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saltpepperbeard · 10 months

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OBLIGATORY COMPLETE OFMD SEASON 2 TEASER THOUGHTS AND SPECULATION POST™

Okay, to start off, I cannot BELIEVE we got this. I cannot BELIEVE we got a voiceover of Stede's note to Ed. We were all thinking it. We were all hoping for it. I CANNOT BELIEVE WE LEGITIMATELY GOT TO SEE AND HEAR HIS LOVE RIGHT OFF THE BAT. HE LOVES HIS ED SO SO MUCH.

Followed by this shot right as Stede is narrating. It's difficult to tell, but it seems like Ed??? The one-armed jacket and the fact that it's layered with Stede's narration makes me quite certain it's him. But ALONE??? AND COMING OUT OF THE SURF??? (There's a shot later that has me PARTICULARLY raising eyebrows at this moment. I'm thinking that he fell off the boat/was lost in that one storm shown later, and Stede of course is going to dive in after him or attempt to get to him in some sort of dramatic way. Which makes me think he and Stede are going to potentially talk feelings/reconcile on the beach)

And the fight choreography of this. Are you actually kidding me right now. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. GETTING TO SEE ED ABSOLUTELY KICKING ASS IN COMBAT??? NEVER IN A THOUSAND YEARS DID I EXPECT TO SEE A SHOT LIKE THIS BUT I'M HOLLERING SO HARD OVER IT (NOT TO MENTION, AGAIN, LOOKING AT THIS AND A LATER SHOT..........I'LL SCREAM ABOUT MY THOUGHTS WHEN SAID SHOT APPEARS HSKDLS)

Oh, they're PINING pining. They're YEARNING yearning. They're GAY gay.

They want to be back with each other so so so bad I'm losing my mind <3

"Fuck you, Stede Bonnet." The way he's JUST as dramatic as we were all thinking. The way he's hurting in a way WE ALL ANTICIPATED. LIKE, YOU HATE TO SEE IT, BUT MAN DSJKLDSSDKL. Also, the contrast of him saying that vs Stede's voice over is so so insane. The editors are INSANE FOR THAT ONE.

AGAIN, GOING BONKERS OVER ED'S CHARACTERIZATION BECAUSE HE SEEMS EXACTLY HOW I ANTICIPATED. Outwardly, angry, hardened, and cold. Inwardly, heartbroken, desperate, and wanting nothing more than to be back with Stede. Because hello, HELLO, HE'S NOTCHED WHAT I ASSUME TO BE HIS NUMBER OF DAYS WITHOUT STEDE IN THE WALL??????

HI OLU HELLO OLU MY DEAR DARLING OLU

but also screaming and crying and throwing up because this is ALSO what i was anticipating/hoping for. the crew being like "ummmmm lmao captain?? you really think you've got this under control???"

"You think Blackbeard's going to murder you?" I THINK NOT BECAUSE WHAT IS HE EVEN SHOOTING AT JSLDKS. OFF TO THE SIDE??? A WARNING SHOT????? Also the lighting of this and his look matches the ending shot so I'm very eyes emoji at this entire thing.

HOWEVER...

"MURDERER THRICE OVER?????????????"

Like sorry, that sign won't stop me because I can't read. Look at him. LOOK at him. You're telling me he stole the wedding cake toppers so he could PAINT HIMSELF ON THE BRIDE??? SO HE COULD MAKE HIMSELF INTO THE BEAUTIFUL BRIDE HE WANTS TO BE????? SO THAT HE COULD PLAY PRETEND MARRIAGE BETWEEN HIMSELF AND STEDE???????

INSANE!!!

INSANE FOR THIS!!!!!!

Again, bonkers editing. The split screen. The CONTRAST between Stede's hopefulness and Ed's depression. The WAY THEY LINED IT UP TO MAKE ED LOOK LIKE HE'S TAKING AIM AT STEDE. THE WAY THIS PROBABLY PERFECTLY ENCAPSULATES THEIR CHARACTERIZATION IN THE FIRST FEW EPISODES HSDJKLSDS LIKE BITING THE EDITORS BITING THEM BITING THEM

ALSO ED AND ALL OF HIS GUNS,,, NINE GUNS???????

It kills me because he's probably being exactly what he thinks people see him as. He's probably like "Oh, you want a monster? I'll give you a monster."

WHICH,,,, NO, HONEY. YOU'RE A SWEETHEART, SORRY ABOUT IT.

AND THEN LOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT OUR DARLINGS!!! FANG'S FUCKING SPIKES ARE SO METAL. FRENCHIE'S WOLVERINE COSPLAY SHDJKLSHDLKS. JIM!!! JIM JIM MY BELOVED JIM, AND THEIR PAINTED BEARD. THEIR GENDER!!!!!!!

Honey hsdksjds the drama of it all. THE DRAMA. CRASHING WEDDINGS TO DISRUPT LOVE BECAUSE YOUR OWN WAS DISRUPTED??? SIIIIIIRRRR THE THEATRICS, THE SPICE OF IT ALL

excuse me ma'am that is a gay man shdkjshkls THAT IS A GAY MAN. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING,,,

kiss me instead like wtf

OKAY NOW THIS,,,

THIS.

PRESIDENTIAL ALERT: THE BABYGIRL IS FIGHHHTTTTIIIING

BUT IZZY WATCHING ON??? IZZY????????????

I have Genuine Thoughts™ about this. I have a feeling that the big arc/character development Con mentioned might pertain to him like, REALIZING what's important, and what Ed actually wants and needs. And a good chunk of that will be him realizing the consequences of his actions, and maybe potentially wanting to undo the damage. And also, in his Bitchy Izzy Ways™, he might also get very very tired of Ed's sulking/theatrics and want to rectify things for that reason too.

So I feel like he's going to sort of team up with Stede and show him the ropes for that reason?? So they ALL can work towards betterment???

WHICH IS NUTS LMAO. NEVER EVER EXPECTED THAT.

REGARDLESS, GO STEDE BABY GO!!!

HI REVENGE HELLO REVENGE PLEASE DON'T DO ANYTHING DRASTIC LIKE EXPLODE OR ANYTHING PLEASE BABYGIRL <3

yeah yeah the titties we've all seen them.

BUT AGAIN, AGAIN, STEDE OFF TO THE SIDE. STEDE WATCHING. STEDE LEARNING THE ROPES FROM THE MOST UNEXPECTED PERSON EVER SHDJKSDS LIKE WHAT!!!

AND HEEEEEEERE WE GO. HERE'S THE SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER.

THE SAME BLACK SAND BEACH. FIGHTING THE BRITISH. ED AND STEDE. ED WITHOUT HIS MAKEUP ON. STEDE IN A DIFFERENT OUTFIT.

ARE THEY BOTH,,, FIGHTING TO GET TO EACH OTHER??? FIGHTING THROUGH CROWDS AND ENEMIES TO GET TO EACH OTHER'S SIDES???????

WHAT IF THEY FIGHT TO EACH OTHER AND THEN KISS HUH???

WHAT THEN.

HIIIIIIYYYAAAA JACKIE <33333

ALSO HELLO IS THAT THE SWEDE BEHIND HER???????

EXPLOSIONS FIRE EXPLOSIONS EXPLOSIONS FEELING VERY WEE JOHN CODED RIGHT NOW!!!!!!

AND THIS IS YET ANOTHER SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER,,,

LIKE UHHHHHHHHHHHHH

WITH ED ON THE BEACH, AND THIS SHOT OF SOMEONE FALLING INTO THE WATER,,,,,,

I HAVE A FEELING THAT ED IS GOING TO DO SOMETHING THAT ENDS WITH HIM FALLING OFF THE BOAT. MAYBE HE TRIES TO SAVE SOMEONE???

if he fights to save stede from going overboard or something equivalent i'm going to eat all the tiles off my floor <3

LIKE IT'S BAD BESTIES. IT'S BAD. IT'S DIRE. THE WATER IS SO FUCKING HIGH AND THEY'RE IN A STORM AND JIM IS SCREAMING AND I AM ALSO SCREAMING!!!

But then also, LOOK AT FUCKING WEE JOHN!!! IN DRAG!!! HE'S A FUCKING MERMAID!!! JIM ISN'T A MERMAID???? WELL, THAT'S FINE--WEE JOHN IS!!! LIVING HIS BEST FUCKING LIFE!!!!! AND WHAT IF HE MADE THAT COSTUME HIMSELF SJDKSDJLS <3

AND THE FINAL SHOT I'M CHOOSING, THE FINAL ONE OF THE SET,,, MATCHES UP WITH THAT LIGHTING EARLIER.

WHO ARE WE FIGHTING, ED BABE. WHAT'S THE TEA. WHO ARE YOU CLOBBERING.

IS IT US?

IT'S PROBABLY US.

BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE THING HAS ME SO SO SO DEAD Y'ALL

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archie-sunshine · 6 months

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Peacetime(Hot Rod Gets Slammed Down Bigstyle)(TF: CYBERVERSE)

SYNOPSIS: Hot Rod is bored during the relative peace that the wall has brought. He comms Soundwave for some fun. Soundwave says Hot Rod can't handle more than a quickie with him. Hot Rod makes an ill advised bet about it. (aka Hot Rod Gets Slammed Down Bigstyle)

Word Count: 4,764

TAGS: Soundwave/Hot Rod, overstimulation, humiliation, degradation, frenemies with benefits, rivals with benefits, face fucking, dirty talk, valveplug, denial, teasing

Author's Notes: spiritual successor to the soundrod art I drew earlier this week. please enjoy!

It wasn’t as if peacetime wasn’t needed and loved and wanted on Cybertron. Not at all, really! Who could complain about a world without fighting, who could complain about a world where for the first time in millions of years Hot Rod didn’t really have to watch his back?

Well… Hot Rod could. Things had slowed down, people were worrying about stuff like infrastructure and public services and reconstruction. Things were going back to normal but it was a hard sell, especially considering the entire populous was comprised of antsy trigger happy veterans who’s ‘normal’ was waiting for the call to arms. The wall certainly didn’t help either. Tensions were cooled between them, especially since the Quinteson incident, but there were still plenty of Autobots who scowled at the concept of just letting the Decepticons be after millions of years of intergalactic war.

Hot Rod probably should have counted himself in that number, but he had it on good authority that the Decepticons weren’t all the same sharp, frightening cookie cutter shape that some bots painted them as. It still fragged with Hot Rod’s processor that he could be the type to stand up for the honor of a Decepticon, but… not all of his fellow Autobots had the experience that he did.

All that complex dichotomy aside, the fact was that Hot Rod had gotten a bit fond of some cons. Particularly the inscrutable, obnoxious Soundwave. He didn’t exactly have a name for what he and Soundwave had, but it was fun. It was thrilling.

It was a series of ill advised hookups that technically broke the laws surrounding the ceasefire wall deal, but Hot Rod liked that kind of danger. It was the same reason he kept getting in bed with a bot that could have- and probably should have- killed him a thousand times over: Hot Rod was a thrill seeker.

And so, as Hot Rod entered his hab unit and the lights flickered on, he was already in the process of comming the other mech.

HR: Heyyyyyyy

Hot Rod took a seat on his sofa, flicking on his holovid projector and beginning to flick through the channels. He had to have something to keep him occupied while he waited for Soundwave to respond after all.

SW: What do you want.

Curt, annoyed, and curious were all good things for Soundwave to be in Hot Rod’s opinion. They were a good look on him, even over text.

HR: You free tonite? ;P

He briefly paused his channel surfing on some old rerun of a- now ancient- cybertronian soap opera.

SW: Maybe. Why?

Hot Rod raised a brow ridge to himself. Maybe? He pondered the best way to continue for a klik.

HR: Maybe?

SW: I have work to get done.

HR: Sounds boring. You should come visit.

SW: You gonna make it worth my time?

Hot Rod grinned, reclining into the sofa and kicking his pedes up on the table. Bingo. He fished around for his handheld transponder, fiddling around to get to a camera function. He let his legs fall apart and brushed a tantilizing servo up the edge of his panels as he snapped a picture and sent it off.

HR: I always do ;0

There was a long pause, maybe a few minutes even. Hot Rod kept opening and reopening their comms chat in his processor, willing a new message to appear.

Finally, after what felt like an hour(but was actually 5 kliks), Soundwave responded.

SW: I’ll be there.

It was fun to mess around with a partner like Soundwave, usually mechs and femmes alike were falling all over themselves for a piece of his hot speedster frame, but Soundwave played hard to get. It was- again- thrilling. He didn’t get why he was so into it, but he wasn’t about to examine it either.

Hot Rod stared at the door to his unit, attempting to lounge gracefully(and sexily) as he waited for Soundwave to enter. He’d poured two cubes of engex for them to share, the kind that soundwave liked, the really light blue stuff.

The door to the hab slid open.

“Glad you could make it, how was traffic?” Hot Rod crooned, attempting to look effortlessly relaxed

“You know I always go through the backstreets.” Soundwave said, stepping in and letting the door close behind him. He strolled up to the couch Hot Rod was reclining on and shoved his legs out of his way before sitting down. Hot Rod looked at him indignantly, wrinkling his nose at him.

Soundwave ignored the look, picking up his cube and turning his faceplate away from Hot Rod to drink.

“Things all good on your side of the wall, Wavey?” Hot Rod asked, sitting up and trying to recover with a different sexy pose.

“Don’t act like you care, drink your engex.” He retorted flatly, gesturing at the cube.

Hot Rod rolled his optics and picked up his own cube. “You’re no fun.”

“That can’t be true, considering you’re the one who keeps bothering me for a quickie.” Soundwave raised a brow ridge at the speedster.

“Welllllll it doesn’t have to be a quickie, does it?” Hot Rod flirted, starting to sip his engex. “You could have me the whole night.”

Soundwave snorted. “Please. With your stamina? You couldn’t handle more than 2 hours, let alone the whole night.”

“I could too!” Hot Rod snapped. He took an indignant swig of engex and folded his arms. “I bet I could run circles around you.”

Soundwave finished his cube, slamming it on the table and finally turning to face Hot Rod. “Bet you can’t.”

“Well why don’t we find out?” Hot rod sneered, all flirtation melting away in favour of competition. “We’ll make it a real bet. 50 shanix says I can take whatever you throw at me, 4 hours of whatever you can dish out.”

“Whatever I throw at you? You’re playing with fire, Hot Rod.” Soundwave’s voice had lowered a bit, clearly showing his interest.

“Well thats fine then, I can take the heat.” Hot Rod boasted.

“I don’t want your shanix.”

“What?”

“I don’t want shanix.” Soundwave repeated, shifting a bit closer, looming over the other’s frame. “When I prove you wrong, the next 3 times you need a hookup, you’ll drag your sorry aft over the border to my hab unit and beg me to spike you down in person.”

Hot Rod’s engine flared, heat coming up to his faceplate. “W-Well alright-! And when I run circles around you, uh- um-” Hot Rod wracked his processor for a good enough punishment. “I get to put it in your port next time we do it.” He stuck his servo out with a malicious grin.

Soundwave shook it, not letting go when Hot Rod tried to pull away. “You’re gonna regret this, Hot Rod.”

Some had called Hot Rod a bit of a nymphomaniac. It was a bit of a harsh word, and not at all true, he thought about and did plenty of things other than interface. Others called him shareware, which was rude, but… not an unfitting title. Everyone knew he got around, which to some more uptight bots would be considered a mark on his character.

Hot Rod just considered it practice.

He leaned into Soundwave’s servo as it slid down the top of his crest to the back of his helm. Soundwave’s spike was heavy and thick in Hot Rod’s intake, sleek white and smooth on the bottom with blue ridges around the top. He could feel his cheeks distending from the stretch as he bobbed his helm in the larger mech’s lap. His fans had kicked on a few kliks ago, shuddering to life as his frame fought against overheating. He let the tip of his spike rub against the back of his throat, laving his glossa luxuriously against the underside of Soundwave’s shaft.

He allowed himself a pleased little hip wiggle when the larger bot stifled a moan from the stimulation, which earned him a tighter grip on the helm and an exasperated scoff. “You’re ridiculous.” Soundwave grunted, rocking his pelvis up into Hot Rod’s mouth and making him choke. He just slid his dermas tighter around Soundwave’s spike and pushed himself down harder. He forced back a gag as it passed into his throat, nearly hitting his vocalizer as he began to nestle his nose against the top edge of Soundwave’s lifted modesty panel. He swallowed around him, flicking his optics up to the other mech’s and winking.

HR: still think you’re gonna win?

SW: Want me to stop going easy on you?

Their gaze stayed locked on each other, a spark of competitiveness glinting in Hot Rod’s optics.

HR: Do your worst, big guy.

The comm had barely appeared in their channel before Soundwave shifted his position, rolling Hot Rod over onto his back with his spike still in his mouth and beginning to thrust deep into the autobot’s waiting throat. Hot Rod let out a choked gurgle. His servos flew up to claw at Soundwave’s thighs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, I know you can take it like a good bot.” He growled out, steadying himself on the arm of the sofa. The rhythmic clank of Soundwave’s hips hitting Hot Rod’s face filled the room.

Hot Rod’s optics flickered and thinned out as his fans roared. He could feel his frame shuddering. He was so desperately wet and strained behind his panels he thought he might die. He could feel the pings in his processor demanding him to relieve the pressure, demanding he open his panels and let his array breathe.

Soundwave slammed in particularly hard, hitting the back of his throat. Hot Rod let out a muffled whine, his thighs quivering as he fought to keep his throat from spasming. He began to open his panels, hoping to give himself just the barest amount of relief.

A servo jammed down between the gaps between Hot Rod’s panel and abdominal plating, holding his modesty panel shut. Hot Rod’s back arched. A gurgling wail escaped his vocalizer, drowned in intake lubricant. “Ah- Don’t think so~...” Soundwave chuckled, keeping his spike hilted in the speedster’s throat. “You wanna last, don’t you?”

“Mm-Mghhf!” Hot Rod growled, squirming under the bigger bot. He went to bite down, finding Soundwave’s other servo coming down to jam a thumb between his jaws to keep him open.

“If I knew you were gonna be this much of a mess, I’d have asked for more from you.” He taunted, beginning to grind his hips into his throat again. “Keep those panels shut, got it?”

“Mhhn…!” Hot Rod whimpered, offlining his optics as he willed his modesty panel shut.

“Good bot… see thats the nice thing about you autobots.” Soundwave grunted, once again beginning to jackhammer into Hot Rod’s throat. “You always do what you’re told.”

Hot Rod growled indignantly, hoping to sound intimidating and angry. It came out more like a gurgle, spittle bubbling around the edges of his intake.

“You can’t help it, can you? It’s in your programing, any big bad mech could walk up to you and if he told you to jump you’d ask how high.” He laughed raspily, pulling out almost all the way.

He watched Hot Rod’s chassis heave and quiver for a moment, trying to get his frame under control. He watched the speedster take a long, heavy in vent, waited until it was about to leave him, then jammed his spike back home.

Soundwave savoured the desperate choking noise that eked out of Hot Rod’s throat.

Hot Rod wheezed. His frame felt taught and overheated, processor fuzzy with pings warning him of the stress on his throat and jaw, the strain of his fans, and again, begging, PLEADING for him to open his panels. His digits weakly gripped at Soundwave’s plating one last time before limply petting at the metal there. His frame went pliant and limp underneath him.

Soundwave laughed to himself breathily, slowing to a halt and carefully drawing his spike out of Hot Rod’s intake. A gush of prefluid and saliva splattered across Hot Rod’s chest. The autobot coughed weakly, glaring ineffectually up at Soundwave.

“Want me to go back to being easy on you, Roddy?” He taunted, bringing a servo down to stroke slowly at his own spike.

“N-No chance…” Hot Rod growled hoarsely, sitting up and wiping at his face with the back of his servo.

“Good bot. Let’s get you to the berth then.” Hot Rod couldn’t get a word in edgewise before he was being lifted bodily off the sofa and flung over Soundwave’s shoulder.

Hot Rod cycled his vocalizer, coughing again and continuing to wipe his dermas. Embarrassment nibbled at the back of his mind at his messiness. He wanted to flip the positions, try pistoning into Soundwave’s- well if he had an intake he’d frag it silly, see how he liked it. Hot Rod was broken out of his stewing anger by the sound of Soundwave snickering to himself.

“What-!” Hot Rod snapped, the question cut off as Soundwave drew a digit up the edge of his panels. Oh no.

“You’re leaking, Hot Rod.” Soundwave sing-songed. He gathered the prefluid up between his digits and rubbed them together absently as he unceremoniously dumped Hot Rod onto his berth.

The speedster quickly squeezed his legs together around his panels, trying to hide his eagerness. He winced at the feeling, rivulets of slick prefluid smearing against his plating. Soundwave looked down at him, amusement clear across his borderline unreadable faceplate.

“Shut up…” Hot Rod muttered.

“You shouldn’t have made the bet.” He chuckled, reaching forwards and effortlessly knocking Hot Rod’s legs apart. He stood between his knees, slowly smoothing his servos over Hot Rod’s armour. “Nice paint job, you buff it before I got here?”

“Pfft… no, you’re not worth the trouble..” Hot Rod rolled his optics. For the record he had shined his armour a bit before Soundwave got there, but that wasn’t even for him! It was… y’know, for someone else.

“Oh I’m not worth the trouble?” Soundwave arced a brow ridge. “So who were you thinking about that made this happen, huh?” Hot Rod hissed as Soundwave knocked two of his knuckles on his panels, optics fizzing and fritzing as his processor produced yet another urgent pressure warning for his array. It was starting to hurt, he could feel his array hot with energon, mashed against the back of the panel.

“H-hhn- S-soundwave-” He gritted out, clenching his fists.

Soundwave leaned down to whisper in his audial. “I dunno, Hot Rod, I think this was all me right here…” Hot Rod’s invent punched out of him in a surprised moan when Soundwave ground the heel of his palm against his panels. He dimly felt his processor ping another warning. His engine revved loudly as he arched his back, helm clanging against the berth.

“But if you’re so sure it wasn’t we can call off this bet right now, call it a draw, let you get your valve pounded out by some other mech, huh?” Soundwave crooned. Steam poured out of Hot Rod’s dermas.

“N-No-!” He whined out too quickly, his face suddenly even hotter with shame. He went to dismiss his needy beg,“I- hhahhh-” The words fell apart in his vocalizer. His jaw dropped open and his optics went lidded. He ground his hips up, his array burning as Soundwave pressed his modesty panel down against the soft protoform with two digits, slowly moving the panel in little circles. “Ggghh- P-please- Primus- frag- j-ju-just lemme open- S-Soundwave-!” He babbled, gripping at the bigger mech’s sides desperately.

“Aw… Hot Rod, are you saying… you can’t… take it…” Soundwave drew his words out slowly, venting steam into Hot Rod’s audial.

“N-no- I can- ah- I’m- Hhuaahh- I’m f-fine- I haven’t evennNnnNn gotten ss-st-started!” He tried to boast, even through the embarrassing moans that he was letting out. Finally Soundwave let up, and Hot Rod went limp against the berth, fans stuttering to vent off excess heat.

Soundwave leaned back and folded his arms, looking down at the autobot as he shuddered and whined. Hot Rod tried to look aloof and fine, even with the coolant already beading on his brow and the way his frame was quivering like a leaf.

“S-...See? I’m just fine… completely normal.” Hot Rod panted out, giving Soundwave a shaky smirk.

“Alright. Open up.” Soundwave ordered, flicking his panels one last time as Hot Rod jolted and glared at him. Hot Rod offlined his optics, body shuddering as he finally opened his panels. He felt embarrassment, hot and thick, gathering in his tanks. His spike shot out of it’s casing like a rocket, already pulsing and drenched in prefluid. His valve was no different, puffy and needy, his anterior node peeking between the plush lips. He was completely soaked, so much so that a puddle of the stuff splattered out onto his berth as his panels tucked away.

Hot Rod bit his glossa to keep from howling as Soundwave drew a digit up through his lips, over his node, and up the underside of his twitching spike. “Primus you’re easy. Can’t believe you got off this much on me fragging your throat. Maybe I should do it more.”

“Not on your life- n-not after I win-” Hot Rod taunted feebly. “You won’t be able to walk right for a week when I get done with you-O-OUH-”

“You’re cuter when you stop talking so much.” Soundwave sighed, rocking his fingers up to rub at the front two calipers of Hot Rod’s valve. He drew his fingers apart, mapping the edges of his yielding hole as he brought them down and together along the edges.

He pulled his servo back, lifting them to Hot Rod’s waiting intake and jamming the two slick digits in. Hot Rod wined, saliva dripping from his dermas as Soundwave mashed the flavour of his own prefluid into his glossa.

“That’s enough foreplay, don’t you think?” Soundwave teased, cocking his head playfully.

Hot Rod could feel his legs quaking. He felt like he was going to break his dentas from how hard he was gritting them. His fans felt like they were on the verge of melting under their own heat.

Soundwave stroked his servo up Hot Rod’s spike again, squeezing just enough to milk out another dribble of prefluid. He could feel every burst of steam that escaped the bigger mech’s vents, condensation gathering against the side of the speedster’s helm. He could feel how stretched he was around the decepticon’s spike, but Soundwave refused to move, leaving him impaled on it to suffer as he gritted back his moans.

“You know, I’m not on this side of the wall often, but don’t worry, I know all about the kind of reputation you have… I hear you pick up so many mechs you might as well be a taxi service..” Soundwave murmured in his audial, spreading his digits over the head of Hot Rod’s spike and teasing the edges. “How many of them treat you like this, huh?”

“Nnn-N…None-!” Hot Rod gritted out, offlining his optics to focus on venting the heat and not immediately crumbling to a pleading mess. “T-they’re all act-tually NICE to mm-mme!” His voice stuttered as Soundwave drew his digits up again, teasing his slit and massaging the shaft lightly.

“Thats funny, I didn’t think anyone had the time to be nice to a nasty little piece of shareware like you…” Soundwave growled, slowly grinding his hips up to push against Hot Rod’s soft protoform. Hot Rod bit his derma tightly, clenching his digits around Soundwave’s thighs. That taunt made his processor spin. “They usually use their pretty little valves and toss them aside. Only difference between you and some street walking whore is that you're persistent.”

Hot Rod let out a moan, finally opening his mouth with a burst of steam. He grit his dentas back together, rolling his hips into Soundwave’s palm as he began to stroke his shaft again.

“I thought you’d move on after our little hookup but you're obsessed… they say not to humour animals like you so they don’t follow you home.” Soundwave growled, bringing his free hand up to grip possessively at his chassis. Hot Rod keened weakly at the insult, his faceplate flushed bright pink and hot with energon. “But you can’t help it can you? You love it, you love this spike, don’t you?”

Hot Rod mewled as Soundwave pinched at the base of his spike, rubbing his thumb across his anterior node. “S.. suh- Soundwave-” He gasped, optics sparking.

“Go on, say it…” Soundwave prompted, stroking his hand up his chassis and taking hold of Hot Rod’s chin. “Tell me how you love it, Roddy…”

“I- hhhnm..” He moaned. His optics flickered. He was just being unfair now, rubbing at his node like that while he began to gently thrust up into his valve. “I- l–love it-” He huffed out under his breath.

“What was that? Come on, you can do better than that…” Soundwave teased, rubbing his middle two digits against his anterior node while his thumb came around to stroke the base of his spike. He drew his own spike back, slamming it back into Hot Rod’s valve.

It was like he’d broken something. “I-I LOVE IT!! F-frag! I love your s-spike Soundwave!!” He wailed out, spittle flying from his dermas and across Soundwave’s hand. “I love it- I-I love it ff-fraaaag, primus- please- I- Ohhh s-slaaaggg…!!” His voice bounced pathetically as Soundwave began to thrust up into him. He could feel his spike bobbing in Soundwave’s grip, now squeezed tight at the base. “I’m aa-aallyours, nnhh- nomore- ah- no more s-shareware- f-frag- I’m all yours-!” Hot Rod babbled deliriously.

Soundwave chuckled in his audial, before speeding up his servo, his spike suddenly beginning to vibrate. To say Hot Rod screamed was an understatement. It sounded like his vocalizer was being shredded, glitching and fritzing and leaping in tone as overload washed through his frame. He thought he might die, his body shaking as he rode out the sensations that refused to let up. Every bit of his wiring tingled with lightning, every ounce of his frame wracked with pleasure. He felt another burst of steam flush over his audial.

“Loser.” Soundwave whispered.

And that was it. Hot rod arched his back, clanking his helm hard against Soundwave’s shoulder as his transfluid splattered across the floor and Soundwave’s hand. His valve cycled down tightly around Soundwave’s spike, pulsing and throbbing. He was distantly aware he was making some pretty unflattering noises, but more than that he couldn’t even see past the cloud of white that overtook his optics. He jerked and crackled, steaming with spent charge as he finished and went limp against the larger mech’s chassis.

He was ebbing into an early recharge when he felt Soundwave’s servos close around his hips. He snapped back to full consciousness as he felt him swing his frame around until Hot Rod was face down on the berth.

“Bwuh-?” Hot Rod moaned intelligently.

“Oh, I thought you could take a full four hours, Roddy!” Soundwave feigned surprise, pulling his spike back until he was teasing the oversensitive node with his tip. “And besides, you still owe me at least one overload.”

Hot Rod keened as Soundwave slid back in and began hammering into his valve. “Nnnhh-! Oooohhhh Primussss…” He whined, vocalizer shot and hoarse. “I- ah- s-Soundwave I caaan’t!”

“Oh you can’t?” He felt a servo slide from his hips up to his spoiler. Soundwave gripped the delicate bit of metal tightly, using it as leverage to slam Hot Rod’s hips against his. “I thought you said-” there was a quiet fizzle before Hot Rod’s own voice repeated back from Soundwave’s speaker. “I could run circles around you- Didn’t you say that Roddy?”

Hot Rod let his jaw hang open, processor filled with warnings and popups as overstimulation forced his spike to stiffen. “Nn- Nuh uhh..” He moaned.

“Doesn’t ring a bell? How about this one?” Soundwave adjusted his grip, hooking an arm under Hot Rod’s chin and pulling him up into a headlock. All the while his hips jackhammered away. He could already feel the blue paint transfers forming on his aft. “-ag! I love your s-spike Soundwave!!” Hot Rod keened in humiliation at his own voice. “That sounds more like you, doesn’t it, shareware?”

“S-soundwaaave- PLEASE-!” Hot Rod wailed. “I C-CAN’T!”

“I need one last thing from you, Roddy…” Soundwave crooned. Hot Rod could feel his spike twitching inside him, nearing overload.

“U-uhuhh??” Hot Rod whimpered, clawing weakly at Soundwave’s arms.

“Admit you’re a big stupid loser.” Soundwave snickered, snapping his hips forwards and making Hot Rod’s optics fizzle.

A lance of heat shot through Hot Rod’s already overheated form, his body suddenly tense, strung tight with need. Why was all of this doing this to him? He was being… so cruel… “Nn-gguhh-! C-Come onn-!” He whined out.

“Say it, tell me what a big stupid loser you are!” Soundwave cackled, reaching a servo down to begin jerking Hot Rod’s spent spike.

“Oh-OH-OH PRIMUS-” Hot Rod wailed. “I’M A BIG S-STUPID LOSER!! FRAGG-F-FRAG- I’M AN IDIOT FOR T-TUH-TAKING THAT BETTT!!”

Soundwave growled in his audial, pounding his spike in one last time before Hot Rod could feel a gush of transfluid hit his ceiling node.

He felt his vision white out again as his frame rocked through a second, more painful overload. He felt his processor short and then empty, his optics forcibly offlined again.

His frame jerked and spasmed weakly until finally Soundwave mercifully pulled out. To say the gush of transfluid that coated Hot Rod’s thighs was embarrassing was an understatement. It was like a fragging waterfall.

And to make it worse, Soundwave just unceremoniously dropped him on the berth, only adjusting him long enough to make sure he didn’t fall off before beginning to pace around the room. He was making haughty flexing gestures, playing his own personal victory music as he gloated.

“C-c’mon I didn’t do that bad-!” Hot rod panted, lifting his quivering legs up onto the recharge slab. Without even looking at him, Soundwave flexed over his shoulder, conveniently pointing at the clock on Hot Rod’s berthroom wall.

Hot Rod paled. “N-no, that can’t be right.”

“Not even an hour and a half, barely an hour and fifteen.” Soundwave confirmed. He did a nasty little turn, waggling his shoulders as he remixed Hot Rod’s words back at him. “C-c-c-c-could run circles arou-ou-OHH PRIMUS!”

“QUIT IT!” Hot Rod shouted, faceplate flaring with embarrassment.

“-BIG STUPID L-L-L-LOSER!” Soundwave parroted at him, continuing his victory dance. Hot Rod buried his face in his servos, shouting in agony at the embarrassment.

He felt Soundwave eventually sit on the edge of the berth, shoving him a bit out of his way as he climbed up to relax. He let his victory music die down as he folded his servos behind his helm.

There was a long klik of quiet between them.

“... you don’t really think of me like that, yeah?” Hot Rod asked meekly. Soundwave raised a brow ridge. Hot Rod Cycled his vocalizer. “Like an annoying animal that followed you home.” He clarified.

Soundwave glanced away. “... No. You’re not like that.” He muttered.

“So what am I like?” Hot Rod probed.

“Tight, wet, and easy.” Soundwave said matter of factly. Hot Rod punched his arm, scoffing and rolling his optics.

“You’re the worst.” Hot rod grumbled. “I don’t even know why I invite you over.”

“Invite is putting a bit of a slant on it.” Soundwave mused. “I didn’t know begging for spike was an invitation.”

“Ha Ha.” Hot Rod said flatly, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Now shut up I’m trying to recharge.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll join you then.” Soundwave said.

“What- No you’ve gotta go-” Hot Rod started, before Soundwave reached over with one harm and pulled him up tight against his frame. He rolled over and squeezed, holding him like a teddy bear. Hot Rod went pink, optics wide and blinking in confusion.

“Night Roddy.” Soundwave said nonchalantly.

“Yeah.. uh… Night Wavey.” Hot Rod mumbled.

Hot Rod offlined his optics, trying to sink into recharge without thinking about how tightly he was pressed against the ‘con. If he wanted he could easily kill him right now, he was already pinned.

Hot Rod let out a long, quiet sigh, leaning into Soundwave’s embrace.

Primus, he was glad it was peacetime.

#transformers fanfic #transformers cyberverse #tf cyberverse #soundrod #soundwave #hot rod #cyberverse soundwave #cyberverse hotrod #transformers #my art #my fic #smut #valveplug

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wonyscafe · 11 months

Text

things I associate with the signs

⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧

☆ aries ☆

specs, treehouse, freckles, arrows, pumpkin spice latte, skipping pebbles, lipstick, mirrorballs, crochet bags, the number 6

★ taurus ★

chanel N°5, pastries, statues, a deer, tornados, periwinkle, the feeling of comfort, moss, nostalgic summer evenings, kisses on the neck

☆ gemini ☆

ballet, heart warming smiles, the ramones, watercolor eyes, barbie magic of the pegasus, incense, puppy face, the color white, elegance, the scent of mint when the wind blows

★ cancer ★

sunflowers, surfing, rosy cheeks, childhood dreams, cloud shaped sunglasses, blue tops, magazines, the number 2, pugs, the ocean

☆ leo ☆

kingdom dance from tangled, cartoons, dyed hair, spontaneous trips, the feeling of a warm and much needed hug, festivals, hope, iced tea, soft blankets, headphones

★ virgo ★

chocolate brown eyes, earthquakes, quality time, cats, roadtrips, neatly painted nails, matcha latte, golden hour, sharing snacks, apologies

☆ libra ☆

stealing glances, waterlilies, salvatore by lana del rey, tiny doodles, honey, butterflies, garage sales, pink hearts, a peck, lashes

★ scorpio ★

silk, dragons, tanned skin, tulips, the feeling of relief after doing something confronting, dior hypnotic poison, a pinkie promise, reminder by the weeknd, nana manga, sea storms

☆ sagittarius ☆

pictures of the clouds, thrift stores, cresent moon, rodents, fantasy movies, history, wooden floors, the number 22, khaki pants, amsterdam

★ capricorn ★

hand kisses, the stars, laughing so hard your stomach hurts, poppies, sweet nothing by taylor swift, tall corridors, admiring from afar, friend groups, paintings, advice

☆ aquarius ☆

acceptance, coming of age movies, colors, dancing under the moon, cupcakes, pigtails, skinny dipping, greece, studio ghibli, crystals

★ pisces ★

droopy eyes, love in its purest form, shells, tulip fields, sundresses, 3AM convenience store runs, vanilla scented candles, sacrificing oneself, cinnamon buns, horror

⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧

#wonyscafe #astrology #astrology observations #astrology notes #astro observations #astro notes #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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ac3may · 9 months

Text

“ the wag diaries ”

The Origin Story

~ Sam Kerr ~

~~~~~~~~~~

• just graduated, you were a pretty average uni student

• except not entirely

• you were a couple of years older than most of your class

• America, Fiji, Asia you had become a full granola-girl, travel fiend for a couple of years

• hiking and surfing through the days, partying with your hostel friends through the night

• you were the textbook “trying to discover myself” gap-year kid

• yes, you even came home with a pair of those classic baggy trousers plastered with elephants

•although things went a little better for you considering the internet fame your YouTube doc got you (but we’ll get back to that)

• with two younger siblings (twins) you were blunt, and impatient

• but ultimately cared far more about others than you did yourself

• they were your best friends

• elys was renowned for his practical jokes and getting in trouble that only you could get him out of

• enya was the perfect, youngest child, spoilt in just the right way

• always encouraging you to let her practice her makeup skills or plant pretty flowers in the garden

• especially when your mum died, they were the only ones able to get you out of bed

• or failing that at least encourage a smile to your face

• specially considering the lacklustre relationship you had with your dad… who wasn’t really your dad

• your bio-father split before you were born so at 8 you were introduced to your new stepdad

• he was your sibling's father though so you always felt out of the loop, especially once your mum was gone

• growing up in a football family you were their biggest fan when they progressed from grassroots to academy and academy to first team

• attending every game clad in blue with a painted face, number 1 soccer mom to the max

• you would do anything for them

• the biggest people pleaser

• even if it meant catching a flight to a homophobic country to watch your brother's world cup debut

• just a wounded soul who’s afraid to disappoint

• absolutely underestimate your worth

• just trying to blend into the background

• despite being a secret slut for attention and craving someone to care for you for once

• you’d portray the perfect child to your family so they assume you’re a rebel kid really

• but you felt pretty average growing up

• you were adored in your hometown, always helping the elderly with their grocery shopping and the kids with their homework

• a babysitter and a tutor

• a football coach too

• you played as a kid, much like your siblings

• but the teenage depression when your mum died meant you lost all character and quit all hobbies

• at least for a couple of years

• alonely kid in high school, didn’t drink before you were of age, never went to a school party, or hung out smoking in a field

• always followed the rules at school, middle-of-the-road type of student, not memorable for being too good or too bad

• you were a classic 90’s kid except you refused to let the era go

• as a kid, your mum’s camcorder was on you always

• you loved filming everything and always forced your siblings into being the stars

• which was especially easy when it was their football skills you were showing off

• when you got older you filmed your travels, mainly to send back home but actually gained some traction online

• and then during covid when you and the twins resorted to your roots

• it turns out a YouTube series about two of Chelsea and England’s up-and-coming stars actually does pretty well

• despite being a film student graduate you had no intentions of following your peers to Hollywood or the BBC

• it was your sister who secured you a job with Chelsea

• a big surprise at Christmas when Elys unveiled a new camera and Enya followed up with a contract to start in the summer

• somehow you had never met any of the other Chelsea players, always rushing off to travel home after watching the game in the stands

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s definitely my most worked on wag diaries so far, already got 2 more blurbs lined up about her😂😅

#ace writes stuff #wag diaries #sam kerr x reader #woso x reader #sam kerr blurb #matildas #chelsea fcw #chelsea women

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faeryarchives · 2 years

Text

everything's going to be all right

alternate title: there would be times you just feel so exhausted and overwhelmed by not being able to keep up with the things happening around, and they are there to help you along the way

⚘ silent company; you tend to distance yourself from everything during burnouts - the things you used to love, work and social life. having someone to accompany you in silence can make you feel that it is okay to feel tired and not to be okay all the time and that it is valid to take a rest from the busy world. they would just lay by your side doing their own thing like reading, sleeping or surfing the net + definitely the type to hold your hand time to time and keep you close to them ❤️

— riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, jade leech, idia shroud, silver, malleus draconia

⚘ adventure time; if you feel so unproductive even by doing your favorite hobbies, why not discover new things you can possibly enjoy? 100% sure they would try to do even the most random things with you just like knitting, painting by numbers, swimming and many more. every once in a while, going out and being enthusiastic on the things you never taken up before with someone you love might lit a spark again inside 💛

— ace trappola, deuce spade, floyd leech, kalim al asim, epel felmier, sebek zigvolt

⚘ me time; its time for you to focus more on yourself, and there is absolutely no way for you to disagree. they want to make you feel that sometimes it is okay to spoil yourself after reaching an achievement and not to overwork thy self. baking together, having skin care routines, pranking people and mini concerts in the comfort of your room - what could be a better feeling than having the best time feeling goofy with your lover right? 😉

— trey clover, cater diamond, ruggie bucchi, azul ashengrotto, vil schoenheit (1), rook hunt, lilia vanrouge

⚘ learning about boundaries; don't get me wrong, they would listen when you open up to them on how you are feeling and tell that you are also just human - it is normal to feel that way. but sometimes you need to put boundaries to not biting off more than you can chew and that it is okay to say no. it maybe hard but by letting you pushing the pause button first and spending your time with them away from the stressors in your life makes you feel more at ease. when you are ready to jump back in - they would assist you to by regularly keeping an eye on your activity routine to lessen the possibility of you being overwhelmed 🥺

—jack howl, jamil viper, vil schoenheit (2)

I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF U GUYS STILL RECOGNIZE ME 😭 but still um hi aerie here sorry for disappearing without any notice 😖 its just for a month i feel like i can't keep up with the things i love before including writing and i really don't want to just post stories or fics without giving my all so i went on a break

it actually went great~ i am still adjusting to my college life and i found friends i can really trust and very glad for! now i am currently fixing my schedule so i can write small drafts about the future stories on my list <3 + i haven't open my inbox for a month sorry about that 😭

so that's it for now and as usual i hope you enjoy the update and love you all mwah 💕

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dududuuuuudud · 4 days

Text

Random Gwuncan hc

THIS IS NOT IN TOTAL DRAMA

Ok, so Gwen worked in an art store to earn money for herself. She also goes to an art college. That's also the reason why she works in an art store so she can get free art supplies. The shop is usually quiet so Gwen's just sketching as she waited by the check out.

Now, Duncan and Alejandro were going to vandalise some buildings. (Yes, Alejandro is vandalising too) Once the two get to the place they want to vandalise, they realise that they barely had any spray paint left. Duncan heads to a nearby art store (Where Gwen works) and he asks her. Turns out that art store doesn't sell any spray paints.

Anyways, Duncan realises who the cashier is and because he thinks Gwen is hot, he starts flirting with her. Gwen rolls her eyes and tells her that he needs to buy something to stay. She was used to it since this random guy, Cody does this too. Duncan sees a bunch of paintings on a mini canvas and asks Gwen about it. Gwen says that she painted them so Duncan then bought it. Afterwards, Duncan came to the art shop everyday as Gwen started to play along. She also noticed something. Duncan always had a black wristband on his right arm. It didn't look pretty or anything since it was just black.

One day, Duncan was talking to Gwen and turned out someone was behind him. It was Bridgette, Gwen's friend. Bridgette worked in the surf shack next door. (Weird how an art store is next to a surf shack, huh?) Gwen told Duncan to leave and come back another time as Bridgette turned to face Gwen.

"Is he your boyfriend? I thought you still loved Trent." Bridgette asked.

Trent was Gwen's ex boyfriend. They broke up month ago but still managed to stay friends. Although, Gwen was disheartened and still loved Trent.

Gwen denied and like wtv.

The next day, Duncan came to Gwen's art store and asked her who that 'hot girl' was. He was referring to Bridgette. Gwen says that it was Bridgette and like afterwards they just talked.

The next week, Duncan got an urgent call from Geoff to meet him by the surf shack. Duncan came and saw Geoff with his arm around Bridgette. Geoff introduced Bridgette as his girlfriend to Duncan and Duncan was mad.

"Was that the only reason why I'm here?" He asked.

Geoff walked over to Duncan and whispered to him. "Look dude, I'm going on my first date with Bridge and I really need support. Please come with me?" He pleaded.

Duncan sighed an agreed.

The three went to bowling together and as Geoff was bowling, Bridgette and Duncan were waiting for him. Duncan went closer to Bridgette.

"Psst, Bridgette right? Could you give me Gwen's number?" Duncan asked.

Duncan had been asking Gwen for her number but she never agreed. Duncan thought that she was just playing hard to get but it was taking too long.

Bridgette was a bit hesitant but she was soon convinced by Duncan and gave him Gwen's number.

Duncan was so excited and once he came home, he texted Gwen. -Hey Pasty- He started. Duncan obviously had a name to call Gwen by.

Gwen instantly recognised who texted her and was confused. -How did you get my number??- She asked.

-I have my ways- Duncan smirked as he texted her.

One day, Duncan came to the store to see it was closed. He waited outside the store thinking that Gwen just came late but she didn't come. After half an hour, Gwen finally came. She saw Duncan waiting for her and she told him that she would be busy today and went inside the store. She brought out a painting and handed it to him.

"I didn't pay you." Duncan claimed.

Gwen shrugged it off as she went inside the store to get her flannel. Duncan had always noticed that Gwen wore a flannel over all her outfits. He was planning on asking but Gwen locked the store and said her goodbyes and left.

The next two weeks, Gwen didn't come. Duncan was curious and texted her multiple times but all Gwen could say was that she was busy and leave Duncan on delivered.

The reason to this is that Gwen's dad and older brothers were part of a criminal organisation. You could even call it the mafia gang. Gwen didn't want to be like that she she left her home and changed her name identity and everything. The only memory of home was her flannel which was her mother's before she died. Gwen's name isn't actually Gwen but that's for later. Gwen's brother finally got a hold of Gwen's number and told her that to come back since their father knew where she lived and worked. Gwen fled but not too far away but started living in her friend, LeShawna's house. She decided not to go far since they didn't know where her school was and that the school she goes to is very prestigious

So then, it was New Years. Gwen along with LeShawna, Bridgette, Noah, DJ and Heather (Yes, they're all friends with Heather) went go see fireworks. You know those grassy places near the city where you watched the fireworks on New Year? It was there.

Gwen decided to go for a walk and think about her situation right now. She loved where she worked but now she can't do it now. She couldn't see Duncan.

Duncan was at the same place as Gwen but with his friends :Geoff, Alejandro and Scott. As he was talking to them, he got a glimpse of Gwen. He could easily recognise her for her hair and her flannel. He ran after her and saw her sit down. He knew that was Gwen and sat down next to her. Gwen turned to see Duncan and hugged him tightly. Duncan hugged back and the two pulled away.

"So where'd you go and why have you been ignoring my texts? Was I that annoying?" Duncan asked.

"No! It's just complicated." Gwen responded. Soon, Gwen started telling Duncan about the whole situation. She knew she could trust him right? They've known each other for a couple of months and Gwen and Duncan thought they were the best months of their lives. "So that's why I left." Gwen said. "And if you tell anyone about this, especially the cops. I'll actually kill you." Gwen threatened.

Duncan raised his arms up in defeat. "Alright, alright. I just missed you." He admitted.

Then, the fireworks started going off and Gwen and Duncan watched with a smile on their face. Their pinkies intertwined in each other's.

The next couple of weeks, Gwen and Duncan have been texting nonstop that Gwen's roommate started to notice.

"If I don't know better, I think you have a little crush on this Duncan guy." LeShawna claimed.

"LeShawna, we're just friends. I still like Trent." Gwen responded.

"Girl, you haven't spoken to him from September or something. That music man is not worth your time." LeShawna reassured.

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

So I know you might be thinking how this story is going to end and I don't know either. Whoever is reading this, I know you think that this story is going to end in Duncan saving Gwen from her mafia family but I don't want to do that. That's so cliché and overused in every Gwuncan story. I also hate when they get to together because Duncan is a 'hero'. If you have any ideas to end of the story please tell me. Also, you can use this idea to make the story too but give me credits and send it to me if you actually make this turn into a story. If youd o make it into a story can you make Trent come back one day and Duncan sees and like becomes jealous. I just like seeing Duncan jealous. Doesn't matter anyways, if you recreate the story then tag me or send it or wtv and I'll make sure to read it. Make it like a sweet story not like a story where they make out every two seconds.

#gwuncan #gwenxduncan #duncanxgwen #dungwen #gwen x duncan #dugwen #total drama

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asteria-argo · 2 months

Note

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, c’mere.”

So, fun fact about me is that I've never written physical whump before in my life. I also haven't written a batman fic in about two years so I figured this was as good a chance as any to warm up those two skills of mine.

Is it good? not really. Was it fun? yeah. Did the prompt do it's job of getting me to try something new and accept that writing is a skill I need to work at and can't be automatically good at all the time no matter how much I want to be? absolutely.

Anyway here you go!

In Dick’s defense, he didn’t think Jason would break his arm. It isn’t much of a defense sure, but he doesn’t have a better one. It all started pretty innocently, especially for a pair of child vigilantes. One could argue they were on the best behaviour they possibly could have been when left unsupervised in the manor all by themselves while Alfred was out for the day running errands and Bruce was at work doing whatever it is CEO’s did. They didn’t even sneak out to solve crime or anything.

They’d just been hanging out. Well, sort of. Bruce had tasked Dick with keeping an eye on Jason today, whatever that meant, and for as much as Dick had whined about it when Bruce had first asked him to watch Jay while he was at work, it wasn’t like he actually had something better to do. The rest of the titans were all busy, Babs was preparing for her SATs and had muted Dicks number for the weekend preemptively, even his regular school friends weren’t available. Besides watching Jason wasn’t actually that hard. He was twelve after all, he could feed himself and everything. Dick was just there in case of an emergency really.

Like breaking his arm because he and Dick thought sparring on a trampoline with those foam swords they got at the dollar store when they’d been helping Alfie do the groceries the day before would be a fun idea. And once again, in Dick’s defense, he didn’t think Jason was going to break his arm!

The kid was Robin! They both do way more dangerous stuff without getting injured all the time! Just the night before he and Jason had gone train surfing chasing down some of Penguins goons and come away completely unscathed! Jason being felled by a poorly timed jump and the ground wasn’t something Dick really considered a possibility when he was appointed the responsible adult of the day.

But, despite the extensive combat and survival training at the hands of Batman himself, despite the reflexes he’d been honing for months as Robin, one wrong bounce sent Jason toppling over the edge of the trampoline to meet his greatest enemy yet: gravity.

It all happened fast, but when Dick thinks back on it it’s almost sickeningly slow. Jason had been smacking him in the shoulder with his sword, laughing with the kind of maniacal glee only an adrenaline high twelve year old could manage, at the fact he’d been successfully beating Dick back into one corner of the trampoline, then Dick had lunged forward to whack Jason in the stomach and defend himself just as Jason had bounced himself. Jason, being the smaller of the two of them, promptly went flying right off the edge of the trampoline with a strangled yelp landing on the ground beside them with the kind of sickening crack Dick was very used to hearing on their nightly patrols.

“Shit.” Dick said, standing on the trampoline alone all of a sudden and not quite sure what to do until he heard Jason make a strangled noise from the crumpled heap he was in on the floor. If the crack hadn’t been enough, the mottled red skin around his wrist accompanied by an obviously out of place bone certainly painted a vivid picture of what happened. “shit, shit, shit, c’mere.”

Dick climbs down from the trampoline quickly, kneeling in front of Jason whose biting his lip so hard he’s on the verge of drawing blood, his eyes brimming with pained tears that he was refusing to let fall as he took carefully measured breaths through clenched teeth. Jason sometimes reminds Dick of a stray dog, not that he’d ever tell him that, all gnashed teeth and scary growls to hide the fact that he’s hurt and scared. It proved true enough in the moment, when Jason glared at him with as much fire as someone on the verge of tears could muster and hissed “don’t touch me!”

“I need to look at it Jay,” Dick said, trying to go for soothing. He and Jason weren’t exactly the embodiment of tenderness though. Truthfully, Dick and Jason didn’t really have a relationship at all. They were friendly, could get along by themselves for a few hours at a time, but Dick tried not to be around the manor much these days if he could help it, and Jason tended to follow Bruce like a second shadow, which was something Dick hadn’t wanted to touch with a 10 foot pole, so it wasn’t like they had a well established rapport going. “I need to check if it’s broken.”

“Obviously it’s broken dick.” Jason growled, spitting his name in a way that made it very clear he was using it as an insult. And maybe it would have been insulting, if Jason didn’t look so tiny in front of him clutching his arm close to his chest, his nose red and eyes shiny with a wobbly lip, trying so hard not to cry even with a broken wrist. Even his growling came out meek, raspy and breathless because he didn’t have enough energy to put behind it to really come across as anything but pained and defensive.

It’s easy to forget that Jason's only twelve. Robin has a way of making you seem so much larger than life, even when you aren’t wearing the mask, it’s almost like the kid that’s wearing it hardly exists underneath. Until of course, you’re abruptly reminded just how human you really are by having your wrist broken in a tragic trampolining accident.

“Okay,” Dick said gently, and he was aware he was talking to Jason the same way he talks to the scared animals he finds on patrol sometimes, but he wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to calm him down “yeah, you’re right, but I still need to look at it. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you Jason.”

It was with great reluctance Jason uncurled from the ball he’d screwed himself up into to allow Dick to check his wrist, which after a brief glance was 100% confirmed to be broken. It had taken a minute, Jason staring at dick with wide, teary eyes and a furrowed brow as he sniffled miserably, no doubt in a lot of pain. It was funny, how much more things seemed to hurt when they weren’t in their suits. Maybe it was just the body armour, but Dick was pretty sure there was some kind of psychology behind it all that made it so much easier to take a beating with a mask on.

“I want Bruce.” Jason muttered, as Dick prodded at his wrist and caused him to hiss in pain, flinching at the impact violently and looking at Dick with betrayal.

“I’ll call Bruce,” Dick promised, standing and pulling Jason up with him as gently as he could without jostling his arm “but we have to go to the hospital so they can fix your wrist.”

Jasons face screwed up, his freckled nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought. Dick didn’t blame him, he didn’t exactly like hospitals all that much himself, but for all his first aid training as a vigilante, setting a broken wrist was something better left to the professionals.

“This is all your fault.” Jason declared sullenly. He wasn’t even wrong, even if the whole thing hadn’t been his idea, he was supposed to be the responsible adult vetoing dangerous ideas like trampoline sparring. But again in Dick’s defense, he really hadn’t thought Jason would break his arm!

Dick ushered Jason to the car with a sigh. Bruce was probably never going to leave him in charge again.

#asteria answers asks #jason todd #dick grayson #prompt fill

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creativewritingpracticestudio · 2 years

Text

Dating Sid Wilson (Slipknot) Would Include:

I love Sid :) this is relatively SFW, but feel free to let me know if you’d like a NSFW version! Also…you guys should request more Slipknot stuff (specifically stuff with Corey, Joey and Sid). Sorry for my inactivity as of late, I know it’s weird that I used to be so active and now I haven’t published anything in a while, I’ve just been so busy. Now I have time, though, so expect more content soon!

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of Sid getting injured a lot and throwing up a lot, very brief mentions of drug and alcohol use, marijuana use (mostly just talk of the munchies lmao)

Permanent Taggers: @smokeandmirrorz @holyjunkie99 @overlyobsessedfangirl @slashevilsister @julessworldd @agroupiewhore

Slipknot Taggers: None, but let me know if you’d like to be one!

Probably meeting him at a Slipknot concert. I can imagine Sid spotting you in the crowd and instantly deciding that he has to meet you, so he fucking dives into the crowd and just crowd surfs over to you so he can slip you a backstage pass (discreetly, though, so the crowd doesn’t try to mob you for it). After the show, you go backstage to meet him and he comes up to you looking absolutely insane: sweaty as fuck, gas mask askew, face paint smeared, jumpsuit half unzipped, it’s a sight to behold. But then he takes the gas mask off and you see how cute he is and how friendly he looks and you’re instantly at ease with him. The two of you talk for a while and he’s clearly into you but he can’t ask you on a date yet because the band is on tour and there’s no time, so instead he asks for your phone number and promises he’ll call you every night until the tour ends and he can take you on a real date (and he keeps his promise!)

Speaking of phone calls, Sid acts like he’ll physically drop dead if he doesn’t call you at least once a day. He’ll be somewhere in another country and call you after a concert, totally forgetting that it’s like 4am where you live, and be very confused as to why you sound so tired and grumpy. You put up with it because you love him, but occasionally you’re tempted to do the same thing to him just to be petty. He likes to call you to tell you about the concert and to ask about your day and all that good stuff, but he also likes calling you for absolutely no reason. He’ll call you to tell you what he ate for lunch or to let you know that his head hurts or to complain about how Shawn is being mean to him, and meanwhile you’ll be standing in the middle of a Walmart holding the phone to your ear and slowly realizing that you’re dating a toddler. You get annoyed sometimes, but you also appreciate his willingness to stay close with you even when he’s away on tour. It’s nice to know that he likes talking to you and does it because he wants to, not because he feels like he has to.

Being friends with some of Sid’s other bandmates. Initially you were worried that they weren’t going to like you and would see you as the Yoko Ono of the group, but they all turned out to be pretty cool and you’ve become very close with a few of them. You and Sid regularly hang out with Corey, Joey, Chris, and a few other bandmates at least a couple times each week, going to bowling alleys and arcades and weird restaurants and stuff like that. You also hang out with all of them backstage before and after concerts, and that’s where some of the grossest and most hilarious things happen. The whole band has a disturbing sense of humor, but it at least keeps things interesting.

Hospital visits. So. Many. Hospital visits. Sid gets at least one serious injury a week and at least a few minor injuries a day, so you’ve learned to keep a first aid kit on hand. If hospitals had those loyalty punch cards like coffee shops have, you’d have won several free hospital visits by now. You’ve also learned to get used to Sid puking a lot, because for some reason it’s very common for him. When you first started dating him you were in a constant state of worry and panic and would fuss over him if he got even the slightest of injuries (which he didn’t mind at all), but now you’ve learned to just let him do his thing.

Late night snack runs. Sid’s kind of a stoner (shocking, I know), so he tends to get super hungry at very inconvenient times; usually, it’s around one or two in the morning. You both throw on random clothes, grab a massive wad of cash, and walk down to a 24 hour convenience store to stock up on as many snacks as you can carry. It’s definitely one of his more expensive habits, but at least the two of you always have a nicely stocked pantry. It was weird being out so late at first, but now the late night snack runs are one of your favorite things to do.

Watching Sid come up with new beats and mess around with his turntables. As a DJ, he’s always trying to find new ideas for songs, and you like to watch him cuz he gets so focused and it’s adorable. He likes to ask your opinion because you know how to be honest with him but in a nice way. Sometimes he even lets you play around with the turntables, and he’s tried to teach you how to use them on multiple occasions although you always forget how to do it. Occasionally he tries to convince you to let him record you messing around with the turntables (he thinks the bad playing would sound really cool as a beat for one of his next songs), but you always flatly refuse.

Naps. A whole lotta naps. Sid’s usually pretty high-energy, but he saves up all of this energy for concerts by taking at least one nap each day, usually in the hotel room that the two of you share or (in very rare cases) on a couch in one of the backstage rooms. He likes when you sit on the couch with him so he can lay his head on your lap and let you play with his hair until he finally falls asleep.

Becoming something of an icon to the Slipknot fanbase. At first, Sid tried to keep his relationship with you private because he didn’t want you to have to deal with being hounded by fans and by the paparazzi, but once the relationship got serious and you made it clear you didn’t mind his fame, he finally started talking about you and showing you off to the fans. He tells stories about you in interviews, he shares photos of you on social media, and he brings you along to special events like red carpet walks and meet and greets. You love talking to his fans and riffing with Sid on the red carpet when he’s being interviewed, and because of that you’ve become very popular with the fanbase. Seriously, there’s tons of compilations of you on YouTube (some with Sid, some with just you), tons of appreciation posts about you on social media, and at least a few different accounts from fans about how nice you were to them when they met you. Even if you and Sid were to break up (god forbid that ever happens), you’d still have a pretty big fanbase of your own.

Going on all kinds of cool dates with Sid. Sid’s not really one for super romantic, gushy, stereotypical dates like candlelit dinners or picnics, but he does like going on dates that are fun and interesting for both of you. Laser tag, cool museums, retro arcades, themed hotels; he never seems to run out of ideas. Sid loved spending time with you and he especially loves making you laugh, so he’d much rather take you to a comedy club or to see a funny movie than to get dressed up in uncomfortably formal clothes and sit in a stuffy, overpriced restaurant for two hours. Some people might judge the two of you for not having the traditional romantic dates, but you don’t care. You and Sid show just as much passion and affection for each other as other couples do, and you have fun while doing it.

Being the first person to see Sid’s new masks (besides him, obviously). Whether it’s an entirely new mask all together or just his current mask with some new alterations made, he loves showing them to you and seeing your reaction. He’s super proud of his masks, especially the ones with animatronics, and you’re always excited to see them and to give feedback on them. He lets you try them on and usually tells you that you look way better in his masks than he does.

Movie nights! You and Sid always try to set aside one day each week for watching a movie together. You get the bed all set up (tons of blankets and pillows), you get the food ready (usually Chinese takeout or pizza, plus a ton of snacks), and then you spend an hour debating over what to watch. Sid usually tries to convince you to watch one of the transformers movies (and he wins like 95% of the time) but he’s also pretty good about letting you pick a movie to watch after the transformers movie is over. You watch everything from cheesy horror movies to old comedies to indie films to weird obscure movies that Sid somehow finds on the Internet.

#slipknot #slipknot x reader #slipknot imagines #sid wilson #sid wilson x reader #sid wilson imagines #90s nu metal #90s metal #90s music #corey taylor #joey jordison #jim root #mick thomson #craig jones #shawn crahan #chris fehn

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earnedmagic · 6 days

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every day i am surprised by the things people throw away. tomorrow is bulky-waste pickup, so tonight i went curb surfing.

my haul:

antique (and only slightly chipped) blanket stand

a set of vintage cross-stitched linens

one four-quart pyrex square container

mushroom paint-by-number garland

four corelle luncheon plates

two 10 x 10 pyrex baking dishes

box of virtually unused colored pencils

collectible sbux mug (from the state collection

#most of the dishware will go to stocking my sister’s new apt and the colored pencils are earmarked for a local teacher #who the hell is bucky

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 1 month

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Surf Naked - Priestly x Rowena

“Surf Naked” - Priestly x Rowena

Part 2 of Pets4Punks (Need To Catch Up: Part 1)

Rating Mature (Part 2)

Priestly x Rowena

Tags: Mild Angst, Mild Language, Flirting, Spell Casting, Sexy and Scantily Clad Rowena, Priestly On His Knees

Word Count: 4155

Priestly’s nursing a broken heart. Rowena’s exacting some magical revenge. What will unfold when these two meet at a Beastly Ball?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Bound Together" square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photos used, found on Google: “Ten Inch Hero”, bayview entertainment; “Supernatural”, WB)

PART 2

It had been three days since the rescue.

The calculation popped into Rowena’s head as Priestly entered her magic shop.

Three days. The socially acceptable amount of time that should pass between an initial meeting so one doesn’t appear overly, yet still, interested. Perhaps he’d been coached by the two young pixies who’d been with him in the Beach City Grill food tent. There may have been much discussion over the fine line that could be drawn between wait and late.

Rowena appreciated the passing of time more than most. She’d gained an intimate understanding of the surprises and punishments it could inflict over centuries.

Priestly, the chivalrous young man with more piercings than her voodoo doll, had been one of those delightful serendipitous encounters. A welcoming smile and a willingness to assist weaved like needlepoint into his edgy exterior. He’d intrigued her far more than she’d ever want to admit to another living being. Especially him.

Too much honesty left one vulnerable to ne’er do wells. She’d gained an intimate understanding of the passions and regrets those confessions could produce over centuries.

The second day after the Beastly Ball, she dared question her intoxicating allure. The boy hadn’t even called the shop. He had her number. For goodness sake, he’d been given an outright invitation—with a small servitude spell sprinkled over it for good measure—AND a plausible excuse to come by.

Priestly had finally got up off his arse. “A very firm arse,” Rowena mumbled.

She breathed a contented sigh and took in the contradiction of the preening yet shy peacock hovering by the door. His aura pulsed with warmth and excitement.

He was attracted to her. That had been obvious enough. She was Rowena MacLeod after all. But his motives the night they met? Those seemed genuine and without an ulterior motive.

Rowena didn’t cross a street without an ulterior motive.

Priestly scanned the store, beginning at the corner farthest from Rowena. He inventoried, hopscotched from table to shelf, taking in the displays. Rowena styled her wares to please the eyes and open the wallets of the beginners and the curious. Many customer questions had been answered over the months since she’d opened “The Scarlet Sigil.” They had tested her patience. But, well, an old witch could learn new tricks.

Three hundred years was a drop in the bucket for a natural witch clever in her dealings.

Priestly halted his inspection at the counter where Rowena, calm and still, stood. His eyes widened. A blush painted those creamy, mutton-chop-covered cheeks. “Oh, hey.” He cleared his throat.

“Weel,” Rowena drawled out. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

His brows shot up. “You-you have?”

She nodded, prim and proper. “Aye, Priestly.”

He smiled.

“I’ve even prepared for it.” She crooked a finger in his direction. “I’ve got yer shirt right here.” She produced a parcel from one of the shelves behind her. She’d wrapped it in plum-colored tissue paper and tied it with a crimson ribbon. “I had it professionally cleaned.”

Priestly strolled over. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“Don’t be daft.” She flashed her most demure smile. “A gentleman does a good deed, a lady shows her appreciation.”

His finger traced the ribbon. “It’s just a stupid t-shirt. It doesn’t need to be professionally anythinged.”

Rowena surveyed what she suspected was his understated outfit. He wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans. The jeans were well worn. Cut off higher than the current fashion style, the denim hem met the top of his clunky combat boots. The clothing balanced all the additional adornments. Piercings. Bangles. Chains. Leather choker. Tribal tats. Purple Nail Polish. Fuschia tipped hair. “Yer t-shirt saved me from huge embarrassment. I’d go so far as to say you protected my virtue and reputation.”

He blushed a deeper shade this time. “I’m glad I could help. Right place, right time, you know.”

Rowena’s heart ached for a moment at his honesty. He radiated an earnestness she hadn’t encountered since Oscar. His words rang true. No hidden agenda.

That only led to misuse by both the careless and the scrupulous.

“Did you get yourself looked at after the Zoo?” He asked, voice full of concern.

“I did, as you instructed.” She took liberties with the actual meaning of his question. He may have expected her to go to a hospital. But, like always, she had looked after herself. She’d cast a healing spell upon returning to the apartment. Any remnants of animal venom cleared her system quicker than any doctor’s prescriptive. Her scratches closed up in under an hour.

“Good. You-you look good.” He stuttered out the compliment.

“Thank you.” Oh, he was scrumptious. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a tummy ache from such a sweet treat. Decades?

He twirled a finger in the air. “This all yours?”

“It is.” She straightened her posture even more and tipped her chin an inch higher in the air. Unless she levitated he was still a good foot taller, and that was with her in four-inch heels.

He squinted. “You believe in all this hocus pocus?”

“Of course.” Direct, not necessarily completely honest, answers felt like the best route. “That’s why I was at the zoo. I guess you could say I was attempting to commune wi’ nature.” She sulked for days over not being able to acquire that adorable miniature Elf Owl. A swarm of bats, chased by owls, had caused the melee that scratched up her skin and shredded her dress to rags. She’d learned her lesson for the next time if there would ever be one. Don’t open exhibit gates willy-nilly and allow prey and predators to mingle.

“Wow. I guess you take your job very seriously.” His eyes widened like saucers. The black eyeliner made them even more of a distraction for Rowena. She focused on the beautiful shade of green encompassing his pupils. They flashed jade and aventurine in the light, matching her most cherished crystals. “That’s cool. I mean, my parents were into all this stuff. I never really paid much attention. Lots of incense and tarot card readings in the house when I was little, though.”

Rowena pushed the envelope. “Did they practice witchcraft?”

He chuckled. “Witchcraft?”

She nodded.

“No.” His mouth dropped, forming a tight line. A hand dipped into his jeans pocket. He fished out and placed a familiar sachet on the counter.

The hex bag she’d slipped into his vest at the zoo. The conduit for the servitude spell cast after he’d given her the literal shirt off his back.

“I’m guessing this isn’t potpourri, then?” he asked.

Rowena shook her head.

His fingers tapped on the counter’s surface. His hand stilled after some seconds. He whispered, “So, you practice witchcraft?”

She placed a hand over his. “Wuid it frighten you if I said aye?”

He shook his head. His mouth parted a fraction, but he didn’t pull his hand away from her grip. “No, not frightened,” he sighed. “I mean, I was a little freaked out when I found that thing in my vest the next day because I’d been thinking about you. Nonstop.”

“You don’t have any reason to believe me.” She cleared her throat and gazed deep into his eyes. “I cast that spell for protection and to get you to do my bidding for a short time. I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. I didn’t know you well enough to trust that you wouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation. I mean, look at me and look at you.” She squeezed his hand. “Who could overpower who?”

“Hm.” Priestly seemed to be weighing the words and enjoying the view at the same time.

Rowena’s mind grasped for a rapid way to prove her motive. She let go of his hand and pointed a finger over his shoulder. “Would you be a dear and get me that bowl there, behind you?”

With a pivot back and then front, fast as a whip, he presented her the brass bowl from a display. “Does this mean I’m still doing your bidding?”

She pinched the hex bag between two fingers and plopped it into the bowl with a soft thump. “Did you do any research after you found this?” The change drawer opened with a jangle. She searched its contents.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you find out how to break a spell using one of these?”

He nodded. “Light it on fire.”

With a flick against the flint box, Rowena lit a match and held it over the bowl. “So, why didn’t you then?”

He shrugged. “I liked how I felt… thinking of you.”

Her face warmed and not because of the flame licking near her face. “So, whatever you think I’ve made you feel with that spell… will disappear if I do this.” The lit match touched the burlap bag. In moments, it burnt hot and dissolved away. “Well?”

A peek of a smile formed. “I still can’t stop thinking about you.”

Rowena’s skin heated at the confession. “I’ve set your mind at ease?”

He laughed. “As much as you can by confirming you really practice witchcraft. That makes you even more mysterious.”

She tittered. “Mysterious?”

He nodded right before casting his gaze toward the floor. His head dipped but she spotted the edges of a naughty grin. “And beautiful.”

“Why, Priestly, are you flirting wi’ me?”

He gulped and lifted his eyes to meet her stare. “Tryin’. Is it working even with my inability to cast a spell?”

Her lids batted. “It is.”

“Well, in that case, maybe I could take you to dinner sometime soon?”

“I wuid love that.” She squinted. “Ur you running off already?”

“Huh? Oh, I mean…” he looked around the empty shop, “I didn’t want to keep you from anything.”

“Well, unless they’ve cast a cloaking spell, I don’t think I have any customers to attend to at the moment.”

He chuckled.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s just about closing time. After this, I was going to have a bite to eat upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

“My apartment.”

“Oh. That’s convenient.”

She smirked. “Wuid you care to join me?”

“I-uh-”

“I promise not to bite you. Unless ‘at would be preferred.”

“Hu-hu,” He guffawed. “I could join you, I guess.”

“Splendid.”

Priestly took direction well. He sat at her dining table as instructed. Waited, with hands folded in his lap, for the soup and salad to be placed in front of him. His steadfast gaze followed her as she flitted about the kitchen.

He’d asked only once if he could assist. When she replied with a curt no, he remained silent.

“No ‘at I think you don’t know yer way around the kitchen,” she added, attempting to soften her initial response. “After all, you work in one. But, let me serve you for a change.”

He nodded.

He appeared very obedient. Perhaps he even enjoyed doling out plentiful acts of servitude?

They chatted over the meal. Rowena studied him with care. There was so much about his visage to keep one occupied. Individual spiky strands that formed the pink fan of his mohawk. The meticulous pattern of his sideburns and beard hid a sharp jaw from full view.

The piercing resting right under the curve and perfect plush of his bottom lip intrigued her. What else might be hidden for only the intimate of encounters to reveal?

“How long have you been in L.A.?” Priestly asked, bringing another spoonful of soup to his lips.

“Oh, about a year.”

He stared at her, starry-eyed. “You’ve probably been all over the world.”

“Well, I haven’t been all over. But I’ve crossed the Atlantic once or twice.”

“This is really good.” He pointed at the bowl with his spoon. “Potato soup you said?”

“We call it Tattie Soup back home.”

Priestly smiled. “I don’t remember the last time I had soup.” Rowena urged him to continue with a firm gaze. “I kind of live off sandwiches from the shop.”

“Oh, of course, the grill. Have you worked there long?”

“Almost five years. Started part-time to help pay for college.” He stabbed some lettuce with his fork. “School got to be too expensive. And I wasn’t smart enough to earn a scholarship. So I had to drop out. BCG’s been as close to home as I’ve got nowadays.”

She refused to melt into a puddle of compassion at this young man’s circumstances. “Yer parents?”

“They’re back in Arkansas. Me going to art school wasn’t exactly encouraged. And, I don’t want to go back just to have to hear-”

“Told you so.” Rowena finished.

He smiled. “Exactly.”

“It’s a hard thing to be on your own. To trust what fate has in store for you.”

What looked to be hope filled Priestly’s eyes. “You’re on your own, too?”

“Oh, yes. I have been… for ages.”

Her mind wandered to the spell she was determined to complete today. She had all the ingredients she needed now. But, if she had an assistant…

“Priestly?” She rested her elbows on the tabletop and curled fingers for her chin to rest upon.

“Hmmm?” He crunched on some romaine.

“Have you ever seen someone perform a spell?”

He swallowed his mouthful. “Um-no. No, I haven’t.”

“Would you like to help me with one?”

He coughed. “Me? Why me?”

Rowena wiggled her fingers in his direction. “You have an exhilarating energy about you. Clean. Crisp. I imagine you might be able to power a tiny village with your smile alone.”

That compliment turned the apple of his cheeks a bright red. He beamed. “What would I have to do?”

Priestly knelt along the edge of the ornate purple rug in the middle of the modest-sized living room. Sat back on his haunches, alone, he waited for Rowena to emerge from her bedroom.

“I should only be another minute or so.” Rowena’s voice carried through the closed door.

“Take your time.” Priestly called back. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be.

He wiggled the toes of his sock covered feet. Noted his combat boots discarded in haste by the door upon entering the apartment. That had been over an hour ago.

And, if Rowena invited him to stay indefinitely, he thought he might do it.

He’d probably do anything this Scottish sorceress asked.

His mind slammed back into a moment with Tish at BCG. Before they dated. When all they did was quibble and quip at each other.

You know, I gotta be honest, Tish, I’ve never been very comfortable seeing you do that to men. There should be some sort of warning sign posted.

If men are that easy to manipulate, they deserve to be taken advantage of.

I’m easy to manipulate, why don’t women take advantage of me?

I think we can all guess the answer to that.

Right now, he was very sure he was being taken advantage of by a very gorgeous, very clever, and possibly very dangerous, red-headed woman.

Priestly marveled at the intricate crimson-colored scrollwork Rowena had designed on the back of his hands fifteen minutes prior. A paintbrush with an ebony handle had been her implement of choice. Its supple brush hairs caressed his skin with every deft stroke. Entranced by Rowena’s close proximity and her fixation with the task, and him, he’d only been mildly alarmed when she explained the red paint was actually raven’s blood.

Then, Rowena placed a copper bowl on the rectangular coffee table in the center of the rug. She gathered ingredients and laid them atop a velvet cloth. The items included a bundle of gray and brown tinged feathers; a green fluorescent powder housed in a corked glass jar; a vial filled with cloudy murky liquid that Priestly swore appeared to be swirling; and, a tome with a cracked, aged leather cover.

The final touch to the scene had been the lighting of four black pillar candles; each one situated at a table corner.

She asked him to remain in his position and not touch any of the things on the table while she prepared for the spell recitation.

Priestly obeyed and cupped his knees to avoid the temptation to look with his hands instead of only his eyes. He appraised the apartment from his pious stance and absorbed all the little details. What he garnered: Rowena loved expensive things. Impressive oil paintings checkered the walls. Substantive stainless steel appliances overwhelmed the small galley kitchen. A velvet couch with plush, sapphire-colored fabric and wood-etched claw feet dared someone to sit.

The spicy mix of cinnamon and sage greeted him earlier at the threshold. But now that he’d been in Rowena's space for a while, he could sniff out the base notes of vanilla and orange. He wanted to bury his nose in her hair and memorize her scent.

He wanted to know everything about her.

She’d passed his test earlier.

It was true that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her over the past three days. But when he’d found the hex bag that morning, he headed straight to Zo’s Crystal Palace across from Beach City Grill. He banged on the store door hours before it was supposed to open. He didn’t want Jen or Piper to ask what he was doing. It would get back to them with his boss, Trucker, being married to Zo. He planned to deal with them after he had more information.

Zo knew things. She was all about peaceful vibes and one with nature and all that hippie-dippie stuff. Weird shit, usually the good kind, happened around Zo.

Priestly had been concerned when Zo cringed at the hex bag in his hand. Zo explained her reaction wasn’t necessarily because of the possible magic the hex bag had helped to cast. The caster's energy, however, was attached to the bag. Zo had never felt anything that powerful. Hints of vast wisdom lingered in its contents.

He’d told her everything that had happened at the Zoo. Zo inspected the bag with care and asked about Rowena. Once she heard the entire story, Zo said it sounded like a simple servitude spell. Likely temporary, it had probably worn off hours ago. Priestly hesitated but then confessed he couldn’t stop thinking about Rowena. Zo smiled. “From the way you describe her, Priestly, I think that has more to do with you than anything she cast. Besides, an infatuation or love spell is more complex.”

Zo stated that fire was the best way to dissipate a spell contained in a hex bag. But that’s when Priestly asked if there was another way without destroying the bag.

Zo nodded, deep in thought, and offered to perform a cleansing ritual. The uninitiated would not have the knowledge or readily accessible ingredients for such a task, but Zo was well-versed. It had taken a half-hour to perform. And when it was done he was certain his interest in Rowena was truly his own.

Of course, it all got back to Trucker and then Jen and Piper. “Stay as far away from that woman as possible.” “You’ll get in over your head, Priestly.” “I don’t want to see your heart broken again. Or worse.”

He’d mulled all the advice handed to him on repeat over three days.

But he went to see Rowena anyway with the hex bag. He had to know what she’d do if confronted with the evidence of her manipulation.

Her reasons for the spell weren’t far-fetched. And she’d burned the bag to prove that whatever she had zapped him with had nothing to do with his obsessive thoughts. Old news.

The takeaway had been that, in Priestly’s mind, Rowena had been honest with him. More honest with him than Tish had ever been. After that, Rowena had his permission to manipulate him seven ways to Sunday. He could think of a thousand worse ways to get taken advantage of.

The bedroom door creaked. A snap of a switch snuffed out all the light in the room, except for the candles’ pulsing halos. A slight gasp emitted from Priestly’s mouth but he didn’t dare turn around.

“I’m sorry for the wait. But, perfection musn’t be rushed.”

Fabric swished behind him. A petite hand rested on his shoulder. He twitched in surprise at the touch.

“You haven’t moved?”

Priestly shook his head.

“Haven’t poked at the ingredients?”

He shook his head again. Sensed her already short frame bending down, inching ever closer.

Rowena’s breath skirted over his ear. “Good boy.”

Priestly’s heart skipped at the praise.

“I hope you won’t think it too forward.” She straightened, still hovering behind him. “A spell like this is best done in the nude.”

Upon hearing that information he clawed his nails into the denim covering his knees.

“I had to improvise a wee bit, what with yer generous agreement to assist and… weel… us not knowing each other well enough for such an intimate encounter. Yet.” She stretched out the last word.

Priestly held back a groan. His dick hardened and strained against his jeans. He hoped she either wouldn’t notice or be amused at the effect she was having on him.

Her fingers trailed along the back of his neck. Goosebumps prickled his skin. Her hand journeyed to his other shoulder as she rounded his frame and finally, finally let him see what had taken her so long.

Priestly was left speechless by the vision at his side.

Layers of sheer, purple-hued fabric –the word “organza” popped into Priestly’s head– draped her lithe frame. She wore what Priestly could only describe as one of those old Hollywood boudoir robes. The elaborate lingerie, trimmed in feathers, notched tight around her waist with a silk lavender bow.

The deep v-neck displayed similar scrollwork to his, in raven’s blood no doubt, painted on her decolletage. He tried to divert his stare from her chest but it was a vain attempt. The fabric created phantoms of the designs hidden beneath. The robe hugged the curves of her breasts in glorious detail and hardened nipples punctuated their presence. He dared not glide his gaze past the silk belt and forced himself to focus back to the table in front of him.

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the pleasure of someone’s company for summat lek this.” Rowena sashayed in the candlelight. Shadows played over her face. “There may be some discomfort once the spell takes effect. Just know, I am skilled and powerful. I won’t let any harm come to you. And, I’m in your debt, again, for your assistance.”

He should be scared, on guard. But, there was too much excitement and exhilaration in the unknown to allow space in Priestly’s mind for anything else.

Delicate and dainty, Rowena knelt on the rug on the opposite side of the table. With the careful opening of the ancient book, she morphed into a high priestess at an altar, preparing for a sermon.

She eyed Priestly. Arms outstretched over the ingredients and palms twisted upward. “Let’s begin.” She smiled. The candlelight turned it sinister and sensual.

Priestly thought he might faint and willed himself to catch his goddamn breath.

The spellwork enraptured him. Pinches and pours of ingredients found their way into the copper bowl. She swirled feathers through the mixture, holding each one like a pen quill before dropping them in as well. She recited one Latin phrase after another.

“Are you ready?” she asked, almost gasping out the question.

“Yes,” Priestly croaked.

Rowena stood up, one hand outstretched over the spell ingredients.

Priestly’s energy would be exactly what she needed for the divination spell. She’d easily astral project and locate the three Grand Coven members, cloaked in speed and misdirection.

She stared into the young man’s eyes. He was so open, so willing, through every moment.

“Do you freely hand over your control to me?” she asked.

Priestly gulped. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his leather choker twitched. “Yes.”

Rowena recited, “Ad invicem tenetur.”

Bound Together

The words electrified the air. Purple strands of neon light shot from Rowena’s fingers. They weaved and twisted together as they traveled in Priestly’s direction. The first real look of terror registered across his face.

He struggled to rise up. But he’d given her control. His movements were no longer his own.

“It will be easier if you relax,” she directed.

The light resembled the shape of a rope now. Its tip attracted to the markings on Priestly’s hands like electricity to water. Then it slinked up his arm. The magical lasso wrapped tight twice around his neck, threading under his choker, growing as long as it needed to in order to secure the connection.

Rowena prepared to speak the final verses of the spell.

But not before she marveled at how exquisite Priestly looked on his knees, collared to her leash, and at her complete disposal.

#jacklesversebingo23 #boaz priestly #rowena macleod #fanfic #humor #angst #flirting #spellcasting

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Text

(@ophticcus)

If you manage to get out of there without them noticing first, the gallery will become understandably filled with grief and rage. How could you abandon them like this? Weren't you coming to love them? Like they had you? You won't last out there without them. You have to stay..

The residents will become more hostile than they are now. Even fellow workers or new guards aren't free from their wraith. They'll try anything to get you back. Manipulate other humans to kidnap you, calling your old numbers, make a replica - but it could never be the same.

If they do manage to find out before you leave, well, that's another story.

This was it - your final night at the gallery.

While doing some job surfing in your free time, you came across a gig that payed better than your current employers, and probably wasn't full of haunted, cursed or otherworldly art pieces. The gallery obviously paid fairly well for what you had to do, but if there was a job where you didn't have to worry about finding another pair of discarded bloody clothes or running from living statues - you'd take it.

The week had been long, with a pretty mellow end. You just wanted to get to the last day of the payroll before you left, and get your last looks at the gallery. The art works hasn't been very active lately. If fact, it seemed that some were actively avoiding you. The scavenger painting who'd always follow you about hadn't left their frame once; and the constantly gossiping statues in the garden grew hush when you walked by. Strange, but it would make it easier when you have to leave.

"Hey, Hey. It's starting soon, right?"

You freeze. Watering the plant monster in the garden and their roses lead you right passed that little group. Three black silhouette statues wearing one of the three primary colors in the form of a dress or suit. Sometimes they switched around. The only other thing that differed from their onyx skin was their wide smiles; clambering on and on each night about the things they heard. They cup their hands over their faces to keep their voices down, but their loud mouths never stay shut.

"Hush! They'll hear you."

"I think they already have..."

You speed walk out of the garden. It was getting close to the end of your shift, better to gather your things now so you wouldn't have to rush. The statues giggle as you run off.

Entering the break room, you discover your locker to be broken open; the metal dented by heavy fists. The itch of anxiety crawls up your spine. This wasn’t the time for games. It's been a minute since you've had to deal with a mischievous painting. Why now of all times? Did.. they know somehow?

You shake the thought from your head. No, no, you kept your mouth shut. There was no way they figured out you were leaving. They wouldn't be this calm if they has. Calm down- breath. You inhale, and start to look for your bag.

You find it behind the fridge; covered in black handprints and slightly warm from the heat of the appliance. It's a quarter to seven. Time for you to leave. You exit the room; growing pale at the sight of what was before you, or rather - what wasn't.

There was a painting frame there. One you remembered vividly, from the sweet melodies that rang from it each night. It was a portrait of a violinist; one who died mere minutes after it was finished. Their phantom would begin to play every night you clocked in, and whenever you clocked out. In your stupor from finally leaving this place, you didn't notice they had not played a single song that entire week. You hear the first note from their strings from down the corridor. Its not the usual song they play at this time.

You run. Sprinting pass all the vacant exhibits; the faces that peer out at you as you flee. Mocking you. Welcoming you. You hear footsteps falling behind you, but you don't turn your head. As the exit approaches, you ram into its doors; your shoulder burning with a dull ache as the heavy doors remain shut. A locked chain keeps them in place; glued to the frames and as strong as real steel. Your hands become covered in paint as you pull on them with all your might.

You look around for another escape; for anything. That's when you notice so many things you should have before; falling off your toes from the relief of finally being free. Windows boarded. Emergency exits blocked off. A sign hanging over the doorway of the main corridor.

"Goodbye. Welcome home, Y/n."

A kind farewell banner turned to a sickening greeting with letter written in deep red. The active artworks spill into the space, giving you just enough room to breath, but still leaving you suffocated. They come from different floors; the silent pact to stay in position broken to give their dear Nightguard their best wishes. The Director steps through the small crowd; every resident moving aside for him.

"So this is.. farwell, Y/n?"

He doesn't wait for you to reply.

"It breaks our hearts that you would have left without saying goodbye, but it's only in your nature. As we all still care for you greatly, we've decided to host a celebration for you... One that will last all day long, but we do understand you're a bit shy."

He grins.

"If you manage to get away from us until the evening, then you'll be free to go. When you fail, well, welcome home, Y/n..."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere story #yandere drabble #yandere fic #yandere writing #yandere harem #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #Night gallery tag

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indiaalphawhiskey · 2 years

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Hello India hope you are well!

I do not know your stance on babygate but I'm assuming you do not believe Louis is a dad and I would love to hear your thoughts concerning the recent change in Louis' approach on the matter. Louis always seemed to rebel against this stunt and always did the bare minimum. So suddenly making a very public appearance with the kid on Christmas and wishing a public happy birthday to him on twitter, then having him on his show and waving at him, then name-dropping him unprovoked in a video call with a fan and now mentioning him unprovoked in interviews and fabricating all those stories about surfing and cooking pasta.... its all a lot of effort from louis' part so I'm guessing there's something in exchange for him there. The only way I would excuse Louis putting so much spotlight to a minor would be if that was the only way to put an end on this. If it eventually doesn't end and Louis continues to put unnecessary attention on the kid (when he has shown that he can ignore it if he wants) that could potentially harm him in the future I would be very disappointed in Louis and reconsider everything I've thought about him as a person...

Hi love,

You’re right, I don’t believe Louis is a father. I also don’t really like discussing babygate because, apart from it being an incredibly cruel stunt, it serves no purpose (that I can see) but to keep Louis under thumb in the most inhumane way possible. Any talk of it also always seems to encourage people to come out of the woodwork on Anon in an effort to use my blog as a platform to push whatever narrative they believe for XYZ reason, and I just don’t want to entertain that.

But, I did want to address two things under the cut.

One, I don’t really have an opinion on the sudden uptick of stunt mentions. I don’t particularly understand it. I have my theories in terms of marketing and the image of Louis they’re seemingly trying to paint for this new era, but none that I’m confident enough to share because I don’t necessarily see the direct correlation between this image and being a father.

But, if you wanna know where my most rational mind tends to go, it always comes back to image clauses and contracts. I’m not a lawyer and I don’t work in entertainment, so I don’t have any experience with the exact limits (or lack there of) of contracts, but from what I know from being in this fandom for 7 years, its that it’s easy to underestimate how far people will go to cover their ass. Babygate is a lot bigger than Louis + Kid + Simon + The Clarks. It’s a result of a lot of dirty, abusive power play marketing and negotiation, and the number of people that are implicated in the approval and execution of this stunt extends far beyond who we can name. Each of those people have a vested interest in quelling any and all questions from the public (not that that’s really working), and their reach and influence within the industry is likely unquantifiable. I don’t say this to diminish Louis’ part in the stunt or dismiss his sudden active participation in it, I say it because its a reminder that the underbelly of the entertainment industry is the biggest and most unknown variable in this discussion and we cannot hope to get even a fraction of the answers to our questions because on that front, we’re flying entirely blind and have literally nothing but our own assumptions.

Two, I understand how Louis’ more active participation in the stunt can be extremely uncomfortable. I understand how it seems very counterintuitive to the person we know Louis is, involving a minor in something this messy. Again, I don’t aim to excuse him or paint him as a victim. I understand that he is a grown man with agency (how little or how much, I don’t know for sure, but he certainly seems to have more than he used to). I also understand that the situation is a lot more complex than we can begin to know.

That said, I do want to point out that if we believe Louis is not F’s father (which I do) then we must also believe he has no legal rights over F or his welfare. This is a natural conclusion not many people seem to acknowledge, because logically, a complete stranger and non-blood relative would never have any claim whatsoever over a random child.

This means whether or not F particularly is involved in this stunt (and to what extent - pictures, mentions, live participation) is legally entirely up to his real family (The Clarks). Essentially, this means the only relationship Louis has with F can be distilled down to colleagues, almost imagining them as co-stars on a reality TV series. You both show up, you say your lines and do what you’re paid to do, you leave. Louis may not like that a child is involved, but right now that ship has sailed. A child is involved until he isn’t, for whatever reason. Does Louis have any control over how much or how little? In one aspect, yes. I think Louis can decide (and clearly has) in which ways he’s willing to keep up his end of the contract and what kind of distance he can demand from the child physically to try and preserve some semblance of safety in a tricky situation (pictures, yes. Pap shots, no. Mentions, yes. Organic shots from behind, yes. One appearance at a concert, etc etc).

In another aspect, no, in that Louis cannot exactly dictate how this child that he has nothing more than a working relationship with, is raised or used for his family’s profit. And, that the thing, right? That’s the unanswerable question: is Louis actively choosing to profit off of this child or is he simply maneuvering as best he can around being dealt an old and binding bad hand? (Note: How “maneuvering” is defined and shifts, depending on the current context of what’s expected of him professionally is an entirely different conversation altogether.)

I tend to believe the latter, because again, Louis has never proven to be a cruel person who would, if given the chance, actively choose to take advantage of someone innocent or willfully endanger a family member in any way. Entirely to the contrary, actually, which is exactly why this entire situation is so unbelievable to me.

Do I have questions? Many, as always in this fandom.

Will they get answered? Likely not.

Am I relying entirely on my faith and character based evidence in believing Louis is doing the best he can in an impossible situation? Yes.

Do you have to agree with me? No. That’s up to you.

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #babygate tw #babygate discussion #stunt discussion

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dove-da-birb · 11 months

Text

Meet Ségdae Tonyx

The Picrew used was TOON ME! <<B>> by @/hellosunnycore.

A leopard seal selkie hailing from the cold shores where the Shaftlands meet the Coral Sea. Only the hardiest of beings can call this domain home. Where the waters are enough to cause hypothermia to humans, beastmen, fae, and merfolk from more temperate waters.

Name; Ségdae Tonyx

Other names; Dae, Tony

Birthday; November 30 (Sagittarius)

Age; 37

Height; 210 cm

Dominant Hand; Ambidextrous

Gender; Genderqueer

Pronouns; They/Them

Sexuality; Demi-sexual

Romantic Orientation; Demi-romantic, pan oriented

Hobbies; Gossiping with Trein & Crewel

Pet Peeve; Crowley interrupting their classes

Favourite Food; Tempura shrimp

Least Favourite Food; Lemon tea

Talent; Surfing

Subjects They Teach; Ancient Magic, Art, Biology

Unique Magic; Selkie Song

Languages; Selkish, (insert TWST language here)

MBTI; INFJ

Other; Autism & ADD, lots of freckles, a few scars, nearsighted with astigmatism

Selkie Lore

No one quite knows if selkies are merfolk, fae, or beastmen. Some classify them as a mixture of all three, scholars argue what clan they belong too. Whereas selkies just see themselves as selkies alone, not connected to the other clans. They are few in numbers though, some are more social, whereas others led solitary lives.

Leopard seal selkies are the most solitary, and one of the largest of their clan. In their seal skins, the largest members reach upwards of 4 metres [12.6 feet] long and 500 kilograms [1,100 pounds]. While in human form, it is far more common for them to range between 190 cm to 205 cm tall.

All selkies can morph between seal, human, and the in-between stage. Should someone pick up or touch their coat, they are bound to them until the person sets them free, a contract. For a selkie to willingly give someone their coat is a marriage proposal.

While in human form, selkies do keep features of their seal forms, such as their teeth, markings and speckles, and have large eyes and pupils. They also have extra webbing between their fingers and toes. Their hair being the same main colour as their pelt.

Ségdae Lore

Ségdae was raised by a crabeater selkie family after they were found on an ice sheet with no sign of their mother anywhere. Due to being raised by crabeater selkies, Ségdae is far more friendly and outgoing than other leopard seal selkies; they only met one other and she stayed away, swimming back to her mother.

They do feel a bit different and outcasted, as many other selkies, sea creatures, and mers often swim far away from them, afraid. This has led them to wear a cheerful persona around others, but in private they are much more quiet and introspective. They have a hard time making friends, and close relationships, and is only really close to their adoptive family. It doesn’t help that people often stare at them, as they are above the regular maximum height for a leopard seal selkie at 210 cm; making them stick out in a crowd.

But when they became an adult, they took all the things they were insecure about as a child and came to love them. Their height. All of their freckles. Even the scars that they got from getting caught in a net many years ago.

Career

They decided to become a teacher due to an art teacher they had during their teenage years that helped them through some difficult times. They also are very curious and encourage others to try something at least once.

TRAPPOLA DON’T PUT PAINT IN YOUR MOUTH, THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!

Ségdae can be best described as… eccentric. The professor has a hobby of saying the outmost deepest, and life-altering tidbits of advice and knowledge and then proceeds to be a doofus and joke around.

During breaks, they can be seen in the teachers’ lounge chatting – or gossiping – with Trein and Crewel. They also have a habit on popping into classes when they have a free period, helping out with grading papers or starting an improv play in Trein's class to get the kids interested in that royal from the Queendom of Roses.

They cannot stand Crowley. Tries to avoid him whenever possible or make his life a living hell. They only refer to him as Dire, just to show that they have zero respect for him… They also put surströmming in his office and the entire wing of the school had to evacuate.

Unique Magic & Coat

Their Unique Magic is called Selkie Song, and it reveals their deepest desires; to both them and Ségdae. They can only use it if they’re wearing their coat though.

Not a part of their UM, but they also do have a selkie coat that they have on them on all times, or in a chest with several locks so that no one can steal it. It's the pelt of a leopard seal, fading from a creamy white on the belly and fading to a dark slate grey on top. It has lots of freckling and a few scars on it, corresponding with their own. Wears it under their regular clothes.

When they don’t think Crewel is looking, they do look at his coat; they think he looks very posh, a beautiful coat. Avoids touching his coat due to Selkie customs. They nearly had a stroke when they accidentally picked it up when it fell off his chair one time. Crewel just shrugged it off as a Ségdae thing.

Other Notes

Despite being very imposing, they are very kind. They often help out other sea life when in their seal form; penguins often still look terrified when this happens though.

Often blows raspberries, and makes their seal calls when excited. Also flaps their hands when they're happy and talking about their interests.

They go into their seal form when they feel overwhelmed, swimming in the depths away from the chaos on land.

Tends to say things very bluntly, and it has caused them to butt heads with others in the past.

Keeps a surfboard in their office, and would love to bring their class to the beach for some lessons.

Got the nickname Tony from Sam, and it soon caught on to Vargas and Crowley. Trein calls them Professor Tonyx, whereas Crewel calls them Ségdae. Their students usually call them Dae.

Their eyesight is meant for underwater, so they're nearsighted on land with some astigmatism. They have both glasses and prescription goggles for labs.

What People Think Ségdae Is Like (first meeting)

What Ségdae Is Actually Like

Casual Wear/Alt Outfits

This is really just them lounging around their own home; also a view of their scars and all their freckles!

The other prime comfy outfit, this time with their hair up!

#twst oc #ségdae 'tony' tonyx #this is the only oc i have a strong backstory/other information for #you can decide if they and crewel are a thing or make their life hell and want them with crowley #tonyx is taken from the scientific name for leopard seals btw #i did this instead of writing for my one wip; enjoy #professor tonyx #this was supposed to just be the main info but oops #dove you can't make all your ocs queer and neurodivergent- WATCH ME

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eyeslikewatercoolers · 1 year

Text

Something Old (Sashnetra pt 1/4)

Hi, I haven't published a fic since high school...so if this reaches you, feedback is more than welcomed :)

Read on ao3

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Sasha Colby was proud of being a business owner in one of the most competitive industries in the country. Sure, she had no family of her own, no romantic partner, or even any pets, but her booming wedding planning business was all she ever needed in her life. Who had time for a personal life when she had her own business to run?

Sasha stared her business with wedding photography in her early twenties. Being kicked out of her family's house in Hawaii after coming out as a trans woman, she needed to find a way to make money and survive on her own. Couch surfing and working minimum wage could only get her so far. Luckily for her, her talents had paid for her transition, and eventually led her to opening up one of the fastest growing wedding planning businesses in LA. 'Colby's Cherished Celebrations' (or the CCC, as nicknamed by her assistant manager, Malaysia) has been built from the ground up and growing strong for five years, and Sasha couldn't be prouder of herself and her talented staff.

She and her team were all housed in an old office building in downtown LA, arranged on separate floors. On the first floor, had all of the bridal and bridesmaids dresses, on beautiful display. Her two lead dress consultants, Luxx and Mistress, helped brides, bridesmaids, and the occasional Prom goer, find the dresses of their dreams. Luxx and Mistress were excellent at balancing anxious brides trying on dresses, and putting rude family members in line during dress appointments.

Moving up to the second floor, held the business's floral arrangement department. Sasha met Aura and Robin when she photographed their wedding a few years before. The couple had started a flower shop in their garage, and after befriending Sasha, they had all decided to collaborate for several weddings afterwards. After a night of drinks to celebrate the successful wedding season that year, the couple moved their business from their garage and into the second floor.

And lastly on the third floor, sat Sasha's office, as well as the alterations department. Sasha was close friends with the lead seamstress, Loosey. Loosey had moved to LA from Connecticut around the same time as Sasha, and the two became fast friends after meeting at a Wedding Expo in Las Vegas. Sasha wouldn't admit it to the rest of her team, but she loved sharing the same floor as her friend. Herself and Loosey found themselves often in deep conversations during work hours, and kept each other company during the slower off-season as well.

Sasha started her day in her eloquently decorated office, getting to the CCC before any other employee. Her best photography work from Hawaii hung on the walls, against a deep purple paint on all four walls, making her office inviting for her clientele. She had her first cup of coffee finished already, and getting ready for the first consultation of the day. A knock on the old wooden door pulled her away from her thoughts, in which she automatically called out the the person to come in.

"You're first consult is in the lobby, the bride and her mom."

Malaysia, stepped in to the office, handing the intake file to Sasha.

"Great, anything I should know before I meet them?" Sasha flipped through the file, scanning through the bride's information.

Malaysia pursed her lips before speaking, "Her name is Anetra, and she and her groom are Mormons. They're from Las Vegas, and the groom is polyamorous, so she will be wife number 2."

Sasha looked up, trying to hide the surprise on her face. Sasha had worked with many brides and grooms over the years, but a Mormon with more than one wife is a first for her. In the file, it said that this bride was 20, and her planned bridal party consists of her future sister wife, and her younger sisters. Sasha shook off the any pre-conceived notions about what she read about Anetra and her groom, hoping that the her and her family won't be ultra-religious, bigoted, assholes during the planning process. Sasha glanced at the small trans flag in her pencil holder, and looked back to Malaysia and smiled.

"Okay, send them up here."

Malaysia nodded and left, and a few minutes later she heard a middle-aged woman's voice heading up the stairs in mid-conversation.

"...And that young man that drove the Uber over here, you know the one with the eye liner and nail polish. This town probably made him one of those gays too!"

Sasha made the split second decision and grabbed the trans flag out of the pencil holder and put it back upside-down, with the pink, blue, and white material hidden in the cup. She wasn't ashamed of being trans, just...needed to make a quick business decision, that's all.

In walked a shorter middle aged woman, who Sasha presumed was the voice she heard from the staircase. She had tanned skin, and long dark hair tied into a bun and carrying a large purse. Behind this woman, stepped in a younger brunette woman, who was a couple inches taller than Sasha. Her hair was tied in a plait that hung against her back, and her eyes remained downcast while trailing her mother and into one of the chairs in front of the desk. Sasha took notice of the woman's athletic build and the elongated features of her face.

Sasha began her usual spiel, explaining to the bride and her mother her team and the planning process, including pricing options and answered their questions. Anetra's mother did most of the talking to Sasha, while Anetra nodded along on occasion to stay engaged in the conversation. About half an hour into the appointment, the mother piped up, and asked politely "I need to use the ladie's room, where can I find that?"

"It's at the end of the hall, last door on the left." Sasha answered before the older woman stepped out of the office.

Usually Sasha and her clients don't have many awkward moments of silence. But with a bride this quiet and shy, she had to be the one to break the ice. "So...are you excited to get married?" she asked as she leaned closer to Anetra.

Anetra nodded, like she had been the majority of the appointment before she spoke "Yeah, my mom has been waiting for us to get engaged. I'm the oldest sibling and she's been waiting for a wedding since the day I turned 18."

"How did you meet him?"

Anetra looked up, and Sasha noticed her warm, brown eyes. "He's one of the leaders of our church, and he and his first wife have been looking for another wife in their marriage."

"Oh, well they seem lucky to have you in their relationship." Sasha said in a sincere tone. She had excellent small talk skills, especially talking to nervous brides.

The two were interrupted by Anetra's mother walking back in to the office, and they had continued with the rest of the consultation. Sasha put in her schedule book the next appointments, like dress fittings, alterations, cake tastings, and made referrals to her usual photographers, hair and makeup artists, and caterers. Sasha walked her clients out of the office and down the stairs, and into the lobby.

"Okay, I will see you two again next week for the first dress appointment!" Sasha smiled as she opened the front door, and all three said their goodbyes.

"Ten bucks says that they're part of a weird religious cult."

"Mistress!" Sasha spun on her heel, shooting a glare to her employee.

"What? She's got a point, why else would she be the second wife to a Mormon pastor?" Luxx pointed out. standing next to Mistress, tilting their head while crossing their arms.

"And what do you two know about cults?" Malaysia asked from the front desk across the lobby.

Sasha let out a soft cackle as she walked back upstairs. "Today is going to be a long day for us. Let's make some happy brides, girls!" She didn't know why, but Sasha couldn't stop thinking about the shy and reserved bride from that morning for the rest of the day.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr s15 #sashnetra #rpdr #rupauls drag race #drag race #sasha colby #anetra #fanfiction #my fics #my writing #wedding planner au

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