too white, too male, too straight without outright saying it. So… odds were good she wouldn’t read it and march him straight to the counselor or something.

Despite his best intentions, though, he’d almost thrown in the towel toward the end, when he’d been trying to transcribe his pencil draft into the final and the ink kept smearing—pens just weren’t fucking made for poor left-handed schmucks. When Harrington had seen him about ready to rip the draft in half, he’d spirited Billy into an austere office and sat him in front of some space-age looking contraption that purported to be a typewriter—shown him how to feed paper through, how to backtrack and correct any errors, stamping them out of existence, and told him to take his time.

And Billy had used a typewriter before—even endured a typing class freshman year—but that had been on a dime a dozen Smith-Corona electric, tacky from countless fingers before him, not an… IBM Selectric III, which he’d never even heard of, but assumed must be the best money could buy. It had a matte grey chassis with black squared keys, and when he tentatively pressed the B, a whirring, mechanical flutter conjured the letter on the page in a flash, like the machine had already known what symbol he wanted—hadn’t known to capitalize it, though. Leaning back and forth to peer over the edge of the chassis, where the arms of each key would usually fly out to strike, he watched as, for every letter of his name, a magic silver golf ball encrusted with the building blocks of language—the alphabet, punctuation, numbers 0-9—pivoted and spun, laying down each item with a crisp clatter that was weirdly spine-tingling.

billy Hargove

Eh, one missed capital was no biggie.

He’d started off slow, afraid of making more mistakes, not trusting himself to correctly deploy the corrector, but a couple sentences in, he was grooving—and god, the staccato whirr of those keys was damn satisfying.

He only knew he’d been at it awhile when a tension headache, that old friend, began to pulse at his temples and build behind his brow. Not enough to derail him, though—he lay down the final period with a flourish, yanked out the last page, and helped himself to the stapler.

After he’d turned it in, he’d kinda forgotten about it, too busy dreading Christmas break and all the “family time” it would entail. He wouldn’t even have the castle as his usual retreat, since Harrington’s folks were already back for the holiday, hosting a horde of his mother’s family at the country home until the whole brigade left for a New Year’s soiree in the Windy City.

So he’d perked up when Pendergast started wandering the room, handing the essays back, reminding them to actually read her comments if they hoped to improve next time—only she got to the bottom of the stack and… no essay for Billy. She hadn’t seemed to notice, but—

Then he freaked out a bit. Was she planning to hold him back after class, or—fuck—hoping to talk to him about it? Maybe he’d read her totally wrong and she was gonna march him to counselling after all. Or give him a detention for submitting something she found distasteful. Vulgar.

Of course, maybe she’d… lost it? He really hoped so, because he’d rather take an unjust zero than chat with her about the essay at all. Never should have written the fucking thing in the first place—such an idiot.

He snuck glances at Pendergast all period, but even when they made eye contact once, she hadn’t frowned or given any indication of her intentions… She was either one cool customer or genuinely as scatterbrained as she seemed on the surface and had just—yeah, lost it.

At the lunch bell, Billy had no recollection of what had transpired in class, too swept up in anxious speculation. He wanted to make a break for the door, but if she uttered a word about his topic with anyone else around he’d never hear the end of it. He’d bolt when the coast was clear and pray she wouldn’t call his name.

“Hey,” someone said, close by his ear, and Billy leapt in his seat, knees knocking the underside of his desk. He whirled, venom on his tongue, only to find a roll of papers shoved in his face, brandished by that girl with the brown bob who sat behind him, and who was now crossing her arms in defense at his reaction.

“Whoa!” she said, grinning wryly with big goofy teeth. “Easy. I come in peace.”

“In pieces,” he muttered, turning to sit sideways in his desk to level her a glare.

“Yes, you’re very scary,” she agreed. “So I really hope you won’t murder me for—um…” She tapped the scroll on his shoulder. “…reading this.”

Billy snatched the papers, his stomach seizing—already knew what he’d see when he unrolled the coiled pages, and yep—there it was: billy Hargrove in blocky typeface in the top left corner.

“Congrats?” the chick said, tentatively. “You got an A.”

The small part of Billy that wasn’t flipping his shit wondered how that was possible—the first page alone was littered with red marks correcting his grammar, scolding him for informal turns of phrase—but all that was a murmur compared to the tirade raging in his mind, listing haphazard means to ensure the nosy bitch wouldn’t dare use this against him.

He half-heard her babbled explanation: “Sorry—I know I shouldn’t have. It was just that the staple on yours got snagged on mine, and then I saw the title and I thought it was just you being a dumb jerk but then I realized it wasn’t—”

The title in question: Character Analysis of Nick Carragay. He’d been torn between that and Nick Wants Dick, but decided he was already pushing the envelope enough.

Billy swept the area, saw it was almost empty—only Pendergast remained, busy erasing the chalkboard. He let his eyes and tone go flat like Neil’s, and turned back to the threat. “Here’s how this is gonna go,” he said, slow and quiet. “You tell a fucking soul, and I’ll—”

“Shit, that’s unsettling,” she interrupted, gaze skittering over his blank face, the thin veneer of a lax posture that belied winding tension, spring-loaded. He blinked when she snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Stop that. I’m not gonna say anything—not that I’d assume anything.” She peered around him at their teacher on the far side of the room, then leaned back in and whispered, “Though if I were to assume something, and that assumption was correct, it’d be fine, because—uh…” Wincing, she eyed Billy a moment—whose expression had gone slack for a whole different reason—then barreled on: “Because… me, too?”

Billy was so overwhelmed by the onslaught of implications that all he could manage was, “What?”

The girl raised her brows, nodding meaningfully. “Mine would’ve been about Jordan Baker, if I had the guts.”

“Hurry up, you two,” called Pendergast. “I’d like to get to lunch sometime this century.”

They gathered their things—well, the girl did. Billy had a policy against backpacks, so all he had was the crumpled essay and the next book they were doing, this play called The Crucible. He’d read something by the same guy at his old school—Death of a Salesman—which had been pretty good.

They stopped just outside the door, and Billy looked down at the essay, then fumbled to flip to the last page. The grade was circled at the bottom, with a note: Nuanced and daring interpretation only hampered by poor mechanics and some less than academic wording at times. Overall, excellent work.

“I can’t believe she gave me an A,” he said with a snort, and the girl giggled, high and unhinged.

“Oh, I can.”

At his questioning glance, she hesitated, then darted her attention up and down the mostly deserted hallway and motioned him toward the Arts wing. Utterly at a loss, but undeniably intrigued, Billy followed at a safe distance. He was starting to think that, of the two of them, he wasn’t actually the dangerous one.

Which tracked, given his lived experience with lesbians thus far.

She had a funny stomping gait in the ankle boots, a bit at odds with her Molly Ringwald look—a brown tee shirt under a knee-length purple dress under a droopy wool cardigan—and very much undermining the cloak-and-dagger vibe she was going for. Their destination, apparently, was the back riser of the music room, surrounded by empty chairs and gleaming instruments. She’d been clutching a rectangular case ever since Pendergast threw them out, and when she settled beside Billy, she rested it on her lap before taking a slow, composing breath.

“What I am about to show you has weighed on my conscience for months, but since we’ve jumped into the deep end vis-à-vis our true selves, I assume I can trust you with this.”

Okay, so she was… one hundred percent a theater kid. Billy cleared his throat, tried to school his face into something appropriately solemn. “Uh—uh huh.”

Girl was nuts, but he for sure wanted to know whatever freaky business she was hiding. Was it a sex thing? His lip curled in appalled conjecture as he eyed the case. A sex… instrument thing?

Oblivious to his lurid musing, she flipped open the clasps and lifted the lid, revealing—a trumpet. He didn’t think it was a sex trumpet.

“The reason I’m not surprised that Pendy loved your little gay thesis—is this.” Prying back the loose corner of the crushed velvet lining, she extracted a thick sheaf of papers, stapled along one side like a book. Billy reached for it, but she held it aloft, a deranged glint in her eyes. “If you choose to look upon this, you can’t unsee it. You can’t unknow it. And you can’t tell anyone—”

“Jesus Christ, will you just—” Billy snatched it out of her hand with a huff. He must have swallowed a super-magnet that only attracted weirdos and conspiracies—but surely, surely what she was peddling couldn’t compare to the revelations this goddamned town had already dumped on him.

Slumping down in his folding chair, Billy flicked the papers to stand straight in his lap, looked down—and squinted, confused.

The entire front page was this… stylized line drawing—sort of art nouveau?—a mid-shot of two dudes in a distinctly sexual embrace against a background of roses the size of dinner plates. One guy had walked right off the cover of a bodice ripper—wavy mane and one of those drapey shirts unbuttoned to bare a tasteful tit, eyes closed, lips lustfully parted—only he was the one being bodice-ripped, by a Dracula type with a helmet of glossy dark hair, black high-collared cape and… pointy elf ears. He was vaguely familiar, but Billy was too sidetracked by the way Dracula was licking the other guy’s neck, thumbing his nipple, to place him.

When he didn’t say anything, the girl coughed nervously, then asked, “Have you—ever watched Star Trek?”

Right, right—that’s where he’d seen Dracula before. “Just one of the movies, in middle school.” He tapped the pointy ears. “Recognize him—Spock?”

“This is not Spock as you’ve ever seen him,” she intoned.

He flipped the packet open, expecting more art, but instead found a detached printout tucked ahead of a title page that declared it OUT OF BOUNDS and listed a table of contents: When Dreams Come True… Not Quite Enough… Bed of Silence… The Hustler. The loose page offered a different kind of list—a checklist.

Underneath the heading I BOUGHT THIS ZINE BECAUSE were a range of options, a few of which had him muttering awe-struck what the fucks as he read.

I wanted something to hide from my mother.

K/S zines are scarcer than hairs on Kirk’s chest.

I’m horny.

It’s been too long since I’ve been horny.

My library card to the Blueboy Library was revoked.

I need a typo fix.

I’m a connoisseur of filth.

I need something to confess.

I wanted to see if it would make it through customs.

I love bad grammer [sic], misspelling, and misplaced punctuation.

I collect four letter words.

It was cheaper than the Joys of Gay Sex.

I didn’t meet the requirements to receive Code 7.

I couldn’t afford to go to San Francisco.

I’m a secret investigator for the Moral Majority.

I’m too shy to go to X-rated movies.

I like Mary Jim and Mary Spock stories.

I wanted a zine with no Bones about it.

I don’t believe in the K/S premise–I just love to read it.

He jerked his head up and found the girl already staring with bated breath, awaiting his response. Billy looked back down, bent the pages and let their edges thwip past his thumb like a flip book. It was one hundred and fifty plus pages of text, of…

“Is all this just…?”

She sucked her lips between her teeth and nodded, wide-eyed.

“But how…?” Billy tried. “Where did you even—?”

“I stole it,” she burst out, with the air of someone unburdening themselves at last. “I stole it from Pendergast’s desk the first week of school.” She buried her face in her hands, wheezing a hysterical, guilt-ridden giggle. “I swear I almost killed the poor woman—when she realized it was missing, she went around with this… this hunted look for weeks, like she was just waiting to be blackmailed, or fired, or…”

She peeked at Billy pleadingly over her fingers, as though he could absolve her of her sins. “I didn’t even know what I had when I took it. I just thought she was interesting and wanted to snoop on what she was reading—she kept making all these super liberal comments but she’s from Texas, and I know I shouldn’t stereotype but they make all our textbooks—did you know that?—and it really shows. And every day I noticed her pulling a different book from her desk, like she was blasting through a novel a night, and so during lunch that Friday I snuck into her room and…”

Her gaze dropped to the burgled contraband in Billy’s lap.

“I’ve read it over and over,” she confessed, unfocused. “I don’t know why I’m so into it, because it’s all dicks all the time—but it’s fucking hot. And kind of ridiculous—like purple prose up the wazoo.” She blinked. “No pun intended. And some of it’s really twisted... but…”

Absolutely nothing in Billy’s life had prepared him for this. But again—what else was new. He coughed a disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” she insisted, dead serious. “I don’t want to make any trouble for her—or me,” she added, with a grimace.

He nodded, quick and firm, then bit his lip.

“Can I—uh…?” he trailed off, gesturing between the stolen goods and himself.

She narrowed her eyes. “Only if you promise to guard it with your life—and return it in the exact same condition.” Making an X with her arms, she elucidated: “NO spooge stains.”

Billy busted a gut—this chick was something else. When he’d recovered, she was scanning him head to toe, unfazed and unimpressed.

“Are you planning to hide it up your ass, you bagless lunatic? Because that would also violate our terms.”

In the end, she’d tucked the zine back into her case and escorted him to his car, where he hid it under the driver’s seat. On the way, she benevolently gave him half of her turkey on rye, and he wolfed it down.

So that was how he met Robin Buckley.

next snippet or full chapter (sry, fic is WIP)

#how billy met robin #a tale as old as time #wherein robin twigs to billy's gayness #and lets him in on a couple secrets of her own #robin buckley #billy hargrove #fic snippet #spin me right round #harringrove

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whyscserious · 3 months

Text

share at least five songs that you associate with or remind you of your muse!

nine inch nails - the great destroyer

I hope they cannot see The limitless potential Living inside of me To murder everything I hope they cannot see I am the great destroyer

rob zombie - scum of the earth

Run and kill Destroy the will A hero that doesn't exist Yeah Smoking gun Well I am the one A bullet hole In your fist Yeah Hey, I'm breathing Hey, I'm bleeding Hey, I'm screaming Scum of the earth Come on

leonard cohen - everybody knows

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That's how it goes Everybody knows

nine inch nails - came back haunted

Now I've got something you have to see They put something inside of me The smile is red and its eyes are black I don't think I'll be coming back

korn - twist

You not rrrh rot dot n dot n dot per rot dot n not n dot per

n dot chi cot n dot rrr ah dot dot ki o ma gri a dot dot ers a pa ta ko

some play to we a dot think up a bite rah sometimes you might ooh ooh rrrh we thought we might

dot be mer hot something what are you ma ah do bro what are mines is dot ooh ooh rot in dot n bite ooh na na er na he woo hoo rah ate no hoo dot er ha ya dot im wer rah

tagged by @needlcpit

tagging @qu-tipie, @malka-lisitsa, @multivcrsity, @bloodybcrbie, @finalslay, @denydefeat, @facepeeled, @chaoticjoke, @butscrewmefirst

#(clowning around.)

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my-fortnite-blog · 7 months

Text

Countess Daraku, the vampire who broke the heart of The High Stakes Club.

La Condesa Daraku, la vampira que rompió el corazón de El Club de las Estacas Encadenadas!

You may already know this by now, but for those who don't, Countess Daraku is a famous singer, of whom Joni, Helsie and Lucien (The High Stakes Club) used to be big fans.

The narrative of Fortnite is… something peculiar, everything we know or can know regarding any Fortnite character or the story of the game itself is limited to the loading screens, descriptions of the characters or the dialogues they have when one of them the characters arrive as NPC.

Before Daraku we didn't know much about them, only that they dedicated themselves to hunting vampires, that they are friends and that they are big fans of the singer Daraku.

Puede que a estas alturas ya lo sepas, pero para aquellos que no, la Condesa Daraku es una cantante famosa, de la cual, Joni, Helsie y Lucien (The High Stakes Club) solían ser grandes fans.

La narrativa de Fortnite es... algo peculiar, todo lo que sabemos o podemos saber respecto a cualquier personaje de Fortnite o la historia misma del juego se limita a las pantallas de carga, descripción de los personajes o los diálogos que tengan cuando alguno de los personajes llegue como NPC.

Antes de Daraku no sabíamos mucho de ellos, solo que se dedicaban a cazar vampiros, que son amigos y que son fans de la cantante Daraku.

Certainly I imagined the story differently, I thought that in the loading screen where the stakes are opening a sarcophagus and something is coming out of it they would have found Daraku, or rather they would have woken her up from some kind of vampire dream. But they would notice that she is not like the rest of the vampires, but rather she is kind, good and talented. Her dream would have been to be a singer, so her stakes would help her with her career and she would become more fervent and loyal fans of her, supporting her in everything.

hahaha tremendous fanfic I made up.

Ciertamente yo me imaginaba la historia diferente, pensaba que en la pantalla de carga donde las estacas están abriendo un sarcófago y esta saliendo algo de ahí ellos habrían encontrado a Daraku, o mas bien la habrían despertado de alguna especie de sueño vampirico. Pero notarían que ella no es como el resto de los vampiros, sino que es amable, buena y talentosa. Su sueño habría sido el de ser una cantante, entonces las estacas le ayudarían con su carrera y se volverían sus mas fervientes y leales admiradores apoyándola en todo.

hahaha tremendo fanfic me invente.

After the arrival of Daraku as an NPC and the dialogues with her, my entire story was broken, and the panorama was definitely very different from what I imagined.

First, none of the three had any idea that Daraku was a vampire.

Second, they are definitely not friends and may have barely known each other.

Después de la llegada de Daraku como NPC y los diálogos que hay con ella toda mi historia se rompió, y definitivamente el panorama era muy distinto al que me imagine.

Primero, ninguno de los tres tenia idea de que Daraku era una vampira.

Segundo, definitivamente no son amigos y puede que apenas y se conocieran.

The dialogues with her at the beginning of the season seem carefree and friendly, she behaves excitedly with phrases like "Always nice to meet a fan" or if you buy her a gun she says "This one has my autograph."

After the update, it is never explained how but The Stakes end up finding out that she is a vampire who really sought to destroy them.

Los diálogos con ella al inicio de la temporada parecen despreocupados y amables, se comporta emocionada frases como el "Me encanta conocer a mis fans" o si le compras un arma dice "Este tiene mi autografo".

Después de la actualización, nunca se explica el como pero Las estacas se terminan enterando que ella es una vampira que realmente buscaba destruirlos.

This fact completely changes the dialogues, going from being kind to more aggressive and psychological dialogues, where it seems to play with the insecurities of our young hunters or underestimate their abilities.

Ese hecho cambia por completo los diálogos ´pasando de ser amable a arrojar diálogos mas agresivos y psicológicos, donde parece jugar con las inseguridades de nuestros jovenes cazadores o subestimar sus habilidades.

If you take the Daraku skin to talk to Joni, she will appear angry, but if you go to talk to Helsie she may look hurt. As if she didn't fit in with the rest but she had found some kind of solace or place of belonging in Daraku's songs.

Si llevas la skin de Daraku a hablar con Joni, ella se mostrará enojada, pero si vas a hablar con Helsie se le puede leer herida. Como si ella no encajara con el resto pero hubiera encontrado una especie de consuelo o lugar de pertenencia en las canciones de Daraku.

I'm not sure if Joni was more affected by all this, from my point of view Helsie was a bigger fan of Daraku than Joni or Lucien, she was the only one who used Daraku Merch, but since she didn't return as an NPC we will never know.

If there's one thing we're sure of, it's that Darku broke the hearts of The High Stakes Club and they are united in her hunt.

No estoy segura sí Joni fue mas afectada en todo esto, desde mi punto de vista Helsie era mas fan de Daraku que Joni o Lucien, pues era la única que usaba Merch de Daraku, pero como ella no volvió como NPC jamás lo sabremos.

Si de algo estamos seguros es que Darku rompió el corazón del club de las estacas encadenadas y ellos están unidos a su caza.

thanks for reading me, until the next post.

Haru Out!!

Es todo por el post de hoy, gracias por leer!!

Haru fuera!!

The English isn't my native language, if I write something wrong, please leave me a comment, that would help me a lot because I'm still learning. Thanks for your help.

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putah-creek · 1 month

Text

A virus that floats in the air COVID-19 You can breathe and end up dead And yet you have to breathe to live This game is rigged I tell ya The fix is in The dice are loaded The deck stacked with marked cards What can you do But cash in the chips you have left And go on home COVID-19 Is taking all the fun out of gambling

James Lee Jobe

#poetry #poets on tumblr #poetry on tumblr #poem #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #poems on tumblr #poetrycommunity #poetscommunity #dead poets society

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bracketsoffear · 1 year

Note

Ashes propaganda:

According to their origin song, "Lucky Sevens," they started out as an orphan whose arson apparently impressed mob boss Smooth Mickey enough that he became Ashes’ “Uncle” and recruited them into his gang, the Lucky Sevens:

“Well, the name’s Smooth Mickey, I been watchin’ your work / An’ I like the way that it burns”

“Uncle Mickey will show ya the way / We can use your pyromaniacal talents”.

Ashes rose up to become a mob elite helping the Sevens rule the planet Malone with extensive use of matches and gasoline:

“The fire burns bright / In the heat of the night / ‘Cause the Sevens are in luck”.

However, when Ashes confronted Smooth Mickey about collaborating with the Sevens’ enemies, the Aces, Mickey framed Ashes and had the Sevens burn Ashes alive:

“Your dice may be loaded, but they melt in the heat / The fire burns bright / Under you tonight / ‘Cause Ashes, you’re outta luck”

“Oh, the fire scorches your flesh / An’ the smoke fills your lungs / Looks like ya rolled snake-eyes / Ashes O’Reilly / I guess your game is done”.

Dr. Carmilla gave Ashes mechanical lungs and made them immortal, and Ashes came back to take revenge. Mickey revealed that the Sevens, the Aces, and the police were all working together to control the whole of Malone…so Ashes somehow mustered up enough gasoline to BURN DOWN THE ENTIRE PLANET:

“Loaded dice don’t help when your world’s aflame / The fire burns bright / Everywhere tonight”.

They then joined The Mechanisms, a band of immortal space pirate musicians just as likely to perform for hapless mortals as they are to destroy a world for shits and giggles.

The most relevant case of this for Ashes is The City—Ashes decided to become Hades and rule over the Acheron (which, as previously discussed, was a source of immense eternal suffering for billions of people) just for the heck of it, with Jonny even saying that The City is “‘Ashes’ playground’” and the brains in the Acheron are their “‘toys’”. As described in the short story "Eskhatos," after arranging Ulysses’ death, Ashes burns down the Acheron to kill yet another planet, again for their own gratification: “‘Ulysses was pretty much the last thing on this planet worth playing with, and not good for much at that. From here on it’s just stagnation. Or at least, it would be. The Acheron controls everything: water, power, even the automated farms. When it burns…’”

Ashes' actions in The City aren't just Desolation because they burned down the computer network keeping The City alive, dooming everyone on the planet to a slow and painful death. They also enacted Desolation by destroying the potential of The City. They had the means to work their way into the Olympians' ranks and take control of the lifeblood of their world, not to mention knowledge of the tree Ulysses once wanted to use to inspire a rebellion. They and The Mechanisms could easily have overthrown the Olympians--it wouldn't even be that out-of-character for them to incite or assist a rebellion of that nature, as seen in Once Upon A Time, because it would be entertaining/funny/good material for their songs. Instead, they decided to make things worse by enforcing the stagnant oppression of The Olympians until it got boring for them, stringing Heracles and Orpheus along by promising them what they wanted in exchange for the heist that got both of them killed (and almost certainly was just a setup anyway), then burning down the whole thing so nobody else could "play" with their "toys" (despite the reason it's not worth "playing with" anymore being partially them).

#asks #character propaganda #desolation poll

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pan-fried-autism · 8 months

Text

Lab Accident - Chapter 3

Characters: Swap!Leonid (@bowlerhatwearer), townspeople with no real names sorry

Summary: Leonid arrives in Canada, and asks around about Jack.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Midwest United Airlines welcomes you to New Anderville. The local time is 9:21 am. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight.”

Leonid unfastened his seatbelt, getting up out of his seat into the aisle. He reached up and got his travel bag, and went to start walking... before being rudely shoved out of the way.

Leo looked to see who the jackass that pushed him way-- there was a puppy with her parents.

He grimaced at the sight. The kid had been kicking his seat for the past three hours. The only times she had stopped was when she had to use the bathroom... which never happened.

Note to self: get an appointment with a chiropractor when I get home, he thought.

As he watched the little miscreant walk away, she turned around to make eye contact with him.

Then she grinned and flipped him off.

Leonids grimace turned to a slight glare, and he stuck his tongue at her as she left.

What a brat. No wonder she never stopped kicking me.

Even without the little shit kicking his spine in, the flight wasn't exactly the greatest. To try and ignore the kicking, Leo had went to watch an in-flight movie. However, one of the speakers of the headphones for the movie was broken, and it made the movie 50% quieter than it should have been... So the entire time he was watching Million Dollar Baby, he could barely even hear what anyone was saying, let alone understand it. The strangely bitter peanuts he had been given didn't help the viewing experience either.

The one thing that didn't suck was the old woman he'd been sat next to. The whole flight, she had been going through a big thick crossword puzzle book. At the very least, she wasn't annoying.

Either way, Leonid finally got to walk down the aisle and exit through the loading bridge.

Around 10 minutes later, he got his suitcase from the baggage claim area.

Whilst walking through the airport trying to find the exit, he found the row of small restaurants and gift shops that airports tend to have. A pleasant smell came from one of them.

He looked to see what it was. It was a cafe, with a name he'd never heard of before-- seemed to be a person's name. Perhaps it was the name of the founder? He didn't know. All he knew was that he could smell coffee, and he needed something to wash out the taste of the crappy peanuts he'd been given earlier.

Before he knew it, he was walking away with a coffee and donut in hand.

Eh. That's how they get ya.

Once he finished them both, he headed over to the parking garage-- he had, ahead of time, gotten himself a rental car. The person outside had given him a key with a tag-- Number 8. It would be the number of his car, which would be designated with a sign by it.

... Which he walked up to within the next five minutes. The car was sleek, shiny, red, and a Prius.

Like his own car.

It even had the same fuzzy dice in the mirror.

Choosing to ignore this, Leonid got into the front seat, before speaking into his phone.

"Kape, where is the nearest motel in the New Anderville-Rockymew-St. Eugene area?"

The phone took a second.

"The closest motels in the New Anderville-Rockymew-St. Eugene area are the Erminers Retreat Motel, Western Anderville Hotel, The Baker Hotel, Prestige Resort, The Sand & Stone, Heritage Inn Hotel & Convention Center, The Lazy Boy Lodge, Motel 7, Super 9, Travellers Motel & Hotel, Almona Court, and the St. Eugene Golf Resort and Casino."

Leonid grimaced at the overload of opportunities.

He took a deep breath. "Which hotel is nearest to the New Anderville Area Airport?"

Another second.

"The closest hotel to the New Anderville Area Airport is the St. Eugene Golf Resort and Casino."

Leonid entered the name into Expedia and took a look at the prices.

The lowest starting prices were $169 a night.

Rubbing his temples, he spoke into the phone once more. "Which hotel IN NEW ANDERVILLE is nearest to the New Anderville Area Airport?"

"The closest hotel in New Anderville to the New Anderville Area Airport is Super 9."

Leonid checked the prices again.

The rooms started at about $60 per night. Not too bad-- he had that money.

He looked up the location, then started the car and left the garage.

The radio was on-- a pop station, based on the amount of similar songs that flowed in. He (safely) took in the scenery around him. A sunny sky with few but large clouds, tall and proud larches and firs lining the highway, and a decent temperature in the air.

He couldn't help but feel a little better.

Finally, he got to the town sign.

Welcome to New Anderville! 'Quidam supellectilem latine'

Population: 29 509

Leonid could not understand Latin.

Entering the town, he could tell he was in the more industrial area, signified by the strange tanks and trucks (and the singular gas station). He also encountered a water treatment plant.

Nothing else of note caught his eye until he arrived at the hotel.

It didn't look like a traditional hotel. If it hadn't had the giant sign that said 'WATER SLIDE', he would have assumed it was the Harris family's summer home. It didn't look bad, though-- he simply parked his car and went inside.

The lobby wasn't packed in the slightest, save for an old lynx man reading a book in an armchair (what a crowd, huh). At the front desk, a wolverine was on her phone.

As Leonid walked up, she happened to notice him-- she put on her best Customer Service Smile and put the phone in her pocket.

Her nametag said 'Sabrina'.

"Excuse me," Leonid said, "Do you have any available rooms here? It's just me."

"Let me check for you, sir!" she chirped.

Sabrina went onto the computer at the desk, and typed a bit. After looking at the screen for a few seconds, she spoke again.

"Well, we have a few single rooms available-- an efficiency queen room, two efficiency queen suites, two regular queen rooms, and a king room."

"Hm... what's it like in the regular queen rooms?"

"You have a telephone, radio, cable TV, coffee and tea maker, microwave, safe, private bathroom, and much more!"

That did sound promising.

"What's the cost?"

"$65 a night."

"I'll take it."

....

Leonid looked around his room.

The walls were a beige orange, and the bed had a dark oak frame with a puffy white blanket. Above the bed was a large, beautiful painting of a cabin in the woods. Leonid's bed had a nightstand (with a telephone) on one side and a mini fridge on the other, with lamps attached to the walls above them. In front of the bed was a wardrobe with a TV atop it. Next to that was a wicker chair and a small table.

In one corner there was also a desk. On said desk was the microwave, the radio, and a small coffee maker... and he meant small. It was barely twice the size of his hand. There was a basket atop the microwave full of things like sugar packets, cream packets, small coffee and tea packets, and two hilariously small mugs-- Leo was sure his hand was bigger than them. On the wall next to that was a safe.

The bathroom was quite nice, too-- peach coloured walls, fancy shower, and free toiletries. No shampoo, though, just headfur wash.

Leonid had read the label of the small bottle-- Fureal Blueberry Acai Headfur Wash-- and had simply shrugged.

"I'll take what I can get," he had whispered to himself.

Leonid had been putting away his clothes when he had stopped, and got back to it.

Soon, all of his clothes were in the wardrobe, and the rest of his belongings were sorted away.

Leonid stood now because he didn't know what to do.

He got to thinking... where could he look for Jack? He had no ideas about his current location, let alone his address. All he knew was what he looked like-- warm brown fur, usually wide eyes, somewhat boring fashion taste-- based on a picture that Mrs. Harris had sent him.

"I hardly think my boy is even capable of doing anything like that, but I'm not one to treat a guest rudely, and you do need information for the case." She had texted after sending it.

Perhaps, though... perhaps Leonid could go into plainclothes mode. Hang around town, blend in, see if anyone around knew him. That could work.

Leonid smiled and confidently walked out of his room, locking it with pride. He hadn't done it in a while, but he knew he could do it!

---------------

As Leonid sat on a park bench in sunglasses, a baseball cap, no detectives coat, and a strawberry ice cream in hand, he felt like the colloquial sore thumb that always seemed to stick out.

There were people walking around in the park-- families, couples, those by themselves, friend groups, all sorts. None of them looked like Jack.

Leo couldn't help but sulk a bit. He was in a big, public area, and no stupid Harris! He briefly thought perhaps there's a chance that he's in hiding, but given what his parents told him, that very clearly wasn't the case. If he was truly in hiding, why would he invite his parents to come see him?

As he thought this, he saw an unusual group of people, at least for the area: a group of business people. They were in business-casual warm weather clothes-- button up short sleeves, ties, some khaki shorts, a couple of knee length skirts, and loafers. They were all talking and chatting away while holding briefcases and purses.

They seemed to be around Jack's age.

Well... nothing ventured, nothing gained, you know?

"Lovely day, isn't it?" he practically announced.

This caught the attention of the last person in the group-- a grolar bear.

"Hmm?... oh yeah, it is! Unseasonably, even." the bear replied in a thick Canadian accent.

Leonid smiled. He seemed nice.

"Hey," he began, sitting up, "You wouldn't happen to know a Jackson Harris, would you?"

The grolar man hummed for a second before responding.

"I do! Why do you ask?"

Leonid was so awestruck by his massive luck, he almost forgot to tell a lie.

... Oh wait yeah, дерьмо. I gotta think of something.

"I... we were... college roommates. And best friends. I haven't seen him in a while and we're... Facebook friends. I wanted to surprise him?"

He desperately hoped his tone was convincing enough.

Fortunately, it seemed to work. "Alright! He's a great guy, I'll tell ya that. Always brings in Tims, loves his wife, helps around the workplace... all that good stuff."

... huh?

"A wife, you say?" he inquired with a fake smile.

"Yeah! She's a bit of a recluse, though... only comes out of the house on weekends. According to her and Jack, she's been like this since an accident."

"Oh, an accident? That does sound tragic."

"Yeah, car accident a couple years ago. Left her without an air and half a tail."

Leonid put his hands to his chest in a show of somewhat fake sympathy.

"How terrible. I feel sorry for her. How.. lucky it is that she and Jack found each other!"

"Yeah, they're great! My cousin Robbie talks with her sometimes, and she once told her about her nicely Jack took care of her afterwards."

"Oh, Jack. How charming! Just as I remember."

Success, he thought to himself.

The bear smiled, before looking to the disappearing group of coworkers.

"Well, I gotta get going now! It's Mead n' Meat Monday at Murray's and we wanna get there early."

"Mead n' Meat Monday?"

"Yeah, over at Murray's pub! All beer, wings, and burgers half off! G'bye now, you!"

With that, the grolar left him.

Once he was far enough way, Leonid quickly took out his notepad and started writing notes, avoiding getting ice cream on it.

'May 19-- Landed. Found out some stuff about Jack... has a house, has a supposedly reclusive wife. Said wife missing an ear and half of tail. Jack might also have friends.'

Once done, Leonid swiftly put it all away, dumping the sad melted ice cream.

"Well, Jack," he whispered proudly to himself...

"I guess all I really need to do now is find you."

#fiction #original story #the north experiment #tne alternate ending #lab accident #swap!leonid #leonid akdow

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hells-fvry · 3 months

Text

@hazbinned

Carnage and screams were a rather common symphony in Hell, not very often did you see one without other, but what was out of the ordinary was to see Husk in the thick of it as the chaos' conductor. He didn't often have a need to fight anymore, it wasn't like he had anything worth taking thanks to that stupid deal, but every so often a problem or two from his past would rear their head, only to get it blown off by the cat's loaded dice.

He was having far too much fun, his fur spattered with viscous red while the old sinner cackled as he watched another head roll by his hand. "That all you dumb shits got?!" It wasn't, of course, loan sharks hardly ever quit, no matter how many times their blood was spilled. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle himself, but that didn't stop the manic grin splitting his face to widen as a body whizzed past him to crunch against the outer wall of the hotel, right on time. "Fuckin' took ya long enough! Where the hell you been?" It's shouted in jest as the dreaded radio demon shifted into his view, this scene feeling...oddly nostalgic as a playing card was sent sailing towards the overlord, only to slice the head off the fool who tried to get the drop on Alastor. "Bet I can kill more than you! Already got four, better catch up quick!"

#they were Friends your honor!!#muse: husker #hazbinned

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contentment-of-cats · 1 year

Text

More Thyrondi

H*rny nonsense below the line.

They are officers of the Empire, first and foremost. Rynn Pyrondi knows that and takes great pride in her commission, her specialty, being a part of the Seventh, and most of all being bridge crew for the Chimaera. They consistently win at the Ascension Week war games, and this year Rynn 'commanded' a simulated combat module of an Arquetiens-class facing off against an insurgent task force - and won. Her AI-generated crew casualties were light, damage to the virtual ship enough for a stay at Kuat if real, and post-game there were things that she would have done differently.

True to form, Chimaerans celebrate wins together.

The table is loaded with food and drink, with Thrawn and Faro at the head of it.

"So where are you staying, Pyro?" Agral asks.

"I booked a week at Aurum on Scaui." Rynn opens her datapad and shows off. "When you're stationed on an ISD, you save a lot of money. It's not like Lothal is a hotbed of luxury. Aurum is built around hot springs and a grand casino, though she's more in it for the hot springs. "I got a cottage, and you just walk out to the springs or swim up to a submerged port."

Thrawn levels a look at her. "I do not need to lecture on counting cards."

"No sir."

"Or on drinking frozen, fruit-flavored alcohol beverages in containers the size of your head."

"No sir." The server set down a Corellian Swerve next to her as Thrawn and Faro’s eyebrows cock in unison. "In my defense, sirs, it is smaller than my head."

The next morning, the shuttle to Aurum is posh and quiet, and Rynn finds it hard to nap without the sounds of an ISD around her. The vibration of engines, the sound of environmental support, the press of gravitics have sung her to sleep for the past five years. The little cottage is the size of senior officers' quarters, but to a senior lieutenant with three bunkmates in a single room, it's the very height of luxury. There's a lounge, a bedroom, and a bath that is all about hot water and a mysterious variety of taps, two tubs, and a shower you can share with three close friends - though Rynn hopes one in particular got the hint.

She unpacks her duffel, then treats herself to a fragrant bath in the smaller of the two tubs - water to her shoulders. After that, a full-body blowdry and a thick, soft robe conspire to relax her so hard that Rynn staggers to the bed and falls gracelessly in. There are even controls for firmness, temperature, and even gravity from 'hold me down' to zero.

So nice.

So-

Thrawn hoists himself over the lip of the underwater entrance, warm from the springs and the swim. He hopes that he correctly interpreted the information as a hint to show up here. Rynn and he are… closer than before. They are 'friends with benefits' as she says.

The cottage is dark, Thrawn having waited to make his swim under the cover of the moonless world's dark night. Could she have gone to the casino? He was only half joking about counting cards, but Rynn was exceptionally good at dicing games and roulette - to the point of being booted from four Coruscant casinos in her academy years. He lifts his head, scenting the air - human women love perfumery and he smells nightblooms along with the peculiar sweet musk of humans. He towels off and puts on dry clothing out of a sense of respect and propriety before entering the main part of the accommodation.

Rynn is not in the lounge, but in the bedroom, curled up in a massive robe and dead asleep. Thrawn pauses, taking in the peaceful expression, then moving quietly to her side. He should let her sleep, but instead he lies down next to her - and with a sleepy mumble Rynn rolls to him.

"-took ya."

"I was uncertain as to the implied invitation." Warm Human rolling atop him, and she is wearing not a stitch under that robe. Thrawn undertakes a swift investigation to confirm his findings.

"I was trying for subtle. Not my strongest hand."

Indeed, Rynn is as direct as a turbolaser blast. "You smell good."

And she does. He's learned that 'horny' humans smell like pastry wanting to be eaten. Eli confused him at first by smelling of snowberry cream tarts, while Rynn smells of a spice roll. It's a double-edged blade. Thrawn did not really want to associate the scent of chocolate whisky cake with Tarkin, but here he is and Faro on the make smells like buttercream frosting. The Chimaera crew can at times fool his nose into thinking he's in a bakeshop.

His stomach rumbles and Rynn laughs. "Hungry or horny?"

"One does not preclude the other." He has both hands under her robe, ranging across warm and delicate Human skin. Nothing under the robe - confirmed. She wriggles atop him and his sex tries to punch its way out. Rynn spoils him with her appetites, but also with tender treatment.

"There's room service and you have too much clothing on."

"Again, I had no wish to presume."

Rynn kisses him, lips parting and for long moments there is only the dance of tongues and his hands on her buttocks. Kissing Rynn requires all his attention, as it's just the first offering in her feast. This is a woman who downloaded the Chimaera's ductwork profile and figured out how to get into his quarters so that they could fall madly in bed together, after all.

Perhaps he should presume.

He rolls with her in his arms, pressing her into the incredible softness of this bed. Human sleeping nests are for their eight-hour sleeps, and they are so very warm. He breaks the kiss and looks down at her, spreading the robe open like unwrapping a present. If she reminds him of anything, it's of a Rendate marble - insouciant smile, hair spread across the pillow, breasts just enough to fill his hands. His civilian tunic goes flying, undershirt in its wake, and her hands make short work of his belt and trousers.

Her fingers trace the rise under his blacks, tease their way in and stroke the slit as his sex pushes against it. He is in control of himself, thank you, and has only one head to which thinking is delegated.

"You like being a terrible tease."

"It's not a tease if I fully intend to deliver." She slips her arms out of the robe, then pushes his trousers and blacks down his hips. There is no rank in bed, and Rynn is bossy until she isn't. "Too much clothing. I want you naked."

Thrawn rolls off Rynn and sends his trousers and blacks after his tunic and undershirt.

Then he pounces.

Rynn is smaller than Eli, with the same color skin and eyes, but 'red' hair. Also like Eli, she likes a tussle. They disorder the bed and each other, her hair coming loose and her fingers carding through his own. He pins her by virtue of size and experience, with her legs over his shoulders and his mouth on her - and resistance crumbles as he laps her open, tasting the salt-sweet of her, breathing in her musk, and savoring the long, soft susurration of her surrender. Thrawn lays her down, spreads her open, and feasts.

#thyrondi #thrawn x pyrondi #thrawn #pyrondi

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