#(yall should totally find me there—)

[localgardenweed]

They are taking over

[kyuyua]

Posting some oldish sketchbook things since I haven’t been drawing anything new lately 🙃

[cpyclopse]

Exactly 1(one) person wanted this and as we all know thats enough for me.

Heres my attempt at drawing Jester Ghirahim.

I tried to take inspo and bits and pieces from all his outfits.

I also made a little video!!!

So yeah my 🤡 JesterHim⚜️

[nano30cm]

im sure they all get along swimmingly

[camellia-salazar]

Do you guys ever feel like drawing fan art because you saw other people's fan art?

[greetingsfromuranus]

Man nobody told me the comedown from a manic episode lasts like a year

Makes sense now I guess lmao

[its-ahissionado]

So about those pokemon au polls recently (<- that you guys should totally check out)

I may or may not have spent an ungodly amount of time in making teams for each side and included some fun little easter eggs over the type matching.

( Base just means which gen I used in each team )

Also a little bonus:

My thought process over the teams was basically 4 rules:

1. Ace pokemon would be a mythical/legendary/pseudo-legendary that fits the side best imo (I didn't necessarily take into account the dex entry for any of them, I went for looks/aesthetic so any fitting entries are happy coincidences)

2. Type match each pokemon first and then look for color matching

3. If no colors fit, choose one that fits the side the most (i.e. Janus's Gallade)

4. Each side would have one unmatched type pokemon (i.e. Janus's Mimikyu, Remus's Zygarde)

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

guess who just submitted a proposal to present at the Southwest Popular/American Culture Association's 2024 convention!!!!!!!

....that being said, I didn't have time to have anyone proofread this thing, so who the fuck knows if it has a chance

.....yes, its about Supernatural. no, I will never shut up about this show's fucking FASCINATING relationship to N. European pagan/christian transitional mythology.

fandom aside

from an academic standpoint,.

ITS JUST SO FUCKING *COOL*

[carmenlire]

Tempered Blade

yeong was raised to be the unbreakable sword since the age of four, right? He started training since before he knew what it all would entail-- and then he went into the naval academy right? As someone expected to be the king’s guard one day, he did stints in several different areas, including extensive special ops training. A lot of what’s taught is only spoken of in vague murmurs and yeong’s never mentioned that a few of his scars aren’t from missions or childhood foibles.

I can’t get the idea of yeong undergoing special training one week when he’s-- 18? 19? He’s read all the material on how to stop himself from spilling state secrets. He’s read POW testimony so he has some idea of what to expect when the beatings start. Still, it’s just his luck that Gon decided to visit that weekend, not knowing that Yeong’s latest tribulation is interrogation and torture, another layer of iron being forged into the fire that will make yeong the unbreakable sword he swore to become.

Imagining Gon, visiting his best friend. His plans for the next two days consist of nothing but ribbing Yeong about his crush-- surely he’ll be crushing on one of the pretty cadets in his class-- and letting yeong lead him around and show him the ropes (like he wasn’t in the academy just a few years prior).

Gon, asking where Yeong is. Gon, being told that Cadet Jo is unavailable and will be until further notice. Gon, as king, getting that haughty undertone that makes the person in his crosshairs realize exactly who they’re talking to. Gon, being told that Yeong is in the middle of an assignment that can’t be interrupted. Gon, demanding to be taken to Yeong, as a tendril of foreboding curls up his spine at the way none of the officers manage to look him in the eye.

The room yeong’s in is in the bowels of one of the academy’s oldest buildings. Three walls are impenetrable cinder block while the fourth is a two way mirror. When gon walks into the observation room, it takes everything he has to choke down the command to release him, the order to behead every single person responsible for the sight before him.

Keeping still, wrenching his implacable mask into place, is the hardest thing he’s had to do in fifteen years.

Because there’s his best friend, his yeong, but he’s barely recognizable. He’s sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, head hanging low to rest against his sternum. His hair’s hanging over his forehead in a way that thirteen year old Yeong had declared as too unprofessional for the future captain of the king’s guard. Gon is studying him so closely that he sees a drop of sweat slide down the edge of his jaw, spilling onto his chest.

Gon bites his lip viciously enough to taste blood. The sight of Yeong’s chest makes Gon’s own ache in tandem.

Yeong is shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. His abdomen is covered in bruising purple. There are angry welts over his heart, lacerations down his sides. 

His feet are bare on the concrete floor, tendons standing out starkly.  His hands are tied together behind the back of the chair, the cut of his triceps almost obscene in the fluorescent light.

From here, Gon’s eyes trace the way Yeong’s breathing. It looks painful, each inhale a rattling labor of need.

Each exhale forfeited like it’s all he has left to give.

There’s an officer standing to the side, wearing a pair of black latex gloves with a face mask to match. The dull sheen of fresh blood catches the harsh light from above. His voice is detached, dispassionate as he asks, “Where’s his Majesty? All I need is a street address, anything.”

The tableau stills for a brief moment and Gon holds his breath. He has no idea how long this has been going on-- hours? days?-- and in that moment, half of him just wants yeong to give up, to break.

The other half always knew that wouldn’t happen, though.

Yeong’s back is a languid slouch in the chair. Slowly, he raises his head and Gon’s breath catches for the second time in as many minutes.

There’s a cut high on Yeong’s cheekbone, one of his eyes bruised almost black. His lip is split, a smear of rusted blood just under where Gon knows a dimple peeks out when his best friend deigns laugh at one of his terrible jokes.

It happens almost in slow motion and Gon’s eyes eagerly study yeong’s mouth-- the way the smile tilts up at the corner, scornful in its daring. Gon’s gaze catches, rapturous, on the way the corner of yeong’s eyes crinkle just the faintest bit, more impression than anything else.

Even from here, the look in his eye would stay lesser men.

Yeong raises his eyes to meet the professor cum interrogator. His smile widens just enough to antagonize. “Fuck you.”

It’s the voice that stills Gon even further. It’s hoarse, a rough edge to it like he’s never heard before. The words seem wrenched from some deep cavern in his chest, behind his ribs, somewhere no one’s been allowed before.

Most of Gon is appalled. Still. He won’t ever admit it but he finds it undeniably attractive and it makes something ugly in him preen-- the insouciance, the sincerity, the sheer strength his best friend possesses.

Before the last syllable falls to the floor between them, the officer’s hauling his fist back for one hell of a right hook. The shock of it reverberates up Gon’s own vertebrae, one by one and this time, it’s darkness coming up to wrap around his lungs to squeeze hard.

He known for years that Yeong will suffer for him, because of him-- but to see anyone hurt his best friend, his Yeong, makes a piece of Gon absolutely wild with fury, with the need to retaliate, swift and sure.

Head snapping to the side with the force of the punch, everything’s silent for a moment, everyone waiting to see what Yeong will do next.

For his part, Yeong just takes his time facing forward again. He looks down and if Gon didn’t know better he might just label his posture defeated. Pride surges though him, though, because he knows Yeong better than anyone else in the world.

Yeong’s mouth drops open. Gon’s eyes don’t catch on the fullness of his lower lip, bloodied and bitten raw-- don’t linger on the dull shine of his teeth, the way Yeong’s tongue darts out and doesn’t flinch at what must be the taste of sharp copper.

Instead, he watches calmly with the other officers as Yeong suddenly breathes in sharply through clenched teeth before spitting right between his interrogator’s boots. It’s more blood than saliva.

The officer wrenches Yeong’s head back with a hand fisted in sweat-soaked locks. 

Yeong is calm as his eyes meet the officer’s. There’s nothing amused about his expression now. 

So quiet that Gon catches himself leaning closer to hear, Yeong says, “I’m going to kill you.”

The officer raises a brow but doesn’t get a chance to speak before Yeong continues, still deadly calm, “And I swear to God, you’ll kill me before you touch a hair on his majesty’s fucking head.”

In the observation room, all of the witnessing officer’s breath a quiet sigh of relief. The interrogator, for his part, just sarcastically pats Yeong’s cheek a few times hard enough to sting. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

The interrogator leaves the room without a backwards glance.

Gon studies Yeong, now that he’s alone in the stark room. There’s something beautiful about the sight before him but Gon knows he can’t let himself tread those waters, not right now and maybe not ever.

The interrogating officer steps into the observation room a few moments later, taking his mask off to reveal a proud smile. “Jo sure is exceeding our expectations, isn’t he?”

When there’s not an immediate response, he looks over just to pale at the sight of Gon.

Gon doesn’t have to clear his throat but it’s a near thing when he finally breaks the tense silence in the observation room. “How long has this been going on?”

The officer next to him– Lieutenant Jung– keeps a measured voice as he replies, “Jo is on day four. For the first trial, we allow up to seven days. If Jo is still in play by the end of one week, we end the exercise and he’s moved into recovery.”

A second officer clears his throat before adding, “First timers usually last less than three days. Cadet Jo is one of the toughest men I’ve had the honor of training, Your Majesty.”

There’s a lot of things that Gon wants to say to that. How dare you tops the list. A close second is by King’s order, end this at once. A distant third is I knew Yeong would make me proud.

All he asks instead is, “How long is recovery?”

The interrogator rocks back on his heels in an uncharacteristic display of unease. “It looks like Jo might make it the full seven days. With that amount of dehydration, malnutrition, and wound infliction we estimate three weeks, Your Majesty.”

Bringing his hands behind his back, Gon squeezes them into fists so tight his palms sting. He feels the ache of it in his wrists.

He nods once. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

His voice remains level. This is what he signed Yeong up for all those years ago, Gon thinks with vicious self disgust.

It’s terrifying realizing just how a child’s promise has become a man’s burden. It’s exhilarating knowing that he made the best decision back then. The only decision, really. Yeong’s never let him down and Gon knows there’s not a single universe in existence where that’s even possible.

It’s humbling to see with his own eyes, in such a visceral way, that Yeong has not only stood by his choice from all those years ago but has gone on to renew that oath every day, every minute he suffers for the sake of a mere mortal.

For him. Not the king but Lee Gon, the man behind the kingdom.

That kind of devotion is awe inspiring. Gon promises himself to never take it for granted, to never forget for a moment the breadth of trust and fealty that Yeong carries for him.

It takes every ounce of strength not to call a halt to the exercise, not to sweep into the room and take Yeong into his arms and carry him to the nearest physician. There’s a part of Gon that’s surprised he manages to stop himself.

In the way that an eight year old knew how to calm a child, however, a king knows when to step back.

When the one thing he wants is– and will remain– out of his reach.

With a child’s negligence, he placed Yeong on this path. With a king’s stratagem, he resigns them both to shouldering yet one more weight in the name of their friendship, for the sake of the crown.

Gon affords himself one last look through the glass, at a Yeong who looks beaten but not broken. 

A man, stark in his devotion, overwhelming in his fortitude.

Gon ignores the others in the room. He raises a hand to the mirrored glass, feels the echo of warmth along his palm.

Allowing himself just a moment, Gon turns to the door faster than he’d like. Hand on the knob, he hesitates before opening it. His voice is soft as he says, “I trust in your discretion, gentlemen.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Gon leaves the room without a backwards glance. He strides down the corridor, back to his motorcade– all without a single word. His guards stay silent, knowing what their king just witnessed.

Three weeks and three days later, the palace gets a call.

The messenger is patched through to Gon’s personal line. Gon doesn’t say anything when he picks up and the voice on the other end doesn’t wait for him to start.

“Jo is out of recovery. Minimal scarring expected and preliminary psychological evaluation passed. Next trial will be twenty-one days. It is scheduled for the end of the year.”

Gone hangs up first. He never says a word to Yeong about it.

Years later– once Yeong has left his position as Captain of the Royal Guard in favor of a promotion, as Gon likes to tease– Gon will finally take the opportunity to kiss the delicate arch of a scar along Yeong’s cheekbone, will press lips honeyed with veneration over a jagged line along his husband’s thigh.

The price of reverence is a king’s ransom. Gon happily spends his days with the knowledge that he’ll never be able to clear himself of this most profound debt. Still, he promises himself for the thousandth time, kneeling before Yeong, that he’ll make sure they both enjoy him trying.

[kabuwu]

Thinking already what I should do for my next zine ..

[smxhyphy]

A future where the days are longer, the nights are warmer, and NAHA has given up on bleaching Ray's roots (thank the stars). You know he's made it a thing to dress more formal for your dates, but you didn't know it was a set up for... this!

If you are wondering, yes he made everything for the picnic and yes it took him forever to find the perfect picnic spot. (Don't even get him started on the ring, who knew its even harder for a telepath to figure out their partner's taste in rings)

He looks at you with love filled eyes, a hint of fear in them. In those dark eyes akin to the abyss, the further you gazed upon them the more you were lured into their obscurity. Just when you think you'll never reach the end you find a spark and within it is you're possible future together, an eternity of you, just ... you. With shaking hands he asks for you to fulfill his "greater purpose". To make that future a reality.

Well, the stage is yours. Do you accept?

Everyone thank @sweepysapphire for the commission she did for me a while back. Also thank her for being like you should totally draw him in ur style 👀. She enables me, Saph ur an enabler. Anyway I'm so obsessed with him guys pls play binary star hero so I can yap about him more. Hope yall like this!

[bad268]

Love your writingg!!

Could you write a oneshot with ollie when reader couldn't make it to a race and she got sick while at home but didnt tell ollie cuz it couldve made him shit the race and he comes back home at takes care of herr??

+hiii!! idk if ure still taking request, but maybe an ollie x reader where she gets her wisdom tooth out and the aftermath is just her being chaotic and funny while ollie just goes with everything.

but yeah, i think it’s pretty cute. thank you!

Boyfriend Of The Year (Ollie Bearman X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I just did a sick fic, so i decided to incorporate these. Hope yall don't mind <3)

Warnings: Wisdom teeth surgery and recovery

POV: Majority Second Person (You/your), some Third Person (They/them)

W.C. 2301

Summary: A routine dentist appointment turns into a secret to keep Ollie sane.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Your phone was blowing up with texts from Ollie. He was probably wondering where you were at this point since you promised to be at the qualifying session, but due to a dentist appointment scheduled between the sessions, you had to split up. Ollie and his dad drove together, and you took an uber to your appointment. Well, at that dentist appointment, you found out that your chronic jaw pain was actually your wisdom teeth getting dangerous. They were growing inwards and pressing your teeth, so your dentist strongly encouraged an emergency wisdom teeth removal for the same day. Ollie was going to be pissed and you knew it.

“Hey, CareBear,” You greeted in a fake tone. You were still at the dentist, but you stepped outside to get a little bit of privacy. “What’s up?”

“Don’t ‘Hey CareBear’ me! Where are you? You said you were gonna be here,” Ollie asked. He was finally able to let out a breath after running around the paddock trying to find where you were. When he couldn’t find you, he started asking around, but no one had seen you. Then, he started calling you, and coincidentally, the calls were during your x-rays or consultation, so you were not answering. It was driving him insane. “Are you almost here?” 

“The dentist was short-staffed, so they haven't gotten me in yet,” You came up with on the fly. You knew he would hate that you lied to him, but he would also throw his entire race weekend away for you. Yes, it was adorable and it’s part of what made you love him, but this was not the time to be a loving boyfriend. This was the time to show everyone why he deserved the Haas seat. He could be boyfriend of the year afterward. “I can text you when I’m done, but I need to see them today. You know how bad my jaw has been hurting lately.”

“Oh?” Ollie smirked as he lowered his voice, about to make a joke but his dad walked right past him.

“Don’t even start, Oliver,” You pressed as you saw your dentist gesturing for you to come back in, so they could prepare you for the surgery. “Listen, CareBear, I gotta go. I think they’re ready to take me back. I’ll text your dad to pick me up when we start wrapping up. You need to get back for debrief or start preparing for quali.”

“Yeah, I should probably eat something,” Ollie said to himself as he scratched the back of his neck. He had never had to go into qualifying without you, so he was a bit nervous. However, he totally understood that this was something you needed to do. “I’ll get on pole for you.”

“I expect you in the top 22, nothing less,” You joked as you both said goodbye and hung up the call. You headed back inside as they started giving you the rundown on how the surgery would occur. For once, you were thankful for scheduling your appointment in the morning and not eating beforehand. Just before they would put you under, you decided to call Ollie’s dad. It didn’t take long for him to answer.

“Hey, Y/n,” David greeted immediately as he walked toward the back of the garage, “Need me to pick you up? That was awfully quick.”

“Actually no,” You chuckled nervously. “Don’t tell Ollie until after quali, but I’m getting my wisdom teeth out right now. If we tell him, he’s going to freak out.”

“Was this the plan the whole time?” He asked, quieting down as Ollie walked by nonethewiser. He was finishing up before he would be getting in the car, so he had enough on his plate, in your opinion.

“No, I just found out that the jaw pain I thought was the start of TMJ was actually my wisdom teeth growing inwards,” You explained with a smile as you watched your dentist finish setting everything out. “Listen, David, I’ll need you to pick me up in like an hour. Maybe after qualifying break it to him? Or just let him figure it out when I’m loopy. I really don’t care.”

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” David reassured as he saw Ollie gesturing for him to come over before he would get in the car. “Have them call me when you’re done, and we’ll pick you up.”

You thanked him before ending the call and heading into the back where the operation would take place. 

The qualifying session went by quickly for Ollie because it was basically a one-lap shot. Right after the first laps, it started pouring rain, so when Ollie was at the top of the timing page, no one was able to beat him. He tried to call you as soon as he got out of the car, but every call went straight to voicemail. It freaked him out a little, but he brushed it off, thinking you were still getting your cleaning. It wasn’t until his dad was ushering him to change and get to the car park almost as soon as he wrapped up media that he started thinking something was wrong. Ollie sat nervously in the passenger seat as his dad drove in silence, which was completely unusual for him, so he decided to try and break the tension.

“So, dad,” He dragged out as he looked over at his dad. They pulled up to a red light, and David looked at Ollie. “Where are we going?”

“The dentist,” David said simply as he moved the car into first gear when the light changed. “We need to pick Y/n up.”

“Shouldn’t they have finished up during quali?” Ollie asked before muttering to himself, “I thought they would have been in the garage by the end of media.”

“They had to get some work done,” David responded. It was light-hearted, so Ollie wasn’t too worried. When they pulled up, he parked the car but made no move to get out for a second, causing Ollie to look over confused. “They had to get their wisdom teeth out.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Ollie freaked out, immediately getting out of the car and trying to reach the front door before his dad. Unfortunately for him, his dad anticipated this and beat him to the punch by blocking the door. “Dad, let me in.”

“No, you need to understand why we didn’t tell you,” David pressed as he put a hand on Ollie's shoulder and sheered him back toward the car. “They didn’t want you to be nervous in qualifying. It’s getting to the end of your season, and next year, you’ll be in F1. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and the last thing they wanted was for you to get nervous and risk your position in the championship.”

“That makes no sense! I wouldn’t have thrown the session!” Ollie disputed as he threw his hands up.

“Oh, please,” David tsked, “You almost crashed the car when you found out they had a headache a few months ago. Of course, you wouldn’t completely compromise your qualifying session knowing they were getting surgery. That sounds totally believable to me.” 

“Maybe you have a point,” Ollie mumbled as he dripped his hands to his sides in defeat. He looked back over to his dad as he sighed, “Can we go in now?”

“Are you going to cause a scene?”

“No.”

~

POV Switch-Third POV

All the while, Y/n was just waking up. The team had wrapped up the surgery at the end of qualifying and called David, saying he didn’t need to rush since they still needed to ween Y/n off of the meds and they still needed to pass the memory tests.

Y/n didn’t remember even waking up, but they did semi-register people walking in, around, and out of their room. Most of them were dentists or nurses checking their vitals, but then two people walked in that didn’t look like a dentist or nurse. It was Ollie and David, but Y/n was still too out of it to recognize them (or what they were saying to be honest).

“So they’ll be a little loopy for a while,” one of the dentists said to David, causing him to nod. Ollie had already taken a seat beside you and was holding your hand. The dentist then took David out of the room to talk about how to help clean the wounds and give him a list of foods that Y/n could eat while recovering. Ollie wanted to say something, anything to Y/n but they ended up talking before him.

“Whoever is your significant other is lucky because damn you’re hot,” Y/n chuckled slightly as they fell back against the pillows and smiled sleepily as they looked at him. “They’re like really lucky.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that you’re my significant other,” Ollie chuckled with them as he brought their hands up to kiss their knuckles.

“No way!” Y/n said as loud as the gauze in their mouth could allow as their eyes almost fell out of their head. “You’re telling me I bagged you?!”

“You bagged me,” Ollie chuckled in disbelief. He was upset at first that Y/n didn’t tell him sooner, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at them, especially when they said something like that. “If I tell you a word, can you remember it for me?”

“Anything for you, handsome,” Y/n shamelessly flirted as they leaned in a little closer to prop their head against Ollie’s free hand that was resting by their head. 

“The word is ‘pole’,” Ollie said, and Y/n repeated it a couple of times before nodding that they understood it. “Okay, how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling tired. I wanna sleep. I wanna eat. I’m hungry. I want someone to tell me what place Ollie is in for the race tomorrow,” Y/n ranted before gasping toward the end, remembering the qualifying session they missed. In the haze, Y/n’s brain never connected that Ollie was sitting in front of them as they went on a rant. “Ollie Bearman is my favorite driver, and I wanna know where he placed. Do you know Ollie?”

“I know of him, yeah,” Ollie said as he bit back a laugh. There was no way he was witnessing this. “I think I know where he placed.”

“Where?” Y/n gasped as they tried to sit up in the bed, but the vitals machine started going off, causing a few personnel to walk in, but Ollie was already pushing them back.

“What was the word from earlier?”

“Pole?” Y/n said confused before it finally connected, “Wait, pole position?”

“Yup, he’s on pole for the feature race,” Ollie smiled at their enthusiasm. “Now, what’s my name?”

“What’s your name? CareBear?”

“Well, yes, but what’s my real name?” 

“Oliver,” Y/n dragged out before the fog cleared enough for them to make the connection. “Wait! Ollie, my CareBear! You’re Ollie!”

“I am,” Ollie chuckled as he leaned over to place a kiss on Y/n’s forehead while the dentists started removing wires and needles from Y/n, so they could leave. Ollie wrapped an arm around their shoulder, knowing Y/n didn’t like needles. He took to whispering reassurance in their ear until they were cleared to leave. Ollie then asked, “You still sleepy?”

Y/n didn’t respond as they were already asleep, so when all of the paperwork was signed, Ollie picked Y/n up to carry them to the car.  The entire ride to the hotel, Y/n was asleep against Ollie’s shoulder until David pulled into the parking spot. That’s when Y/n woke up, stretching their arms above their head.

“I still wanna sleep,” Y/n whined as they leaned back against Ollie. “My legs feel like jelly.”

“I can always carry you again,” Ollie commented already getting out of the car and moving around to help Y/n out. As soon as Y/n stepped out, Ollie’s arm was lifting up their legs to carry them up to their room. Thankfully, David was already leading the way and opening doors for them.

“You’re really working for that Boyfriend Of The Year award, aren't you?” Y/n teased as they plopped their head against Ollie’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know I was in the running,” Ollie joked back as he left a kiss on their nose.

“You’re always in the running,” Y/n pouted before going on another tangent, “Y’know, I’d love to kiss you, but I can’t really feel my lips so I don’t know how that would go.”

“I’ll give you a kiss when you don’t have bloody gauze in your mouth,” Ollie said as he walked up to the door. “Does that sound like a deal?”

“Add some ice cream or smoothies and you’ve got a deal.”

“You can’t drink from a straw, so no smoothies.”

“Buzzkill.”

“Not a buzzkill,” Ollie said simply as he set Y/n down on the bathroom counter, so he could change their gauze. “We’re not risking you getting dry socket.”

“Kissass.”

“How does that make me a kissass?” Ollie chuckled as he helped Y/n down from the counter and to the bed. Ollie fixed the pillows around them to make them comfortable before grabbing an icepack from the freezer. 

“You know the judge of the Boyfriend Of The Year award, and you’re kissing their ass,” Y/n chuckled as they leaned back into the pillows and took the icepacks from Ollie, immediately pressing them against their face. “Let me say, you’re winning.”

“I would hope so,” Ollie retorted, “I should be the only one in the running!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[python333]

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

[justauthoring]

help wanted.

in which, you've made a terrible mistake but thankfully childe is kind enough to help.

a/n -> im in deep with genshin yall (i promise i will write for other fandoms soon <3) as usual, i have no idea what this is :)

pairing -> childe/tartaglia x f!reader

tw. stupid man not knowing boundaries, modern/university au, childe is mildly threatening? but like... justifiably

"i've made a terrible mistake."

raising a quirked brow, childe sends you a smirk. "oh?" he coos teasingly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the desk he'd been bent over seconds previously. "this should be good."

you cringe, feeling your embarrassment flood your entire body as you're currently faced with the consequences of your actions. you think back to twenty minutes earlier, when you'd made the split decision to say what you had, and stare up at childe and the smirk painted plain across his lips.

you were severely regretting your decision now.

"i... well, you know that class that i had to take? the engineering one?" you mumble, swallowing the lump in the back of your throat down as childe nods. "the prof decided to assign a group project and assign our partners for us. which is no problem, you know, that's totally fine. or-or at least, should've been but... um, well-"

"y/n," childe cuts in, voice oddly soft. his voice pulls your eyes back on him, blinking up at him with a startled expression as his smirk turns into a genuine smile. "it's fine. what's happened?"

nodding, you force yourself to ease slightly.

"my partner... he was nice at first. i was relieved, we worked well together," you nod to yourself as you explain, worrying your lip. "but then he asked me out."

you pause at that, frowning, in your own head enough to miss the slight tick to childe's jaw at that.

"i declined the offer!" you wave your hands in front of yourself, for some reason feeling like you have to justify yourself. "i tried to do it nicely and i thought that it was okay, because he'd just smile and assured you it was fine. but then the next day during our class, he sat beside me and was pestering me all class!

"he kept trying to whisper things to me, was trying to send me notes when i ignored his whispering... stuff like that. i was annoyed, but let it slide. only, then he started following me around everywhere. after class, finding me before class, and the worst part is he keeps asking me to rethink his offer. tells me that i'll see how great he is once i give him a chance."

biting your lip, you hug yourself, still thoroughly uncomfortable with the events that have transpired over the coarse of this week.

you miss, once again, the darkened look in childe's eyes.

"i couldn't take it anymore! he was starting to get touchy, too..." you trail off slightly at that, avoiding childe's gaze as you flush. "so, when he wouldn't take no for an answer for the twentieth time, i did the only thing i could think of."

hesitantly, you shift back to childe. you frown at the look in his eyes, mistaking it for being directed at you (which it definitely isn't) and silently curse yourself for being so stupid.

stepping towards you, childe prompts; "what'd you do?"

what did you do, because childe is this close to finding this guy himself and giving him a piece of his own mind.

you hesitate at that, lips parting but sputtering with no words at first. childe's patience wears thinner by the second, but fights to keep his emotions in check, watching as you procede to avoid his eyes once more before finally finding your voice;

"i told him i already had a boyfriend."

that gives childe pause, entire body stilling.

"a-and i told him it was... you."

silence. it carries on for a moment, then another, before you gain the courage to gauge childe's reaction only to see him owlishly blinking back at you. his face has lost all trace of the annoyance from before and instead he almost looks... stupified?

"ch-childe?" you call softly, voice somewhat shaky as you reach a hand out towards him. "i'm... i'm so sorry. you're the first person i thought of but if it makes you feel uncomfortable, i'll... figure something out. i don't even know what i was thinking when i-"

you're cut off by the feeling of childe grabbing your hand, his own shooting out to touch you. he grabs you by the wrist, your lips left parted and eyes widening as you shift to him, only for childe to step towards you.

his eyes have darkened, but not with the annoyance from before. there's something unreadable in his gaze as he stares down at you, husked and eyes lidded as he smirks.

it's such a shock that your mind short-circuits.

"i don't mind," childe finally speaks. his voice is husky, low, you can feel his warm breath against the skin of your cheek and it causes goosebumps to prickle across your body. "i don't mind at all, actually."

"you... you don't?" you ask, still bewildered.

childe shakes his head, his hand shifting to instead hold your hand istead of wrist. your eyes instantly flicker towards the action, growing hot at the way he threads his fingers through your own, eyes never wavering from your own and impossibly close.

"no," he whispers. "i don't mind playing your boyfriend. but i have a better idea."

"o-oh..." you mumble, "and what's... that?"

childe's nose presses against yours, forehead to forehead, and you realize somewhere along the way that your heart has started to pound madly against your chest in reaction to the intimancy of childe's actions.

it's making you incapable of coherent thought.

"why play pretend?" he starts, making your breath halt, a gasp leaving your lips. he squeezes your hand, the other coming to fall on your hip as he grins down at you. "when it can be real?"

oh-... "oh," you breathe, shaky and tingly. childe's touch suddenly feels hot, but in a good way, and it feels like your own legs might give out from beneath you at such a confession.

"how does that sound?" childe whispers in your ear.

"g-good," you gasp, pressing your free hand to his chest; not to push away but for steadiness. "that sounds... really good."

he's suddenly pulling back; the thick tension that had surrounded the both of you like a thick fog suddenly dissipates as you're left feeling vulnerable and craving that touch once more. childe's smirk turns into a wide grin, ear to ear, as the only part of him that doesn't let go of you is his hand with continues to squeeze yours reassuringly.

"perfect," he laughs, "then let me walk you to class."

-

"oh, y/n-!"

the usual grating voice of your partner doesn't seem that annoying in the moment - at least, not with childe pressed to your side, his hand still holding yours securely with his mere presence enough to reassure you of any worries.

that, and the fact that the second your partners eyes fall on childe, he's falling silent with a sharp cut off, eyes widening and smile falling.

"hello," childe greets for you, voice sharp and threatening. you don't mind, letting him take the lead as you watch on with barely concealed glee as this guy gets a taste of what happens when you don't take no for an answer.

"who... who are you?" your partner asks, frowning.

"oh?" childe hums, letting go of your hand to instead wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. "i thought she told you... i'm childe, her boyfriend."

your partner shifts to you; "i thought you were joking."

you scoff, thoroughly frustrated by this guy's innate ability to not be able to take a hint.

"nope!" although there's a smile on his face, there's no joy to childe's tone and the look in his eyes is clear enough. "y/n and i have been together for a while now, and she's told me all about you."

although not all of what he says is true, the reality of the fact that childe is now actually your boyfriend wards off any nerves.

"i think i just might sit in on this lecture," childe continues to say, pressing a finger to his chin as if simply thinking to himself. "just to make sure nothing... unwanted happens. then, perhaps, me and you can have a little chat after."

you forget how truthfully terrifying childe can be - mainly because he's never been that way towards you. still, it's certainly a rewarding sight to see the look of fear that crosses your partners face as he takes a nervous step back.

he's chancing one more glance your way before promptly turning tail and running in the opposite direction than the lecture.

you and childe watch him go.

"i'm still gonna talk to him after."

turning to childe, your lips part.

childe just smiles down at you; "what? it's only right. he bothered you, my girlfriend, and i won't let that slide."

biting your lip, you smile up at him; "i like that," you hum, softly.

"what?" he teases, "me calling you my girlfriend?"

you nod, reaching for him. "definitely," you whisper, "if i'd have known pretending you're my boyfriend would make you actually my boyfriend, i would've done it a while ago."

childe nods; "you definitely should've."

[bloodweep]

This is nsfw headcanons of Floyd btw!

“Yeah, yeah~”

Im so normal about him too, he’s so fucking cute I wanna scoop him up and never let him go

I headcanon him to be 5’8 by the way! The shortest out of the brothers

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Sweeter than sweet ࿐ྂ

‗ ❍ man’s a huge fucking flirt with you, everywhere he can, doesn’t matter if his brothers see it

‗ ❍ his WINKS, UGH, they definitely mess with you more than it should

‗ ❍ will compliment you at any moment, all the time

‗ ❍ nicknames: baby, my love, darling, mi amor, honey, little dove

‗ ❍ I am sorry yall, this man is a sub top, hard sub top - though sometimes he enjoys fucking you, being told how to do it, his ears all droopy and eyes lidded

‗ ❍ enjoys you tugging on the base of his ears, will often move your hands up to them while kissing, begs you to tug on them when you guys are fucking

‗ ❍ surprisingly being the smallest he can still hold you up against the wall and fuck into you, hands on the back of your thighs to hold them up and out, not letting you close them

‗ ❍ has fangs like his brothers, his are just incredibly smaller, nearly nonexistent if you dont stare hard enough or let him bite

‗ ❍ loves it absolutely fucking MESSY

‗ ❍ drools a lot, literally everywhere, on the pillow, in your neck, on your back everywhere, drools a lot more when hes fucking deep into you more than when hes bottoming

‗ ❍ allows you to fuck him whenever you want it, you gripping and tugging on his tail, making it curl around your arm, his claws digging into whatever

‗ ❍ will beg to fuck you after

‗ ❍ is so into cum marking - more on the receiving end than anything, wants to forever smell you on him

‗ ❍ very into being praised but also will praise you in return, especially when hes fucking into you “oh thank you, thank you”, “youre so pretty”, “so tight”, “thank you for letting me fuck you”

‗ ❍ would love for you to cover his mouth while he fucks you

‗ ❍ definitely cries whether giving or receiving

‗ ❍ first time you gave him head he sobbed, his hands covering his mouth as he sobbed, letting you suck him dry

‗ ❍ enjoys being overstimulated until he cant think, only grabbing onto whatever you allow him

‗ ❍ when you do let him fuck you, you ride him nearly all the time, keeping him pinned right in place, on foot pressing against his throat lightly to keep him in place

‗ ❍ totally loves when you sit on his face, tears wetting your skin

‗ ❍ god hes just the biggest fucking baby when you guys fuck, perhaps he likes when you call him out on it, degrade him a little to get that familiar sting in his eyes

‗ ❍ so into sucking your fingers too, really into letting you gag him at the same time

‗ ❍ not much for voyeurism, rather likes it in secret, so distractions or prying eyes

‗ ❍ will wrap his hair around yours, gripping so tightly to find any type of grounding

‗ ❍ surprisingly is very different while in doggy

‗ ❍ in this he becomes very,, different, biting into your shoulder, soft little growls leaving him - his growls arent as deep as the rest of his brothers, not as really intimidating either, tail ridged but wagging slightly, his thrusts so hard and deep it forces you to fall onto whatever surface he is fucking you so hard on

‗ ❍ his arms wrapped around you constantly, hands pressed into your abdomen

‗ ❍ once hes in you good luck getting him out, he enjoys how warm you are and WILL beg to stay in, will sob the hardest when hes begging, he craves the closeness

‗ ❍ this motherfucker is totally into cum inflation, gripping and scratching your abdomen as it expands with his cum

‗ ❍ definitely eats his own cum out of you, cleaning his cum off of your thighs

‗ ❍ god this fucker would love to suck on your chest too, sucking and nipping all around when he can

‗ ❍ probably has a mommy/daddy kink but that’s to be explored more later

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

Let me know what you think! And if you want anymore add

Tagging: @n3rdy247

Here’s another gif I made 🫶

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.