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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

To Those Who Wait 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn’t resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

'Morning, sunshine.'

The sarcasm burns into every letter. You stick your tongue out and type your reply. You lay in the dim of your drawn curtains, still half-nestled in your bed.

'Morning, sparky.'

Curtis' response makes you giggle. 'Sparky?'

No emojis. He's not the type. You laze despite the minutes ticking by. Your thumbs flick over the digital keys.

'Give it but can't take it.'

The next bubble has you breathless; 'oh I'm more than willing to give'. Oh, okay. You don't know how to answer that. You send a wink emoticon then prompty groan at your own cluelessness.

You lock the screen and sit up. Is this what life is? Torturous obligation and cringey efforts to be normal. You want to send a message telling Curtis it's okay if he just gives up. You're a mess.

You drag yourself out of your room. As you try to empty the reusable filter for the coffee grounds, you spill it everwhere. You need to start emptying it after use. Another missed checkbox.

Your phone buzzes again. Great. You're sure it's just him calling you lame. You snatch the cell and go to swipe away the message but it isn't Curtis.

WhatsApp.

Hm. Maybe another recruiter cold messaging?

You tap with your thumb, resolved to finally delete the app and wipe the slate clean. You just need to forget that mistake. If you can.

The message waiting for you doesn’t bode well.

‘Feeling thirsty yet?’

You stare at it. You can’t be sure it’s Hugh. The number isn’t the same, you would recognise the last few digits at least. The coffee machine spits out the last few droplets. You turn to grab your cup, the phone buzzing in your hand.

You read with dread, ‘ah come on, just one more go.’

It has to be him. Who else could it be? What else could they be referring to?

A video pops up and plays automatically. You click it to make it bigger as you try to make out what’s going on. Your heart drops and your phone nearly does too. You stare at the recording of yourself on the bed, undressing as you huddle near the top of the hotel bed.

A cold splash sends a chill through you. You remember him turning on the speaker. He must have connected his phone but then you didn’t see what he did with it after that. You didn’t think to pay attention to that, you were too swept up in your own catastrophe.

‘Let’s talk.’

Those two words spike your panic. What did you do? You’re so stupid and yet how are you surprised? Nothing ever goes right. How dare you even try to believe things could get better? That maybe Curtis could be something more than a disappointment.

Loser. Loser. Loser!

You want to bang your head on the counter. You want to scream. You want to crumple into a heap in cry.

You don’t do anything of that. You simply key into the screen; ‘why?’

He sends a laughing emoji. Then a real message. ‘That’s what we’re going to talk about.’

Your eyes glaze with tears and you shake your head. He’s taunting you. Toying with you. This is all just an ego stroke for some narcissist that gets off on himself. Why else would he do what he does? Well, who are you to judge? You paid for his services.

‘That cafe near your office. 12:30.’

You toss the phone on the counter like it’s acid. What the hell? How does he know where you work? How does he know there’s a cafe there? No, no, no. How does he know anything about you? Why does he care?

You pace around hectically. You can’t stay still. You scratch your skin as if you might peel it off. An unbearable itch burns through you. You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a wretch.

You reel in your doom, just enough to retrieve the cell from the floor. You shakily send a thumbs up. That’s all you can manage. Not a good job, just a confirmation. You’ll be there because you have no other choice.

⛅

Your morning is frantic. You have a thousand things to do at once. The phone calls are endless and Shania double-booked another reservation. Don’t you always get the happy job of informing the guests they have to rebook. Fun, fun, fun.

The demanding customers are the least of your problems. Work at the Travel Agency can be downright agony but right now you prefer it to the alternative. It’s the rare instance where you curse the clock for going too fast.

Usually, a trip down to the cafe is your relief. An indulgence on an especially stressful day. That day is more nerve-wracking than any but you don’t think a dose of caffeine would make it any better. You’re already rattling through to your bones.

You reluctantly leave your desk. Your phone is firmly in your purse, where it’s been all day. You don’t want to look at it, even if it’s Curtis making it buzz. You just want to shut down.

You take the stairs. You don’t want to be around other people though you realise the cafe will be busy with the lunchtime rush. You wonder if that’s deliberate. You get to the ground floor and make your way outside.

You stop before the cafe. You peer along the tinted windows and your eyes stop on the singular familiar figure. There he is. Hugh. Somehow, he looks different than that night. How, you can’t say. He’s wearing a similar swear, a light robin’s egg blue, luxurious even. The sweater can’t be cheap given the small logo embroidered on one side of the chest.

You enter and skip the line. You go straight to the table and stop behind the chair opposite...him. You cross your arms and glare at him. Hugh casually lifts his chin and smiles up at you. Your forehead wrinkles in disgust.

“You look wound tight,” he sits up completely, the last consonant sharp. “Need help with that?”

Your nostrils flare and you drag out the chair. You drop into the seat and push your elbows into the table. You lean across it and snarl, “what do you want?”

He snorts, “I like that about. Always straight to the point... even when you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Your cheeks tingle with heat and you look away. You push your shoulders back and shift in discomfort. Even as the bruises fade, if you think hard enough, you can feel that night still.

“That boyfriend know about me yet?�� He sips from the tall porcelain cup in front of him. You shake your head and put your eyes to the table.

“Aw, well, I can’t blame you,” he clinks the cup down. “He wouldn’t be able to handle the competition. Would he?”

“I have to get back to work so whatever you want, just say it.”

He chortles again and hums, “I said I wanna talk. We’re talking. Isn’t it nice?”

“I don’t have money if that’s what you’re getting at--”

“Money? Hm, that’s real funny. Oh, you think... you think I’m desperate? I wanted some Balenciaga.” He flicks a finger up and down the mug handle. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

You huff and shake your head, “and it’s better that you get off on embarrassing me? Well, I hope you’re enjoying it because you’ve done a great job.”

You peek up at him and his grin slants. He leans an elbow on the table as he sits forward. His eyes crinkle as he considers you.

“It’s not about money, not even about a joke,” he says. “It’s the way you squeezed me. The way you whined for me,” his voice lowers to a sultry rasp. “The way you drained me fucking dry. You know how many princesses I’ve had on my dick and they just lay there and--” He makes a motion with his hand, “dead fish.”

You frown, “you’re gross.”

“I’m secure in myself,” he argues. “Real rich of you to act like you didn’t like it when you came all over my fucking fingers. Didn’t even take much.”

You rub your neck and stare out the window. Your stomach is boiling. You just want him to get his kicks and go.

“It’s how I know you didn’t lie. About being a virgin, or whatever,” he says. “You know, you could’ve sold that yourself but I guess you were having some trouble finding a buyer--”

“My lunch is almost over,” you grit out. “Get to it, Hugh.”

He laughs louder than before. He scoops up his cup and drains it. “You’re so funny. Really. You make me laugh.” You glower and his smirks widens. “Alright, alright. Pretty simple, you probably already know what I want. Just one more time. I just need to feel it again. That grip--” He makes a fist and you scoff.

“I told you I’m not interested--”

“No? Not interested at all in your porn debut,” he taps his phone and you reach across to swat his hand back.

“Why did you do that?” You hiss.

“Woah, I gotta be safe. I record in case something goes wrong,” he pushes your hand away. “Lucky me, it went so fucking right. You know how many times I’ve watched it?”

You groan and rest your head in your hands. You’re fucked. Utterly and totally. Likely literally.

“Tonight,” he says. “Tell the goth boy you’re doing overtime.”

You sit back and stare at him. Your chest pits and your eyes glimmer. It shouldn’t hurt so much but it does. You don’t want to lose Curtis, not yet.

This is exactly why you didn’t want to get attached.

☕

You don't text Curtis. You can't bring yourself to do it. You just leave him hanging. He'll probably assume your busy. You're sure he has something better to do.

Just like most things in your life, it's over before it begins. Why did you let yourself believe it could be anything? After tonight, it definitely won't be.

That time is different. You don't primp yourself or preen over whether you look good. Instead, you toss all those things you bought to do yourself up the first time in the trash. Everything but the condoms.

You pace restlessly around your apartment. That's another violation. You offered another hotel. 'Your place.' The argument was short. Fuck.

He can't come here. He can't do this. You can't do this. Not again.

Your legs wobble and you teeter to the couch. You sit down and fold over your knees. You can feel the dull pain already. Back in that room, bawling as he pumps into you, scraping out your guts.

You're going to be sick!

You lurch up and run to the bathroom. You spew into the toilet and pant through the acidic saliva left in your mouth. You shut the lid and flush.

You should leave the residue in your mouth. It might repulse Hugh enough to get rid of him. Yet if you don't rinse out the acidic flavour, you'll just hurl again.

You brush your teeth slowly then look at yourself in the mirror. You look scared. You are but you look utterly terrified. Why is this happening to you?

You're not stupid enough to think you're special. No, you're weak. He's a shark and he smelled blood in the water. He set you up for this. You were too nervous, too desperate, and too stupid to see through his ploy.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it, even as it thrums against the table noisily. If it's Curtis, you might just cry.

The door buzzer chirps. Right. You push away from the sink and shudder.

Your feet hit the floor clumsily and you walk as if you're wadding through thick mud. You hit the button as your stomach churns again. His voice adds to the broil of sickness.

"Baby, I'm here."

You press the button down without as response. You stagger away and linger by the door. You hear him coming down the hall. You open the door at the first knock.

"Someone's eager," he snickers.

You don't say a word. You step back. He enters and whistles.

"Not bad. Cozy," he says. "Bouta get real cozy, huh?"

You shut the door and lock it. He turns and examines the walls. You stare at him.

"Jeez, baby, you got a knife or something? Looking like you're about to crack up over there," he taunts.

That might have been a good idea if you weren't nervous of stabbing yourself in an attempt. Besides, he's a lot stronger. You remember how thick his muscle was, how easily he ignored your pleas.

"Hospitable too," he sniffs and slips off his velvet loafers. "Whatcha got going on?" He struts further into the apartment. "Wine? Beer?"

He goes to fridge and pops it open. You loom like a shadow against the wall as you tiptoe after him. He sucks his teeth as he examines the contents on the racks.

"Ugh, boring," he remarks.

"Don't drink," you croak.

"You didn't seem to mind the wine," he shuts the fridge without his bounty. "Fuck, well, it'll be good. You'll like it better sober. Although I do prefer a sloppy fuck."

You grimace. He makes no pretense as he continues his exploration. He strides past the living room and head through your bedroom door.

"No cute jammies tonight, huh?" He calls through.

You waft into the doorway like a ghost. That's what you are. You are hollowed out. You resign yourself, surrender yourself to ruin. It's all over.

Goodbye, Curtis.

"Looks like you don't got much in mind but don't worry, baby, I planned ahead," he faces you with a wink. "Wanna try something new?"

No. You don’t want to do any of this. You glower.

“Shit, baby, you keep looking at me like that and I’m going to have to wipe that look off your face... along with something else,” he grabs his crotch and growls. “Hard already, you know? Just thinking about what I’m about to do.”

Your lip curls as disgust crawls up your back. “Just get it over with,” you murmur.

“Trying,” his eyes flash dangerously. The retort makes you think of Curtis but he never spoke to you so harshly.

You step out of the doorway before you can fall apart. Your breath clouds in your chest until it feels like someone’s standing on you. You let it out slowly as plays with the black cat figuring on your bookshelf. He scoffs, unimpressed.

“So,” he faces you and tugs at the hem of his sweater, inching it up, “why are your clothes still on?”

You glance away angrily. “Your phone goes in the drawer,” you point to the night stand.

“Pfft, come on. I already got the good shots. What’s another dirty movie, baby? I gotta say, you look good on film--”

“Put it in the drawer,” you insist.

“Damn, don’t gotta be so mean, baby.” He snickers and wiggles his phone at you then puts it in the night stand.

“I’m not your joke, so stop laughing at me.”

“Lighten up. I’m not laughing at you, baby. I just...” He pauses as he pulls his sweater over his head. He wears a thin white tank underneath, his reddish chest hair peeking out the top. “How many women do you think hold my attention once I’ve been in ‘em? Let’s just say, we both had our first that night.”

“Don’t try to flatter me,” you snip.

“Girl,” he squares his shoulder and the humour flickers from his expression, “get your clothes off.”

Your mouth twitches. You take a breath and turn away. You look down at the wrinkled blouse you wore to work. You’re sure he’s full of hot air, he’s just mocking you, especially since he’s wearing Calvin Klein and you’re in Walmart clearance.

You unbutton it as you hear his clothing rustle softly. A shiver speckles across your back as you throw it in your hamper. Your pants go just as easily as you push down the elastic waistband. Another wave of nausea threatens but you keep it down.

You unhook your bra as your bed squeaks. You keep your eyes down and step out of your panties. You pause as you dangle them over the basket. You blink away the heat in your eyes. Why did you run away from Curtis all those times? Why does it have to be Hugh?

You spin and march over to him. He sits on the end of the bed, naked, knees wide. You reach for him, intent to be done with him, but he catches your hands and holds them away from him.

“Uh uh, you really think it’s going to be that easy,” he sneers. “Oh, baby, I didn’t get any of that mouth.”

Your lip quivers and your nose scrunches, “what?”

“Don’t worry, it’s fun, baby. I can train you up for the sad boy,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” you twist away from him. “Don’t talk about him.”

“Aw, what’sa matter? He don’t make you wet like I do, huh?”

You stomp away and snatch the box of condoms from behind your dresser. You take one and bring it to him. He snorts.

“You like the taste of rubber?”

“Put it on.”

“You think I’m dirty? You saw my test results.”

“I don’t care,” you shove it into his chest.

“Be a lot nicer if you tasted the real thing,” he huffs.

You cross your arms and wait. He rolls his eyes and peels the wrapper open. He pinches the thick ring then presses the rubber to his tip.

“Well, get on your knees. You’re the one so anxious to get this done with. Is the boy toy on his way? Scared he’ll catch—woah!”

He lets go of himself and the condom rolls up just to his tip. He catches your hand before you can make contact with his cheek. “I told you not to talk about him.”

“I like this zest,” He stands and raises your arms above you, “but you won’t like mine.”

He spins you and pushes you onto the bed. You fall heavily and bounce, your teeth snapping down on your tongue. You whimper as he slides his fingers around his dick, pushing the rubber to his base. He climbs up on his knees, straddling you as he advances up your body.

You push on his thighs as he gets higher. Once more, he has your wrists. He clasps them against the mattress, locking them above your head. You flail your legs and he laughs again. His other hand goes to his length and he strokes himself as he presses the lubed condom to your lips.

“Open up for daddy,” he jeers and pushes until he meets your teeth. “I feel the hint of a nip and I’ll skip the kitty and go straight for the peach. Understand that, baby girl?”

Your eyes widen as your bottom puckers. Your fear radiates from your gaze and draws another pleased hum from him. You open your mouth and close your eyes, gagging as the rubber smears lube across your tongue.

He angles as he dips down, touching your reflex as he invades your throat. You choke and spasm under him as he wiggles his hips, testing your limits. You can’t breathe.

He rears and you heave in before he blocks your airway again. He groans and tilts again. Thrusting in and out as you writhe. Tears crest along the brims of your eyes and your saliva smears around your mouth. Each time, he pushes a little further.

“Fuck, baby, how is it just as good as the pussy?” He purrs as he clutches your hair, rocking over you as the smell of the condom adds to your revulsion.

He pumps into you until you’re raw with agony. He lets go of your hands and you push on his hips, begging for him to stop. He doesn’t care. He just keeps going. He quakes and groan, grasping the blankets around your head as he fucks you your head into the bed.

“Gahhh,” he pulls out of you so quickly you gag.

You cover your mouth as he bounces over you. He rolls the condom off and keeps stroking himself. You’re surprised as he spurts his cum onto you, the slimy mess string over your knuckles and onto your nose and cheeks. You put your hand out to shield yourself as he grunts and sits back on his heels.

“The hell?” You gasp.

“I couldn’t fucking hold it, woulda split the damn thing in half,” he puffs as he cups his balls. “Speaking of splitting things in half--”

You lift yourself on your elbows, trying to drag yourself out from under him. He snags you around your ribs and pushes you flat. “Where are you going?”

“You just--”

“Finished? No, that’s round one,” he snickers. “You don’t think I got a few tricks? I mean, a blue pill keeps me in business.”

You curl your lip again and he laughs even louder. You glance up at the night table at the box of condoms. He sighs.

“Fucking tight ass,” he hisses. “Want me to see if that’s literal?” You look at him and bare your teeth. He waves you off and climbs off you to grab the box. “Whatever. At least you had the good sense to get good ones.”

You slowly sit up and wipe your face. He leans on one knee and slides on another condom. He quivers and exhales through his nose. He grabs your shoulder and nudges you.

“Wouldn’t mind it from the back,” he says.

You resist and he snarls, “relax. If I go through the back door, I might not get it out with you being so uptight.” He pinches your nipple cruelly. “Go on, show Ransom that booty.” You tilt your head curiously. Ransom? His eyes dart away, “you gonna listen to daddy or you want some spankings while I’m back there?”

You move reluctantly. You roll over and he grabs your hips, guiding your ass higher as he jostles behind you. He drags his hands around your ass and down your thighs, then up again. He smacks you harshly so you feel the jiggle. You yelp and he guffaws.

“Oh, fuck, should flipped you over the first time.” He gropes your ass and rubs himself against you.

Your insides curdle. You hide in yourself. You try not to think about reality. Not about the desecration of your home, your safe space, of the place you made all your own. Nor the same being done to your body. To your relationship.

Whatever, it was never going to last.

He glides down between your cheeks, lingering as if considering it. You twitch and he snorts. He trails further down and presses against your cunt. He groans as he stretches you slowly. It isn’t easier. Not better. Not like they say.

No, they say the first time is the worst. No, this is. This is torture. This is hell.

He leans into you, grunting as you squeeze him, as your body resists his intrusion. He bends over you, his torso flush to your back, and thrusts. He impales you complete and you cry out. You push against him as your body racks in agony.

He pumps again and you squeal louder. Fuck. Your fingers curl until your knuckles hurt. You hang your head and shudder. He rocks into you, playing with your hair as he nuzzles your nape. He puffs into your skin and it sends a roil of disgust through you.

You sink down until your face is in the blankets. You crush your arms beneath you and drone into the bed. He hooks his arm under you to keep your ass up, rutting faster and faster. Your flesh claps like thunder, a never-ending cacophony.

He growls and brings a hand under your chin, then his other. You wriggle as he squeezes your face and hooks his fingers in your mouth, pulling taught your lips. You arch your back and whine as he keeps his callous pace.

You grab onto his arms as the strain in your lips feels as if it might tear. He lifts your head and you deepen the curve in your back, trying to balance him at both ends. His nose tickles the back of your ear.

“Yeah, baby, squeeze me just like that. Ugh, that pussy knows what it wants better than you do,” he taunts. “Ugh, you latched on tight.”

You can’t speak, you can’t shake your head, you can’t deny him in any way.

“You feel so good,” he snarls. “The way you go me... fuck I feel it in my gut... I’m gonna...”

He slides his hands from your mouth and wraps his arms around you instead; one at your neck, the other around your middle. He pulls you up with him and pounds relentlessly. The bed rocks furiously beneath you as your addled voice gurgles from your throat. The headboard knocks into the wall in a frenetic tempo.

“Yeah, so good,” he rasps between deep breaths. “So good. Never... think I’d let you go, huh?”

You hang from his embrace. Defeated. You did this to yourself. So take it.

#ransom drysdale #curtis everett #dark random drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #curtis everett x reader #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #to those who wait #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #snowpiercer #knives out

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jd-loves-fiction · 5 months ago

Note

Hey there! I might have an oddly specific request, but like. I am craving a trope but I am too lazy to write anything myself. Feel free to not accept this :"D

Could you write maybe like a *micro* oneshot about Boothill finding his past lover (from before his planet got nuked), but here's the thing, the lover did an ftm transition, so Boothill may have not realised at first.

And secondly, there is a child. Boothill's, but he had no idea.

The circumstances under what they reconnect is up to you. Wether it's fluff or angst, also.

Thank you in advance, cool writer person!<3

🌑felt that first part😭 ALSO this idea is so good rAAAH I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IIITT (idk if this sucks but i hope i did this wonderful idea justice my dear, i poured all my love into this ❤️)

ALSO ALSO listened to 'Would you fall in love with me again' on loop writing this cuz the vibes are immaculate :)

Warnings: Spoilers for Boothill's backstory, mention of reader pre-transition as 'her' once but by male descriptors everwhere else, I have no experience writing ftm reader's so forgive my ignorance and let me know if I did good if you can 🥺

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

The saloon is lively, crowded, not Boothill’s usual scene but fate or whatever sorry god is in charge of his path brought him here. His mission is complete and he’s exhausted – so out drinking he goes, even though he can barely feel the drink’s effects anymore. He supposes it must be the principle of the thing, a sort of tradition that helps him not lose his mind along the way.

Boothill scans the room by instinct, seeing dancing couples fill the entire room up to the corners – some slowly, some so fast it’s as if the universe is about to implode. A flash of a memory stings at the back of his brain, but he ignores it.

“Uhm! Mister!” Chirps a high pitched voice from below, clearly directed at himself. Looking down he spots a chubby-faced little girl, at which he raises a brow. Why a girl her age would ever think to approach him of all people in the saloon, he cannot imagine.

“Can you help me up, please? I wanna ask for some water,” she asks, polite but determined.

“Oh, well of course little lady!” He responds, gently holding her up and placing her onto the stool, once the cloud of nostalgia is gone from before his eyes. She just looks so familiar… The particular shade of brown of her eyes–

“Thank you mister!” The girl says brightly, sitting all cute and proper as Boothill waves the barkeep over, “It’s no trouble. Whatcha doin’ here, anyway? Y’ain’t alone, right?”

“Oh no mister, I’m here with my papa!” She replies cheerfully, pointing to the center of the room where the most people gather. Between swaying bodies he finds who she points at – twirling a giggling old lady is who Boothill suspects is the girl’s ‘papa’.

The cyborg cowboy no longer has a heart, nor a chest really, but it feels as if it stops in that moment. You don't spot him yet, lost as you are in your own little world, twirling around as sweat builds at your hairline.

But to Boothill everyone else fades as the pieces click into place – a grassfield beneath a starry sky, the love of his life before him, his flesh and bone hands around her blushing face… your face… no matter how you’ve changed, it’s you, he’d recognize you anywhere.

He must be seeing ghosts, surely. The girl’s father must just look like you, that’s it, it has to be, you’re dead… you have to be.

But Boothill knows in his soul that it is. You’re right there, dancing without a care in the world, changed and yet the same.

“Mister?” The little girl to him again, grasping at one of his sleeves and he turns. Her eyes, that particular shade of brown… it’s his, from when he was still flesh and blood. His head hurts. He feels drunk and crazy, maybe he should stop drinking after missions.

“There you are! You should’ve told me you wanted to rest,” You lightheartedly tell the girl, panting as you wipe sweat from your brow. From this close he’s sure it’s you, but Boothill still feels a little crazy for his thoughts. “Made a friend–?!”

The moment your eyes meet his, Boothill is finally sure it’s you. And he can tell you remember him too. Both of you seem stuck in time, gazing at each other like you’ve seen a ghost, which maybe you have, all things considered. The both of you should be dead.

Your mouth opens to speak but no words come out and you’re aching for a glass of water of your own. He’s here, alive and…

“You’ve… changed.” Boothill says lamely – so many things he wants to say, things he should’ve said long ago, things he would’ve said if he knew you were alive all this time.

“S-So have you!” Your voice cracks as you gawk at him, “You’re all… metal?”

Boothill chuckles, nerves eased by the familiarity that settles over the two of you – seems you haven't changed where it counts. “Yeah… it’s a long story.”

“Well, all I have is time.” He can tell you’re still upset with him, perhaps you will be for a while– heck! He’s upset with himself! He should’ve gone back for you, checked, double checked, triple checked!

“Just tell me one thing first;” The cyborg asks, watching as the girl sprints off towards who he assumes is a friend of hers, “Is she…” he points at himself.

“... Yeah. Her name’s Julia.” You tell him, sitting where she was, shoulders still tense as you watch him closely. He’s still as handsome as always, more rugged perhaps, more tired and grim, but the sight of his face still makes your heart stutter with affection.

Boothill sighs heavily at the information, like the air’s been punched from his lungs, slumping over the bar and covering his eyes. You, alone as your planet burned while he went off to punish the ones who did it, was a heartbreaking enough picture to paint, but with a child? His child?

If they hadn't taken his tear ducts, he’d be filling the saloon up to the ceiling with his tears.

“Hey now, you can cry about it later, ok?” You say awkwardly, knowing you might start crying too if he does.

He does as you ask, finally raising his head to look at you properly. You’re as beautiful as he remembers, of course you are. You could never stop looking so unfairly stunning to him, never.

Squirming in place as his cybernetic lock onto you, you feel the need to fill the empty space between you – as much as you wish to act like nothing had changed, a lot had, “How did you… recognize me?”

He finds it to be an odd question, of course he’d recognize you, yours is the only face he seems when he closes his eyes, haunting the few dreams he does have like a siren’s song beckoning him to linger within the memories of a better life before he became what he is now, “Y’haven’t changed that much.”

You blink at him, suddenly self-conscious, “... haven't I?”

Oh no, you look upset. He should’ve just said what he was thinking instead of whatever that was, “I– I didn't mean it like– I mean, you look great! Fudge I–”

You’re laughing, open and bright and lovely. Laughing at him no doubt, but laughing, “W-what– why do you– Fudge?”

“Ah, well, that’s part of that long story I told ya’bout.” He replies bashfully, because yeah, it would be strange to hear that coming out of his mouth to you.

Catching your breath and wiping the tears from your eyes, you smile fondly at the cowboy, “Sounds to me like we have some catching up to do.”

The farm boy in him wishes still that nothing had changed, that he could wake up from his dream and lay in the field beneath the stars again, hold you against his warm chest like always and have no IPC blood caked under his metaphorical nails, only dirt and sand from a hard day’s work. But the galaxy ranger he is now likes it better this way – change is inevitable and all things considered, this is one of the more fortunate outcomes of your story.

You’ve both changed, but not where really it counts.

“That we do, sweetheart.”

#hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x ftm reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #boothill #boothill x reader #hsr boothill #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #hsr boothil #star rail #honkai starrail #honkai sr #ftm reader

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tendermiasma · 8 months ago

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On my regular binge of clover because I just viscerally love him, (I wish there was a different word but really that's the best description) and was thinking about the thought someone else had on submission, but sheep and guardian dog but just I had a slightly different thought:

I have a dog, I love her to bits, but she's a very anxious pup. She's pure border collie, so she's brilliant, but she's almost debilitatingly anxious and she's a TINY border collie, only just 20 lbs. But her favourite "person" in the world is my cousin's dog, who is the biggest great piranese I've ever seen and she's a genuine farm dog so she has the "aura" of "I kill shit". They're so cute together and my pup's favourite place is under her big friend when inspecting the person at the front door or cuddled up to her napping and they just make me think of clover and Halsin.

Sorry this is rather illegible and not really a question more a statement.

Oh gosh thank you! I have little to add because this is very much an accurate picture of them and you've struck the nail on the head for Clover in ways that I hoped I was getting across. He has a great depth of knowledge and ability whose particular flavor isn't going to be replicated in libraries and the life experience through which he acquired it did enough damage to often overshadow it, especially in more low-stress situations. When he's taken out of situations where the anxiety and hyperwareness has precedent and needs to be directed everwhere at once, it still bleeds all over with nothing to act on and without his particular abilities to shine. Halsin has big dog energy and his warm personality is perfect, and something that needs to be acknowledged more is that he's massive and can be extremely unfunny as soon as something truly bothers him. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

#baldurs gate 3 #cloverhoney #asks

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noneatnonedotcom · 5 months ago

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i'm sick and bored!

so here's another celestial dojo jaune build but this time I gave myself 1000 character points to work with and one free random roll. there will be no further rolls on the celestial dojo all improvements will come from in universe abilities. AU the grimm do not exist, instead it is the darkness in the hearts of men that hunters must strive against, the world of remnant is a post great war world where the color revolution and faunas wars happened at the same time leading to the utter collapse of civilization. five kingdoms remain,

Vale: the last monarchy, a place where knighthood and chivalry still finds a home. the king is elected from one of the noble families every ten years, knights are trained warriors who preside over a single settlement, while new colonies are popping up banditry and harsh weather or bad harvests can and will wipe them out leading to only a few knightly houses remaining. still any who wish may take on huntsmen training and take up the noble calling of a knight after graduation.

Atlas: the industrial powerhouse of the world, it is a city state with mandatory military service for all people, it is in a constant guerrilla war with menagery. it's tech is quite literally a century ahead of everwhere else though. minstral: the land of mercenaries. the entire state is essentially made up of mercenary companies who fight against or for cartels sometimes at the same time. minstral itself is a neutral territory where discussions of business can happen without risk of death for the negotiators. as a result the city effectively controls the continent but has very little power. vaccuo: vale's southern neighbor is in an interregnum lacking a royal to sit on the throne constant wars between the nomadic tribes of the desert and the Shieks over water keep them from uniting as no one has the spare men to expand their influence. menagerie: recognized as a kingdom in it's own right the island nation does have to deal with terrible PR as pirates and the White fang a faunas supremacy group are pretty much all they're known for now. making international trade and alliance all but impossible. now the royal belladonas seek to remove the white fang and pirates seeing them as a relic of the past. this of course is not going down well. you'd think in a world with no grimm things would be safer but no, with aura still a thing all it takes is some random jerk with a strong semblance and everyone's trying to take over the world. bandits are common outside the city walls and only other aura users can stop them. in this world of bloody evolution can the flower of chivalry bloom? or has the world fallen too far?

jaune's traits:

Breathing Style (400 CP) "The bread and butter of a demon slayer, the breathing techniques. You may choose any breathing style you like for any level or you can create your own on the same level as described, they don’t need to be for swords either, and note that all the higher levels can be reached by training. Post-jump you don’t need to breathe in order to use them if you do not require air to survive.

Hashira: The highest position of a demon slayer, usually gained by killing at least 50 demons or killing one of the 12 moons as a kinoe(the highest normal rank of demon slayers). You have reached the pinnacle of what a normal human is capable of with your breathing style, able to easily cut through scores of demons easily and take out the lower ranked moons without much effort. Your body is much stronger than the previous option, so much so you could be faster than the eye could see, and you may have even developed techniques of your own that no one else knows, but the most notable change is in your stamina, being able to go through extremely harsh training for weeks or even months straight. " Hanma (300 cp) "A lineage genetically predisposed to excel in all matters of violence, growing stronger with each battle. The quintessential Hanma bears the title of “World’s Strongest Lifeform”. Monstrous beasts, modern armies, and even natural disasters kneel before his physical might.

Those of the Hanma blood tend to develop demonic imagery throughout their body, such as the skull, back muscles, and even the brain.

For 300cp, you are a true heir to the Hanma name. So long as you continue to challenge yourself, you may catch up to masters with decades of experience in a few years, and the Ogre’s power may very well be within reach."

Steel Trap Clarity (300 cp) "It's a sad fact, but traitors and spies are lurking everywhere. Their hands forced by blackmail, willingly becoming a double agent from bribery or falling to good old fashioned brain washing. Not you though, absolutely not. Upon purchase, you become excessively resistant to traditional forms of corruption, mystical forms of brainwashing and everything in between. Something with mind-boggling power may still be able to put you under its control. Most of the threats to your morals or sanity in this world are just out of luck. Additionally, you will always be able to keep a clear idea of your personal principles, meaning you won't stray off of your path on accident."

(Free roll) Blessed by the Sun God (600cp) You did not awaken with the Demon Slayer Mark, you were born with it. Ever since you were young you have been stronger than most, and you only grew stronger over time. Because the mark is so deeply engraved into your body, it has undergone a change from the normal version, making you even stronger than it would make others along with a great increase in talent. Your Transparent World has gotten to the point where you can see individual blood vessels and sickness in people while also slowing the world down even more along with your thought processing being even faster. Most importantly, your Red Blade is much more potent, not only causing wounds to heal at a snail's pace for those with extremely fast regeneration and taking even more energy, but the wounds will continue to burn long after they have been healed, which will always leave nasty scars. Finally, those you train with will slowly be able to awaken their own marks, though only the first version.

how would you write this version of jaune? here's my idea down below

jaune's family in this universe have an instinctive grasp of violence, one they bury under the laws of chivalry to be able to function in this world. while most simply use aura the arcs developed this bodies first only unlocking the aura of their children after they've mastered the breathing forms. the increase in strength and speed is about what you would get from unlocking your aura and their natural physicality makes them stronger than most low level huntsmen anyways. jaune was unique born with the sign of the rainbow on his back he's always gotten combat and an instinctive grasp of how the human body works. but as a result has been isolated from the common sense of this world, lacking any idea of what aura is or how it works. not knowing what a huntsman is in relation to a knight. (knights are assigned a territory to watch over huntsmen travel around) and not knowing about modern tech and who the players are in the world. (doesn't know about weiss or pyrrha) people tend to view him as a blunt instrument. in reality his mind is far sharper than any would give him credit for. he's just a purpose built item, a sword among axes and hammers. he asked to be sent to beacon not to learn to fight but to actually learn to be human outside the shadow of his family. but can he hold back the instinctive call for violence that runs through his veins?

how would you write this world? how would you write this version of jaune ignoring my idea for it just above. also any thoughts on how things like the silver eyes would adapt to having to handle human enemies? my thought was it visualizes aura helping the silver eyed warriors not only empathetically predict their enemies abilities and next attacks but also what their semblance is. as well as giving a strong boost to their aura when feeling strong positive emotions.

@howlingday @weatherman667 @heliosthegriffin just something i'm doing while i'm too sick to actually do anything. lemme know what you would do

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby au #[email protected] fics #none rant

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luminousbeings-crudematter · 2 years ago

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Angsty winter Ghoap drabble (god help me)

***

“Aye, it’s alright little one, Da’s here,” Johnny coos at the little girl, who just gurgles in her cot, arms outstretched. He reaches down to her and pulls her into his, her weight against his heart comforting, and Johnny can’t help but close his eyes, inhale, breathe.

Christmas is hard on Johnny, and the baby girl who settles easily against him, burrowing into her Da's chest, comforted by his familiar scent, is a reminder of why.

But…December is Johnny’s favourite month of the year. It’s Simon’s too.

Johnny sees him everwhere and in everything; the frozen pond on which they'd skate, the glittering lights of the tree that amuse the little one, makes her laugh her awkward baby laughs, the sound of the crackling fire that Simon would build every year. It's the sweetest torture.

Johnny tries his best to be happy for their little daughter's sake, it's her first birthday without one parent. Johnny builds snowmen with her, and makes her hot chocolate, and shows her the pretty lights on the big tree in the centre of town, but she's entirely like Simon in all the ways that matter. Even at just a year old, she can tell when her Da's not quite feeling it, and she wraps her tiny arms around his neck and falls asleep there.

Bedtime is the worst. Johnny hates bedtime. It's not the lack of heating that makes their bedroom the coldest room in the house. No, Johnny's convinced he's the one exuding the cold. It comes from the hollow place inside him, the walls of his heart that throb and ache with Simon's absence that he feels deep inside the marrow of his bones. During these nights that already feel like they don't end, Johnny finds that the silence deafens him.

Someone had to stay home with the wee one, and they'd both agreed that it would be Johnny.

And Johnny was proud of Simon. Insanely proud.

He'd found that sharing Simon with the 141 came easier to him than he would've expected, but neither of them had anticipated the first extension of Simon's deployment. Then the second. Then the third.

He's selfish.

His daughter misses her father.

He misses his husband.

And he feels the now-familiar hole in his chest throb.

***

His eyes never close, but morning comes anyway. He tries his hardest to force a smile on his face, prepares to play the part that his daughter requires of him.

It's Christmas morning.

He's not entirely surprised when his father greets him at his front door, telling him he has some last minute additions to make to the presents under the tree. Johnny's father spoils his little grand-daughter rotten, and Johnny doesn't mind at all.

He knows he misses Simon too, a man he'd accepted as his son all those years ago.

He busies himself by cleaning up after breakfast, but he is surprised to see his little daughter all dressed up in her out clothes. Complete with little skates in her grandfather's hands. She fusses, uses chubby hands to make clumsy little swipes and attempts to make a grab for it, but her grandfather just bounces her on his arm and boops her nose.

"Take 'er skatin,' son. She'll love it. Jus' like her Da."

Johnny figures there's nothing else left of his heart to break, so he does. He takes her skating.

The wind howls and whistles with a vengeance against their ears, but the wee one is distracted by the sight of the trees on their way - bright and glistening with snow and ice. Johnny's heart aches at the sight, wishing that Simon had been there to see what looks like one of the most beautiful Christmas mornings he's ever seen.

When he gets to the pond, the snow threatens to blind him, and he has to squint against it, briefly covering his eyes, but then Johnny he sees him.

Simon is there, skates strapped across his feet, gliding effortlessly on the frozen pond.

Johnny's hand goes automatically up to his chest in a movement of both shock and to soothe himself. He's imagined Simon before - sees him everywhere in December - but his hallucinations have never been so vivid before.

"Merry Christmas, Johnny," the ghost speaks, and Johnny swallows. Hard.

"Simon?"

"'M here, love."

When Simon's outstretched hand makes contact with Johnny's trembling fingers, it's gentle - sweet and warm and full of everything Johnny's been deprived of for months.

"For how long?" Johnny's whisper is pained, hating how much he needs to know. It's senseless and cruel to ruin the moment with the potential answer, but Johnny's always been the more selfish one.

Simon pulls him into his chest, and Johnny hears the sound he's missed most in the world. They cradle their daughter between them, and Simon places one hand on her back, while the other caresses Johnny's beard.

Simon steps forward to place his lips against Johnny's and whispers the words that he's wanted to say for years, the words that Johnny's wanted to hear for years.

"For always. It's over."

***

@glitterypirateduck: I listened to Winter Song by Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson too many times and then saw the ice skating fanart that valiants made and felt some angst winter thoughts rattling in my mind brain and LOST MY MIND IN THE PROCESS.

Bon apple tit!!!! No one ever look at me again!!!

#ghost x soap #simon riley x john mactavish #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #lumi writes #CODHOLIDAY2023 #simon riley fluff #soap mactavish fluff #soft dad simon riley #soft dad Johnny mactavish #ghostsoap

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lowandlonesomelow · 4 days ago

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happy pride month. i was going to do something south park related, perhaps a longform post, but i cannot bring myself to do so. i suppose i felt it necessary to wish all safety during these trying times. (in the united states of america, that is. and just about everwhere else on this wretched planet we call our own.) stay safe during your fights. for freedom, for acceptance, for life. no matter how hard it may become, do not give up. to give up is to give in. to give in is to normalize the other side. to normalize the other side is to erase your own. to erase your side, your beliefs, is to erase yourself. do not erase youself, no matter how tempting. my words may mean nothing, but i sure do like writing them. it is as if they melt off of my hands like butter. although, i am unsure as to why there would be butter on my hands?

#pride month #asexual #aro??ace #pride #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #south park #lgbtq #lgbt pride #lgbtqiia+#lgbtq rights

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blackdollette · 2 years ago

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"a little party never hurt no one." | chris kenton

art deco - lana del rey

summary: its chris' birthday, and as his best friend, you make sure that he has the best party ever.

female!reader x chris

contents: friends with benefits type of thing, missionary, creampie

(i have no fucking idea how old chris is, but im assuming he's legal because of that outrageous porn collection of his.)

you pushed through the clumps of people congesting the hallway. the entire house was full of drunken people, music blasting in the background of all the chaos. you had been looking for chris for 30 minutes, but he was still no where to be found.

"where the hell are you?" you whispered to yourself. you checked the living room. he wasn't there. you checked the kitchen, you couldnt find him. you finally decided to go upstairs. his room door was open, but he wasnt in there. you sighed as you walked to the bathroom. you tried to open the door, but it was locked.

you knocked on the door, putting your ear to it. "hello..?" you said. you heard a sniffle on the other side, then you heard the faucet turn on for a moment before stopping.

chris opened the door, patting his face with a towel. you smiled, happy that you finally found him. "there you are, ive been looking everwhere for you." you said, but chris didnt respond. he removed the towel from his face, revealing his bloodshot eyes. and you could tell that it wasnt from any type of drug.

"o-oh my god. chris, what happened?" you asked, suddenly worried. you thought he'd gotten hurt or something. but he wiped his nose with his sleeve before clearing his throat. "nothing's wrong. i'm just not really having a good time. that's all." he gives you a little half-smile.

you smile sympathetically. "this party's turned out to be kind of a shitshow, right?" you playfully punch his shoulder. he laughs a little as he nods. "yeah. i just wanted to get away from it all, i guess." he brushes his brown hair out of his face.

you study his face carefully, picking out every single detail. you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. "hey, how would you like to get some privacy? away from all this." you smiled.

chris sniffled once more before nodding. "yeah, that sounds great. follow me." he starts walking in a different direction, gesturing for you to follow him. you walk with him into his bedroom.

he closes the door after you walk in. you take a seat on the ground in front of his bed. he sits down in the chair by his desk. you see a porn dvd right beside you before tossing it to him.

"you've sure got a lot of porn in here." you say with a little laugh. "shut up..." he says with a little grin as he puts the dvd in his drawer. you stand up and walk behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"im sorry you're not having a good time." you start gently massaging his arms. "it's fine. at least everyone else is enjoying themselves." he says with a little sigh.

you roll your eyes. "tonight isn't about everyone else. it was supposed to be special for you. it is your birthday after all." you start gently caressing his shoulders as he spins a little in the chair.

he shrugs. "whatever. its not like anythings changed anyway. that girl i made plans with is probably banging a guy as we speak." his voice trailed off. your eyes widened a little. "oh yeahh, you were supposed to lose your virginity tonight!" you say with a little laugh.

"shut up, im not a virgin." he says. you roll your eyes. "sure. but im sorry that didnt work out for you." you pout a little. "oh. that reminds me. i got you a present." hearing this makes chris' ear perk up.

you dig into your bra, pulling out a little baggy with a pill in it. "it's a viagra pill. it was supposed to keep you going all night, but i guess you dont really need it anymore." you hand it to him. "unless you feel like upgrading your nightly jerk-off sessions." you tease.

he chuckles softly. "thanks." he puts the bag on his desk. he looked up at you, his blue eyes pouring into your soul. the silence between the two of you radiated with sexual tension. you felt it, and so did he.

"i must say, you look pretty cute all dressed up like this, y'know?" you winked as you trailed your finger down his jawline. his cheeks flushed red as his eyes wandered across your body in your shiny, skintight latex black dress. you picked it out specially for him.

he tried to speak, but you shut him up by planting an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss right on his lips. he moaned softly into the kiss, lust and desire instantly filling his body.

you pulled away from the kiss. you smiled as chris was left completely breathless. "i-i.. uh, wow. you're really... wow." was all he could manage to say. you gave him a mischievious little smile. "you wanna take this up a notch?" you asked, even though you knew the answer.

he nodded, his hair falling across his face. you giggled softly before reaching for the little bag on the desk. you took one pill out and put it in the palm of your hand.

you gave chris the pill. "that should keep you going for a while." you said as he took it and swallowed it. he stood up from the chair so that he was standing face to face with you.

you waited for him to make a move, but you could see how nervous he was, so you took the first step. you put your hands on his shoulders, kissing him softly so that he could get the hang of it.

the kiss quickly grew more passionate, with chris' hands starting to wander around your body, his fingers occasionally peeking underneath your short dress. you pulled him onto the bed, him now being on top of you, you lips staying together the entire time.

you moved his hands to the button of his trousers, quickly undoing them and letting him kick them off. chris moved his hand to the top of your dress, pulling it down and freeing one of your tits.

you broke the kiss, both of you panting. you looked down and saw his erection through his boxers. you laughed a little. "that didnt take long at all." you continued to tease him. you found that you rather enjoyed seeing him get all red.

he kicked off his boxers as you began unbuttoning his shirt. he moved his hand to your crotch, slipping your thong to the side and revealing your already dripping wet cunt.

chris was ready to get right into it. he had learned a lot from porn over the years, making him practically an expert at this stuff. he made burning eye contact with you, his breathing heavy. "m-may i..?" he asked like a true gentleman.

"you may." you say in a slightly mocking tone. he chuckles softly before slowly pushing himself into you, just like how they do it in porn. his breath grew shaky as he felt your tight walls clenching around him.

you wrapped your legs around his waist as he slowly started thrusting into you, biting back all his moans. the viagra was working wonders on him, otherwise he would've already came by now.

things started escalating when he started thrusting into you, keeping a steady rhythm. you had to admit, you were surprised at his skill. maybe he wasnt as much or a loser as you thought. but then again, the only tits he had ever sucked on were his mother's.

you began clawing at his back as his cock slammed into your tight hole over and over again. you started to drool a little as your brain went fuzzy from the stimulation. chris' head was in the crook of your neck, giving you perfect access to his ear.

"a-ah... i guess you're not too bad at this after all..." you said between moans before biting his ear. chris took this gesture as a signal to go faster. this was the part where he was supposed to make you cum.

he kept his head down to hide how red he had become just from being inside of you. his breath hitched in his throat as the friction between the two of you increased.

your brain had gone completely blank and fuzzy. but judging by the tingling feeling in your ears and nipples, you knew your orgasm was just around the corner. "o-oh..! c-chris im gonna-!" you were cut off by a pornographic moan that escaped your lips.

"f-fuck, im cumming... o-oh shit..!" the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his dick was ecstatic to him, making his eyes shut as his body was overtaken by the strongest orgasm that he'd ever experienced.

he tried to pull out before he came, but you kept your legs wrapped around him firmly, wanting to be filled with his cum. "w-what are you doing?! i-if you dont let go, i-im gonna cu-" you shut him up by giving him a rough kiss, biting his lip as he moaned out your name, filling you up with all his cum.

you intentionally clenched your pussy as he came, making it feel 100x better for him. his hair fell into his face as he finally looked up, cheeks flushed and eyes filled with adoration.

you had taken his virginity, though he would never admit it.

author's note: im gonna be writing for characters that i havent done yet. first danny, and now chris. not sure who to do next though. maybe possum. but i hope you all liked this one!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #lana del rey #twelve 2010 #chris kenton

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saltynsassy31 · 4 days ago

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hi! A random ask about Brazil, only if you want to answer ofc :D

What’s it like down in Brazil? I live pretty far up north in a more isolated area so whenever I try to describe a big city or somewhere outside of America that is warm when writing I have no idea what I’m doing.

I have tried the internet before but I can never be too sure how accurate it is because you can make up literally anything, so a first hand perspective is really great. lol I hate describing places wrong bc as an Alaskan people get it so wrong when they describe it up here.

No, we don’t live in igloos lmao.

Is it true that there are macaws everywhere? *Cringing at self for the most generic question ever* it’s just so difficult to imagine such large and colorful birds flying around like nobody’s business in huge flocks.

Are Brazilian cities the types of cities that have trees and random wildlife wandering, or is it like a very well monitored city space with minimal wildlife wandering about?

we have moose up here munching on our decorative trees in our front yards 🥲

I have not lived in Brazil in over 6 years, but I think I am still qualified to answer this XD

12 years of experience is still experience, and I also go visit family, duh Anyway, I'll put it under the cut cuz I just KNOW this is going to get long XD

I get wanting to write accuretly, so feel free to ask more specific stuff! Even if it's stereotypical or whatever, I love talking about my home country!! And people won't learn if they don't ask the "stupid" questions first.

But okay, so I just have to make one thing clear, and that Brazil is HUGE!! So my experience will be vastly different from someone else's, unless they lived where I lived. I do have the bonus fact that I had family scattered across Brazil, so I've visted plenty of different parts of Brazil.

It's not just weather that changes, but culture too. One great example is the culture and weather difference between where I lived and where my paternal granparents lived. I'm from Goiás, they're from Rio Grande do Sul. Goiás is a desert place while RS is a lot more similar to Portugal (and probably why I ended up getting used to the weather here so easily). Culture wise, RS has a lot of italian immagrants, so the culture revolves around that. Goiás is... I honestly don't know how to describe Goiás XD. Very uh... cowboyish?

But imma stick mainly to my hometown. Most of Brazil is hot, but it's mainly the places in the center as we cross straight through the equator, the hottest point of earth. It's basically summer all year round, no kidding. It never snows, and the best we get is rain. And when it rains, oh BOY is it a storm! Literally! We aren't exactly ready for that kind of weather. My school flooded once and it was a whole ordeal, streats became rivers and some kids even had to stay behind at school until it was safe to drive again. Every time it rained, 9/10 times school was cancelled. And they were often sudden too. It's why when we moved here and it rained almost every day, I'd get freaked out at school and panic worrying if we'd be able to get back home or not.

I've heard it's been getting colder back home though, so like... idk, climate change or something.

Tempertures could go up to 50ºC, most days would go around 30-40, colder days would be around 10-20 (usually during winter, which btw, when it's winter in the US, it's summer for us and vice versa XD. Though you don't really notice if you lived where I lived). It's also worth mentioning Goiás is pretty dry, dryer than a desert sometimes. So getting nose bleeds was a very common experience, to the point I never treated it as a big deal or didn't understand why it was for some. It was mostly an inconvinience.

And yes, it is very, very much true that we have macaws everwhere XD. Well, mainly the more tropical parts of Brazil. I can't recal seeing as many macaws when visiting my family in the south, though the south does get colder (and even soemtimes have shallow snow), and I usually visited during winter because winter is when we had vacation, so they probably migrated lmao. They still had it though.

Even in big cities, usually in national parks, you'll see all types of colorful birds. Saw a bunch of toucans just driving back from school to my grandma's home. And when I woke up at my grandma's home (my maternal grandma lived in the same city as us), I'd wake up to the sound of macaws (the most accurate depiction of this was actually done in Stardew Valley. When I first went to Ginger Island and stayed there long enough that the background music stopped and there were only the macaws making noise left, I burst into tears because it reminded me so much of my grandma's home) I didn't wake up to any noise like that because I lived in an apartment, most apartments aren't nowhere nears any wild life, and even if they were, it's too high up for you to hear any noise lol

And to answer the next question, yes, even big cities we have a lot of wildlife. Though not all wild life is the big green trees, sometimes it's sand and dried trees XD. And for animals wandering around, kind of? Again, they mostly stayed within the parks. We had HUGE parks absolutely everywhere, but they were often self contained. I remember one time while stuck in traffic, I watched as this lady had her groceries get stolen by a monkey LMAO.

But no, they don't wander around the city, they stay within the parks. But like, also I guess depends on the city. I am a city girl, my city was HUGE! Not the biggest city, but pretty big and industrial, but we still had a lot of wildlife scattered about.

But still, yeah, compared to cities in the US, I guess you could say it's pretty diverse.

#salty rants #salty answers

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