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noxturnalpascal · 5 months

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Dancing is a Dangerous Game

(FrankieMorales x F!Stripper!Reader)

A/N & Warnings: Sexual Content below - 18+ only, Frankie doing what he do (iykyk), unspecified age gap (anywhere from 10-15 yrs), talk of stripping/dancing as a job that pays the bills. The photos on the Moodboard are just for fun, the female Reader is not specifically physically described so you can imagine her however you want. Thank you to @saradika for the divider.

Did I make this prompt up myself for me and some fellow writers? Yes. Did I set the word count limit? Also Yes. Did I stick anywhere even close to that limit? *laughs hysterically.

PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW)

*1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum

WC: 4749 (I have a problem)

Frankie’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he should close it. He knew he looked like a weirdo. He knew he was about to get a “Catfish, lookin’ like a fish” joke from his friends. But for the life of him he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, or close his gaping jaw.

Not since his babysitter walked on stage and started taking her clothes off.

To be fair, you're not his babysitter anymore. Not since he called you three weeks ago asking if you could babysit for him tonight and you broke the news to him that you'd gotten a new job and couldn't babysit anymore. At least now he understands why you left the not-so-lucrative world of babysitting for an arguably better-paying gig.

You've only been dancing for two minutes and he already sees more money on the stage than he would've paid you to sit his kid tonight. He’s been watching as you undulate your body across the stage, bending and dipping, stripping down to your underwear. Even though part of him thinks he should, he definitely doesn’t look away when you divest yourself of your lacy little bra.

He always thought you were hot. He was a newly-single dad, interviewing you for a semi-regular babysitting gig. He tried to focus on your resume and your qualifications. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he couldn’t smell your delicate perfume. He tried to ignore the dewy pink lipgloss you had spread across your mouth, which is in stark contrast to the bright red lipstick you are currently sporting.

He was very motivated by the fact that you, as a graduate student in your mid-20’s, seemed more responsible to leave his kid with than the other applicants to his babysitting ad, all of whom were literal teenagers. But truth be told - you were also really fucking hot. Horny dad and the hot babysitter, what a fucking cliche he was.

However, in the eleven months you babysat for him, he never acted on his inappropriate attraction to you. He never treated you as anything other than an employee. You’d show up to his house, hair in a messy bun, wearing comfy clothes, ready to sit on the living room floor all evening playing with his kid. He was polite, and respectful, and was almost positive you never caught him staring at your tits.

Your tits that he’s most definitely staring at right now. Holy shit you have great tits.

“Fuckin’ A Fish, if you’re gonna keep your mouth open, you could at least pour some beer into it.”

“Huh?” Frankie snaps his head back to the table he’s sat at, surrounded by his friends. They all chuckle.

“We’re about to order the next round and you didn’t even drink any of that one yet,” Benny says as he points to the dripping bottle in Frankie’s hand.

Oh, sorry, Frankie mumbles as he pushes the now-warm bottle to his lips and begins to drink the beer down, his eyes moving back to the stage. The entire club is lit only by colored lights that coordinate with the twirling lights and lasers pointed at the stage, pulsating to the tempo of the music you’ve picked. Fog rolls across the floor of the stage, cascading over the edge.

There’s a single golden pole at an outcropping of the stage that you’re now gripping with both hands, sticking your ass out towards the audience and giving it a wiggle. You let go of the pole and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties. You slowly begin to push them down and just as the crack of your ass comes into view Frankie momentarily forgets that he can’t swallow liquid and breathe at the same time.

He begins to sputter and cough, choking on the bubbly liquid and spurting it across the table onto the faces of half of his friends. He’s met with groans, curses, and several swats to the back of his head as he attempts to get his wheezing under control, and the fluid out of his trachea.

Santi, who somehow managed to avoid Frankie’s beer-foam projectile, slaps a palm on Frankie’s shoulder and says,

“Guys, Frankie’s real sorry, he’s just never seen a naked woman before.”

The laughter at Frankie’s expense serves as some form of forgiveness, and everyone slowly goes back to flirting with the wandering dancers and ordering their second round. Santi keeps his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and leans into Frankie’s personal space.

“You alright?” Santi asks, squeezing his friend’s shoulder firmly.

Frankie manages to mutter a strangled yeah before several rounds of trying to clear his throat. The lights have dimmed, sinking the club temporarily into a hazy darkness. He briefly registers that the song you were dancing to has ended, so you’ve most likely left the stage.

Santi laughs, shaking his head. He moves his mouth right to Frankie’s ear, almost whispering.

“When I convinced Will to have his bachelor party at this club I thought you’d be the one making your hot babysitter choke, not the other way around,” and he claps Frankie on the back hard, “if you know what I mean.”

Frankie’s eyes go wide as he meets Santi’s crooked grin, but his friend offers nothing more as he moves to the other side of the table, turning his devilish smile on the waitress. He orders two beers and three shots for each man, dismissing the groans of protest from the table. Bachelor Down!, he shouts at Will as everyone does their shots and chases them with cheap beer.

You approach the table full of men with seven other dancers, each of you assigned by the club to give a 20-minute private dance to one of the members of the bachelor party. You’re each in various states of dress, but most are only half-dressed. You’re back in your lacy underwear set - panties and bra - but the sheer nature of the fabric leaves little to the imagination.

Your previous job as a part-time nanny worked while you were an undergrad. When you started law school it became too much and you had to switch to more infrequent evening babysitting gigs so you had your days free for school and studying. Unable to keep up with school payments you recently had to find something new. Something that only required night and weekend availability, but paid really well.

Enter: Stripping.

You’ve only been doing this job for a little over a month but you’d quickly gotten very comfortable with being naked in front of strangers. You had your little dance routine and could easily make flirty banter with the club’s customers. Your boss was impressed enough that he’d started assigning you party gigs with some of the other girls, like this bachelor group.

You walk up to the group of strangers, the rest of the girls fan around the table as you’re left standing just behind a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap on, curls sticking out from under the back strap. You turn to the man with a big smile on your face.

Holy Fuck.

Not a Stranger.

It’s Francisco Morales. The hot dad you until-recently babysat for.

He looks at you sheepishly. Your hands immediately fly to cover your breasts, suddenly mortified that your nipples are showing through your nearly-transparent choice of outfit.

“Mr. Morales!”

“Oh I- I already,” he begins to stutter. Is he telling you that he’s already seen your tits?

You look around at the collection of empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the table and figure that they’ve all been here for much longer than just your dance. So covering your nipples does nothing for your modesty as hot dad has probably already seen everything. You drop your arms to your side, attempting to look relaxed and casual.

“So I-uh. I guess you found a babysitter for tonight.”

He laughs. He actually laughs at your awkward attempt at diffusing the tension. Thank god. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything one of his friends is speaking to the group. He explains that “everyone gets a private dance” and no one can object - and he looks right at Mr. Morales when he says this - because “it’s all been paid for already.”

Following the lead of the other girls you gently grab Mr. Morales’ hand, missing the looks back and forth between him and his friend. You do your best to confidently lead him back to the private rooms with the rest of his group. There are a dozen rooms in the hallway and eight of them have been held in reserve for this bachelor party group. Pulling him inside the last room on the right, you close the door behind you.

The room is dim, save for the red glow of the lights. The ceiling and floor are both painted black and the three walls without the door are mirrored. Towards the left is a single high-backed black leather chair facing a brass pole that sits in the exact center of the room. On the far side of the room is a curved loveseat against the wall.

This should be easy. Not just because this is your job but because unlike any other man you’ve ever led back here, this is a man you are extremely attracted to.

This is a man you have fantasized about.

You’ve imagined his curls between your fingers when you’ve grabbed a fistful of a customer's hair, imagined that it’s his stubble scratching between your breasts when you’ve pressed them close. You’ve envisioned his wide chest as you ran your hands down their front, his massive paws in your hands as you’ve taken their sweaty palms and placed them on your rolling hips.

You’ve wished they were his thighs that you were grinding your ass onto and his erection that you all-too-frequently felt pressing into you. That should make this easy. But instead you’re super fucking nervous. Even more nervous than your first night here, when you dragged your panties down your legs and bent over, exposing your pussy lips to a packed room of strangers.

What makes you most nervous is probably that the fantasies didn’t stop in the club. It would be one thing if they were just here, serving as a comfort, self-soothing by putting a familiar face in place of a groping stranger’s face. But that’s not the truth. You’ve imagined him at home too.

In the shower, pretending your hands were his hands as you pinched and plucked at your wet nipples. Daydreaming about his weight on top of you, fucking into you, as you drove one of your toys in and out of your wet cunt.

And if you’re being perfectly honest, you can admit that it’s been going on for almost a year, since shortly after he hired you to be his babysitter. Remembering the times you’d made yourself come on his couch, hours after his kid had fallen asleep, waiting for him to return home from a night out with his friends. Your hand stuffed down the front of your pants, petting your clit to the thought of him on his knees in front of you.

You never thought you’d actually be naked in front of your fantasy-DILF. This is like being slapped in the face with your own wet dreams. This is kind of a nightmare.

“Listen, you don’t have to-” he begins just as you start to speak as well.

“Mr. Morales I know-” and you both stop and let out breathy, nervous laughs.

“C-Can you please stop calling me Mr. Morales?”

“Oh sorry! Is that weird?”

“It sounds like the start of a bad porno,” he groans, laughing again. “Please just call me Frankie.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry Mist- Frankie. Sorry. Frankie.”

You both break out in laughter again, loudly this time, hoping to finally diffuse some of the tension. A knock sounds at the door and a deep voice - security - asks if everything is alright. You shout back that everything is fine and the room quiets down.

“I should start the music and get going,” you say quietly, motioning for him to sit on the curved red velvet seat against the far wall.

You press a button above his head and music starts up, the first of three songs forming a 10-minute loop that will repeat for this booking. You look into the mirrored wall to your left and notice how nervous you look. Then you meet his eyes in the mirror. Why does he look just as nervous?

You straddle one of his legs and shakily reach back to undo the clasp on your bra. You meet his eyes again. Fuck he can see how your hands are shaking. You look like such a fucking kid. A goddamn amateur. This is going to be the least-sexy lapdance he’s ever been given.

You can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips when you suddenly feel his hot hands covering yours at your back.

“You can leave this on if you’d be more comfortable,” he says softly, barely heard over the pumping bass of the music.

“No I’m fine, I’m just…” you don’t know how to explain to him without embarrassing yourself but suddenly you’re making an admission and the word-vomit has left your mouth before you can even do anything to stop it. “I just always thought you were hot.”

There it is. It’s out there now.

He opens his mouth to say something and your nerves bubble up and come out as more words and why the fuck are you talking more?

“I know, I know,” you spit out before he can get a word in, “the babysitter thirsting after the hot dad, how prosaic, right? Talk about a bad porno.”

His warm hands still touching you, he slowly moves his fingers around yours, deftly undoing the clasp of your bra for you.

“It’s okay, I kinda… thought you were hot too,” his admission slips out in a whisper.

You really want to kiss him right now. But that would be a very bad idea. Security patrols the hallway and the door has a small window towards the top of it. It allows security to peek inside and see from the shoulders up. Usually if they can see your shoulders, all is good. If they can’t see your shoulders, it gives them an idea if rules are being broken or if the girls need help.

Kissing - among other things - is against the rules.

You barely turn to look at the windowed door but you’re embarrassed to think that Frankie must know what you’re thinking because it’s like he can read your mind. Or maybe he’s just thinking about kissing you too? Either way he puts his hands back down to his sides and lets you lean into him, allowing your bra to slowly shift down your shoulders until it falls into his lap.

Your tits are right in his face. You’re half naked in front of the hot dad whose child you used to babysit. The hot dad who you’ve pictured doing this exact thing with - and more. But he’s not even looking at your tits. He’s looking you right in your eyes and making you feel more naked than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

He shouldn’t be here, not doing this, not with you. He should ask for a different girl. He should tell the security guy to kick him out. He’s making you so uncomfortable, he can tell by your twitching movements and halting breaths. He can’t stop staring at you like he’s some kind of lonely creep, what a fucking weirdo he’s being.

You position your legs on the outside of his, keeping his legs slightly open and his hands obediently face-down on the couch next to him. You’re straddling him but hovering above his lap, seemingly careful not to touch him. When you put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself you begin to stiffly roll your body towards and then away from him.

He doesn’t know where to look. He can’t keep looking at your face, he knows the eye-contact is getting very disturbing. Why the hell did he tell you he kinda thought you were hot too? At least he didn’t admit the truth, that he thought you were fucking supernova-hot. He’s had to bite his tongue countless times to stop from asking you out.

He focuses his eyes at the hollow dip that lies at the base of your throat. It has a dance of its own, moving slightly with your pulse and rolling with your shallow breaths, the rise and fall of your chest a baseline rhythm. He tries not to think about your bare breasts just below, breasts that he’s thought about putting his hands on every single time you’ve walked into his house for the last year.

He can see your deep red lips in his peripheral vision, and immediately the image of those lips on his skin is conjured. He pictures a chaste kiss planted on his cheek followed by a less-chaste thought of his thumb pressed into your mouth, your eyes looking up at him while your lips leave a red ring on his hand. He needs to fucking calm down. This is just a dance. You’re at work doing your literal job.

He suddenly notices you’ve almost completely stopped moving. He looks up at your face and you’re wearing a tight, pained expression. His brows furrow. Oh no. What’s wrong? Is his erection noticable? Is he creeping you out too badly? Do you want him to leave? He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but you silence him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me,” you squeak out in a strained whisper.

In the back of his head a part of him thinks that he shouldn’t immediately cave. It shouldn’t be this easy. Part of him thinks he should need more than just you saying that.

But he doesn’t. At all.

He slowly slides his body down the sofa, pushing his frame between your legs. You move your feet apart to accommodate his wide shoulders once you realize he won’t fit otherwise. He stops when his ass is sitting on the floor and his head is just above the seat of the sofa, you towering over him. He reaches down and begins to take off your platform heels one at a time.

As your bare feet hit the floor you run your hands up your neck, over your face, and through your hair, your knees knocking at his shoulders. Touching you gently with only two fingers on each hand, he pushes on the backs of your thighs, guiding you even closer to his face. He grabs your feet and holds them in his hands, forcing your legs to fold and pushing your knees past his ears as his head rests back on the seat.

You’re kneeling at the edge of the sofa, shins on the cushion, feet dangling over his shoulders, your toes curled in his massive hands on his chest, and his head between your thighs. Your face still looks uneasy, and he can just make out whining noises over the music. High-pitched and breathy, the way a dog would beg for scraps at the dinner table.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna touch you now,” he growls.

You grab the brim of his hat and twist it off his head, immediately diving your fingers into his locks. He squeezes your toes and you take his cue, lifting your hips and canting them towards his waiting mouth. Latching his mouth onto your underwear, he runs his tongue up and down your covered seam.

He feels you begin to rock your hips into his face, rolling your body above him. Any security who looked in the window would see your shoulders moving to the beat and assume you were kneeling on the couch and giving a lap dance. He can only barely see you from his angle, sees the lace of your panties, sees your wrists grabbing at his hair.

Letting go of one of your feet, he grabs at your wrist, dragging your hand from his head to the front of your own underwear. You run your fingers down yourself, parting them around his mouth, letting his tongue tangle in them. Then you grab the edge of the gusset and pull it to the side.

Wasting no time, he immediately begins to lick at your folds, tasting the wetness that has gathered there. A lot of wetness. Christ, you’re so fucking wet. His nose touches just below your clit and a string of your arousal attaches him to you when he pulls back slightly.

A slight pause in the music has his heart stop and his stomach in his throat. After a couple seconds - that seem to stretch on forever - the first song begins playing again, restarting what must be a looped set of music.

That must mean this private dance-time is halfway over. Ten minutes left but since you two probably started after everyone else you might not have the full ten minutes of privacy if his friends decide to burst in the door. Which, if they’re led by Santi, is a real possibility.

Less than ten minutes. No problem.

You must also feel the sense of urgency because you adjust your hand that is holding your panties to the side. You take your thumb and pointer finger and move them over yourself, parting your lips to open yourself more to him and pulling up slightly, exposing your nub. He flattens his tongue in response and drags it over your sensitive bundle, noting the way your body trembles when he does so.

He knows he doesn’t have the time to edge you as he’d like to, but he can’t help himself when he moves his head lower and twists his tongue into your hole, thrusting it into you. You are bouncing yourself slightly up and down, helping him fuck yourself on his tongue. He feels your wetness pouring over his lips and dripping down through his whiskers.

He feels your hand leave your own body and tangle back in his curls along with your other one, grabbing two fistfuls of hair tightly in your grip. Having had enough of his teasing you’re apparently deciding to take matters into your own hands.

Frankie loves eating pussy but this? This might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

He angles his head perfectly, opens his mouth, and sticks his tongue out stiffly as you begin to grind your pussy against his face. You’re using his nose, his tongue, his chin, even the bristles of his facial hair. You’re using whatever you can to get yourself off as you ride his face. It takes everything in his power not to break out in a giant smile.

He doesn’t hear you, you’re still being the quietest you’ve been since you got in this room, but he feels it. Shit, does he ever feel it. He feels your body tense, then your legs quiver, feels the pulsing in your cunt as you press yourself firm into his still-open mouth. He gently laps up your gushing orgasm as you release the grip on his hair and whimper softly above him.

Knowing you’re short on time, he has you climb off him much sooner than he’d like you to. Your heavy-lidded eyes meet his and then yours go wide. You bend down and grab his hat, plopping it back on his head and attempting to tame his just-fucked-hair back underneath it. You run to the corner of the room and grab a small robe hanging on a hook, skipping back over and roughly wiping his face off with it the way you would a toddler after a meal.

He quickly adjusts himself, tucking his protruding hardness under his belt in an attempt to conceal it as he watches you adjust your askew panties. Still topless, you throw the robe back towards the corner in a panic just as there is a quick knock at the door. Without a signal to enter the door flies open anyways, no less than three of his friends bursting through the doorway drunkenly, shots in hand for Frankie to partake in.

They make Frankie drink the shots before he even leaves the room and then they drag him away from you, hollering obnoxiously. All he can manage is an apologetic look over his shoulder as he hears the final song finally come to an end. Time’s up. Luckily you’re laughing at their antics and don’t seem to be upset. Maybe you were just flirting with him because that’s your job. Maybe you just wanted a good tip.

A tip! Shit.

Being dragged down the hallway Frankie grabs Santi by the arm and asks in his ear how much he should tip you. Santi says he usually tips $200. Frankie is shocked that a 20 minute dance would garner that big of a tip, but then again it’s been a long time since he’s been at a place like this. And to be fair, you - albeit unknowingly - let him fulfill a long-time fantasy of his.

$200 is more than he would have paid you to watch his kid tonight. No wonder you’re not his babysitter anymore. He fishes around in his wallet and takes out all the cash he has, $236. He manages to break off from the group of guys after they do another couple shots and he looks around for you.

Unable to find you he spots one of the girls you came to the table with and she lets him know you’re on a break but she can get the tip to you. He hands her the folded bills and she thanks him by leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. When she pulls back from him she widens her eyes at him and flashes him a knowing smile.

“I’m sure she’s very appreciative… of the tip,” she winks.

Frankie tries not to blush and resists the urge to high-tail it to the bathroom and wash his face off, opting instead to keep the scent of you on him. He returns to the table of his too-drunk-to-notice friends and finishes out the night of revelry.

3:03am

Hey

3:06am

Sorry

3:09am

You’re probably asleep

3:10am

I’m just getting home actually

3:11am

Oh cool me too

Sorry to bother

I just wanted to make sure you got your tip

I left it with your friend

3:14am

I did, yes. Thank you so much.

3:14am

Cool 👍

3:16am

Don’t take this the wrong way…

But how drunk were you tonight?

3:18am

Idk

Why?

What did I do?

I’m so sorry

3:19am

No, don’t be sorry!

I’m not trying to be rude.

I just….

Did you mean to tip me that amount?

3:25am

Oh my god

Was it not enough?

I can give you more

I’m really sorry

Do you have Venmo?

3:27am

No! OMG. It was plenty!

Literally the most I’ve ever been tipped is like 40%

You tipped me 118%

3:30am

3:31am

Yeah so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get too drunk

And accidentally just give me everything in your wallet

3:35am

Is that what happened?

3:37am

Because I can Venmo some money back to you

It’s really not a problem

3:40am

Sorry no

I just tipped what my friend told me to

3:41am

Well I checked with the other girls….

NONE of your friends tipped that much

And they were all very generous!

3:44am

But none as generous as you

3:45am

He’s such an asshole

I’m sorry

I didn’t know

I feel like an idiot

3:46am

Again, please don’t be sorry

It was VERY generous of you

And I’m very grateful

3:50am

I was in a giving mood tonight I suppose

3:51am

Mr. Morales, is that you being flirty?

3:53am

Oh we’re back to Mr. Morales now?

3:55am

Can you get a babysitter on Wednesday night?

3:55am

I don’t have custody this week so no babysitter needed

Why?

3:56am

We should go out to dinner

3:57am

Oh we should?

3:59am

Yeah we should

Frankie

4:01am

MY treat

4:01am

LOL I should hope so!

4:02am

Pick me up at 7 😉

4:02am

I will

See you Wednesday

#frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #writing prompt

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tofuxtea · 2 years

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𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇 | 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱 + 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — negan smith x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — age gap (around 15 yrs), authority kink, ‘sir’ is used in joking context, choking, aggressive negan, flirty reader, light humiliation, reader is pushed against a wall unsexily, very light dub-con if you squint (no precise ‘yes’ from either parties), just negan saying negan shit tbh

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — i am barely on season 2 of walking dead i really hope i captured at least SOME of canon negan’s essence, otherwise i’m going off of what i think he’d be like in this situation. also this is a tad late. shhh. ALSO NOT PROOFREAD SHHHHHH I HAVE HOMEWORK DUE TN — 2.9k words.

the night was still fairly young, the last orange streaks of sunset against the sanctuary’s high walls slowly deepening to a rusty red. a majority of the saviors had already begun retiring to their rooms on negan’s accord — do not leave after sunset. it was a rule, sure, but it was also common sense in a world run by walkers.

you had common sense. sometimes. you knew it was an awful idea to venture out to town for medicine at a time like this, especially when you knew a group would likely be sent out the next morning to one of the trade groups, but the infirmary was running dangerously low on painkillers and first aid supplies.

while you never considered yourself to be the hero without a cape type, you needed the hike to clear your mind. negan seemed to be paying extra close attention to you over the past couple of weeks and it made you feel like you were a blood sample under a microscope.

you had no issue with negan but something about him breathing down your neck like his life depended on it made you feel odd. he was well older than you — possibly fifteen or so years older — but there was something about his sadistically arrogant dimpled smile whenever you pointed his closeness out that had your cheeks dusted pink. which was the last thing you wanted.

negan was no romantic nor was he one to easily take likings to people. he gutted people like it was breathing. sure, he had a close eye on you whenever you were within sight but you figured it was more of a cautious motive he had; like making sure you wouldn’t steal or conspire against the saviors. he would probably smear your brains on the cement you stood on without a second thought if you gave him even a hint of a reason to believe you were.

in simpler terms, he was an attractive douchebag. a dangerous attractive douchebag—

“the hell do you think you’re going?” the sharp, gruff voice that had been looped in your wandering mind seemed to summon the devil himself, his presence popping the bubble of tension that surrounded you. your spine stiffened, but you didn’t dare turn around to face him. you didn’t need to to know he was staring daggers into your back. there was a soft shuffle — he crossed his arms over his chest — and he blew a wry chuckle out of his nose. “you runnin’ away?”

any trace of accusation from his first question had vanished and he actually sounded amused. you stuffed a switchblade into the side pocket of your backpack with a scoff of your own. “‘course not.” you prayed that the firmness in your tone compensated for your shaky hands. it was all you could do to hope negan wouldn’t bash you in from behind with lucille.

“well, care to enlighten me, sweetheart?” he taunted and you could hear the smirk in his voice. unfazed, you zipped your backpack up and went to sling it over your shoulder when you finally came to terms with the fact that negan wouldn’t let you out. and you couldn’t lie your way out of it.

you met his empty, gently lidded eyes, thick dark eyebrows set in a stern line just above them. “i’m making a quick stop into town. we’re running low on meds and i’m not sure if they’re gonna last til morning.” negan’s expression hardly shifted, only his lips turning downwards with the slightest interest in your brave plan. for a sliver of a second you thought he just might be in support of it.

“alright, i’ll play along. how are you gonna get there with just that little knife of yours?” his finger jutted towards your side pocket. a jolt of distaste shifted your features and you knew negan noticed. at least, if he did, he didn’t care.

“you offering to come with? or do you just wanna protect me?” the way his eyebrows shot up made you think your playfulness didn’t make it across to him. but then the corner of his mouth slowly tugged into an impressed smirk.

“that’s all you’re going for? meds?” he reiterated, not a hint of confusion laced in his words. it sounded like he was pushing for a second answer you had yet to give.

you eyed him warily, ignoring the few steps he took into the room, shutting the door in the process. your brows pinched together for a second of suspicion. “why? you need me to get you something?” your gaze wandered off to the side while you pursed your lips with thought and hummed. when you met negan’s eyes again, he had gotten a decent amount closer to you and he actually winced at the mischievous look in your own. “condoms? viagra?”

he let out a breathy laugh, pearly white teeth showing from under a curled lip. “oh, don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart.” the genuine lightheartedness coming from negan scared you more than the dangerous proximity. “put the bag down. i’ll send a group in the morning.”

there was no challenge in his features and you knew he expected you to listen like an obedient little dog. when your fingers wrapped securely around the straps of the backpack and hiked it further up your shoulder, his little smirk faltered. “i’m going into town, negan. it won’t be too long.” you pushed lightly. praying to whatever god there was left, you hoped negan would simply shrug his shoulders and allow you to leave. he took a step forward.

“did i ask you?” an unsettling grin set his lips straight and it made you feel tiny. he definitely had the ambiance of a respected leader — if you could even call what people felt for him respect. his expression twinged with a mocking expectancy like he actually wanted a reply. “did i?”

your tongue swiped over your molars and your jaw jutted to the side. “no, sir.” the honorific held no sincerity. negan seemed satisfied with your answer nonetheless but he didn’t let the sarcasm slip by so easily. in the brief moment of tense silence you shared, a curiosity that hurt your brain begged to be debunked. “why do you care?”

negan’s eyes went scarily blank but the beginning sparks of a fire could be seen in the pits of his pupils. “excuse me?” there was hardly any venom on his tongue but it was enough to make you wince.

you flung the backpack onto the barely clothed mattress with a soft rustle and met negan’s stare with one that screamed really? “you think i don’t see you staring me down every time i’m doing my job? at first i thought it might’ve been because you were waiting for me to screw up but if that were the case we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” negan’s tightly pressed lips gave you no direction towards the truth. he had a knack for that. “would we, negan? so what is it? are you scared of me runnin’ away or do you actually care enough to not let me go?” the scrutiny behind your tone made him veer his gaze off to the side. he returned it moments later, possibly wanting to regain his composure.

“you done?” he asked flatly. for a moment you were glad he wasn’t lashing out at you for even assuming he’d care about somebody but it quickly bubbled over into exasperation.

“the hell i am!” you snapped, daring to bare claws at him. they were clipped down in a second, his palm catching your throat and viciously hurling you backwards until the backs of your thighs dug into the tiny bedside table behind you. negan still pushed, the back of your head meeting the wall with a gentle thunk.

it shut you up. eyes wide and fingertips scrambling to find footing on the table you were awkwardly hovering over, you feared negan. his eyes were scarily void of any readable emotions. he was completely cool, even with his leg nudged between your thighs and his wrist being softly clawed at by your nails.

“i said you done?” the heat of his breath hit your face and you gulped hard. his palm pushed against the center of your throat and there was no sign of letting up. not until you forced yourself to nod did he grant you a sliver of freedom by taking the pressure off of your windpipe. the calloused pads of his fingers still held your jaw firmly in place but at least you could breathe.

“you want me to add a ‘sir’ to that?” even while pinned to the wall you managed to adorn an arrogant smirk in between labored breaths. “who told you i was into this? arat? swear i can’t tell her shit—”

“that fucking mouth of yours.” negan cut in sharply. you would have assumed it was because he was genuinely disgusted until his tongue darted out and wet his lips. then the deep pits of his pupils finally became eligible and your brows leveled with shock. “do you remember who you’re talking to?”

you nudged against his hand, challenging the very man who could take your life with a clean swipe of his fist. unless he wanted to take the extra minute to grab his barbed baseball bat. “‘course i do, negan.” voice dropping an octave, you could see the strain it put on his hardened demeanor. he blinked quickly and shifted on his feet, the crease in his forehead showing his inward debate whether to give in or beat the shit out of you. it was decided for him when one of your hands that had stiffly held onto the table experimentally prodded at his side. negan’s breath went sharp but he made no attempt to get away. “you do care.”

“i could fuckin’ kill you.” the man seethed. his fingers grasped your jaw with ferocity and you choked on a gasp as he pressed you into the wall once more. his other hand hooked underneath your thigh and hoisted you onto the table, its contents rattling and tumbling onto the ground with alarmingly loud crashes. “i’m old enough to be your damn father and you wanna fuck me?”

negan had your cheek almost flush with the wall, his nose brushing against your tensed jawline. you could sense the taunting narrowing of his eyes and smirk on his lips without even seeing them. he had slipped between your legs, the hand that had aggressively lifted you now gently feathering over the front of your thigh.

“that’s what you want?” he held your mouth shut like a muzzle. your nostrils flared with anger and you shot him a dangerous glare out of the corner of your eye. “oh, you’re fucked up.” he barked out a laugh when pathetic surrender flooded your dilated pupils.

he whipped your head forward and released you. your first instinct was to slap him across the face, hierarchy be damned. you had your palm raised, ready to be brought down when negan caught your wrist into his large hand and pinned it to the wall along with you. his lips crashed onto yours with malicious fervor, the tickling sensation of his salt and pepper beard on your skin drawing a shudder from you.

your free hand curled a finger into his belt loop and pulled him impossibly closer. you wrapped your legs around his hips, gently grinding into his significantly hardened cock in his black jeans. “shit, don’t get too hasty, sweetheart.” he warned, tearing your wandering arm away from him and yanking it behind your back. you chuckled wryly, gently wincing at the roughness, but it crumbled as soon as his lips found your neck. your back instinctively arched and you kicked your head back a little to allow him access, though the tug he gave the hair at the nape of your neck did that for you. he was greedy yet smooth, carefully working down to the low neck of your tank top.

“negan,” you whispered shakily as his large hands slid up underneath your top, the sudden contrast in temperature bringing goosebumps to your skin. he groaned softly, the hum of his voice vibrating against your chest. in a second he had it pulled over your head and threw it mindlessly to the side. his eyes dragged down your torso, fueling the fire in his pupils. “oh, and you call me fucked up?” you teased as you swiftly unclipped your bra and theatrically slid the straps down your arms, noting the way negan’s eyelids went scarily low.

“shut up.” he shot back, hands molding to your hips, slowly slipping down to the waistband of your tiny shorts that he wanted gone. the needy glint returned to your eyes and your lips curled up.

“make me, sir.” it was a corny line that asked for a hell of a time, and negan bought right into it when he stole a long, sloppy kiss. while he skillfully worked the clasp on your shorts, you peeled his grey shirt over his head like your life depended on it. next was his belt buckle, then the button on his pants.

you let him shimmy your bottoms down your hips, his satisfied smirk growing when your black panties came into view. they were a little treat you snagged for yourself when you found a decently stocked department store a while back. it was just your luck that you decided to wear them today.

the thick pad of his finger found your clit through the thin fabric, slowly circling it. your hips softly bucked in response as a cry ripped from your throat. negan took the opportunity to latch onto your chest, teeth nipping at a mark he’d already planted. “fuck, you’re already so damn wet.” he panted, not wasting another second to slide your panties to the side and run his middle finger teasingly up your soaked cunt. he dipped his fingertip in, watching how you writhed at the sensation.

a broken cry met his ears and he smiled sadistically, continuing until he was knuckle deep. “ne—negan, fuck,” you couldn’t form a single sentence when he began thrusting his finger inside of you mercilessly.

“what happened to ‘make me’, hm?” what he said refused to process yet you still managed to land a soft slap to his shoulder. he quickly pulled out, with an irritated whine from you, and popped it into his mouth, holding your eyes until he took it right back out. your lips parted, calming breaths beginning to pick up at the sight.

your nimble fingers found the waist of his boxers first, clumsily nudging them down his sides until his cock was freed. negan watched through sex-doped lids as you wrapped your hand around him and began pumping him. his head lolled back and his eyes screwed shut with an open-mouthed groan.

“fuck me, negan, please,” you whined, shoving your pride down your throat for the first time all night. you teased your folds with the tip of his dick, your heels nudging the back of his legs greedily.

he snaked his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into a deep messy kiss. the feeling of his tongue on yours and his beard softly scratching your face made you whimper. his other went between your thighs, keeping them wide as he slowly pushed his dick inside of you. you moaned against his mouth, steadying yourself on his shoulders. “negan,” your knuckles turned paper white from how tightly you were holding onto his arms, grip getting impossibly tighter when he started moving.

“fuck,” negan cursed when he felt how tight you were, practically squeezing around his cock. both of you knew you wouldn’t last long and if you kept knocking the table against the wall and the volume, you had about that long until someone walked in.

he hooked the backs of your legs underneath his arms and pounded into you, the angle hitting a spot that made your body go completely slack. your head slid on the wall behind you, kicking back out of pleasure as pornographic moans tumbled past your lips. “shit, negan, don’t stop.” you managed in between heaving gasps, needily pulling at his neck until he leaned down to meet your lips with an animalistic passion. he pressed one hand to the wall next to your head, the other holding your thigh almost flush with your chest.

his thrusts went deep and slowed down so subtly you almost didn’t notice, abusing the sensitive spot that had you seeing white. “that’s it, let go.” negan’s voice rumbled in your ears, nearing a low growl.

strings of curses left your mouth as your high crashed into you. hard. it rocked your body all over, momentarily numbing you. negan’s thumb roughly circled your clit once more, intensifying the electricity that shot through your body. you spasmed around his cock and your back gently curved, hips meeting his thrusts.

he didn’t last longer than you did, barely pulling out in time to cum on the insides of your thighs and lower stomach. his chest heaved as he came back down. neither of you moved, except for your palm as it slid down to the tattoo on the right side of his chest, the tips of your fingers brushing over the navy ink.

“next time you’re in town, get some condoms.”

the first half was better imo BUT ANYWAYS ENJOY negan lovers pls follow me ♥️ —rin

#the walking dead smut #the walking dead #the walking dead kinktober #negan smut #negan smith #negan smith smut #negan fic #negan x you #daddy negan #negan imagine #twd smut #tw dubcon #twd negan #twd kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2022

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roguekhajiit · 25 days

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TW: Transphobia

I had my first ever encounter with a transphobic member of the LGBTQ community this week.

At work on Monday, I overheard some co-workers discussing Transgender Day of Visibility and how President Biden issued a statement acknowledging Trans Day. Since it just so happened to occur on the same day as Easter this year, my very close-minded co-workers took that and Biden's statement as evidence that Trans people are trying to take over Easter!

Now, I consider myself to be Non-binary (specifically Demi-girl/Agender), but I tend to fly under the radar, which is very helpful since I live in a very, very red state. It doesn't hurt that my normal sense of personal style is very casual and all black. So, I can wear traditionally "men's" pants, and no one pays much attention to me, which is the way I prefer it. I hate anything that draws attention to myself.

So, I bit my tongue and hyperfocused on my work. Then, when I went home, the non-binary gremlin in me just couldn't be contained anymore; I opened Reddit and made a post about how no one is going around trying to steal stolen holidays.

Now, I was fully anticipating pissed off Christians to rain their uninhibited fake outrage down onto the comment section (which happened) but I wasn't anticipating a self-identified 60 yr old gay man to come into my comments saying things like, "Why would you put a Trans holiday anywhere near a religious holiday knowing every seven years it's gonna land on said holiday" and "As a gay man I believe that the one part of our community is stifling the rest of us."

Tell me you're transphobic without telling me you're transphobic.

Now, since I can't just ignore the sheer inaccuracy of his math; according to Google from 2001 to 2100, Easter will only land on March 31st 5 times. Five times in an entire century. The last time Easter was on March 31st, it was 2013. So, 11 years ago, or over a decade ago. No one gave a shit in 2013 that Easter and Trans Day were on the same day. But let the president acknowledge it in a statement and everyone loses their fucking minds.

So, why would you avoid celebrating something important in your life on the off chance that it might coincide with someone's religious holiday? Of course, you wouldn't. If your birthday is on Christmas, do you no longer have a birthday?

"Next, why wouldn't you place it in the month of pride then each day of pride month could have a different day celebrating each letter of the lbgtq+ community."

Yes, that is what Pride Month is for, celebrating the diversity of the LGBTQ+ community. But are you gay only in June?

But sadly, even some in our diverse community isolate and vilify trans individuals just like what this old gay dinosaur is doing. For 15 years, a vast majority didn't know or even give a shit that Trans Day existed. That is until a president acknowledged it.

"May I point out there's no gay holidays that coincide with Yom kipper or Ramadan."

True, Yom Kippur and Ramadan don't coincide with any "gay holidays," but Shavout is directly in the middle of Pride Month. Any outrage there?

"So just piss off the Christian's so they have one more thing to hate us for. I find many in our community asking for acceptance while giving none, just my opinion and nothing more."

How very accepting of you to say, my lord.

"Maybe it's time we all in the gay community and cis people give the whole year to the Trans community."

But they aren't asking for the year, or even a month. They just want one day that is their own. And even members of our own LGBTQ+ community can't even give them that.

"I'm gay so I can't be transphobic."

Your statements say otherwise. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you are absolved of your transphobia.

Perhaps it's time we stop placating these dusty ass old gay dinosaurs and call them out on their hateful thinking. Their "I got mine" attitude only harms our communities. Just because you won the fight for same sex marriage doesn't mean you're safe. The fight for equality is never-ending.

More and more of us are having our rights stripped away right before our very eyes. Roe v. Wade has already been overturned, and they aren't going to stop there. They never planned to stop there. They are very methodically chipping away at our rights. Right now, they are focusing their efforts on the trans community, slowly outlawing their very existence. And while they have you distracted by that, they are quietly overturning same sex marriage laws. Your rights aren't safe and never will be safe as long as we have members in our communities who subscribe to this kind of thinking.

#trans community #trans day of visibility #transgender #trans rights #lgbtq community #lgbtq #lgbtq+#lgbt #lgbtqia #lgbtqia+#lgbtqplus #transphobes #reddit #nonbinary #demigirl #demisexual #agender

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putnamcapital · 4 months

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Some love for the YR writers, and their OCs

As a small gesture of thanks to the incredible creativity and generosity of fanfic writers, during this time of holiday excess and the AO3 YR tag being just lit!, I thought i’d pull together some favorites to share. Hopefully if you’ve haven’t read these fics yet, they might entice you. I know we all know and love the endless iterations of Wille and Simon, and Sara, August, and Felice, but did you know there are some truly incredible original characters in the YR fanfic library? Here are just a few of the characters that have stayed with me. Made an effort not to spoil in the descriptions! I’ve tried to spread the love across lots of writers and have tagged you if i know you're on Tumblr. And i mostly read AUs. If you’ve got other OCs you just love, please add to this!

So, in no particular order … Part 1 of ?.

Chetna from Tis the Damn Season by littelbluefish, (M, 15/15) - “in a near-constant state of dancing readiness” (i love her for that alone), also witty meddler, dispatches unwanted men with savage accuracy, pitch perfect level of snark, loves Simon to pieces.

MJ and Mario from And that’s how you make history baby by waybeforeyourtime (T, 16/?) - it’s difficult for me to choose between the two, but i think maybe the author would agree they are inseparable. MJ and Mario run Benders, a bar where Simon ends up performing. They literally jump off at the page at you. MJ, appearing as Mary Jane, gets one of the best entrances i’ve seen in a while. (“Mary Jane sat in front of the door of Benders in a crudely made replica of the Iron Throne from Game of Thrones, except it was dildos that adorned it, not swords. She wore a pale pink strapless dress, white fishnet stockings, and black patent-leather Mary Jane platforms.”) His partner, Mario’s, first words to Simon: “"I don't have time for games. Violet, kill the light.”, but it was a match made in heaven. The dialogue between these two!!! Read this fic! Run! Don’t walk!

Melvin from Simon Eriksson: Just some guy from biology (G, 1/1) by fandom_commitment_Issues (@zee-has-commitment-issues) - good student, considerate partner and father. On this list because he does deadpan so well. He kept a straight face when W huffed “I’m getting married to an idiot”.

Alba from Taking me Back (M, 6/?) by wilmonlibrarian - for being one of those too smart for your own damn good teenagers who sees straight through her own father, Simon. (Alba isn’t buying it. “So, you’re saying nothing I experience in the next few years will matter to me in the future?”) and yeah karma really is playing a terrible joke on poor W & S in this.

Luis from All the Places we’ve been (M, 10/10) by This_time_its_just_me (@in-amor-veritas) - Simon’s roommate in New York, Simon who has his own life and successful career as a singer. Gives Simon essential advice on what to wear to meet his ex (yes, you know the ex). (“Oh please, none of your clothes fit you correctly, Simón”) He works at one of NYC’s biggest fashion magazines. Think Devil Wears Prada, friends. Just the absolute funniest and most loving wingman, takes absolutely none of Simon’s bullshit or his polyester. Has entirely the correct reaction when he finds W in his bathroom.

Lotta from Heart and Homeland (M, 33/ ) by @bluedalahorse and @heliza24 - An intrepid, loyal, and revolutionary woman with a heart of gold, who holds the key to a major plot twist in this masterful AU set in the early 1800s, where Wilhelm is at the center of a fight for Sweden’s future, and everyone writes each other a lot of beautiful letters. (“Lotta sighs and giggles like we are best friends and says we should tell one another romances or fairy tales and I want to tell her that princes are not the same in real life as they are in stories.”) Don't miss this fic!

#young royals fanfic #original character #the brains in this fandom omg #the writers in this fandom omg

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illegal-heartbreaker · 1 year

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i've got my eye on you {m. thornhill}

summary: reader is a new teacher to Nevermores staff, and is friends with Larissa (thats how they heard of the job). Marilyn becomes obsessed with reader/jealous of their relationship with Larissa. - @cosmicbrownies7

relationship: marilyn thornhill x reader

warnings/extra: 15 yr age gap, yandere-ish & jealousy.

It got dark quick, sorry 😭

_________________________

You had met Larissa when you both had attended a meeting about outcasts all over the world and considering that the both of you were one of the last few shapeshifters left you had instantly connected. Thats how you had ended up leaving your position at a school another school for outcasts in Ireland and moved to Nevermore as the first ever deputy principal.

The beginning of the second semester had started and you had only just settled down into the role of second in command. Your relationship with Larissa only blooming. Today was the day which teachers and students arrived back to school, you were nervous to meet the students and to see how they'd react towards you. From Larissa's tale they were sweet.

The both of you stood on the front steps of Nevermore, Larissa welcoming students and you smiling at the people passing by you. As more students turn up, you look for the last teacher and the one you had been told about a lot, Marilyn Thornhill. The first normal teacher.

"Larissa!" Another new voice called, directing your head to where it had come from, a petite lady with glasses that look almost too big for her was walking towards the two of you. "thats marilyn, be nice." your friend whispers before waving her over.

"Good morning Marilyn, how was your holiday?" Larissa smiled down at the women, who was standing in front of the both of you.

"much more quiet, i think i got used to the noise of the students" you laughed slightly, drawing the attention the elephant in the room.

"This Y/N Y/L/N, they're the new deputy for this school and my closest friend." Larissa introduces placing a hand on your shoulder. You nod, something seemed off about the way this lady looked you up and down.

"Pleasure to meet you Y/N." you hum in agreement, taking a step back when you notice that she has moved towards you.

"Riss, you need to go do your speech." You say, wanting to get away from this lady. Taking Larissa's hand in yours and leading her away, leaving Marilyn fuming. You were exactly what she wanted- no needed and Weems was in the way.

The following weeks had passed quickly, with you becoming closer with the students especially Enid. To the young girl you were a mother figure and Larissa had noticed this, that was why one of your many tasks was to take Enid to her therapy appointments every Thursday morning. After the appointments you would always take Enid to Weathervane, and thats when you met Tyler Galpin. Who knew all about you from Marilyn and was always reporting back to her.

That lead you to the fifth Thursday of the semester where she sat in the booth you and Enid usually occupied, scrolling through photos. You had followed Enid in that day with your hands on her shoulders. Looking over to where you usually sat, you scowl, Marilyn. Something was off about her and Larissa wouldn't take a word of it. Letting Enid lead the way to the counter to order the usual, Marilyn had looked up and smirked waiting for you to pay.

"Enid," Marilyn called, drawing the attention of the girl to her. She bounced over to where one of her teachers sat. "Do join me, Ms Y/L/N too." And so Enid obliged, sliding into the opposing seat. Once you had finished paying, you look around to find Marilyn now talking to Enid. A frown crossed your face but reluctantly walked over. Sitting down next to Marilyn wanting to respect the students boundaries.

"Ms Y/L/N, glad you could join us." she whispers placing a hand onto your thigh. You glare at her, removing the hand. "yes, wonderful." you mutter. Minutes pass and Marilyn keeps 'accidentally' touching you, counting down the minutes till you need to take Enid back but you maintain a straight face completely ignoring the lady next to you. Talking with Enid is always interesting, especially about the up and coming ball being held in honour of a generous donation.

"Enid dear? Could you step outside, i'll be with you in a minute." You say smiling, watching as the girl nods and leaves. Leaving you and Marilyn.

"Marilyn Thornhill, if you touch me one more time then I personally will talk to Larissa."

"You think she'd believe you? She won't do anything especially not to her plant obsessed Ms Thornhill." she grins, placing a hand on yours. "No one will believe you." Staring at her in shock, you get up and walk out. The drive home was a comfortable silence with you absorbed in your thoughts and Enid scrolling through her social media page. Pulling up at school, you let Enid get out before going around the side to park your car.

Walking up to Larissa's office, you see Thornhill walking up the stairs of the school. Running now, you push through her doors panting.

"That normie teacher, needs to go Larissa! She's a freaking creep." You yell, the principal looks up at you in alarm.

"Y/N, whats happened? Take a seat." She gestures towards a chair at her desk. Before you could move, a knock comes to the door and she walks in smiling.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Ms Weems, Miss Y/N is just tired. I'll escort her to her room." She says grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the room.

"You are mine Y/N. After tonight, there will be no more 'Principal Weems'" She says her voice full of anger, guiding you towards her room.

"What is your issue?!" You yell, "Are you jealous of Larissa?" as she pushes you into her room.

"Oh, my darling girl. I believe I was jealous, but not anymore because I've finally got you for myself." She says laughing, as she inserts something into your neck.

"You're mental if you think you can get away with.." You start to say beginning to feel drowsy. Your eyelids shut just as you fall into a deep sleep, allowing Marilyn to carry to her bed letting your head rest in her lap.

"you're mine, princess."

#marilyn thornhill x reader #marilyn thornhill #jealous!marilyn thornhill #christina ricci #wednesday #larissa weems #angst #yandere

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findoesstuf · 14 days

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Wondering...can pinkie ever....return to being pinkie? I'm sure even after a cure is found, her mental scars are still there...pretty sure she wouldn't forgive the ponies who hurt her and they can kiss the parties they had with her in the past goodbye because now I can't stop imagining....

Ponies: yey! A cure was found! Everything can go back to normal! Why not throw a cure party?

Pinkie: ....no.

Ponies: no?

Pinkie: you hurt me...you abused me...I called you my friends and this is what you do to me? You made me into a monster. I will NEVER throw another STUPID party EVER again! I hate all of you! Parties suck, friendship is a lie, friendship doesn't exist....I was stupid for believing in friendship in the first place! Goodbye you monsters! Don't come crying to me for your "element of laughter" because the laughing train, party train, and friendship train is out of commission...and it's gone forever. I will never....ever....trick myself into making a friend who will just STAB ME IN THE BACK...EVER AGAIN!

Probably with some time, I believe that Pinkie COULD return to being herself again. This is why Spike always brought her cupcakes, lollipops, and other sweets. To remind her of her old self. Pinkie actually enjoyed this, but under stress like in the first comic, she can’t really handle sugar or anything, at least. It would certainly take her multiple years, and definitely she would NOT make any friends for a while. The reason why Spike could get to her is because he was truthfully oblivious to what happened, and wanted to get her out, but Twy refused.

So yeah! I think it would take a while, but she could definitely go back to her (traumatized) normal self with time.

Also yes, Spike is older in this AU! However in the time when Pinkie was imprisoned, he was around 12-13 yrs old while in the comic, he’s around 15-16. So yea, no baby Spike, and he’s more mature!

#mlp twilight sparkle #mlp comics #pinkie pie mlp #spike mlp #mlp au #mlp art #mlp infection au #mlp infected au #my art #fin facts #ask #send asks #ask me anything #coalesce virus

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moose-from-animals · 18 days

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hello hello this is a pinned post!!

take a doodle of me and my team for your time!

hi! im moose :) i used they/he pronouns mostly. maybe neos. thinking about it, will keep you posted.

yes like the animal from animals. no im not affiliated with that one cult in Johto my dads just a nerd. sigh.

i! am a 20 yr old college student, studying psychology and gerontology at blueberry academy. yes just that. no i do not study pokemon. just a guy. trying to be a therapist someday. no i will not therapist you over the internet.

this blog is most for me to ramble? i like to ramble and talk about my day. and i will have tags for stuff! those are under the cut

my pokemon are!!

Shiny Quilava - M - LVL 24 - Tavish

Deerling - F - LVL 21 - Ginger

Castform(Rainy) - M - LVL 15 - Derecho

i dont really battle, and Derecho is my ESP so like keep that in mind

//ooc under the cut

...whoops i did it again. its me!! again!!! but this time no shenanagins i promise its just me so i can ramble but also pokemon.

#moose rambles is for when i do a ramble

#moose reblogs is for when i do a reblog

#moose answers asks is for when i answer asks

#meals with moose is when i talk about what im eatin haha

#moose takes pictures is when i show pictures ive taken (mostly of my pokemon)

#moose sightings is for pictures of me!

#tavish(quilava) for Tavish stuff

#ginger(deerling) for Ginger stuff

#derecho(castform) for Derecho stuff

same as always no nsfw, dont be weird, and asks and pelipper mail are always open! but no pelipper mail pokemon please!! this blog is going to be super lowstakes, nothing crazy is going to happen i promise

also some lowkey worldbuilding

the number of pokemon you have is based on how much school u have got thru. like one after elementary, another after middle/junior high, third after highschool, and then most people dont do more than that unless theyre pro battlers. so moose has three because theyre in college (done with elementary, middle, and high)

#pokeblog intro #pkmn irl #rotomblr #pokeblogging #pokemon irl

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wendykw · 9 months

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15 questions for 15 mutuals

Tagged by @her-pegship

1. Were you named after anyone? Yes. My parents couldn't agree on a name, my Mom wanted to name me after Queen Elizabeth. Dad didn't like that idea. My oldest brother suggested I be named after Wendy Darling in Peter Pan. Brother was 6 yrs old. I've thanked him several times.

2. When was the last time you cried? July 16th, the 9 year anniversary of my husband's death.

3. Do you have kids? Three: 2 stepdaughters and a son.

4. Do you use sarcasm? Occasionally

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? Their smile

6. What’s your eye colour? Blue, very blue

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy Endings

8. Any special talents? I used to sing, and I soloed at church a lot. Now that I'm old, I don't have the breath or the vocal range I had years ago.

9. Where were you born? High Point, NC

10. What are your hobbies? These days, it's reading. Before my knees went bad, we did Letterboxing. It was fun.

11. Have any pets? Cat died in 2013. Since my son had developed a cat allergy, I haven't gotten another one.

12. What sports do/have you played? Does Marching Band count?

13. How tall are you? 5 ft 6 in

14. Favorite subject at school? Sciences

15. Dream job? I am retired, and I am enjoying being able to do whatever the hell I want.

And you?

@bravevulnerability @justellie-b @lordofkavaka @pollylynn @do-it-for-the-fandom @thegirlwhocastsnoshadow @lololova @thefifthsister @skygirl5 @inkstainedcoffeecup @random-ship @garraewrites @jstar1382 @abettis41319 @copop83

#take it or leave it

#justforfun

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neonstatic · 2 months

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got tagged by braddy @rmnu hi mongi!!!!

1. Are you named after anyone? i was named after both my parents. i'm lowkey a jr c: i would add junior to my name list if i didn't already know a few...

2. When was the last time you cried? the day of my last driving lesson? my teacher was being super cold to me and i'm ridiculously sensitive so i came out of there feeling terribly down. haven't been to my lessons since teehee

3. Do you have kids? nope.

4. What sports do you play/have you played? i've done one year of soccer, didn't rly like it, then basketball from middle school to first year of high school. had to stop bc i was entering a program by my 2nd year and i needed to focus. i was not a super good shot but i did a solid defense

5. Do you use sarcasm? i've been told before that i am Mayor of Sarcasmtown. take that however you want

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone? their eyes, i guess?

7. Eye color? dark brown, look very black. (yes, i am His favourite)

8. Scary movies or happy endings? scary movies with happy endings?... ok that's a lie. i love scary movies w ambiguous or bad endings.

9. Any talents? i draw pretty well? i wouldn't say i'm talented tho. i have skills. is a talent just an advanced skill?

10. Where were you born? qc, canada

11. Hobbies? jewelry making, esp beadwork. drawing. playing video games. i'm learning to sew but veeery slowly...just doing small projects. my biggest accomplishment is a carebear backpack. she needs some fixing tho

12. Any pets? no :c i wanted a cat in the future but i developed an allergy 2 yrs ago ;c woe is me

13. Height? 148cm / 4'10

14. Favorite school subject? hmmm ethics and culture was always fun. we'd call our teacher jesus cus he looked the part. i also liked english, art and music.

15. Dream job? as a kid, i wanted to be a therapist with a side-job as an author... in a perfect world rn i'd have a phd or bac in psych but work as a screenwriter.

i'm told i should tag 15 ppl but idk that i know 15 ppl? so i'm not even gonna try :D you're it!!! @satanasgf @vibrantlifeboringdeath @heftbyjapanesebreakfast @gayopinion @medium-guy @dyke-uncle @batboybisexualism no pressure ofc xx

#ray says #tag game #delete later #maybeeee #q #hi yeah i added a new victim. can't believe i forgot i was too busy spinning my quarry wheel to look closely at my list. forgive pls

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lumax-mayclair · 8 months

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Watched the the new Zoey 101 movie (guilty) and I thought it was fine. I really think if they wrote a couple things a little differently it would’ve been better:

Like Quinn being overwhelmed by the wedding preparation because she’s never thought about having a big wedding but ofc Logan has, that all makes sense and I hear what she’s saying but I don’t really see what she’s saying. In terms of storytelling and film making, I feel like they should’ve dramatisized everything more. Like the life sized cakes was the only thing that seemed over the top and I can see how that’s a little much but nowhere else did it seem like Logan was making more of a “spectacle than making it meaningful”.

They should’ve run more with the sight gags like those cakes because as the wedding ends up looking just very plain (not a diss) but very classy and elegant looking. Even Quinn’s dress is so simple but beautiful.

It’s a small venue, the wedding colors are green, black, and white. Very simple. Some flowers here and there.

I guess Lyric was one of those overwhelming gags also to emphasize how “over the top” all this is but that’s her “gift” to them, she’s Quinn’s sister in law and they’ve known each other for nearly 15 yrs so why are we overwhelmed with something that should be normal coming from her ???

(p.s. unpopular opinion: I liked Lyrics’ song, the melody was great, the lyrics eh, but I like the line “she’s in her wedding dress and he’s hoping she’ll say yes”; very Quogan, very “She’s everything, He’s just Ken”.)

Anyway moving away from Quogan: Michael. Literally what is the point of taking one of the main main characters who bothered to return for this reboot, and having them lose their voice so they can’t speak for half the movie. You might say it’s due to controversy but if they cared about controversies, they wouldn’t have done this movie at all 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Stacey & Mark: to preface: personally I loved Stacey in the original and Mark is…Mark 🤷🏻‍♀️. I kinda wish they had mentioned Stacy’s original obsession with Logan in the series, I think that could’ve been fun if they worked that in somehow. They did mention Mark & Quinn dating but (ins how everyone feels about this) I would’ve liked if Mark had regret about dump—breaking up with (😅) Quinn and was holding a torch for her or something because again: she’s everything. The whole dynamic of Quogan and Stark being couple besties…wasn’t the vibe imo. The whole thing of Stacey interrupting the wedding bcs she’s obsessed with murder mysteries like since when?? How did that happen?? WHERE ARE THE COTTEN SWABS AND WHITE GLUE!!!!!? You’re gonna tell me a friend officiating their 2 friends wedding doesn’t think to turn off their notifications when they’re reading the nuptials off their phone during said wedding like—?? Especially when one of her announcements was for everyone to silence their phones????!

Speaking of phones out during the wedding: Zoey.

I mean…it’s Zoey (JLS) who’s surprised that this, the most special of days has to be made about her and her really weird and sad desire to go back to PCA. Also it’s really weird to me how that was the solution to the wedding being ruined when literally she’s the only one feigning to go back, the others are doing great and are cool being done with that. They look back fondly, not longingly, so idk why it was played like getting married at PCA is somehow Quinn’s dream and the solution to their problem. And if we do go back and have the Quogan wedding there, HOW ARE WE NOT GONNA INCLUDE THEIR BENCH!!!!? I mean maybe the group didn’t know about it, maybe, but Logan definitely would and speaking of Logan.

Nothing much wrong with him in the film tbh, he was so husband it was great actually, but what the hell was that line?? They’ve been together, again, almost 15 years. There is 0 chance he doesn’t know to talk to her if they’re having a problem. To be fair tho, I think the implication was that in the hustle and bustle and over the top ness of the wedding he lost sight of them as a couple and how their dynamic works and that’s why Quinn was upset but like, really?? all Zoey has to say is “have you tried just talking to her” and he remembers that that’s what they do…?? Okay.

Anyway, I think we all agree a Quogan movie would’ve been better. 😊😊

Oh! P.s. Chase! This is really sad and pathetic. Get over this, bitch!!

#quogan #quinn pensky #logan reese #Zoey 101 #Zoey 102 #micheal Barrett #mark del figgalo #Stacy Dillson #chase matthews #pca #pacific coast academy

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rach-amber · 5 months

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Stop Victim-blaming Rachel Amber

I've posted this before but still don't see it being recognised enough. So here is part of an original well-written analysis of Rachel Amber, specifically the parts that got her the most hate:

SO WHY WAS RACHEL MESSING AROUND WITH FRANK AND JEFFERSON IF SHE LOVED CHLOE?? Well, let me lead you to—

Case studies on the way predatory and grooming relationships work in BtS and LiS

Exhibit D 💀💀

**Rachel was an 18 y/o emotionally vulnerable traumatized naive girl with abandonment issues, commitment issues and a father complex who was a victim of predatory grooming.

More often than not, girls like Rachel (yes, I’m calling her a girl at this point) find themselves in the company of questionable older men because of their unresolved personal issues and lack of proper guidance. Just because someone turns 18 doesn’t mean they magically transform into this wise mature grown up who’s achieved clarity in what they want or know. Just because they’re finally legal doesn’t make a 30 something yr old going after a barely legal girl any less wrong than a 30 yr old dating a 16 yr old. Just because a girl is confident and smart doesn’t mean they can’t be exploited.

One can see why an 18 y/o would want to date a 30 y/o. But you can’t possibly fathom why a 30 y/o would want to date an 18 y/o— unless it’s for sex or you enjoy the power imbalance, which again you can’t possibly blame the girl because that's just the adult exploiting the barely legal girl. And that would, SHOULD still earn a side eye. One can easily see why Rachel would be attracted to the prospects of sleeping with Frank if it meant being able to facilitate her drug abuse and him being a possible lead to her birth mother. One can easily see why Rachel would be attracted to a world-renowned photographer who's suddenly taking an interest in her of all people, someone who can essentially give her her shot to stardom and give her dreams on a silver platter. It's hard to run the other way if everything you've ever dreamed of is suddenly being offered right in front of you, harder if you've already been charmed to feel falsely safe with them.

You cannot blame a girl for falling for men that manipulated and took advantage of her vulnerability, exploited her, especially when she had no commitments or obligations to anyone whatsoever, no one telling her ‘stop, this is wrong’— completely no one to warn her that this was a predator and she’s the victim that they’ve been eyeing since she was 15-17.

Still think this wasn’t what was happening to Rachel? Her relationships with Frank (32) and Jefferson (38) were kept in absolute secrecy even though Rachel wanted to tell Chloe (who wasn’t even a student anymore) about Jefferson. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound safe or healthy at all.

EDIT: Even if somehow you dismiss the messed up predatory grooming aspect of this, the thing going on between Rachel and Frank was highly inappropriate and predatory because they were always under the influence of drugs. Consensual or not, Rachel was most likely always high around Frank which means she would've been in a vulnerable state each time and with drugs and alcohol clouding her judgment. A person under the influence— a drunk person CANNOT give consent. One of the letters she wrote to him even suggests that he was abusive at one point which indicates this wasn't a functional, much less healthy relationship at all. Heck, there's even an unused audio line where Max says: "Frank, I actually believe that you do hurt Rachel."— which just screams abuse. No idea why they decided to cut that out (DN is already sus with the way they try to make players sympathize with abusive men), but it still definitely is a reflection to what generally happens when drugs and sleeping with an older man that can facilitate their addiction is involved.

This would be different if Rachel was messing with guys their age, but no. This is specifically a girl who was being taken advantage of and exploited by men twice her age instead; one who was a drug dealer and the other who turned out to basically be a psychopathic drug rapist.

It’s just downright messed up to victim blame and demonize the girl who was being taken advantage of and groomed. Rachel didn't 'choose' Frank or Jefferson. She was victimized.

With all things considered, even if we don’t take BtS into account— we still have all these things to properly analyze what their relationship was.

If we were to include in the words of the developers/writers about the girls’ relationship to make it more credible and not just an analysis of a random fan, from LiS1:

Jean-Maxime Moris: There is ambiguity. (Creative Director)

They never confirmed whether Rachel and Chloe were in an actual relationship despite it not being up to the player like Max and Chloe. And relationships that are described to be ambiguous usually means it was complicated and not the usual standard of a monogamous exclusive relationship.