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sage-nebula · 4 months

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I've watched pretty much all of Jenny Nicholson's videos (despite not being into most of the things she's into) for a variety of reasons, but one of the reasons I watch her content is because I think that she seems like a truly stand-up kind of person. Of course, given that she is a person creating content for YouTube, we're only allowed to see the version of herself that she wants us to see. I'm under no illusions about that. But the version of herself that she presents to us, the viewers, seems to be a person who is not only genuinely passionate about the things she discusses (and honest about why she'll hold back on discussing certain topics when fans of those topics can be awful about it), but also who considers the experiences of (for lack of a better phrase) the average person when it comes to the theme parks and other experiences that she reviews.

Three specific instances come to mind: one from the Evermore video, and then two from her most recent Star Wars hotel video. (Side note: she was so, so right that Disney marketing is stupid as hell for not letting influencers et cetera use the common names for things. The average person doesn't know what "Galactic Starcruiser" is, but will understand "Star Wars hotel." Get it together, Disney.)

In the Evermore video, Jenny talks about how she emailed Evermore Park ahead of her visit to try to get more information prior to her visit. Things like whether there was a dress code, what she could expect when she arrived there, information that should have been readily available on the website but wasn't. She mentions that she could have mentioned that she's an influencer and that she probably would have gotten a response (because they never emailed her back), but that she deliberately chose not to.

"So I did attempt to email ahead of my visit, trying to ask basic questions about the park and inquire about renting it out. When I did that, I was intentionally vague; I didn't link my channel, and I didn't use my primary email. And I sort of suspect that if I had done the whole influencer song and dance -- said my channel name, my subscriber count -- I might've had better access to the park, and perhaps even a better experience. But that wasn't the point. I didn't want to call ahead. I'm the mystery diner! I'm the undercover boss! If you can't deliver an equivalently good experience for all guests, that's on you and your business." [x]

Then, in the Star Wars hotel video, there were two instances in which Jenny had to reach out to Disney customer support for assistance, and received absolutely nothing in return. The first was when she paid for a photo taking service, but had absolutely no photos taken of her. When she reached out to Disney customer support for a refund, they refused to give her said deserved refund. The second instance was when she had purchased a large droid figure from the hotel, and had it shipped to her house via the Disney shipping service. The Disney shipping service inputted her address incorrectly (in fact I think she says they put in a completely different address altogether), so her droid was lost. Once again she reached out to Disney customer support to find out what she could do about this expensive item she had purchased, only to be told that they couldn't do anything to help her.

In both cases, Jenny took to twitter to post about how Disney was refusing to a.) issue her a refund for a service she paid for but never received, and b.) help her receive an item she'd paid for but never received. Both times, Disney reached out immediately, issued her the refund, and overnighted her lost item. Jenny correctly identifies that they only did this because she's an influencer with a large twitter following, and has this to say in the video:

"They didn't even ask for my phone number. Like someone at Disney just did the legwork to go into the database, look up my booking info, find my phone number and then call me within a day of the tweet going out. And the person who called me was really nice, and I'm thankful he cared to resolve it. BUT, I just always feel very cynical when I try to resolve issues through the appropriate channels available to all customers and nobody will help me until they find out I'm an 'influencer.' I spoke with several other guests who got [the photo taking service] and had the exact same problems as me, and they never got refunds." [x]

And

"But then after I tweeted about it on my twitter account with a lot of followers, Disney suddenly resolved it and they sent me a replacement. They actually overnighted it to me. And along with it they sent a lot of miscellaneous goodies which I really appreciated. So here again, I feel if this had happened to anyone without a lot of twitter followers, they would have had a significantly more frustrating experience." [x]

I feel that this post will probably read as giving Jenny kudos for doing the bare minimum. And I think that on some level, that's true. But it's true because nowadays, many influencers won't even do the bare minimum. They would have Disney immediately issue them a refund, or overnight the droid to them with the additional goodies, and then make posts gushing about how great Disney's customer service is, despite knowing full well that the (again for lack of a better term) average person who doesn't have a huge internet following would never receive that kind of support from Disney. Similarly with Evermore, most influencers would call ahead and flex their follower count to try to get a bespoke experience to then show on their channels. They wouldn't want the same experience everyone else gets. That won't generate good content, in their eyes, and besides, they're better than that. Don't you know who they are?

But Jenny, despite her follower counts, keeps it real. Yes, she appreciates that Disney did give her the deserved refund and did send her the droid + gifts. But she also points out, both times, that if she'd been a person without a large twitter following, they would not have done that, and people in the exact same position she was with the photo service didn't get their deserved refunds. With Evermore, she didn't call ahead because she DOES want the same experience everyone else gets. She wants to be able to give a genuine review. Whether that review is positive or negative is dependent on the business itself.

Again, this probably seems like giving Jenny kudos for the bare minimum of decency. And I agree that on some level it is. But I also think that, in today's day and age, we really don't get that with a lot of influencers, who are in it for the sponsorship money (and who get their egos way inflated), and so it's nice to have a reviewer / theme park influencer who is honest with her opinions, and who recognizes that yeah, Disney did give her special treatment, but that it shouldn't have been special treatment, that they should be helping all of their guests like this, through the normal channels that she tried using, and they are a shit company for not doing that.

I just really appreciate Jenny.

#jenny nicholson

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lackadaisycats · 7 months

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Hey Tracy! Have you heard about the new Ai called Sora? Apparently it can now create 2D and 3D animations as well as hyper realistic videos. I’ve been getting into animation and trying to improve my art for years since I was 7, but now seeing that anyone can create animation/works in just a mare seconds by typing in a couple words, it’s such a huge slap in the face to people who actually put the time and effort into their works and it’s so discouraging! And it has me worried about what’s going to happen next for artists and many others, as-well. There’s already generated voices, generated works stolen from actual artists, generated music, and now this! It’s just so scary that it’s coming this far.

Yeah, I've seen it. And yeah, it feels like the universe has taken on a 'fuck you in particular' attitude toward artists the past few years. A lot of damage has already been done, and there are plenty of reasons for concern, but bear in mind that we don't know how this will play out yet. Be astute, be justifiably angry, but don't let despair take over. --------

One would expect that the promo clips that have been dropping lately represent some of the best of the best-looking stuff they've been able to produce. And it's only good-looking on an extremely superficial level. It's still riddled with problems if you spend even a moment observing. And I rather suspect, prior to a whole lot of frustrated iteration, most prompts are still going to get you camera-sickness inducing, wibbly-wobbly nonsense with a side of body horror.

Will the tech ultimately get 'smarter' than that and address the array of typical AI giveaways? Maybe. Probably, even. Does that mean it'll be viable in quite the way it's being marketed, more or less as a human-replacer? Well…

A lot of this is hype, and hype is meant to drive up the perceived value of the tech. Executives will rush to be early adopters without a lot of due diligence or forethought because grabbing it first like a dazzled chimp and holding up like a prize ape-rock makes them look like bleeding-edge tech geniuses in their particular ecosystem. They do this because, in turn, that perceived value may make their company profile and valuations go up too, which makes shareholders short-term happy (the only kind of happy they know). The problem is how much actual functional value will it have? And how long does it last? Much of it is the same routine we were seeing with blockchain a few years ago: number go up. Number go up always! Unrealistic, unsustainable forever-growth must be guaranteed in this economic clime. If you can lay off all of your people and replace them with AI, number goes up big and never stops, right?

I have some doubts. ----------------------

The chips also haven't landed yet with regards to the legality of all of this. Will these adopters ultimately be able to copyright any of this output trained on datasets comprised of stolen work? Can computer-made art even be copyrighted at all? How much of a human touch will be required to make something copyright-able? I don't know yet. Neither do the hype team or the early adopters.

Does that mean the tech will be used but will have to be retrained on the adopter's proprietary data? Yeah, maybe. That'd be a somewhat better outcome, at least. It still means human artists make specific things for the machine to learn from. (Watch out for businesses that use 'ethical' as a buzzword to gloss over how many people they've let go from their jobs, though.)

Will it become industry standard practice to do things this way? Maybe. Will it still require an artist's sensbilities and oversignt to plan and curate and fix the results so that it doesn't come across like pure AI trash? Yeah, I think that's pretty likely.

If it becomes standard practice, will it become samey, and self-referential and ultimately an emblem of doing things the cookie-cutter way instead of enlisting real, human artists? Quite possibly.

If it becomes standard industry practice, will there still be an audience or a demand or a desire for art made by human artists? Yes, almost certainly. With every leap of technology, that has remained the case. ------------------ TL;DR Version:

I'm not saying with any certainty that this AI blitz is a passing fad. I think we're likely to experience a torrential amount of generative art, video, voice, music, programming, and text in the coming years, in fact, and it will probably irrevocably change the layout of the career terrain. But I wouldn't be surprised if it was being overhyped as a business strategy right now. And I don't think the immensity of its volume will ever overcome its inherent emptiness.

What I am certain of is that it will not eliminate the innate human impulse to create. Nor the desire to experience art made by a fellow soul. Keep doing your thing, Anon. It's precious. It's authentic. It will be all the more special because it will have come from you, a human.

#art #lackadaisy #technology

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theminecraftbee · 4 months

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for anyone wondering where i've been: i got... distracted... by a potential huge project. I was considering running a mcrp project/smp project, inspired by stuff like fan life series servers, with the rest of the sexyman team! but... a different one. a very specific one, even.

now, I'm aware there are probably outstanding questions, so if you're uncertain, please read more event/server details below the cut and see if it interests you!

I don't know anything about Survivor–what would this show even be like?

so if you know nothing about survivor, it's easy to think it's a show about surviving on a deserted island. it is that, but it's not mainly that. survivor, at its heart, is a social deception game, about making close alliances, betraying people, and social dynamics under pressure–hence why i suspect it would be a great fit for mcrp.

the way the show would be structured is this: a certain number of contestants would be placed on a (slightly modified) survival server, set up to be difficult to survive on. they are placed into two "tribes", the teams for the first half of the show. every episode, they would spend time with their tribes bonding, surviving, searching for secrets, and base building. then, they would compete in challenges. the tribe that loses the immunity challenge must go to tribal council, where they vote on which member to send home. this continues with the tribes eventually merging together into one tribe and immunity becoming individual before there are only two contestants left. at that time, they go in front a jury of their former fellow contestants, who will determine who the sole survivor is.

while challenge performance is one key to winning (as it prevents you from being a target in the first place), the other, bigger key, as you can likely see, is forming alliances and voting blocks strategically to get your opponents voted out and yourself kept in. this makes a great vehicle for social emergent storytelling, where narratives emerge about who is honest, who is a liar, who is good at the social game, who is bad at it, and what people will do in order to become sole survivor.

in other words: it's kind of like what current-day mcrp is ALREADY about. except its a gameshow also, and the very construction of the thing is designed to cause tensions by its very nature.

it's great! and you wouldn't be required to know anything about survivor–our host would explain to the audience all of the mechanics as they came up, as would production staff to the players.

You keep calling it "a show"–what do you mean by that?

the result of this project would be an edited youtube series, like survivor, of likely around twelve episodes. each episode would show footage from the game, as well as a lot of "confessionals" shots of the players explaining their opinions, before ending in tribal council! unlike most mcrp series, this would not be a multiple pov affair. it would be one tightly edited project. (this editing, for the record, is the largest overhead; we expect the amount of footage to go through to end up being in the hundreds of hours combined between all the players.)

it's possible that after the show's finale releases we'll release the players to make their own highlights from any footage they take. but the product we're hoping to make is just a single TV show's worth!

what exactly does applying to be a contestant require?

if we get enough interest, once we have enough of the required plugins and builds created and have a better sense of gameplay, we will put out a casting call form. while this will ask a number of questions to help us get to know you as a potential player, you're going to be REQUIRED to have the following things: a tumblr blog that you can link us to, the ability to record an audition tape in minecraft to send to us (so that we can get an idea of what audio we'd be working with, mostly), enough free time for us to be able to schedule recording sessions into, and a willingness to agree to some rules about keeping things secret until the finale airs and about rp etiquette. that's it! there are no other requirements–you don't have to know survivor, you don't have to already do mcyt or stream, you don't have to have friends, none of it, and while we'll ask you for those details, we're going to be looking for a large blend of people from across mcyt! anyone (who can send us mostly clean audio) can be considered!

EDIT: we would ALSO REQUIRE YOU BE AT LEAST 18. sorry i forgot this before! this is for a number of reasons i don't want to get into, but will be prominent on the actual applications.

what exactly would being a production staff member entail?

we're mainly looking for two things in production staff: a willingness to run replaymod for us and act as cameramen by following contestants around getting footage on the actual recording days, and a willingness to work with us on what's likely to be a fairly intense editing and "scripting" period during and after recording, during which we're going to have to scrub through massive amounts of footage and form it into a coherent narrative. we may, depending on how bad we realize we've bitten off more than we can chew, also end up looking for build team members for the production crew. if these things sound fun to you (they sound fun to me god help me), then go ahead and select this option! just know it's mutually exclusive with playing; no one in the production staff will be considered for the contestants. this includes my friends and myself who've already agreed to help me.

these applications would come out before the casting call, since even before casting call we're going to need to do playtests and dry runs and have things mostly ready. so keep an eye out!

will this be run on your blog?

nope we're going to make a new blog (and youtube channel) (and branding!) for this eventually, just want to interest check before we go through all the branding steps. (also, i've even gotten us a specific gmail for this that we will likely end up using for certain communications.)

for now that's all the FAQ i think that is required. let me know if you have more! and i hope you all are interested in this baby of a project that's taken over my mind for the past few weeks!

#mcyt #mcytblr #dsmp #hermitcraft #qsmp #lifesteal #trafficblr #to list some fandoms i think may be interested!#also please reblog this i want a reasonable sample of who is and isn't interested #and FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS EVEN WITHOUT VOTING #i have put way too much thought into this and would LOVE to answer #listen i am SO HYPED FOR THIS i just want to make sure we'd have enough people to pull it off before investing more energy lol

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artificial-transmutations · 6 months

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Going Green

"Microtransactions!"

Charles looked around the board members.

"Micro. Transactions. Have you ever heard of that? Anyone?"

Slowly, heads nodded.

"Oh, good! So, you *have* heard of them. Does anyone care to explain to me then why our games barely have any? In fact, I have yet to see *any* microtransaction revenue from our latest release."

"But Sir, 'Orcs and Morcs' is a single player game - and not for a mobile platform, too. It doesn't even have an online connection. It would be highly unusual."

Charles M. Anderson cut the engineer up with a gesture. He didn't even know the other man's name, which wasn't too unusual. Even though he was the CEO of GreenGames for six months now, he didn't bother to learn his subordinates names until they proved useful. And this unnamed engineer could be happy if he still had a job after this meeting.

"I don't care about your techno-babble. Microtransactions is where the money is, so I want them in our products. *All* our products. And make sure to make them mandatory for any progress, too."

Charles usually talked about "Releases" and "Products". To him, video games were just a product like any other. Of course *he* didn't play any of those silly games, games were for children and losers. He only cared for the numbers, the graphs and revenues.

"What about the backlash? I mean, I understand that you want to generate more revenue, but GreenGames is known for providing high quality games that *don't* try to rip their customers off."

"So?"

"So, this could be bad publicity for us. Really bad."

Charles looked around the table and noticed most of the other board members nodding.

"Listen up, everyone. I think there is some misunderstanding here. You think that I care about our customers. I really don't, as long as they continue to buy our products. There is no such thing as bad publicity. So, I don't tell you how to draw your silly ogres and you don't try to meddle in the business aspect of the company, okay?"

Even though the inflection suggested a question, it was perfectly clear that it was neither a question nor a request. Again, heads nodded and tried to avoid eye contact. Good. Respect was very important for a leader.

One woman spoke up. Charles suspected her to be some lead writer or something.

"It's orcs, Sir."

Charles blinked. "What are you trying to say?"

"You said ogres, but our games are about orcs. That is our thing, we make games about orcs."

"There is no difference between orcs, ogres, unicorns and all that whimsy stuff. Leave me alone with your fantasy crap."

"But there is another thing. You are responsible for the story of our products?"

The woman agreed with a careful: "Yes, Sir?"

Charles looked her straight in the eye. "It has come to my attention that there are certain woke elements in our products. As a story writer, I expect you to take care of that."

"What... do you mean by woke? And by taking care of that?"

Charles sighed. Why was everyone so incompetent?

"Apparently, there is same-sex smut in our products, some even have pronouns. That crap needs to disappear asap. It is 'go woke go broke', after all."

The writer woman looked at Charles incredulously. "But Sir! Same-Sex romances are a well-accepted part of the industry for *decades* now. And it's not like the player has to engage in that, too. It's just an option - an option we actually received much praise for in the past. And about the pronouns... It's just a setting that influences some dialogues on how the player character is referred to. Again, it is perfectly possible to play as a straight green cis male if that's what you want to do."

Charles shook his head, his voice now dangerously low. "One more word of that, miss, and you can start looking for a new job. 84% of our customer base is male, and male customers want to see boobs, that's a fact. I won't tolerate wasting company resources on pacifying some noisy minority and alienating our main audience."

"But sir!" the writer woman objected.

Charles' look silenced her.

"One more word and you're out. We'll find another writer. Someone who does the job and keeps their mouth shut. This meeting is over. I expect results end of next week."

Nobody dared to speak up when everybody left the meeting room, and Charles returned to his office. What a productive meeting.

Just as he turned to his computer to check today's KPIs, he noticed a new email.

From: Employee Council

To: Charles M. Anderson

Subject: Going Green

Body:

Dear Mr. Anderson,

we here at GreenGames would like to take the opportunity to point out some concerns about your leadership role.

We have noticed a disturbing development since your takeover and would like to remind you of the values we stand for at GreenGames. We like creating games, and we identify with the work we do. Our players are important to us, and we strife to be open and accessible for everyone. Just like the protagonists in our games, we have honor and use our strengths to better the world. You in particular should be the living embodiment of this ideal. Please take this chance to re-think your methods and decisions and "go green" for real.

Sincerely,

The Employee Council.

Charles was outraged. How dared those subordinates criticizing him? He reached for his phone, ready to phone his secretary to find out who this "Employee Council" was but was interrupted by a ripping sound.

The right arm of his expensive suit jacket had ripped at the shoulder, which was unusual. He would have to have a stern talk with the tailor. Charles stood up and took off his jacket - or at least, he tried to. It was like the piece of clothing was way too small all of a sudden. He finally managed to get out of it, but only with several more rips in the fabric. Charles loosened his tie. He was sweating like mad, and when he looked down on himself, he was in utter disarray. His shirt looked like it was several numbers too small and as he was watching, one button after the other flew off with an audible "pling", exposing his torso underneath.

But was it really his torso? Not only was it *bigger*, it also looked way *hairier*. Charles had never been a man with much body hair, but now, he looked down on a stomach that was showing visible abs covered with a dense treasure trail of dark hairs. They continued upwards where they met with a true forest of curly dark hair that covered the slabs of pecs that were still growing as Charles watched.

He had to loosen his tie again before taking it off entirely. All of his clothes felt constricting, so, he peeled himself out of his shirt, too. His expensive watch was interrupting his growth painfully, but Charles was too occupied to notice, let alone care. With a dull cracking noise, the leather strap broke, and the watch flew across the room, hitting the opposite wall.

As Charles continued to grow, the chair underneath him creaked, but, again, he had other things to worry about. His lower body was still covered by his dress pants and shoes, but that was getting tight, too. His shoes especially were getting painful, and it was a relief when the front broke, exposing large muscular feet and toes. His pants were filled to the brim with heavy, muscled legs now, but there was another region where the capacity had been reached. His groin formed an obscene bulge. That alone would have probably fit - barely - but it was accompanied by an unusual feeling. Charles didn't *mind* his extreme change. In fact, the hyper masculine body turned him on, even. He watched as a dick print became clearly visible outlined against his groin, as his cock grew hard. It pulsed, once, and Charles felt a spurt of precum soak into his boxer shorts. A wet patch became apparent as the liquid seeped through his pants - all from a single spurt. His dick pulsed again, and Charles' head began to swim. The air in the room was thick with sweat and testosterone by now, and Charles groaned from arousal. Man, what would he give for a nice firm manly ass right now, giving him a lap dance.

Wait, what? Manly ass?

But it was true! Every time, Charles tried to think about sexy girls, but all that came to mind were men. Burly, hairy men, twinkish shaved men, green-skinned ogre-man. No, not ogres, he corrected himself. Orcs.

As he thought this word, his dick pulsed again and made Charles almost cry out from arousal. He couldn't restrain himself anymore. He *ripped* apart his dress pants and lowered his boxer shorts that looked like a pair of briefs on his massive body now, releasing a gigantic stiff rod and a matching set of heavy balls - along with a whole cloud of manly, musky smell that made Charles even hornier than before.

He closed his gigantic hand around his shaft and moved it up and down, in a slow, barely constrained motion. He had almost come by that one stroke, so horny was his mind. Fascinatedly, he watched as his cock and balls took on a deep, green color. It looked almost like a cucumber, or the penis of the incredible hulk. Or... an orc. As he moved his strong hand up and down again, the green started to spread in all directions.

Yes! There was no doubt: He was becoming a big, strong, sexy orc! Charles let all restraints fall away and started pumping in earnest now. With each stroke, the green spread, until his entire torso was of a rich green color. His head felt a pressure as his facial structure reformed, and his ears grew long and pointy. His hair lost darkened and grew out into a wild mohawk-like hairstyle. At the same time, a black beard sprouted around his entire jaw, underlining his masculinity.

Meanwhile, the green had swept across his arms and legs, quickly eliminating any leftover pink spots. The green color looked incredibly hot under the coat of dense, manly hair, and Charles felt himself getting closer. He grunted with each stroke like an animal and where his muscular green body touched the furniture or his executive chair, it left a film of manly sweat. Finally, he felt a short bit of pain on his ears and nipples, as small metal piercings appeared there: Short studs in his ears and small rings in his nipples.

That sent him over the edge. With a final bellow, he came, mightily. His large green balls contracted and his massive cock spew cum everywhere: All over his stomach, his chest, his furniture, even his face!

Charr panted in the afterglow of his orgasm. He was the epitome of virility and although he had just cummed all over his office, his mind kept creeping back to sexy guys again. He would be able to go again, soon - but that had to wait a bit. He used the remains of his suit to clean up a bit (although it was still clearly visible and smellable what happened here), stuffed his mighty tool into the cum-stained underwear and reached for the phone.

"Please send the board to my office, I want to issue an honorable apology, and announce our new strategy." He rumbled with his new, low voice. After a moment of consideration, he added: "And please send someone to install our games on my PC."

He rubbed his hands. This would usher in a whole new era for GreenGames - with the greenest possible CEO.

I have the feeling that a lot of companies could benefit greatly from a bit of a greener leadership!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #straight to gay #orc #musk

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yourmomxx · 10 months

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➵ angels talking - social media au | ln4 (1)

❥pairing - lando norris x fem!singer!reader (mentions of al12 x reader)

❥plot - Arthur Leclerc has been your best friend since your early childhood, you two grew up with each other and each other's families. Your closeness leads to fans suspecting there is more to your relationship, until, almost suddenly, the ball gets totally flipped

❥warnings - none, maybe ooc arthur leclerc sorry abt that

part i - the start | part ii - the number four

masterlist | requests

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

♔꙳⋆ instagram ꙳⋆

yourusername posted a new story

formula2pics

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formula2pics @/yourusername & @/arthurleclerc outside the ‘Sweet Sugars’-Café last night in Silverstone, England, present to support Arthur’s brother, Charles Leclerc at the Formula 1 Grand Prix

Picture submitted by unknown source

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ynlnn look me in the eye and tell me they’re not in love

paddockgirl favorite couple

sidney(tv) they’re so cute together

bella.ltn supportive besties

itsbrutalouthere I just KNOW that they're dating

jojo.jpg childhood best friends to lovers, angst and fluff, 156k words slow burn

tswizzle definition of made for each other

leclersbabe arthur❤️❤️

mollym my favs

hotchswife can’t wait to see them in the paddock

itsellie anyone saw that picture in yns story if arthur?

↳ kaynwe @/itsellie omg yes he looked so good😍

↳ kellykiwi @/kaynwe the veins, the hair, the way he smiled at her?? just ugh😩

ferrariyn i’m just waiting for their relationship announcement

untitled they would be the cutest couple ever let’s be honest

exscapenight mom and dad actually

larinakali i miss them posting each other😭

yourusername

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yourusername serious competitors since ‘08😎

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ynbabe new song featuring arthur??

lnfave desperately clinging to yns posts since arthur doesn’t show her on his feed😩

charthurleclerc not my favorite wag posting about my favorite driver

↳ amslerin @/charthurleclerc she’s no wag tho

suziesalmon hope you crushed him girly

↳ yourusername @/suziesalmon of course i did

tswizzle @/arthurleclerc take her as an example and give us some yn/arthur posts!!!

ynisbabe please baby arthur is so cute

carolyn she is feeding us with content

´lanadelslay this is a soft launch, actually (I'm delulu)

f1updates how much you wanna bet they were playing mario kart

paddockgirl they would be such a sweet couple tho

hazelnuts yn putting her entire soul into the karaoke while arthur doesn’t even know what to do is so funny to me

factorfic YES a new yn and arthur post, i manifested this

sabrinajenga your honor they’re in love

ferraridriveracademy

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ferraridriveracademy Congrats to @/olliebearman and @/arthurleclerc on a Double Podium in Barcelona this afternoon!👏🏆

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leclersgirl whooo! arthur finally got the podium he deserved!!

hamiltonh so proud of them!

tom.oha these two are really some good drivers. i’m sure if they keep up their work they have much potential for f1!

charlesleclerc 🔥🔥

lucasclare so proud of my boys

sidney(tv) i literally screamed when they won, i’m so happy!!

interstellarfan123 that one penalty for frederick was so unnecessary

cheesestrings my two husbands

↳ suziesalmon @/cheesestrings they’re married to me wdym?

kaynwe the both worked so hard for this, i’m so glad

tangledinu sometimes i think about the fact that arthur has those huge footsteps of charles to fill, and that ollie seems to achieve everything that was expected of arthur

↳ isobella @/tangledinu that’s not fair you’re making me sad

sabrinajenga admin can you ask arthur for me where yn was today?

↳ realobama @/sabrinajenga was literally about to say the same thing

arthurleclerc

liked by olliebearman, ferraridriveracademy and others

arthurleclerc Thank you, Barcelona, for welcoming us greatly and for the support! 2nd place baby, yes!!❤️

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itsbrutalouthere arthur where is yn???

charlesleclerc such a great race man, really proud of you!🙌

lucasclare was really worried for you there in turn 7, but you managed it amazingly!!

suziesalmon why wasn’t yn in the paddock this weekend?

bimess you deserve this so much arthur!!

arthurfave can’t wait to be there live in abu dhabi

factorfic yn didn’t even like what’s happening

↳ hotchswife @/factorfic her phone probably fell in a river and that’s why she doesn’t have access to instagram (i’m delulu)

leclersbabe i am so happy for you!!

professorproton boy you better have a good explanation why yn wasn’t there, and you better have it now🤺🤺

forzaferrari miss seeing mom😢

frederickvestiofficial well done mate!

kellykiwi happy for your win, but where is yn?

itsellie hoping mom is just busy songwriting somewhere🤭

hamiltonh none of the post-race ask the real questions! for example, what did they change about the car, or WHERE THE HELL IS YN

ynbabe mom and dad are going through their divorce era?

f1news

liked by howaboutyoudont, lanadelslay and others

f1news YN YLN, famous singer and actress is reportedly in a close relationship with a Formula Racing Driver, a source claims - it is not revealed who it is. Fans have been asking themselves many questions after the long weeks of radio silence between childhood best friends YN YLN and Arthur Leclerc, the Ferrari Pilot for Formula 2

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reidbabe guys, i think this is it

hslot_forreal if it’s not Arthur i might throw myself in front of a car

tswizzle i’m conflicted i want it to be arthur so bad but at the same time their media hasn’t seemed right to me for ages now

liladonavan manifesting arthur x yn

ferrariyn that source better come clean i can’t take all this anticipation any more👏👏

↳ larinakali @/ferrariyn real.

sylviestone “dating a racing driver, won’t tell you who tho”

↳ jojo.jpg @/sylviestone😭😭

ynn1fan off topic but that’s a great picture of her

hannamountana no because i don’t know, i want it to be arthur so bad but at the same time idk mann

↳ emilyzkn @/hannahmountana i totally agree especially with her posting so much of him but him never posting her like what is going on there

↳ papayagirl @/emilyzkn their relationship has been off for such a long while tbh

exscapenight hoping arthur made a move before someone else did

↳ peppyi @/exscapenight no because watch someone else pulling her away from under arthur’s feet just because he was being a coward

yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter, oscarpiastri and others

yourusername paddock days🧡

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ferrarifan1 GIRL

landonorrizzzzzzz am i tripping or is that the wrong team???

maxfewtrell thought i saw a gremlin on the grid today🤔

↳ urfafdaydreamer @/maxfewtrell LMAO MAX WHAT

↳ yourusername @/maxfewtrell didn’t know they had mirrors all over the paddock??

↳ untitled @/yourusername what’s happening.

ynisbabe you’re so stunning

ynn1fan MOM WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE MAILMAN

↳ leclersgirl @/ynn1fan THE MAILMAN IM CRYING

christiek 🧩🧩

therealobama nuh uh this feels wrong

charthurleclerc why weren’t you at arthur’s race??

sabrinacarpenter aah my love

ynwife girl is so pretty i can’t

tswizzle this is not the ferrari box??

strongandeuropean what are you doing at mclaren?

emilyzkn “reportedly dating a racing driver”

↳ hannahmountana @/emilyzkn i wish i understood math this fast

lucadevil papaya looks good on her

norisswife Is that Oscar in the likes that I see????

lanadelslay excited where this is going, honestly

♔꙳⋆ twitter ꙳⋆

♔꙳⋆ instagram ꙳⋆

landonorris

liked by sabrinacarpenter, oscarpiastri and others

landonorris paddock days

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oscarpiastri oh man

ynlnnn nuh uh

therealdannyric explanation??

norriswife he’s so beautiful

lnfave lando side profile >>>

ynisbabe guys is this it??

formula1obsessed last lap lando? more like last SLIDE lando

lastlaplando oh my god if this is yn i will actually scream

33maxverstappen that backside looks very familiar to me…

↳ melany @/33maxverstappen that must sound so strange out of context

carlaarcher this can’t be a coincidence

getthismanachair lando who is that??🎤

norisswife first Oscar in yn's likes and now Sabrina in Lando's?? what are the besties doing here?!

andystricks caption looks awfully familiar

itsbrutalouthere praying for a statement in these desperate times🙏

urfavdaydreamer soft launch??

hardlyanything lando let me see your spotify wrapped please👀

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, lukehemmings and others

yourusername with great dread i have to announce that i, indeed, fell in love with a man- and also, that this picture was taken right after the first date

tagged: landonorris

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landonorris i can almost feel your love for me through that caption😍

↳ yourusername @/landonorris 😙😙

sabrinacarpenter babes

oscarpiastri guess we won't hear the end of this ever

↳ danielricciardo @/oscarpiastri I will help you through this, mate

danielricciardo run as long as you can yn, i promise i won’t tell him where you went

↳ hannahmountana @/danielricciardo LMAO DANNY

oliviarodrigo so cute!!

kathrynnewton parents?

emilyzkn NO WAY

lanadelslay LETs GO GIRL

ynlnn THE SONGS GUYS I REPEAT THE SONGS

lilli(taylor's version) NEW FAVORITE WAG

landonorrizzzzzzz ARTHUR LECLERC WHO IS ARTHUR LECLERC I ONLY KNOW LANDO NORRIS

kellypiquet so excited to see you in the paddock more often😍😍

howaboutyoudont Lando noRIZZ what a LIEEEEEE

jojo.jpg gurl you so lucky!!!

hotchnerswife we're getting boyfriend Lando I can't believe it

f1news wish you all the best!!

suziesalmon the way she looks at him i. can. not.

↳ iknewyouweretrouble @/suziesalmon girly fell hardddd

charthurleclerc literally my two worlds colliding i can't breathe

bella.ltn caption so true

tswizzle they already feel like such a power couple i cannot

kathrynamy HARDEST LAUNCH TO EVER HARD LAUNCH

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daisiescomelate · 6 months

Note

Hi I don't know if your requests are open or who you write for, but if you write for Shinsou can I get a Shinsou in love headcanon list? ♡

Hello!! I've never written Shinsou before but I'll try :3 It's a little bit longer than the post about Katsuki in love but I hope you like it ❤️

A/N: Shinsou always striked me as an overthinker.

💜 Shinsou in love is very self aware. He was quick to admit to himself that you were his type since the moment he saw you from a distance, and even if it made him feel troubled, he noticed pretty much immediately when those feelings started to develop as something else, something more.

💜 Shinsou in love had never approached someone he liked before so he was kind of awkward the whole time until he decided there was nothing else he could do other than gather some courage and tap on your shoulder to just say whatever.

💜 Shinsou in love made a total of two attempts to strike a conversation with you, but because you didn’t completely understand how his quirk worked you got caught by it almost instantly both times. It was too embarrassing for him, embarrassing to the point he didn’t want to risk it again a third time; and to make things worse, it made him fall a little bit self conscious about his quirk like in the old times.

💜 Shinsou in love who dropped any thoughts of ever going to get anywhere with you because of this issue, and decided to let his crush die with time.

💜 Shinsou in love who never expected to be the type to experience a pinch in his heart when seeing his crush from afar.

💜 Shinsou in love who after a few months thought of a different approach because giving up so soon seemed a bit lame. He came up with the idea of getting closer to you by trying to get along with the people who were usually around you and with whom he didn’t mind messing up with. He failed. He had never been the popular type, anyways –people were usually scared of him for being the quiet, serious guy with the bad attitude.

💜 Shinsou in love who called it quits and told himself this wasn’t that big of a deal.

💜 Shinsou in love who eventually stopped checking social media as often as he usually did because you kept popping out on his feed. He didn’t want to block you or unfollow you because he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. He got a new hobby instead, doing crafts. He wasn’t that good at it either to be honest, but he needed something to kill time –and to keep his mind busy, distract himself.

💜 Shinsou in love who began to avoid places you usually frequented because any progress he felt he made about overcoming his crush shattered the moment he saw you somewhere.

💜 Shinsou in love who accidentally made friends with someone you knew on a random day. He found out when that person introduced you to him during a friend’s night out and he couldn't believe his luck.

💜 Shinsou in love whose heart squeezed and whose stomach did a little flip when after a few outs together he realized you had learn about how to communicate with him without falling for his quirk. He suspected your common friend taught you how, after noticing the way Shinso went quiet around you not to set you up by accident.

💜 Shinsou in love who made his best to keep his face from showing what finally being able to have silly, random conversations with you did to him.

💜 Shinsou in love whose number you got from the group chat and you messaged once to send him a video you talked about to him during lunch.

💜 Shinsou in love who, despite himself, since then tried to come up with endless excuses to keep texting you in your private chat.

💜 Shinsou in love who at last found himself staring at his ceiling at three in the morning on a random thursday, his phone screen lighting up the dark of his room. He had realized what he felt for you was beyond a crush after he caught himself rereading for the third time the texts you two had been sending to each other until late hours of the night, when it became too hard for you to stay up and you had to apologize to go to bed.

💜 Shinsou in love who felt his chest hurt, laying on his bed and covering his eyes with both hands, trying to think how to get himself out of this mess. What hunted him the most was the fact that you were as nice and dedicated to everyone as you were to him. It was quite obvious to him that you just saw him as a friend.

💜 Shinsou in love that couldn’t think of confessing without feeling like he was overstepping and putting you into an awkward position.

💜 Shinsou in love who tried once again to swallow his feelings but started to feel suffocated by them.

💜 Shinsou in love who never expected to be this kind of a coward.

💜 Shinsou in love who stood up, turned his nightlight on and grabbed pen and paper, and told himself to just ‘get it over with’.

💜 Shinsou in love who wrote his confession in the form of an apology and put it on his pocket. He told himself he had one week to give this to you because if he kept delaying this whole deal there was no way his feelings wouldn’t eventually mess with your friendship.

💜 Shinsou in love who gave you the letter feeling like an idiot one night outside of a restaurant after having dinner with your group of friends. As he handed it over, he told you that if you decided not to bring up the letter after that night he would know what it meant, and would do his best not to ever mention it again either.

💜 Shinsou in love who got startled when you suddenly jumped to hug him without even looking at the letter. You knew exactly what it said without reading it because of the way he avoided your eyes while he handed it to you, and because you felt exactly the same way.

💜 Shinsou in love who after his initial shock hugged you back and buried his nose on your neck.

💜 Shinsou in love who got just a tiny bit emotional about it but will forever deny it.

#bnha #drabble #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #🧁-- drabble #x reader #request

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gemini-sensei · 11 months

Text

@sensei-venus I just got a chaotic af idea for gremlin!Reader. What if she had a cryptic pregnancy? (cw: birth scene, blood)

Like she never knows or even suspects it at all. Then one day when she's home alone, she starts having this awful tightness and pain in her belly and pelvis. Then it passes and she thinks it's okay, but it continues to happen again and again throughout the day. She hates hospitals and doctors so she refuses to go to one and tough it out.

When she realizes it's labor ain't and contractions, it's too late to do anything about it. She has to push. So as the boss-ass queen she is, she delivers her baby on her own. She pushes a good five or six times before he slides out onto her bed. She struggles to sit up but does it anyway to get her baby in her arms, pat his back, and get him breathing. He starts crying so loud that it shocks her. She gets him cleaned up as best she can and lays him on her chest, hoping to calm him down.

All these little baby delivery things she's learned from listening to Moon's midwifery stories. So naturally when things calm down a bit, she calls Moon and is like "Hey, so I just had a baby."

And Moon is like "Haha, that's so funny, Reader."

"No, I'm serious, Moon, I need you to come here now."

She speaks with a certain urgency that's far from her normal, playful tone. It's how Moon knows she's serious and she grabs up everything in her kit and goes to Hawk and Reader's house. Luckily she knows where the spare key is hidden and she gets inside. She finds Reader in her bedroom with the tiniest baby she's ever laid eyes on sucking on her tit. The room is a fucking mess, especially the bed sheets since they're covered in blood and other bodily fluid. Reader doesn't have anything to cut the umbilical cord with so she and the baby as still very much attached.

"Oh my god, how did you... oh my god." Moon can't contain her shock. She's only ever heard of cryptic pregnancies at this point in her career and she never imagined she'd encounter one.

Moon knows about Reader aversion to hospitals, so she doesn't even bring it up. She doesn't want to stress Reader out more than she probably already is stressed out. So she calmly comes over to sit beside Reader, gathers up the messy sheets, and throws them aside so they can at least get some clean sheets in there.

"Sometimes it's hard for first-time moms to get babies to latch on," she says, watching the tiny baby hungrily suckle on his mama's tit. "How'd you manage this?"

Reader kind of shrugs. "I don't know... when he started crying again, I just kinda knew he was hungry and did it."

Reader's voice is so soft and it's a different side of her that Moon hasn't seen before. She's still their gremlin of the group, she's sure, but Reader is so tired after the surprise labor that she really can't expect more of her. Still, Moon takes it as a sign that Reader is going to be a great mama despite not being ready for a baby whatsoever.

As Moon does everything she needs to - cut the umbilical cord, clean up Reader, check the baby - they talk about how this all happened. Reader explains how she had no idea about any of this, she never even had a suspicion. Then she tells her about how much it hurt, how scared she was, and how when she finally realized what had to be happening, she just had to do it. Moon tells her how proud of her she is for staying calm during the whole ordeal and how strong she is. Having a baby is a lot on the body and labor is intense, but she's done so well.

While she's checking the baby, he gets a little fussy when taken away from his mama. However, as soon as Moon starts talking to him, he calms down. He knows that sweet voice. This is one of his mama's friends.

Moon brought everything she could possibly need for the occasion and she's happy to report his good health. "He appears fully developed and perfectly healthy. Good job, mama."

She also brought a number of baby things for Reader, like a few clothes and a blanket, so she wraps him up to stay warm as soon as he's all checked out and cleaned up. Things calm down again and the pair talk about everything they can about having a new baby around. Then they hear the front door open and shut.

"Hey, babe! I'm home!"

It's Hawk. And it's at that moment Reader remembers how she never called or texted him about what was going on. She just took right to taking care of her baby boy and getting Moon over there.

Of whom, Moon jumps up and assures Reader she'll handle it. "I'll go tell him gently." Then she disappears and there's some light greetings to be heard.

Then Reader is pretty sure she hears Hawk faint.

Moon comes back in, grabs something from her bag, and exits again. She uses a smelling salt to bring Hawk back to reality and he jumps up.

"I could have sworn you said, with all the seriousness I've ever seen from you, that Reader had a baby."

"That's exactly what I said, Hawk."

She explains the situation to him before anything else happens.

When he brings her to the bedroom, he doesn't faint again. Instead, he goes straight to Reader's side as quickly and quietly as possible. "Jesus Christ, are you okay? Is the baby okay? I didn't even know you were pregnant- well I guess you didn't either based off of what Moon said, but still. Holy shit."

Reader states at him, then laughs. It's that chaotic laugh he fell in love with and he wonders what the fuck is so funny in a time like this, but also he's relieved because she's feeling well enough to laugh.

"We're fine, Eli... he's perfect."

She smiles and looks down at her baby boy in her arms. He stares up at them, taking in his pretty mama and handsome daddy. He's dressed in a green onesie Moon grabbed on her way out (I think she keeps all sorts of baby stuff to give to parents she works with in baskets she makes for them because she would so do that). It's a little big for him but it keeps him warm and that's what matters right now.

Hawk takes his little hand and holds it, staring at him with a still shocked but happy smile. "Hey there..."

While they're having their little moment, Moon starts filling out the birth certificate. She looks up ever so often to check on them, only to find Hawk holding Reader as they just admire their little one. It's so cute of them.

She stands up and brings the certificate over, showing it to them. She explains what they have to do and ends by saying, "You don't have to have a name for him now. Figure that out when you know."

"I think I know," Reader giggles, looking back down at her baby boy with a smile.

Hawk kisses the side of her head. "What's that?"

"Mason... Mason Elijah Moskowitz."

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satansapostle6 · 23 days

Text

Love The Sinner | Dexter Morgan

Dexter Morgan, a vigilante serial killer hiding in plain sight, loses sleep for the first time in his life when he’s met with the very last thing he expected: a kindred spirit.

Warnings: Violence. Mature language and themes. Sexual content.

Part One. Eyes of Darkness.

Most people, when they’re getting arrested, shit their pants with fear. Some scream, some cry. Some rage, and some try to run, and some just freeze. That’s what you usually see, when you’re in your parents’ living room, and your dad can’t wait to turn on the TV to the channel dickety-six news, of all things. But sometimes, people have other reactions when being handcuffed and shoved in the back of a squad car. Sometimes people enjoy it, for one reason or another. I smiled when Miami Metro put me in cuffs on the news. Laughed, even. You see my story is many things, but boring certainly isn’t one of them.

Let’s start simple. My name is Nicole Carvalho, and as of today, America knows me as ‘Murderous MILF’. You really can’t make these things up; I love this country. I keep reminding myself, if I ever go free, I need to clip that out of the newspapers. But see, right now, at this very moment, I’m sitting alone in an almost blindingly white interrogation room at the precinct, waiting for a cop to question me while they study me on the surveillance footage. I can’t lie, I’m sitting back right now in my chair, smirking. You see, I killed the men who violated and later took my baby girl’s life, and I’m currently very pleased with myself.

I don't think my grandfather pictured this when he left Brazil. This truly is the American dream; committing a crime and letting your own peers decide whether or not it was justified. In all honesty, a jury will be much kinder to me than ‘God’ has been. So, I figured I’d let myself have this one thing. I think I waited about a half an hour before they sent someone in; a female detective. They must’ve figured a matching vagina couldn’t hurt. The first thing I noticed about this detective was that she was strikingly young; close to my age. I’m thirty-six, so I would estimate her to be maybe a little younger.

But apart from her age, the next thing I noticed about this detective was that she was very robotic in how she interacted with me; she didn’t necessarily look like she wanted to be there. She barely looked up at me when she came in, holding my files and looking down at them like a teenager doing a presentation in high school.

“So. Nicole Carvalho. I’m Detective Morgan.”

She sits down across from me less like I’m a murder suspect and more like she’s interviewing me for a secretary job. I look at her, sitting forward as I join her in the conversation, still smug as ever. I think she was secretly hoping I’d say it, the four words that usually drove most cops insane that, for some reason, no one ever thinks to say in the movies.

“I want my lawyer.”

I smile as I say it. Detective Morgan also smiles, looking down at the table before getting up. I’ll never forget how pleased she sounded.

“Guess that means I can’t ask you anymore questions.”

She gets up and walks out, and that’s the end of it. In all honesty, I don’t think she was looking forward to questioning a woman about the murder of her daughter’s rapist. After the detective left me alone, I was allowed to call myself the lawyer that I had in mind. This, of course, was a friend of a friend, a perfectly shady guy named Johnny Bertelli, who was, in the nicest way possible, a fucking scum bag. You see, I work as a project manager at a marketing firm, so I’ve met my fair share of good lawyers, but Johnny was the fucking best.

He made Johnnie Cochran look like an idiot. He was the kind of lawyer who laughed at the prosecution in court, and I needed him. So there i was, in the Miami Metro precinct punching a number I’d gotten off Google into a wall phone. I looked around the precinct as I waited for someone to pick up, and suddenly it was like I felt a pair of eyes on me. I turned around, and I saw a pretty timid, mild-mannered looking guy who seemed as if he’d been standing there trying to figure out how to get my attention.

But the strange thing was, he didn’t seem to want my attention, at all, actually. If anything, he seemed perturbed by the fact that I was looking his way. I looked over at him, not knowing what the fuck his story could’ve been. Miami’s a weird place, because in this moment, I realized the guy wandering the precinct in a Polo and khakis could very well be an employee. I looked at the guy, not knowing what he could’ve wanted with me as I struggled with the phone. Funny enough, he actually just wanted to be helpful.

“You gotta press pound,” he says quietly, “For the call to go through,” and I almost laugh.

I appreciate the odd moment, just thanking him.“Thank you.”

He just nods, and says nothing as he quietly retreats to wherever it was he came from. I took his advice, and sure enough, the phone worked and patched me through to Johnny’s office. I wasn’t quite sure at the time, seeing as I was obviously a bit preoccupied, but I felt that strange man’s eyes linger on me for a moment. Even as I turned around, I could sense his surreal sort of presence that he had. Sure, I was used to having men’s leering eyes on me out in public; it was hardly unusual. But this was different.

Like he was less looking at my body and flesh, but more so imagining what was underneath it.

*****

The next couple years of my life were eventful, to say the fucking least. Johnny of course advised me to take my case to trial instead of taking a plea, for obvious reasons; there was no way any jury was going to give me the maximum sentence, or God forbid, the death penalty. I was a single mother who stabbed her twelve year-old daughter’s rapist seventeen times. In the eyes of the public, I was practically a fucking hero. Johnny’s confident that any jury would feel sympathetic to me, despite the brutality of what I’d done. As he says, the facts are still there.

My neighbor, a weasley little creep named George Randall got me, and my Isabelle, to trust him, and took advantage of her in the worst way. Then she killed herself, because of what he did, and I had to find out through a note left on her desk for me to find. So, I went to George’s with an empty baking dish of his, and once he let me in, I whipped out the knife I’d borrowed from him, the same knife I used to use to cook for my little girl, and I made his stomach burst like a water balloon. At this point, I’d already chosen to show little remorse for the crime I’d committed, feeling perfectly at peace with the possibility of prison, or the death penalty.

But Johnny said there was probably no need to be too fearful of either. He’d even told me there was a possibility I’d just get a few years, and then parole, or something, and I wasn’t sure that wasn’t bullshit, but I also liked his confidence. The reality of it was, Johnny had made much worse people look way better. To him, my case was already closed. All I had to do was play the part of the grieving mother, which took no effort on my part. I had to wait almost a year for my case to go to trial, which I of course did outside of a cell.

This gave me enough time to get all my affairs in order, or so to speak. My job was okay for the time being, and I knew I’d probably still have it so long as I wasn’t convicted of murder, given my ‘years of dedicated service’. Things were going to be relatively fine, eventually, but for now, I was stuck being paraded around like a jester on some twisted apology tour for avenging my daughter’s death. I’m a pretty good actor, but even my patience has its limits. And maybe wearing my white So Kate’s to court wasn’t necessarily the best judgement call.

But Johnny, being more than worth the money I pay him, made it work. I walked into the courtroom with him, humble and graceful, and didn’t let my eyes linger so as not to appear guilty. But even then, I caught a glimpse of him in the room. The guy who helped me with the phone. He was watching my trial, probably just as a police department employee. Probably.

“Will the defendant please rise?”

I complied with Judge Willis’s request, with my trusty guard dog by my side. I remained dignified, my head held high, but not too high, of course, as the proceedings began.

“Miss Carvalho. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor,” I told him.

The damage was done. My fate rested entirely in the hands of twelve strangers, and for some reason, there was a thirteenth who seemed oddly invested in the outcome.

Part Two.

#dexter #dexter morgan #michael c hall #dexter morgan x reader

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thisapplepielife · 3 months

Text

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Bandmates Wanted

It's probably overkill, but Jeff sticks another piece of tape on the flyer, making sure it'll stay put in the school hallway. When he's done, he takes a step back and looks at his handiwork.

It's a little crooked. Damn.

Oh well, it still gets the point across, he supposes.

He's not sure how this will go. There might not be any bites, and if there are, they might all suck. Mr. Clarke said he'd supervise the auditions, even if they fell out of his purview, whatever that is. Jeff's glad. He's nervous, and having someone else there, looking like they're in charge, might help.

The AV room is small, but Jeff isn't expecting much of a turn out, but he'll just have to wait and see what Friday brings.

"Is this Jeff?" the voice on the phone asks, a woman.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Jeff. I'm Carolyn Jones. I'm calling about your band auditions."

"Oh, um. They're really only for kids," he says, unsure.

She laughs, "Yes, I'm aware. I'm calling for my son. He was interested, and I just wanted to know more, before I gave him the okay."

What kind of sissy baby needs his mommy to call for him? Probably nobody that belongs in a heavy metal band, that's for sure. But Jeff's mom would kill him if he isn't polite, especially to another adult, so he bites his tongue. He definitely doesn't have to let the kid in the band, though, that's for dang sure.

"Um, okay, what questions do you have?" he asks, kind of regretting that he ever put his number on the flyer.

"Well, I'm not really sure," she says with a laugh, and it's warm, kind. He doesn't feel like she's judging him, somehow.

"Okay. Um, I'm Jeff. Williams. I'm in the seventh grade. I play the guitar, and sing a little bit. But if someone better comes along, I'm totally fine with giving that up."

"Well, Gareth doesn't sing, I don't think. He plays the drums, and is a year younger than you."

"Does he have drums?" Jeff asks.

"He does."

"Is he good?" Jeff asks, and she laughs.

"Well, I'm his mother, so I'm a little biased. But I think so."

Jeff laughs, "Have him come to Mr. Clarke's room on Friday. He doesn't need to bring his own drums. Mr. Clarke is borrowing a kit from the band room."

She asks a few more questions, and then finally hangs up.

Jeff goes and digs out his sister's yearbook from last year, so he can see what this kid looks like.

And there he is, a tiny twerp with a mop of messy curls. Jeff sure hopes he's grown since then. Or, maybe Jeff will have other options, better options, and won't have to let this little kid in his band.

Come Friday, Jeff's nervous. Really nervous. Only one slip has been taken from the flyer, and he suspects that went home with Gareth to his mommy.

It's five after six, and nobody showed up.

"It's okay, Jeffery. It's still early, don't worry yet," Mr. Clarke says, and Jeff nods. He hopes that's true.

Then they both hear a commotion, and a cymbal crashing against the tile floor in the hallway.

Jeff jumps up, and Mr. Clarke follows, where they find a little kid, Gareth, trying to drag his own drums into the school, even after Jeff said that he didn't need to do that. Dummy.

The boy's mom is with him, bringing up the rear. Of course she is.

"Whoa, hey, you didn't need to bring those," Jeff says, looking over the huge handful of equipment both are trying to carry, and not very well.

"I told him you said that, dear, but he was adamant that he play his own drums," his mom says, and Jeff nods, because they're here now, and at least somebody showed up. And Jeff gets that. He'd want to play his own guitar, too.

"Okay, let us help then," Jeff says as he reaches for a piece, and Mr. Clarke does the same.

Then Jeff sees Goodie Goodwin, the snarky, dry-witted kid from his homeroom carrying in a bass. He didn't even know Goodie played the bass. They aren't friends, not really, but they are friendly enough that Jeff would have asked him, if he'd known.

"Hey, we're right in there," Jeff tells him.

And Goodie just looks at him as he walks by, "Yeah, I know where Mr. Clarke's room is."

Well, fair enough, Jeff supposes.

They get everything set up, and then just all three look at each other, like, well, what do we do now? Pick a song, Jeff supposes, but after some back-and-forth, they settle and get started. It's rough, but it's not bad. It could be way, way worse.

And so they play, until they've broken a sweat and Mr. Clarke has put big, heavy earphones over his head, probably tired of the racket.

"I need a drink," Jeff says, "gimme a sec."

He's headed for the water fountain, when Jeff sees Eddie Munson lurking at the edge of the hallway, the new transfer student with a buzz cut, bad attitude and reputation, a guitar case over his shoulder.

"Are you here for…?" Jeff trails off. Eddie just kind of nods, so Jeff walks towards him, "Why didn't you come in?"

"You weren't asking for a guitar player," Eddie answers, "but I do like metal. And I play."

"Well, maybe we could have two guitar players," Jeff offers, "that's pretty normal, I think."

Eddie smiles, just barely, but it is a smile.

"Did you have a big turnout?" Eddie asks, and Jeff shakes his head no, being honest. He didn't. Not at all.

"No. One drummer, one bass player, and you, if you want to come play with us. We're not half bad."

Eddie nods, running his hand over his buzzed head like he's nervous, but he finally agrees with a soft, "Okay."

Okay, Jeff thinks, let's do this.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt two: in the beginning #jeff stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #freak stranger things #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #corroded coffin fic #mr clarke stranger things #ccf day two: in the beginning #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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vavoom-sorted-art · 9 months

Text

SURPRISE! Of Kings and Kids - Bonus Chapter!

Neither @gaiaseyes451 nor I could get enough of this story, so here we are, wrapping up some loose ends and reflecting a bit about the events that went down, along with 5! juicy illustrations in this chapter! Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

*~*~*

Crowley sighed and softened his tone, beseeching him to understand. “Aziraphale, there wasn’t even a real choice here.” He continued to wear tight circles into the grass. “There was no plausible world where you chose the innocents over the Messiah. Hundreds of lives over, eventually, billions? I know you, making that decision would eat at you,” but I’m a demon, I condemn souls regularly. “Even if it was the right choice by Heaven’s standards, there wasn’t a good choice.” So I took the difficult part, so you wouldn’t have to hold the guilt. “I think this is as close to ineffable as you get.”

“That’s deceitful! You came to me under false pretenses!”

Crowley stopped abruptly. “Oh come on, do you really believe that?” Aziraphale’s fists clenched when Crowley spat the words at him.

“We’ve been working together –” Crowley paused, fluttering his hands in a vague circular motion between the two of them, looking for the right term for this. “Well, not together but, but with each other-”

“Around each other.” Aziraphale was scowling, but couldn’t help but interject. “Orbiting one another, in a way.”

“Yes, exactly!” Crowley strode toward him, “we’ve been orbiting one another for millennia and you still don’t trust me?” He made no effort to disguise his incredulity. “For Satan’s sake, Aziraphale, I helped you with your Messiah. I got a Satan forsaken commendation for the massacre of children and I haven’t said shit about it to keep it a secret- to-!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s just like you spying on me with the magi. I understand, Aziraphale, I know what I am, but what more can I do to prove you can trust me?” He threw his arms out wide and dropped down onto the boulder, exasperated.

Across from him, Aziraphale seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts. “A commendation? Hell gave you a commendation for the massacre?” Crowley kept silent and listened as Aziraphale stammered half-formed thoughts. “I know – even Hell must know how you are with children – you would never – why would they….”

Understanding crept across Aziraphale’s face and he refocused his eyes on Crowley. “They suspected,” he whispered, his anger smothered by the weight of the risk Crowley had taken.

Crowley made no reply, keeping his eyes stubbornly focused on the fields. Aziraphale sat on the boulder next to him. As Crowley stared at nothing he could feel Aziraphale’s eyes on him, after a few moments a timid question broke the silence.

“Did you use any miracles on the magi, that night?”

Crowley jerked his head to look at Aziraphale. He had expected any number of questions about what Hell had wanted to know, why he’d accepted the commendation, maybe even a bit of sympathy. The question about the magi, about his methods was deeply personal, an unspoken boundary. “...What?”

Aziraphale, to his credit, didn’t look away. “Just answer the question, please.” Crowley narrowed his eyes behind the lenses. Aziraphale had never been present to witness Crowley at work, at least as far as he knew. While he did take a certain amount of pride in his skills he didn’t like talking about them – especially with Aziraphale – but now he didn’t feel he had a choice. Well, here we go.

Read full Chapter

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Thanks for reading! Signing off!

and thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the support!

#Of Kings And Kids #good omens #good omens fanart #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #art #writing #good omens fanfiction #good omens writing #fanfiction #vavoomart

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years

Note

Number 13 with JJ please🥹🥹🥹

‘‘Was it a good weird or a bad weird? Because that’s two totally different things.’‘

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

During a drunken evening at the boneyard, you and JJ crossed the friendship lines and now you didn’t know what to do. A part of you wanted to bring it up, but another wished it never happened. Besides JJ’s lips on yours and the sand that fell from your shirt in the morning, you couldn’t recall much from that night.

Sarah’s jaw dropped when you told her and Kiara gasped, not expecting this kind of juicy story this early on a Sunday. ‘’You kissed JJ?!’’

You kept your eyes down and played with the tassel of your decorative pillow. ‘’If my memories are correct, yes.’’ It was your first time saying it out loud and you felt like throwing up. Or, maybe that was your hangover.

‘’How did it happen?’’ Sarah asked with a curious grin, begging for the whole story.

‘’Did he try to woo you with his terrible pick up lines? Or tell you that fake story about how he got the shark tooth?’’

Sarah laughed. ‘’The one he tells all the tourons?’’

Kiara nodded, joining Sarah with the laughing.

If you hadn't been so anxious about the whole situation, you would’ve laughed too. It was known among the group that JJ’s flirting techniques were terrible. You all wondered how girls fell for his shit when it was so obvious that he was lying to get them in his bed.

‘’I don’t know!’’ you said in complete honesty, your memories a complete black hole. A sigh left your lips. ‘’We were drunk and he was there and suddenly— I don’t want that stupid kiss to ruin our friendship. I care a lot about JJ and I can’t lose him over a drunken mistake.’’

The girls’ faces softened, realizing how upset the kiss made you.

‘’Don’t think too much into this, okay? It’s JJ,’’ Kiara reminded while Sarah pulled you in a hug. ‘’He was probably just as drunk.’’

‘’Maybe he doesn't even remember,’’ the blonde added.

A few days passed and neither you or JJ brought up the drunken kiss. He definitely remembered, though. Every time you were in the same room, his eyes averted yours.

You tried to not let the new distance between you and JJ ruin the whole group dynamic, but something was off and everyone could feel it. You had only told the girls, but John B. seemed to be suspecting something.

‘’I'll go with,’’ JJ suggested, moving to get out of the twinkie, trying to get away from being alone with you.

John B. stopped him. ‘’No need. I have two hands. I don't need another two more to carry beers and a bag of chips. I'll be quick.’’

You both sat in silence in the twinkie, waiting for John B. to return. Silences were never uncomfortable with JJ, but this one was the longest and heaviest silence of your life. Maybe you should have walked to the chateau instead of accepting to be picked up.

‘’Hey, Y/N?’’

Your heart jumped in your chest when you heard JJ’s voice. You composed yourself and turned your head toward him over the front seat.

JJ continued. ‘’You know the other night at the boneyard? We got kinda drunk and...something weird happened with us.’’

‘’You mean when we kissed?’’ you said, purposely using the word he was avoiding. ‘’You can say the word, J, you’re not going to get cursed.’’

‘’I know.’’ He looked down, nervously fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. ‘’It was just weird.’’

‘’Yeah,’’ you agreed. ‘’It was weird for me too, but…’’ You shifted seats, sitting behind the driver seat so there was less space between you and JJ. His left arm was resting on the backrest and you played with one of his bracelets. ‘‘Was it a good weird or a bad weird? Because that’s two totally different things.’‘ You flicked your eyes up, hoping to meet JJ’s, but he was still looking down.

‘’No. Not bad weird.’’ His chest heaved as he breathed, his bottom lip caught with his teeth.

You leaned in and he lifted his head, his face — and lips — only a few inches from yours. You wanted to touch him again, and taste his lips again.

You thought this would be it, that he would close the space between you, but JJ's breath hitched as he started to freak out. ‘’What are we doing? We shouldn't be doing this.’’ He turned his head to face the window, away from you.

‘’Don’t do this. Please.’’ You grabbed his arm, refusing to let the conversation ends. ‘’I know you push people away and freak when people get close, but don’t push something away just because you’re scared. I’m scared too, but life — and love — is living in spite of those things that scare you to death because something beautiful and fucking amazing could come out of it.’’

Your words seemed to have gotten through him because he turned again, a veil of fear over his face. Love — whether it be loving someone or being loved — was not a concept JJ was familiar with. He grew up without the love of a parent — a child’s primary source of love —, receiving a shower of hatred and occasional kicks and punches instead. You couldn't blame him for pushing people away and being scared of feelings. It's new to him, and everyone gets scared when they have to deal with something new and foreign.

Fortunately for him, you were there to show and teach him a side of life he never got to experience.

You leaned over the seat, about to connect your lips with JJ’s, but John B. opened the door, snapping you and JJ out of your moment.

‘’I couldn't find the brand of chips you liked, so I picked something else—’’ He glanced between you and JJ, noticing how close you were. ‘’Am I interrupting something?’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx @sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @rosie-cameron

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

VA Reader pulling a harmless prank on seemingly innocent yan-

Shhh.

"Be quiet, it's ringing!" Stifling your own baited laughter, you press a finger to your lips as you hold the phone to your ear - shushing your partner in crime. Huddled together on their couch, you and your accomplice hover over their phone like two kids. about to take part in the same comedic pastime. Similar to those fictitious children you both had trouble containing your excitement for the mischief planned to unleash. You angle the speaker below your lips as the line connects.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is Y/n in today?"

The line goes dead.

"What?" You dial the number again, beginning to wonder if this was as good an idea as when it was shoved in your head. You've been in the voice acting business for a couple months now - a lifelong passion finally realized with dedication and training. Paid roles were far in between, but you had fun with what you did, and were on the road to starting an asmr channel with the assistance of a good friend. Being somewhat of a prankster, that same person suggested you prank call your job and already had a script to boot. It was a little hard to say no with the effort they put into it.

"Hello?"

You regain peace of mind as the phone clicks. Too late to go back now. Once again you relax yourself, swallowing as you breath through your nose and draw your voice from the reaches of your throat.

"Hi, I called just a minute ago? I was asking about someone who may work there?"

The line goes quiet - again. You would've suspected them to have hung up again if not for the labored breathing on the other end. Your coworker forces out a chuckle.

"I'm sorry, nobody by that name works here."

One thing you learned after spending so much time together with this particular coworker was they were a terrible liar. It's what made you glad they're the one that picked up on top of their obvious caution in fear of your safety. Others would be glad to rat out your location if it meant less time take out of their schedule. If anything, the person you were speaking to now would drop everything to help you out. Just the type of person they were.

"Are you sure? We went out the weekend and they mentioned this place while we were talking. They suddenly stopped answered my calls after chatting not stop and I'm worried about them."

You read over your notes to pass the time until they reply. Wow, your friend really thought of everything. At this point you could possibly wing things out, but they had witten heavily in-depth paragraphs detailing possible scenarios and what to say as a result. Real gushy things too. If it weren't for their goofy nature you'd start to wonder what the true motives behind this prank were.

"maybe that's for the best."

"Pardon?" Your voice falters. That certainly wasn't what you expected. They seemed abrasive from the beginning of the call, but that drop in their tone was something you've never heard from them before.

"What do you mean by that?"

Your coworker mutters something you can't quite make out. "It means take a hint. They clearly aren't interested in you if there's no explanation for their disappearance - not that you deserve one. Who the fuck do you l think you are?"

Your hand clinches around the phone hearing that subtle hiss in their voice. Your friend grips your shoulder, worry clear as day. You wanted to drop the act, but had to see this out. "Look, I just wanted to know if they were available-"

A heavy object clatters to the floor.

"Stop. Saying their name. If they won't speak to you then you're as good as dead to them, and I'll make that happen if you don't learn your place. I won't let anyone ruin what we have..."

Your friend reaches for the phone. "Maybe we should hang up-"

"If you hang up this phone I will slit your throat. Your friend can be a witness before I do the same to them. Maybe they'll get a grave. I will hang you out to bleed like the worthless pig you are and leave your body for neighbors to find. You don't deserve to go missing. A cold case is more than you'll ever be worth it you think you can take what's mine. I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill yo-"

"It was just a joke!" You hang up the phone and chuck it onto the table like a hot coal. It worms back into your hold with the vibration of dozens of texts flooding in, crashing to the carpet as you recoil from the shock. Yours starts to blow up with messages too, screen still opened on their chat from when you punched in their number.

"Was that you?"

"You're doing that voice acting thing, right? You really had me fooled. Haha."

"I was messing around too. Your safety is really important to me so I panicked."

"Are you still coming into night?"

"Y/n?.... Please?"

"Hey, Answer me... I'm sorry."

"I think I cut myself picking up the glass I broke. Can you take me to a hospital? Please.."

You shove your phone in your pocket before your eyes can register the picture loading on screen. "I gotta go"

You're out the door before your friend can get out a single word. Ten minutes later, they receive a request for a window call from an unknown number. They answer it.

All that's on screen is the trail of red an empty bottle of food coloring. Your coworker holds up a peace sign off screen.

"How deep should I make that grave?"

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months

Text

No Regrets - Part Three

This one got longer than I expected, so it's only about Spring Break. We return to the apocalypse next part.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

"-eve?"

Waking up again is disorienting. His head aches like the beginning of a migraine. There was something he was thinking about but it's fading quickly. A conversation in a boathouse...? That's not right. The boathouse was empty. The police had beat them there.

"Steve?"

No. No conversation in a boathouse. But there was a phone call. He knows he remembers that. Joyce had called last night. Her and Murray sharing a phone between them as Steve- Oh! Right. Steve told them he knew about Hopper in Russia.

"You have to go, though. Hopper is alive and waiting. And there's a demogorgon. Demodogs, too. You have to kill them all. Any connection to the Upside Down left alive helps Vecna. It's like having a tether to here makes him stronger."

"I can't just abandon El," Joyce sounds conflicted, and Steve gets it. He does.

"You aren't. You're going to be giving her back her dad. She's got Jonathan and Will and Mike. Argyle, too, if he wants to be there. Just. Just get them on the road and back here as soon as you can. If they don't leave soon than Brenner will-"

"Brenner? What do you mean Brenner? He's dead. Right? He's supposed to be dead."

"Yeah, well, he's not. He- I don't know the full details, just. I was just given an overview because, y'know, other shit was going down. But he makes El relive a lot of traumatic shit from her past and yeah, it gets her back her powers, but she's just a kid. She's just a kid."

"Her abilities, they aren't gone?" It's Murray who asks.

"No. She's just traumatized, in a different way. It was... it was Jonathan who said this, actually, to me. I mean, he hasn't said it yet, and if everything goes the way I want, he won't need to say it ever, but that's- sorry, that's not important. He said he thinks El blocked her abilities because she lost Hopper. An internal block, you know? 'Cause she couldn't save him with them, so what was the point of having them?"

"And you think bringing Hopper back will free her of that block?" Murray asks.

Steve can't help it. He laughs. "Hell no. I think years of therapy might, but having her dad will help. There's no way it hurts, right? Also, uh, you're the parent here, Joyce, so I'll let you decide what to tell her, but the big, awful thing that Brenner made her relive? It was a massacre. At the lab, when she was there. Another guy, another number, killed a bunch of the people there. It was El who saved the remainder. She stopped him from killing anyone else by opening the first gate to the Upside Down. She tossed him in and closed it. She's not a monster. Oh, that part you have to tell her. She's not a monster."

"Steve!"

There's more to the phone call, Steve knows he knows that but there's yelling and it's distracting.

"Steve!!"

"What?" Steve snaps, both with his shout and back into himself. He's sitting at the picnic in Forest Hills. Everyone is looking at him with varying degrees of concern.

"You okay?" Robin asks, "we've been trying to get your attention for a while now."

"What? Yeah, sorry," Steve says, distracted, standing up and looking around. Eddie's trailer is right there, and Wayne's truck is parked in front. He knows Wayne. Knew Wayne? He's in charge of the gardens at home base. A real green thumb, not that you can tell by looking at the trailer now. "You think that with Fred's death, they'll stop suspecting Eddie?"

"What? We don't know that they suspect Eddie," Dustin is quick to say, "I know he didn't do it, and so do you so-"

"Yeah, I know! I do know that, but Chrissy died in his home and then he ran. Of course, he's a suspect. But he was in jail last night. So. They can't suspect him still, right?"

Nancy purses her lips, giving Steve a look he knows isn't good. "Well, it will depend on when they apprehended Eddie, which we don't even know they did. How do you know he was in jail last night?"

"Good point. I don't, not for sure. But Wayne might," Steve says as he starts walking away. He can hear everyone at the picnic table shouting for him and scrambling to follow. Steve picks up speed, dashing up the steps and pounding on the door before anyone catches up.

"Steve, what are you doing," Max hisses, because she's the fastest and therefore the closest.

"I just gotta-"

"Can I help you?" Wayne Munson greets, voice even. Steve watches as his eyes sweep the group, pausing on Nancy before coming back to Steve.

"Hopefully. Uh, I'm a friend of- well, no that's a lie. I don't want to lie to you. I'm not Eddie's friend, but I want to be, and Dustin here is, so we just wanted to know if you could tell us if Eddie's okay?" Steve says. "You already talked to Nancy yesterday, but she didn't know that we, like, knew him. Have you heard from Eddie?"

Wayne eyes him with suspicion, which is fair, "I ain't heard from him."

"Please," Steve says, because he's got to try one more time. Either Wayne doesn't know for real, or he's lying because he doesn't trust Steve. He's not sure he'll be able to tell which is which, but he has to ask again, "I swear that we just want to help Eddie. Whatever happened to Chrissy wasn't his fault, I know that. I just need. I need to know he's not- not out there, alone and scared. Please."

Wayne stares him down and Steve refuses to look away. Wayne's eyes flick away from him to the single police cruiser still stationed nearby, then back. "Get in here."

He doesn't need told twice. Wayne retreats into the trailer and Steve follows. Immediately his eyes jump to where the gate will form. Currently it just looks like water damage on the ceiling, but Steve knows. No gate yet, but it'll be there tomorrow. Probably fully formed by the time Vecna tries to take Max.

Robin, the last one in, shuts the door behind her gently.

"I told her yesterday that Eddie didn't do this," Wayne nods his head towards Nancy but he never takes his eyes off Steve. "Didn't stop them from arresting him."

"Thank God," Steve breaths out, which is the wrong thing to say, given how quickly Wayne's face morphs to anger, so he quickly adds, "shit, I mean, that means, he was in police custody when they found another victim last night, right? That'll prove he's innocent."

Wayne doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes his time looking at each and every one of them, lingering on Nancy before settling on Max. "You live 'cross the way, don't ya?"

Max looks surprised to be recognized. "Yeah."

"Did you see anything?"

"I saw..." she trails off, brows furrowing as she thinks. She looks from Wayne to Steve. He doesn't know what she sees on his face, but he watches as she steels herself, a decidion made, before looking back to Wayne and saying, "What I saw is whatever I'll need to have seen to help Eddie."

"You'd lie to the police for Eddie?"

Max and Wayne have a silent conversation following the question, judging by their stare down and raising and following brow lines. When Max does speak, she says, "I've lied to police for worse people."

"Huh," is all Wayne says as he settles back against the counter behind him.

"Thank you," Steve says, even as his mind starts to calculate. They'll probably keep him the full 48 hours, since there isn't evidence enough to charge him. Right? There isn't really any evidence. Except, perhaps, what Eddie might have told them. Shit. Would Eddie say anything? "Can you let me know when they release him? Whatever happened, whatever he saw, probably freaked him out. I don't want him to feel alone. I mean, we don't."

Dustin is looking at him now like he's grown a second head but Wayne. Wayne is looking at him like he's made a realization. Drawn some unknown conclusion that he must approve of because he nods. "Sure, son."

"You got pen and paper? I'll write down my number."

The silence from his friends is deafening and does not bode well for Steve. He just knows they're going to bombard him as soon as they leave the trailer.

Which is exactly what happens. They wait until they're back by their cars before starting in, though.

"Steve, what the fuck was that?" Dustin says.

"How did you know he got arrested?" Max demands.

"Steve, you are acting so strange right now," Robin says, worry painted across her face.

"Explain," is all Nancy says, crossing her arms.

Should he? Does he even know what's happening? No. Not really. He's got memories of a future that's bleak and dark and terrible and he doesn't want it to come true. Are they even memories? Did those events even happen? He doesn't know for sure. All he does know if he wants to do everything in his power to prevent it from happening though. He doesn't want to have regrets about.... about something.

"We don't win," he says. "We don't win this one. Or, we didn't? We might now. Things are different this time."

"What?" Robin asks.

Steve ignores the question, giving instead more of the information he knows, "Hopper's alive. Joyce and Murray are on their way to Russia to save him."

"WHAT?" he's not sure who asked. Maybe all of them.

"And El is- I don't know. On her way, I hope. But she won't have her powers when she gets here. Or maybe she will? If she believes she's not a monster and really is the hero."

"Steve, you are not making any sense!"

"I know!" Steve shouts and drops into a squat. "I know! I'm not the- the figure it out guy, or the plans guy, or whatever. I'm just the guy who knows things he shouldn't, and I can't tell if it's because I actually lived it, or if I was just given knowledge about it somehow. I know the Upside Down has a red storm that never ends, more democreatures that just gorgons or dogs, and that Vecna slash Henry slash One is a goddamn monster who opens a giant hell gate and causes the apocalypse."

"Whoa, whoa," Dustin sooths, and when Steve looks up, Dustin's got both hands up and approaching like Steve's a wild animal. He kind of feels like one right now. "Slow down and explain."

There's a lot Steve could say. Should say. Steve is kind and soft, even in the face of the end of the world, but he's also learning that he's a little ruthless. Not heartless, but enough that he can see where they are, where they need to be, and how to get there in the easiest way possible. His eyes flick to Max. "Chrissy and Fred. They were both seeing the guidance counselor. You've seen them both there, right Max?"

"I- yeah. Yeah, I have."

"And Nancy, you've got a hunch, right? You need to go to the library to check it out?"

She narrows her eyes at him but nods.

"Okay. So, uh, let's use that as proof. You and Robin go check out your hunch, and I'll stick with Dustin and Max. Take Max to see Ms. Kelley and see if she'll tell Max anything that connects them?"

"You already know what we'll find, don't you?" Nancy asks, and Steve shrugs. "You're right. I won't believe you. Not without this proof. So, we'll go, Robin and me. And when we meet up, I expect you to tell me what we learned."

Max is completely silent the entire drive, an exact opposite of Dustin who shoots off so many questions in a row that Steve can barely remember the first by the time he's onto the next. Not that it would matter, because Dustin doesn't pause between any of his questions or comments to let Steve answer anyway.

Max launches herself from car almost as soon as Steve pulls up to the curb with a loudly groaned, "finally" before she slams the door and bounds across the street.

"Steve! Are you even listening to me!?" Dustin has finally lost steam or ran out of breath or something.

"Are you done yelling at me?" Steve retorts.

Dustin lets out a really big sigh then says, "For now. I just- Let's start with this. How do you know that Hopper's alive?"

"Joyce and Murray confirmed it when I talked to them on the phone. They're supposed to be getting El and crew heading back this way while they go to rescue him, but I don't really know how that's going."

Dustin squints at him. "I thought you could see the future now."

"No. I saw the future, so like, lived it or something. And it's like... You watch Back to the Future yet?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so like, the part where his family starts to vanish from the picture? Because he made his mom want to bang him-?"

"That is a disgusting oversimplification of the plotline, Steve."

"-it's like that. Except I want to change the events because we definitely end up in the bad timeline."

"Okay. Say I believe you. You said we don't win this time. Explain that."

Steve sighs. "Can that wait for like, everyone? Explain it all at once?"

"What made it so bad you have to alter the course of all of human existence?" Dustin demands.

"The Upside Down breaks through, man," Steve says, "Like, toxic air and no more sunlight or blue skies kinda bad. Full on, end of the world apocalypse type shit."

"Shit. We, like, lose lose," Dustin says in a small voice Steve doesn't think he's ever heard Dustin use before he huffs and falls out of view with a click and the sound of squeaking leather. Steve watches as Dustin reclines his seat back so he can stare up at the ceiling of the BMW.

"Yeah," Steve says before they fall into silence until Max sprints back, screaming for him to drive before she's even got the door closed behind her and certainly isn't wearing her seatbelt yet.

They all converge at the school, and Steve tells them what Nancy and Robin learned at the library, then Max puts together the thread that connected Chrissy and Fred, and he has to watch, again, as she accepts she's going to die. She even looks to him, as if he'll confirm that with a shake of his head or a nod.

He just blinks back at her until she looks away.

They want answers he isn't ready to give. Not until tomorrow, after Vecna tries to take Max. Given how today has gone, tomorrow shouldn't be much of a change. Nancy and Robin will still go the Pennhurst, and Steve will take Max everywhere she wants to go, but this time he'll be ready. It's not too late, so the little music store down from Melvald's will still be open. Hopefully they have Kate Bush handy. He'll make sure Lucas has a backup cassette player and-

"Wait. Lucas should be told. He should be here. Why isn't he..." Steve trails off, trying to remember why Lucas would be here. He went to party with the basketball team and- and what? There's something he's missing. Something changed. His head hurts and the white noise is back, and it hits him so suddenly he sways and stumbles backwards until he hits a wall.

"Steve!" Robin gasps his name and rushes to hold him up. Dustin is at his other side just as quick.

"I'm ok," Steve says with eyes closed. He can't explain it, but he's changed something. He knows he has. Lucas is with them tomorrow, he remembers that, and there's this feeling that he should be here now. That he should have shown up at the school, but the reason eludes him. Slips from his grasp like he's trying to hold water. "It's- there was something that was supposed to happen. Something that made Lucas find us here at the school. I remember that. I- I almost hit him with a lamp. But he's not here. He didn't- something's changed. Whatever happened before didn't happen again."

"What, like, you changed the past?" Dustin asks.

The laugh Steve lets out is manic, even to his own ears. "I don't know! I can't remember! It's there, the why, but I can't reach it. It's faded, man, like the picture. It's faded."

"Okay, I think it's time we get some rest," Nancy says. "Dustin, you'll radio Lucas tonight and fill him in. Tell him Steve or I will pick him up tomorrow morning to join us. Let's go everyone, before someone does show up."

Nancy takes Dustin and Max, and Robin sticks with Steve. She doesn't even question his detour to the music store, just helps him find the Kate Bush tape. Doesn't even raise an eyebrow when he buys two cassette players, five blank tapes, and a tape recorder.

"Who is the mix tape for?" Robin asks him only once they're at Steve's house and settled in for the night in front of the fancy stereo in Steve's living room. Robin's called her parents already and told them she was staying with a friend, and they had leftovers for dinner from.

"Just in case. Now, shh," Steve says, and once Robin has properly quieted, he pressed record on the tape recorder and play on the stereo. He's already found the track he wants, so it's just a matter of waiting the song out, pausing the tape recorder quickly, then rewinding the tape. He goes too far back, so his finger just hovers over the record button until Running Up That Hill comes back on, and he repeats the process. Over and over again, until the hour long tape is filled with nothing but one song.

Robin watches him do it in complete silence. She doesn't move or shuffle until after he's paused the recording, stilling again once he hits record. He knows she doesn't understand why, but also that she doesn't need to understand. He knows that she knows he'll explain as soon as he's able.

He's just afraid to say too much right now. He can remember tomorrow; the Pennhurst plan, how it is supposed to go based on what remembers Nancy and Robin saying. Max will bully him into driving her around, and they'll end up at Billy's grave. He'll be ready this time, he already knows the answers they're seeking but he doesn't want to risk too much.

He has a plan. And it'll work. It has too.

Because he can't remember what happens after. Patrick dies, and there's... water? A lake? But why is Patrick at a lake in the dark? He isn't, is the thing. It's like there are two memories overlapping in Steve's mind and he doesn't know which is real. Or if either of them are.

There's a memory of... of Eddie? Eddie talking about Patrick floating but there's also a memory of hearing it on the news, Patrick found dead in his room, murdered the same way as Chrissy and Fred with no sign of forced entry in his house. Both memories feel real, but Steve doesn't know, can't tell, which is.

Robin and he falls sleep wrapped around each other that night.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @apomaro-mellow @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorrow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @yearningagain @starlight-archer @chaosgremlinmunson @aol19 @goodolefashionedloverboi @gutterflower77 @moomkin77 @wonderland-girl143-blog @krazyperson @sevenmerrymagpies

#steddie #my fic #time travel au #apocalypse au #butterfly effect au #what was the conclusion wayne came to i hear you ask?#he can see how desperate steve is to help eddie and maybe thinks steves got a crush on his nephew #also where is lucas you might also be asking #Jason cant go on a dangerous manhunt if the man hes hunting is already caged so Lucas doesnt get roped into that #also i see yall questioning the steddie and trust me that it is. will be #just hes in yknow jail for now so steve can't exactly be climbing him like a tree yet. in the spring break parts.#next part however? well. youll see how the end of the world is going

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thepixelelf · 11 months

Text

warnings: story starts after a car crash. wc: 1.6k

[sooo, what did I miss?] The first thing you notice when you come to is the acrid fumes in the air. They tickle your nose and rouse a cough from the deepness of your chest, which travels up your throat and comes out as a choke. Your head feels like it's filled with seawater -- like it's been drowning for hours, but you can't let the pain and grogginess hinder you from moving. You have to get out of your car if it's smelling this much like gasoline, and fast.

Your entire body feels stiff. At first, you try to flex your fingers, get the blood pumping enough to make use of them at all. Opening your eyes proves to not be much help. The fumes sting against your eyeballs, and you can't see past the engaged airbag anyhow. Instead, you keep your eyes screwed shut and grunt as you lift both arms to push the deflating airbag out of your way. On muscle memory alone, you fumble for the key in the ignition. Your fingers, for a few seconds, are too weak to twist the key, but after a few determined yanks, you successfully turn off your car. With one possibility of an explosion knocked off the list, you heave yourself off the car seat and shove your body into the driver's side door, thankful when you can open it just fine.

Whatever you'd hit after veering off the road, at least it didn't--

Fuck, why did you veer off the road?

As you fall out of your car, hacking up a storm, having inhaled too much smoke, you try to gather your memories together, but find nothing. There's this lingering feeling... You know something made you jerk both hands on the wheel and swerve off the freeway.

You just don't know what.

Deciding that the memory will probably come back to you later, you stumble a good number of steps away from your car and collapse once again to catch your breath. The cool night air does your lungs well, easing the fire that's still burning in your chest little by little. A metallic taste coats the inside of your mouth. You'd bitten your tongue during the crash.

The roads around you are empty, but what did you expect at sometime-past-three in the goddamn morning? You'd been... yes, you were on your way to the other side of the city, choosing the freeway over the hustle and bustle of traffic in the city streets. Seungcheol had called you.

Well, no. One of Seungcheol's friends had called you using his phone. They asked you to come pick him up from the club they were at because he was apparently "blasted". Though, he was lucid enough to have his friends call you rather than his older sister, who you suspected would chew him out for drinking during his university's exam season.

Even though you're closer to Seonhui, you tend to err on the side of the "cool uncle" type to Seungcheol, despite being only four years older than him. You know, the type of person you can call to pick you up from the bar without getting upset at you for being there in the first place. Someone who has no stake in any of your life decisions, so they get the privilege of not having to judge you for any of them.

He'd said something about Seonhui -- you had heard his voice yelling in the background of the call. Something about how she didn't have to know and about something important he had to tell you when you showed up.

You groan thinking about him. Poor guy; now his sister actually does have to know because her friend is an idiot who drives off freeways for no discernible reason. Feeling around your pockets, you sigh in relief when you find your phone. There's no way you'd want to search your now hellmouth of a car for it.

You know the logical thing to do first is call emergency services, but you could be on the phone with them for who knows how long. Might as well tell the person who's depending on you that you can't make it. Dialling the most recent number isn't difficult, really, although you're starting to feel the chill in the air. You shiver as you bring your phone up to your ear.

"You've reached the voicemail of--"

His voice interrupts the automated one. "Choi Seungcheol."

"--please leave a message after the tone."

You frown at the beep that rings in your ear. Seungcheol should be looking at his phone if he's waiting for you to pick him up, or at least have the ringer on. You wait only a few seconds after hanging up to call him again.

This time, the low trill rings twice before he picks up.

"...Hello?"

You're a bit out of it at this point, having just crashed your car and all, but you think he sounds... slow, like he just woke up, but also hesitant. Since you can't think of a reason he'd sound like that, though, you just ignore it.

"Hey, listen," you say, voice raspy from all those noxious fumes. "I can't pick you up anymore. Sorry"

He doesn't respond for a moment.

A long moment.

"...What?"

He must be pretty drunk.

"I got into a little accident. Princess--" That's what you, Seonhui, and Seungcheol affectionately call your shitty 2007 Honda Civic. You look over at your still-smoldering car and grimace. "--she's done for."

More silence. It's strange... there's no sound in the background, either. Did he move outside?

"Anyway, you're gonna either have to bite the bullet and call Seonhui or maybe try an Uber--"

"Is this some sort of sick joke?"

Your words come to a halt at his sudden, bitter tone, and you let out an incredulous huff of a laugh. "Look, man, I crashed Princess on the side of the road, so I'm sorry" --your tongue curls sarcastically around the apology-- "that I can't pick you up from your drunken bender."

"How do you know about Princess?"

"What the hell are you on about, Seungcheol? How do I know about my car?" An exasperated breath escapes you, and you choke on it for a second. After the short coughing fit has cleared, you bring your phone back to your ear. "You're drunker than I thought. Don't you have an exam soon or something?"

"Exam-- who is this?"

That makes you pause.

"Seungcheol," you say, simply. "It's me."

Another moment of quiet passes, and you wonder to yourself if you've suffered a concussion.

Then he asks, "What's my favourite food?"

"What does that have to do--"

"Answer the question."

Sighing, you wrap your free arm around your middle in a futile attempt to stay warm. "You tell everyone it's pork cutlet, but I know for a fact that you keep a stash of white chocolate in your room."

You hear him exhale. "Fuck."

"I don't underst--"

"Where are you?" he asks, a frantic tone to his voice now.

"Umm..." You glance around. "Highway 216... close to exit thirty-four."

"Don't move. I'm coming to get you."

You shake your head, struggling to keep up. "What? If you're calling me an Uber, don't bother. I have to call EMS to file the--"

"Don't," Seungcheol insists, and you have no idea why, but you feel inclined to listen. "Listen to me. Do not call anyone. Wait until I get there."

"There's a fine if you don't report an accident in twenty-four hours."

"Trust me." The sound of a car door slamming shut on his end of the line only gives you more questions. "You don't need to bother."

It takes only fifteen minutes for Seungcheol to find you, and by then you're shivering from head to toe.

A car you've never seen before pulls over and parks hastily near where you're standing (the cold ground got a little too cold). Its four-way flashers turn on before a familiar-ish figure exits and starts making his way towards you, silhouetted by the car's headlights.

"Since when can you drive?" you call out first, since it's definitely a surprise to you seeing your friend's little brother behind the wheel. You could've sworn Seonhui was whining about his lack of license a week ago. "And-- wait, should you be driving? You were just drinking--" He steps even closer, and you see the wisps of his hair lit by the headlights behind him. "Are you blond? When did that--"

You don't get the chance to finish your question. Seungcheol pulls you tightly into him, his hand on the back of your head pressing your face into his coat so all you can really say is "oomph."

Seungcheol's never really hugged you before. At least, not like this. His fingers dig into the fabric of your clothes, like he's clutching desperately to something that will slip from his grasp if he loosens his hold even in the slightest.

It faintly registers to you that he doesn't smell like alcohol at all.

You try to speak, muffled as you are against his coat. "Seungcheol, what--"

"I dyed my hair last week," he says, breathless. The words are panted over your ear, and it's then you fully realize how closely he's wrapped himself around you. You go to say something about how you saw his black hair just the other day, but he continues. "I'm four years sober next month."

The numbers are not crunching. "That doesn't--"

"And my license," he says, finally pulling back just enough so that you can see his face. "I got that in 2018."

You frown. "It's 2016."

Seungcheol breathes out your name, but all you hear is warning bells. You can tell by the pitying look on his face -- as much as it's mixed with relief. You're not going to like what he says next.

"It's 2023," he tells you, saying your name again like it's precious. He holds you tighter. "You've been missing for seven years."

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bloodstainedsaint · 11 months

Text

rumors and gossip (ronald speirs x nurse! reader smut)

summary: (takes place around episodes 2 and 3) ronald speirs has trouble expressing his feelings towards you. when he catches wind that you're spreading rumors about him, he gets upset and doesn't exactly know why. but there's only one way he knows how to solve this issue: through action.

word count: 3100+

warnings: SELF-INDULGENT SMUT, reader has female genitalia, abuse of authority (read: speirs likes getting called by his title), degradation, praise, spitting, unprotected sex ("remember boys...flies spread disease, so keep yours closed!"), spanking, rough p in v sex, facefucking, fingering, orgasm denial, mentions speirs being taller than reader for like one second, SOFT SPEIRS AT THE END BC HE HAS A LIL CRUSH

notes: i see your soft speirs and i love him too, but i raise you mean dom speirs (both can exist at once). also i'm sorry in advance

Ronald Speirs didn't know what to make of you.

You, the pretty nurse he kept staring at whenever he’d catch a glimpse of you around base. You, who he often observed diligently treating the many men that came under your care. You, who sometimes met his gaze from across the post with a bashful smile before turning away.

One could say that within Ron, something was brewing towards you. Something that made his heart skip a beat in a manner he hadn't expected war to allow at all. As of recently, however, you began to elicit different feelings in him.

Ron was well-aware of all the rumors and gossip being spread about him. He wasn't oblivious to the fearful way the men looked at him, or, rather, preferred to not look at him. The more people who viewed him as a mean son of a bitch the better, he thought. So he let them circulate without much care, with only a dead glare that reinforced them.

When he heard that you were helping pass on those rumors, telling anyone in need of a good story about how Ronald Speirs, or as he had heard, “Lieutenant Sparky”, had heartlessly killed German POWs after offering them smokes or how he put down one of his own men for being drunk on duty— he was upset. This mystified him: why was he annoyed (or was troubled a better word for his feelings?) when you gossiped and not when any of his men did? It couldn't be that he secretly yearned for your approval; that seemed foolish, too unlike himself…but then again, you made him feel unlike himself on several occasions before.

Ron was a man of action, and he was going to ensure you induced no more bothersome feelings within him by simply giving you something to gossip about.

It was late at night when you found yourself alone in the medical station. Every wounded soldier had been relocated to another facility either on base or out of it entirely for some reason or another, leaving you with a number of empty hospital beds and an entire station to yourself. You had told the other nurses to pack in for the night and that you would tidy up by yourself; you didn't mind having something to do while it was finally tranquil in the hospital.

While you replaced bedsheets, you remembered Ronald Speirs glowering at you earlier that day, rather than his usual intense, unreadable stare. You hoped it wasn't because he found out that you were spreading rumors about him, but you suspected it was; really, you had overheard a Private Malarkey talking about Speirs’ supposed actions to a fellow soldier he was visiting, and several more soldiers had told you similar stories about Speirs as you tended to them. When your other patients asked you if you had heard anything juicy, what else were you supposed to tell them?

Behind you was a click of the door opening and closing and a gush of wind, nearly imperceptible enough to keep you in your musing. Expecting to see another nurse or perhaps a soldier who had somehow gotten himself injured in the middle of the night, you turned around and felt your eyebrows raise when you saw the man in question, half-shrouded in darkness by how the moonlight fell upon him.

Still dressed in his fatigues, he stalked over to you with slow, steady steps. He towered over your form, his eyes almost completely covered in the shadow beneath his helmet. The slightest glint you could see of them was cold, and you could almost feel his leer pierce through you. You had never realized his height from all those times you saw him from afar; you’d noticed his good looks instead, though you never wanted to admit that to yourself. Not about the soldier you were spreading such heinous rumors about.

“Lieutenant Speirs?” Your words came out more unsure than you would've liked. You didn’t even know why you were nervous; it's not like you'd done anything particularly wrong— nothing that dozens of men weren’t also doing as well. “Do you need me for something?”

A suffocating silence pervaded the room. For the moment that he didn't respond, instead fixing you with a stony glare, your heart stopped beating in anticipation. You half-expected him to materialize a gun and shoot you on the spot until he finally broke the silence and said blandly, “I've heard you've been spreading rumors about me.”

When you didn’t answer immediately, he stepped closer to you. Willing yourself not to flinch away, you could now fully see the cruel look in his eyes; it didn't help your uneven breathing or your clenched heart.

“Have you?”

You blanched, mouth going dry. “...Yes, sir.”

He tilted his head, carrying on in that unemotional yet somehow soft tone. “Our good little nurse is the one gossiping, huh? That right?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Good little nurse? “I, uh—”

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice hardening. His calloused fingers reached for you, clenching your cheeks so tight together that your jaw could not move to form words. You slurred your words like a drunk trying to give an intelligible answer.

“Pathetic,” he scoffed. Your eyes widened, and, shamefully, you felt heat rush to your core. Speirs noticed your surprise, and you were sure you weren't hallucinating a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You wanna tell me what you've been saying about me, nurse?”

You could only mumble in response. “What, too scared to say it in front of Sparky himself? I heard you were running your mouth earlier, though.”

You shook your head and uselessly struggled in his unyielding grasp. Bastard.

Gazing down at you for another tense heartbeat, Speirs let go of your face and took off his helmet, placing it on a nearby metal table and revealing his slightly tousled hair. “Get on your knees. Let’s put that mouth to good use.”

Your blood went cold, yet your body felt hot. You must've looked shocked because he sighed and looked at you expectantly.

“Well? Don't keep an officer waiting.”

You blinked dumbly. He gave a command. Who were you to disobey? You thought as you sunk down to your knees, your skirt acting as a barrier between your skin and the rough floor.

“That's what I like to see.” He began unbuckling and unzipping his pants before pulling out his erect member, standing tall, girthy, and swollen at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Again, you hesitated, looking up at him in disbelief at what was happening. You never expected to be kneeling in front of Ronald Speirs; maybe in the darkest recesses of your mind you fantasized about the Lieutenant doing whatever he pleased to you, but you never expected it to actually happen.

“Nurse, open your mouth now before I take your face and start fucking it.”

You clenched your thighs at the thought, opening your mouth to take his cock in it. You kissed the tip and licked a stripe from the base to the end before slowly enveloping it with your mouth. Ron shuddered at the feeling and put his hand in your hair, petting it with a whispered curse —perhaps he had thought about this exact scenario as much as you had?

You continued to swallow his cock whole as his hand tightened in your hair. You whimpered at the sensation, sending vibrations to his member. He stuttered your name out in response.

As you sped up your steady pace, you looked up at him from underneath your eyelashes, watching as he lost his composure, his chest heaving. “Shit…that's my girl. You're even prettier with your mouth full of my dick. Can't yak as much, can you, nurse?”

A moan slipped out at the unexpected praise, and you let your legs part as you slipped your hands between them and rubbed yourself through your soaked panties, adrenaline coursing through your veins. When Ron’s eyes focused themselves again, he caught the movement and his eyes darkened, no longer glazed over.

“Who said you could touch yourself, nurse?” he gritted out, as if his cock didn't twitch in your mouth at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. The hand in your hair clenched into a fist, but that didn't discourage you; instead, your hand went faster as he started pulling your mouth off his cock and slamming it back in at a punishing rate. You felt drool trickling down your chin, your throat burning. You greedily breathed in air during the brief respites he granted you before brutally shoving his dick down your throat.

When your eyes stopped rolling to the back of your head, you took in his disheveled state and rubbed yourself faster. His hair messy from running his hand through it, his face and a sliver of his chest gleaming with sweat, his barely suppressed deep groans. He looked heavenly compared to his actions.

Abruptly, you were pulled off his cock and placed on your back on the metal table next to his helmet. He hurriedly unbuttoned your nurse uniform, damn near ripping your clothes off of you and throwing them carelessly next to you, until you were bare before him. The cold table chilled your spine, and you arched your back into his wandering hands. In your lust-filled daze, you managed an indignant thought of how unfair it was that you were the only one naked, that his body was being left up to the imagination.

“You ready for me, girl?” He rubbed your clit in tight circles, better than you could've done yourself and better than you could've ever imagined at night, before gauging your wetness with two long fingers plunged deep into your heat.

“That wet from a little roughness?” he smirked. “Our little nurse isn't so innocent after all. Maybe that's why you spread all those rumors about me. You wanted this.”

“N-no, sir—” You gasped, cut short as his fingers quickly found that spongy place within you. You cried out for air as he relentlessly pressed against it with every movement. “That’s, mmh, not true…”

“Can’t understand you, nurse. Can you repeat that?” He said, voice tinged with smug amusement.

Closing your eyes tight, you could only whimper in pitiful reply as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. So close to the precipice of sweet release, you could almost feel yourself stepping off—

But before you could, Speirs pulled his fingers away. You eyes shot open to gape at him in irritation until you saw him slowly bring his slick-coated fingers to his lips and suck them off.

“Did you really think I'd let a little gossiping whore like you come so easily?” He fixed you with a remorseless, sadistic look. You panted, desperation festering within you as he forced your mouth open and spat in it. “Now swallow, and I'll fuck you like you deserve it, nurse.”

You swallowed obediently, yearning for his cock inside you. In an uncharacteristic display of softness, he pressed his lips to yours and whispered against them, “Good girl,” before switching back to the Speirs you knew and roughly flipping your body over so you were bent over the metal table, your tits flush with the frigid surface and your ass on full display to the Lieutenant.

Speirs took a moment to run his hands over your body, grabbing and squeezing at the flesh of your breasts, ass, and thighs, spreading your juices around your sensitive pussy as you tried to wiggle away, overstimulated. Holding your hips so you wouldn't move, he grinded his dick against your heat and teased your hole, his precum mixing with yours. Just as you were about to whine for him to stop teasing and fuck you already, he seemed to grown impatient himself because he slid into you in one fluid motion, punching the air out of your lungs and forcing your walls to stretch around him and accommodate his size.

“Fuck, so tight for me,” he grunted out, his voice hoarse as if it had taken away his breath as well. After a moment of heavy breathing and a squeeze of your hips, he began brutally pummeling into you. You unabashedly let out a high-pitched moan at the pace, and you felt his cock throb inside of you as his name left your lips.

“Quiet, nurse. You want the whole base to know?” he said, out of breath, “Guess that'll give you another story to tell about me, yeah?”

You wanted to rebut this, saying that the lewd slapping noises of skin on skin that filled the room were probably spilling out through the thin walls of the station anyway. Instead, you heaved a breathy, “Yes, Lieutenant,” that had him growling and picking up the pace, your body moving with every thrust. He took your hands, which until then were gripping the table for dear life, and held them together at the wrist with one of his.

The hand still gripping your hip was so firm you felt it was going to leave bruises in the morning. The more pressing issue, though, was how you were going to walk the next day.

“All you needed was some good dick in you to shut you up, huh? What a dirty girl,” he groaned as you clenched around him, “And here I thought you were all innocent, nurse. You wanted this, didn't you? Say it.”

Your cheeks burned red out of embarrassment, and you floundered for words. “N-no, Ron, that’s not—”

You were interrupted by the resounding smack of his hand colliding with your ass and the stinging pain that brought tears to your eyes. Your hands twitched in his grasp.

“When you talk to an officer, you say ‘sir’. Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathed out, and he tenderly rubbed the aching skin of your ass, calling you a good girl as he resumed pounding into you. Your heart ached at the praise.

In your fucked-out state where all you could focus on were Speirs’ deep grunts and his cock inside of you, you felt yourself getting pulled by your hair until you were mostly standing with your back pressed against his well-built, sturdy stomach. One arm closed in on your neck so that your throat was in the crook of his elbow while the other hand roamed around your body, pinching and kneading as it went, until it settled at groping your breasts.

The new angle allowed him to thrust deeper into you, so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat. Tears that had welled up in your eyes freely fell thanks to the restriction of air. When his hand moved downward from your breasts to your lower stomach, pressing down upon it, the pressure and fullness of his dick inside you intensified. You could tell you were ready to freefall from that peak again as your breath hitched with every thrust, walls clamping down around him. From the increasingly erratic rhythm of his thrusts, you could tell he was there with you.

Then, for the umpteenth time that night, Ronald Speirs surprised you. His mouth became a stream of praise and words of adoration, like you were some kind of angel and this was his altar, while his lips possessively decorated your neck and shoulders with dark marks you were sure you wouldn't be able to hide.

“Fuck, you were made for me, weren't you, sweetheart? You're, hah, so beautiful when you're under me. So perfect. My pretty little nurse.”

His soft words in his husky tone, though they threw you for a loop and definitely required your attention when you were back to thinking straight, sent you into the sweet release of your climax. He swallowed your pleasured scream with his lips on yours, gently bruising your lips with the passion of his kiss. You had no idea Ronald Speirs could be so tender and so dominant at once.

The sporadic clenching of your walls around him led him to his orgasm, and he bit into your neck with a low, long groan as he filled you with his warm release. Your body went limp against his, held up only by his arms around your torso. After the two of you regained your breath, he pulled out, and you quietly whimpered at the sudden emptiness. He carefully laid you down with your back to the metal table, tucked himself into his pants, zipped and buckled them, and looked around, searching for a towel to wipe yourselves off.

“The towels, uh, are over there.” You pointed in the direction of the cloth. “You can run some water over them in that sink, if you want.”

He nodded wordlessly and followed your directions while you laid there, thinking about tonight's events and wondering if maybe you had dreamed it all after a late night of cleaning up.

You were broken out of your reverie by a glass of water being placed next to you and a warm, damp cloth gingerly wiping the insides of your thighs and your privates. Speirs didn't dare to look at your face as he did so. Once he was finished, he looked around again for a place to discard the used towel. You laughed, saying, “I'll take care of it, sir.”

He set the towel down on the table. “Do you,” he started, but then paused, glancing at your still bare form and your flushed face, realizing how intimate this had become, “need help getting dressed?”

“I'll be fine, sir,” you said with a tired smile, “I know my way around some clothes.”

He nodded again, more to himself than in response to you, and picked up his helmet. The moonlight now illuminated all of his face, revealing the red that had risen to his cheeks, whether out of exertion or, if you were interpreting this right, shyness. He now made eye contact, his gaze decidedly gentler than when he walked in. “Goodnight, Nurse (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

His eyes lingered for a second, his expression the same as the ones he would hit you with from across the base, before he turned, lit a cigarette, and left into the night.

Watching his retreating form and the smoke cloud dissipate behind him, you shook your head and pondered his strange deviation from the Speirs you knew, or who you thought you knew. As you got dressed and prepared to clean up the mess the two of you made, you came to the conclusion that maybe Ronald Speirs is more than the ruthless man the myths had made him out to be.

Maybe Lieutenant Sparky had a heart after all.

taglist: @ronsparky, @krispybearbouquet, @mads-weasley

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