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ponyosmom35 · 7 months

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you don't like me, I don't like you

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter two!

Synopsis: Reader is new, she's a medic whom is strictly on base. She is not enlisted in the military. She's there due to her older sisters training for Taskforce 141, her sister made a deal with Laswell, the pair were a packaged deal. Ghost hasn't been taking her arrival well as he feels like she's a waste of space. He is not afraid to let her know for the second time since they've met.

warnings: enemies to lovers, cursing, ghost is scary, reader is stubborn

Link to full Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

After finally finishing the last part of the report Ghost sighs and closes his computer. It was nearly 3 am and he was exhausted. He stands up, stretching his sore limbs slightly, and walks to his door, he shuts the light off and closes it behind him, locking it. In the distance, he could hear banging. He frowns knowing that it was lights out, so nobody should be awake. He notices the light coming from the training center and walks in angrily. He notices the new medic. Younger sister of Sergeant Emma James, one of the finest in the training program. Price had her transferred to his base so he could keep an eye on her, testing to see if she’d be a good fit for 141. He was unsure why Laswell had requested her medic sister be transferred as well. The girl had been nothing but a pain in his ass from the moment she arrived. She didn’t belong there, what use was a medic if she was strictly on base, no military experience. He scoffs as he notices her incorrect form as she punches the bag over and over, her stance was off and her hands weren’t even taped correctly. He stomps over to her and turns off the music she had playing in the background. She whips around and glares at him angrily.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demands, snatching the speaker from him

“You shouldn’t be out here, its light out”

“I don’t care”

“Go back to your room, no one is allowed out here”

“Then why are you here?” she questions, staring at him with raised eyebrows

“The rules don’t apply to me”

“So you’re above it all now?” she asks sarcastically

“I’m the Lieutenant” he deadpans

“I don’t really care to be honest”

“Listen, I don't think you understand. You don't belong here. You're not a solider. You are a medic. So, get back to your rom and stay there. Otherwise, I'm going to have to report you to Captain Price for insubordination. Do I make myself clear?” Ghost warns, his tone incredibly threatening. It takes everything in her not to show her fear.

“I’m not enlisted in the military”

“Listen, you may work for Laswell, but you're still on a military base, and that makes you subject to military law. Go to your room, or I will order the guards to take you there myself. Understood?”

“what guards Luitentant? looks like it’s just you and me here” she says gesturing to the empty room.

“Don't test me, medic. Just go back to your room, and don't come out until morning. Is that a clear enough order for you?”

“like I said, I don't take orders from you Ghost” she sneers

“You're making a mistake. Let me spell it out for you, Either you agree to do what I say and when I say it, or I'll call Laswell and have her pull you out of this task force and send you back to the states. Is that clear?”

“First you bitch about my lack of training, now you're bitching at me to go to bed! make up your goddamn mind!”

“So that's your attitude then? Fine, I'll call Laswell right now and explain the situation. There’s an endless amount of army medics who do us good in the field. You’re easy to replace”

“fuck you” she says as she tries to push past him, making sure to hit him with her shoulder

“Listen!” he snaps, grabbing her arm and pull her back towards him, his tone growing more serious as his expression darkens.

“ I've been trying to be patient with you, but that time is over. Now listen up, because I'm going to say this once. You are here because you're part of a team and you're expected to behave like it. And that means doing what I say, no questions asked. Do you understand?”

“If I say yes will you finally shut the fuck up?”

“I wasn't finished speaking, and you will show a little more respect to me and this unit. Now, I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

“yes! I heard you perfectly clear” she responds as she turns her back on him and walks towards the sleeping quarters.

“Fucking hell”

The next morning Ghost had asked Soap to bring her to his office the next morning. He could not have her behave that way around the others. Disrespect was not permitted here. Someone needed to teach her. It dones’t take long for a knock to appear at his door.

“Come in” he yells gruffly

Soap opens the door for her and pats her on the shoulder gently. He sends Ghost a look before shutting it behind him. Ghost motions for her to enter and sit down at the chair across from his desk. “Now that you’ve slept on it, what have you got to say for yourself? I hope you've got a real good excuse for that behavior last night”

“what do you want me to say? want me to tell you I'm on my period or that I'm just that naturally charming?” she says sarcastically, her arms crossed as she sits down.

“What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to go against direct orders from a superior officer”

“I see that we're going in circles here, so why don't we just cut the shit. you don't like me, I don't like you. For whatever reason you've been out to get me since I got here. Look man I'm just trying to do my job, so if you want me to stop 'defying orders'” she quotes him sarcastically “then you should just let me do what I came here to”

“You don't get it, do you? It has nothing to do with me not liking you or some personal vendetta that you think I have against you. The fact of the matter is, you're not qualified to be a part of this operation. You don't have the training, skills, or experience to handle yourself in a dangerous situation. What you're doing is putting yourself and other members of the task force at risk, and I'm not going to tolerate it.”

“my position has nothing to do with the field, I'm strictly on base!” she exclaims

“That is not the point. You're still on duty, and you're still responsible for the safety and well-being of the task force. You're a liability, not a help, when it comes down to it. If we need an immediate evac and the other actual medics are already in the field then what? we send you in because you're all we got. The last thing I need right now is to worry about keeping you safe instead of focusing on the mission. So, do you understand why you're nothing but a burden to me on this task force?”

“I've been called many things in my life, but never a burden. that's a new one thanks Ghost you truly never fail to surprise me! But you aren't gonna bully me out of here. Laswell wanted me here and I'm gonna do my job” she says standing “Also for future reference, the medic that could be saving your life one day really isn't the person to piss off”

“Oh trust me, I'm well aware” his skull-covered face inching closer as he leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into hers. She stands tall and refuses to let him see how truly nervous he made her. ”But while we're giving life advice, let me give you some. If I were you, I would be very careful about who you choose to piss off. Because if I have to deal with your bullshit again, I'll make sure you regret it. Is that clear?”

She salutes him sarcastically and walks out the door. Ghost rolls his eyes and sighs in frustration.

“Bloody hell” he murmurs before going back to his paperwork.

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: 'Hello Darkness, my old friend. I see you've come to stalk my store again.' Or, why fear Death when you can just Pavlov him with cookies into carrying your groceries?

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Continued apologies to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

“I hear you’ve been dealing with an infestation.”

You arched a brow and pointedly settled the last of the little, strawberry, tarts into its box with a heavy plap. You took your time piping a neat dollop of cream on the top and then fixing the tiny sugar berry adornments into a smiley face.

“You’re free to call the health inspector,” you intoned, handing over the box. “That’ll be ten copper, your highness.”

Riddle’s face went as red as the dessert in his hands.

“Don’t call me that!” he hissed, ducking back further beneath the hood of his cloak. The cloak that was clearly made of the finest, crimson, silks money could buy. The one with real gold embroidered along the crisp edges and an ivory clasp shaped into a literal crown.

You shrugged. At least he’d moved past demanding outright that ‘of course he wasn’t the prince! How dare you! To think yourself so presumptuous! As if royalty would ever even consider visiting this hovel of yours! Off with your head!’ Those had been a fun few weeks.

You poked around in your stacks upon stacks of baked goods and unearthed a little, cherry, cookie. You slipped it into the box alongside his tart and hoped that counted as a metaphorical pat on the head. There, there, little lord. This humble one will tell no one of your secret, commoner, shames.

Some of that choked-red color started to fade from his cheeks, and Riddle accepted the offering with an expression that on any normal person you might have called a pout.

“I was trying to be tactful,” he spat, tucking the bribe further into the packaging with a stiff twitch of the fingers. “But I don’t know why I even bother.”

You shrugged again and made brief eye contact with the terribly unsubtle guard stationed at your front door. Cater, or Carter, or something like that. He greeted everyone who walked by with a cheerful little wave and a wink. He was charismatic, and loud, and apparently—as you had discovered when you’d tried to hand him a little slice of cake as a consolation treat for putting up with his charge’s emotionally constipated nonsense—hated sweet things with every fiber of his being. You didn’t trust him for a second.

The pair of you locked gazes over Riddle’s shoulder, and his lips quirked into a smirk that was sharper than it was fond. Ah. So it was one of those days, was it?

“Is there something else you wanted?” you prodded intentionally, as Riddle turned to make his retreat.

The Prince paused for a moment, and you watched his teeth worry a bit at his lower lip—a nervous habit he claimed forwards and backwards he absolutely did not possess. After a moment of silent deliberation, he straightened his spine into something stiff and regal.

“There are rumors going around that your business may be suffering from a… pest problem,” he said, like he was chewing over each word individually. “And while I firmly believe that people should endeavor to work through their own problems, if this is indeed a problem…” he paused, hands tightening a bit around the pastry box tucked neatly between his palms before looking back up to meet your gaze with that harsh sort of determination that always made him seem very much like someone who ought to be ruling over entire kingdoms. “I’m certain the Royal Family would be more than happy to come to the aid any of their subjects, should they ask for it.”

You ducked your head in a nod that you hoped was the appropriate level of polite for such a declaration.

“Your concern is appreciated, your high—”

His face twisted up in a sneer and you beamed.

“—Highly esteemed customer,” you finished with a chirp. “But I’m perfectly capable of crushing a few cockroaches.”

Riddle nodded at you tightly and made a swift exit. Cater flicked his fingers at you in a half-salute and the pair continued on down the cobblestone street and out of sight.

“Do you actually have pests here?” a tiny old lady asked from her place perusing your shelves. She looked like an onion that had been left in the sun for a couple dozen years, and the question seemed kinder than it did probing. Like she would happily help you hunt down the little buggers herself. “Roaches, I mean…?”

“Oh no,” you reassured. “It’s much bigger.”

You watched the poor thing nearly go into conniptions and offered her a cup of fresh chai on the house.

As much as you had kindly reassured your most affluent patron otherwise, you were indeed suffering under the aforementioned ‘pest problem.’ And while your squishing abilities were normally the stuff of legend, you didn’t think there was a boot big enough in the whole world to rid you of your current guest.

“Quelle très belle matinée! And made all the better by my dearest friend!”

You grunted and let the door slip shut with a tinkle behind him. Rook nearly bounced to your oven and peered inside with all the eagerness of a wide-eyed child. You’d long since learned not to bother yanking him back from the flames. They never even seemed to warm his pale cheeks, let alone melt him into the puddle of charred goo that they rationally ought to.

“Macarons?” he chirped, and turned to you like he was waiting for a Good Noodle Sticker. He leaned closer, and you watched the sputtering heat sway around and away from him like a tangible thing. He sniffed a few times, looking thoughtful. “Flavored delightfully with that lovely rosewater syrup you were steeping last night?

You hummed in affirmation and handed him a little almond cookie for his efforts. It felt a bit like training a dog.

The first time you’d told a dejected looking Rook that he could eat his treat in your shop rather than using it an as excuse to punt him out the door, he’d practically glowed. And had apparently taken the offer as an extension of a permanent invitation. He still waited patiently at the front door each morning, still marveled at the merry jingle of the bell when you allowed him entrance, and always wiped his feet. You’d hoped a bit that perhaps overexposure to your meager, repetitive, livelihood would have him eventually bowing out from boredom. But if anything, he seemed to have become more enamored with your dealings as the weeks passed.

And now that you’d given him express permission to hover, his originally vested interest had become outright sticky. There was no more plastering himself distantly to the window when he could go and literally shove his face into an oven, or perch himself at your shoulder like a wide-eyed owl as you tried to whip egg whites into peaks without repeatedly elbowing him in the gut. He puttered after you like a duck quacking for its mother, spouting off every question under the sun about temperatures, and consistencies, and the merits of baking powder versus soda.

“And these are meant to be… burned? Yes?”

“Dehydrated,” you sighed. “And not these. You’re thinking of the meringue cookies.”

“Ah, I see. Those crunchy delicacies from yesterday that looked to be little clouds,” he hummed, nodding along. The feather on his hat bobbed over a hot coal and sparked with embers. You reached out with a frustrated huff to whack the walking fire hazard back into a gently smoking mess rather than the start of an outright blaze. “Merci, merci!” Rook trilled as you beat him with a damp towel. Black soot floated through the air like dust motes under the sun, and he grinned through your grouchy manhandling as he always did. “Ahh, cher pâtissier! You always do dote on me so!”

You were about to argue back about how keeping him from unintentionally annihilating your entire kitchen was not ‘doting,’ when your eyes trailed over something strangely gunky and off colored stuck on the back of his cloak. You leaned forward to pluck up whatever it was, and Rook’s fingers flew out to snatch up your wrist before you could even blink.

“Please pardon me, mon cœur!” he beamed, the lines of his leather gloves a soft weight against your flour dusted skin. “I have tried to be most diligent in keeping myself clean for our morning rendezvous! But alas, it would seem I’ve missed a spot this time around.”

Part of you was sorely tempted to ask what—who—had apparently dirtied his robes. But you decided ultimately that it was still far too early to be discussing the remnants of the unfortunate victims off his hit list, and honestly you really weren’t sure you would have cared even with another four hours of sleep and a full mug of caffeine in you. So you waved him off and went back to worrying over your spice racks and tallying cups of flour.

Rook pillowed his chin in his hand and watched you putter about with a sigh that sounded far too besotted for anyone’s good. Those eerily green eyes of his seemed to glow in the lowlight, and he only gushed even more ridiculously when you launched a wet rag at the mess on his back and demanded he mop up his own nonsense or get out.

You didn’t realize that Rook was slowly staying later and later into the day until Ace came by to collect your weekly booklet of receipts and would not step through the door.

“What are you, contagious?” you harumphed, pointedly leaning over the threshold to shove your collection of bits and bobs into his waiting hands rather than stepping out into the street to join him.

“More like superstitious,” he snipped. He crossed his arms and gave your shop a pointed once over. “I thought Egg Boy was overexaggerating, but you really just…” He waved his hands around his head for a moment before letting out an angry huff that sounded a bit too much like an overboiled kettle. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?!”

“You literally ate raw dough off my floor less than a month ago,” you accused.

“I already told you I didn’t know it wasn’t cooked!—And that’s not the point!” he seethed. “Don’t you realize who that is?” he continued, voice dipping into one of those angry whispers that was never really a whisper.

You rolled your eyes and turned to shout over your shoulder. “Rook Hunt?”

The blonde instantly perked up from his place perched by the counter, where he’d very clearly been watching this entire exchange with a lazily curling grin.

“Oui! However can I be of assistance to you, my lovely, darling, pâtis—”

You turned back to Ace.

“Yes, I know who he is.”

“—And of course I know who you are as well!” Rook barreled onwards, slipping forward to drape himself along your shadow like a cat might settle itself into a sunbeam. He never leaned on you outright, but he always made a point to get close enough that he may as well have. “The wonderful artiste who has shown me nothing but the greatest kindness! Ah, mon humain préféré! With your endless hospitality and words sweeter than even the finest of the confections you craft!”

Ace’s expression twisted up like the very idea of another living being considering you to be even halfway pleasant was a war crime. Which, you know, totally fair. But before your redheaded acquaintance could continue with his appalled gaping, Rook leaned over your shoulder with a smile that looked not quite right on his face. The wide brim of his hat obscured your view of the rest of him—casting the remaining slopes of his sharp features into inky darkness.

“And but of course, I know you as well, Monsieur Trappola!”

Whatever rotten, sour, look Ace had been pulling froze over into something nearly deathlike. He went so pale so quickly your thoughts swung back to wondering if maybe he really was contagious with something.

Your shaky friend? Fellow gossip? associate audibly gulped, but when neither he nor your leech of a guest said anything further, you prompted them both with a vaguely curious, “Oh? You’ve met before?”

“Not recently,” Rook trilled, sounding positively delighted. “But I suppose I am familiar with everyone in this petite ville one way or another.”

You hummed, not particularly satisfied with that non-answer of an explanation. But your brief bought of inquisitiveness was quickly being overshadowed by the very real risk that Ace may actually topple over frothing at the mouth and twitching like a rabid racoon at your doorstep. Which would no doubt be terrible for business.

“You better get going,” you prompted, debating giving him a shove with your foot. “Before you start running behind on your pickups.”

“Right…” Ace muttered, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “I should—I’ll be doing that. Leaving. I’ll be leaving.”

“Adieu, Monsieur Trappola!~” Rook called, as the door slid shut with a pleasant tingle. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing you!”

There was a lingering, creaking, da-dong sound from overhead and you wondered idly if maybe there was something a bit off with your bells.

That afternoon, after you finally heaved an exhausted sigh of relief and flipped the ‘OPEN’ sign at your storefront to ‘CLOSED,’ Rook was still perched on the little stool you’d set out for him. The late-day sunshine cast him in all sorts of unfamiliar shades of gold, and while the shadows beneath his feet had always seemed to stretch a bit long and sit a bit oddly, they twitched even more strangely in the glow of the summer light. You blinked at him in open surprise, and he blinked back at you.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Mon chéri, I am always here!” he chirped, and you rolled your eyes towards the ceiling in a silent bid for patience.

“No you’re not,” you argued. “I think I would have noticed.”

Rook held a gloved hand to his mouth to smother a laugh and shook his head at you like you were just the funniest little thing.

“As you say, my tenacious pâtissier.”

You sighed and moved to untie the ribbon of your apron. “Whatever. I suppose I could use your help anyways. I need to run to the markets.”

The Bounty Hunter’s eyes lit with that familiar, sparkling, enthusiasm and he clasped his fingers in his lap with a gust of breath that sounded like it rattled every one of his bones as it squeaked its way out of him.You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You hoped he hadn’t caught whatever mystery ailment Ace had been sagging under when he’d arrived at your door that morning.

“Shopping!” he outright beamed, putting the glitter of the afternoon sun to shame. “Une nouvelle aventure avec mon amour! Et en journée! Temps à passer avec—”

“Enoughwith your nonsense,” you groaned, tossing your dirtied apron onto a free hook. “Do you want to come or not?”

“But of course! I would be most honored to—”

You shoved a wicker basket into his hands and hurriedly moved to usher him out the door before he could begin monologuing in earnest.

Rook walked the familiar path to the markets like a tourist on holiday—stopping every now and again to wax poetic about the way that a potted flower looked in the afternoon light, staring in awe at each bizarre crack in the pavement as if it was a natural marvel worth gawking at. He muttered something dazedly under his breath at one point about ‘what messes might embed themselves in these fissures of the earth,’ but you carried on like you’d gone blind and deaf. A skill you’d become incredibly proficient with as of late.

When you finally arrived at the little hub of stalls, there was an audible gasp from somewhere in the thin crowds. You decided once again that you were better off feigning impairment and pushed onwards as if you had no idea that people were parting around you and your new companion like the pair of you were riddled with plague sores. The gossipy man who sold you your favorite strawberries went a bit green when you approached, and you continued merrily with your farce.

You had only just leaned forward to get a better look at some of the berries you tended to hoard like a dragon to gold, when suddenly the bright reds and blues beneath your fingers went nearly grey—nearly rotten. There was a long, sharp, shadow curling along the fruit. Rook was hovering at your shoulder, as he of course tended to do, and you glanced between him and the twisting, creeping, darkness swallowing the contents of the little stall in front of you. Clearly it was his purple-clad frame blocking the sunlight and casting all these weird shadows, but it was still a bit bizarre. It was like the brightness itself was being sucked from the afternoon, rather than just the cool play of the light that it ought to be.

You reached out curiously to poke a finger into the dancing bits of darkness and were surprised to find that it felt like something solid. A tangible sort of bite against your skin. Something sharp, and cold as the grave—

“Perhaps the melons, mon cœur!” Rook chirped loudly, redirecting your prodding with a cheery nudge. “They smell enticingly ripe.”

You hummed, your musings on the unnatural settling into the back of your mind in favor of reaching out to give the fruits a good shake. They did feel quite nice.

Rook swayed a bit at your shoulder, and you glanced up at him with an arched brow.

“Are you alright?”

“I do not often spend time in the sun,” he admitted, and you blinked once again at those lanky shadows before turning on him with a tight, little, frown.

“You should have said something,” you scolded. “I would have brought you a—” your eyes landed on his wide brimmed hat and its cheerful, black, feather as it bobbed in the breeze. “…never mind. But you still should have told me.”

“Ah, your worry is a balm upon ma pauvre âme!” he crooned, resting his palm against his heart. “What has a wretched creature such as I done to earn such warm regard? And alas—what then could this poor beast do to maintain such a blessing?”

“He could help me find a bag of milled flour for one thing,” you sighed, hoping to derail the burgeoning soliloquy.

“But of course!” he chirped and immediately darted off around a corner to hunt down what you’d asked of him.

You gathered up a heaping portion of fresh berries (back to the their healthy, summer, glow now that your shadow had been sent away), and ruffled around in your bag to retrieve the coppers needed to pay for your haul. The vendor reached out a shaky hand to clasp at your wrist and you raised a brow at him curiously.

“Are you okay?” he hissed, still a very unpleasant shade of sea-sick.

“Are any of us really?” you intoned blandly, and dropped the required coins neatly on the cart.

You’d only just turned back around when Rook came trotting back through the rows of carts—three gigantic sacks of flour tossed over one shoulder. It looked absolutely ridiculous, with the mass of them rising far past his head and setting his hat at an awkward slope.

“That seems a little excessive,” you sighed.

“Non, non!” he argued. “You are nearly out! There will certainly not be enough to prepare both the croissants and that lovely chocolate cake you were planning to make.”

“Oh,” you blinked, and mentally tried to tally up whatever had remained of your provisions. He was probably right—you’d gone a bit overboard experimenting with different types of pretzel dough. “You don’t mind carrying that, do you?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “That all looks like it weighs nearly as much as you do.”

Rook chuckled pleasantly under his breath, and somehow managed to dip forward into a bow that didn’t end with the enormous sacks balanced atop his shoulders spilling forward all over the road.

“It would be my pleasure, mon cœur,” he smiled, very nearly a purr.

You shrugged and went back to meandering contentedly through the stalls, happy to push all of the menial physical labor off onto someone who seemed more than delighted to relish in its ache. Rook trailed merrily at your heels—the sun heavy at his back and highlighting each step with those dripping, inky, shadows. The faint outline of a ragged, hooded, robe brushed nearly unseen through the dirt, broken only by trailing, white, puffs of loose flour.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader #Rook Hunt x Yuu #Reaper!Rook #Monster Mayhem #Fantasy AU #Rook Hunt #Riddle Rosehearts #Cater Diamond #Ace Trappola #Monster Mayhem Rook Part 2

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wasted-women · 4 months

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ROUND 2B, MATCH 4 OUT OF 4

Cause of Death & Propaganda Under the Cut:

Bill Potts

Cause of Death: Shot and turned into a Cyberman

Propaganda:

Bonus package deal of the bury your gays trope AND the doctor who universe specific trope of black character being turned into a cyberman. Like it happens a LOT. Like a weird amount. Also bill Potts is a lovely character who was so funny and gay and her dynamic with the doctor was so good and she deserved so much more.

Charlie Bradbury

Cause of Death: Stabbed multiple times in a bathtub

Propaganda:

First things first: She was lesbian. “Bury your gays” at its finest. Secondly: This is straight from a screenrant article about her death “ Supernatural sacrificed Charlie to push Dean towards embracing the Mark of Cain's violent influence” (screenrant, Why Supernatural fans were so angry about Charlie’s death, Elvy 2020) this is the classic killing of a female QUEER character to motivate a male hero and they don’t even deny it.

#bill potts #doctor who #charlie bradbury #supernatural #poll tournament #wasted women poll #round 2 #round 2b #polls

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tansu-bomb · 6 months

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Ren Ruyi is QUEEN.

QUEEN ! QUEEN !! QUEEN !!!!!!!!!

Oh how she is capable of physically or mentally shredding arrogant, powerful men into little little pieces is just … 🔥🔥🔥🔥

She begins by casually issuing commands to her former disciple…

Then circles around him like a tiger would its prey; it’s physical & emotional intimidation at its finest, really!

She is quite disappointed with him & how he has mindlessly festered his obsession all these years. She knows the only way to deal with him & the situations he’s creating is to pluck it by the roots and lay it all out — forcing him to face his demons.

So she bares open his darkest self, his deepest secrets…slaps the nonsense off him…and puts the fear of Shifu back in him.

And she finishes by packaging this incident into a learning lesson for her current disciple.

I literally watched this entire scene like Mr. Du — with my mouth hanging open, sitting at the edge of my seat, and a range of exhilarating emotions coursing through me.

This character…and this scene is EVERYTHING!

#a journey to love #ren ruyi my queen #she is the ultimate badass

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mamamittens · 1 month

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The Ticket to Success (+18)

This work was commissioned by @raptures-finest, as usual it was a pleasure working with you!

OC (Andy) X Koala

Warnings: Masturbation, horny thoughts, hot tub sex, unprotected sex, and implied oral.

Word count: 7,080

Andy huffed, shuffling through the wad of mail he’d struggled for five minutes to remove from his mailbox. How the hell the mailman managed to stuff this many envelopes into the tiny box, he wasn’t sure, but it was a little amazing to behold. Well, it would be more enchanting if it didn’t result in him cussing out the thick stack of junk mail and weighing the benefits of tearing it out with his teeth for the feral satisfaction it would bring.

Luckily for the post office, Andy had enough restraint to not do that.

Barely.

So now he was aggressively sorting through it at his coffee table, wondering how a day could manage to pile up this many colorful envelopes, flyers, and brochures of everything from car dealerships, grocery store sales—oh, that’s a damn good deal for a turkey, but what the hell would he even do with a whole turkey?!—churches, window estimates, phone companies, actual bills be needed to keep, and thoughtful offers to take out loans he couldn’t afford to pay back.

It's so exhausting being popular, it seems. At the very least, more popular than he’d been for the past few months.

Andy would never describe his social life as hot and popping or any other vaguely cringe phrase, but it had been particularly dry and depressing since he got dumped a while back.

Over text.

Andy handled it with dignity, of course…

And a few gallon jugs of ice cream with reruns of canned laughter sitcoms to soothe his soul as well as his wounded ego. But that was besides the point and no one’s business but his internet history and the mysteriously thriving succulent he doesn’t recall buying, potting, or even watering even once. It also keeps moving but unless it starts talking to him, he’s going to ignore the vaguely spooky nature of his potted plant.

Hell, if it starts paying rent he’ll give it its own room too.

Still, in the midst of many creative scams, deals, and bizarre attempts to claim his Sundays, there was a rather plain envelope with a smiley face logo. Cheerfully calling him a winner. Andy wasn’t so depressed that’s all it would take to get him to take out a fifty thousand dollar loan though…

Andy leaned forward suddenly, squinting at the return address.

It sounded familiar.

And not like it was his bank kind of familiar.

Happy Holiday Getaway Giveaway.

A little generic, maybe that’s what got his attention?

Andy huffed, hand moving to smack the envelope onto the junk pile and then yelped when he instead slapped the innocent succulent he did not recall putting on his coffee table. The cute, chubby leaves barely moving an inch, still thriving with pretty pink buds.

“Sorry!”

Seriously, when the hell did he get this plant?!

Andy thought hard, narrowing his eyes at the strange thing in it’s clay pot painted like a takeout container.

It was weird enough that he just might have got it himself but… when?

Couldn’t have been after he got dumped—the only needless purchases he’d made were video games and sweets after that disastrous text.

Before it then?

He doesn’t remember why he would have—he’s not a plant guy and Cashmere certainly wasn’t either… ah!

Andy nearly jumped, remembering suddenly why the name was familiar.

It was a sweepstakes! He’d entered a sweepstakes hoping for a nice vacation with his then-girlfriend!

Then she dumped him two days later…

Andy ripped open the envelope and looked over the contents.

Shockingly… he’d won.

All inclusive trip to an exotic resort. A new one at that, so the amount of other guests were low—maybe this was a sly way to test the facilities? The pictures were stunning but vaguely liminal if he was being honest.

Sleek, modern white walls with pristine pools surrounded by a golden beach. Paradise perfectly packaged for the wealthy consumer who didn’t mind the vaguely canned feeling of the architecture. It would probably look a little less fake with more people but the few pictures he had only had a few runway models lounging around. Distantly, Andy worried that this was a trafficking scheme of some kind.

But no, he’d looked up the resort when he first applied for the sweepstakes.

It’s very real. And very new.

In fact, the paperwork he got warned of conditions. Mainly a required set of activities he’d need to partake in. Interviews of his and his guest’s experience.

Looks like he was being offered the once-in-a-lifetime chance to be a guinea pig for an expensive resort. Well, him and one other person.

“Shit…” Andy muttered, looking around his frankly messy apartment.

Who the hell would go with him on vacation for a week?

Andy had his phone out, scrolling through his contacts nervously.

Have to be single—don’t want the drama or some misunderstanding otherwise…

That knocked out several people.

Definitely not calling family, that sounds like hell on earth.

There goes several more… his contacts are pretty sparce now that he thought about it.

If this ends up being shit, I don’t want to hear about it at work…

Aaaand there goes a majority of his contacts.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Andy scowled.

“Okay, who’s crazy enough to beta-test a bougie resort or knock out teeth if it’s a trafficking scheme…” Andy’s finger scrolled directly to one person.

Koala.

Well… yeah.

Koala would definitely agree to go.

Nervous, Andy shot her a text, wincing when he realized their last conversation was nearly a month ago about splitting the cost of takeout. But it was too late now, his shot was well and truly out there.

Three dots bounced at the bottom of his screen for several moments.

‘u tryin to get ur organs harvested or smt?!’

Three, mocking dots bounced again.

‘fuck it we ball’

Andy blinked, shocked he barely had to justify himself.

“…fuck it, we ball.” Andy echoed distantly, realizing with growing horror that he’d just agreed to a week-long resort stay with Koala.

…What would he even wear?

What would Koala wear?!

Andy shot up, running to his closet to try and find decent clothes to wear.

Depending on how suspicious Koala was, she was either packing bikinis or brass knuckles—Andy nearly smacked himself.

It was Koala.

She was packing both.

Short of any brass knuckles himself, Andy settled for at least two pairs of khakis and worked from there. Worst case scenario, Koala just makes fun of his fashion choices. As long as he packed sunscreen, that should be the most embarrassment he has to worry about.

Shockingly, that was not the most embarrassment he needed to worry about.

Andy had, in his confusion, forgotten a key feature of this trip beyond trying out a new facility he’d otherwise never get to step foot in.

This was designed as a couple’s retreat.

So, there he was, standing side by side with his dear friend Koala as they stared at the only bed they had available.

Red silk sheets littered with rose petals and chocolates. Clean white candles lit in their own holders on the bedside tables as mood lighting while the afternoon sun stained the ocean view with lovely pinks and purple hues. The only good news was that the bed was in a normal shape, but he hadn’t seen the bathroom yet so he wasn’t going to assume he was in the clear for anymore overt honeymoon-vibes.

“Ah…” Andy found himself failing to say anything witty for the occasion. A joke, perhaps, to cut the tension. But really, what was there to say here?

“Ah.” Koala agreed with an amused grin. “Well, at least the room is nice!” Andy nodded woodenly, looking out at the spacious accommodation.

Much like the rest of the resort, it was rather sparsely decorated. Bare, in fact, except for a few modern art pieces that looked like they were made with a max budget of twelve buck but ended up costing twelve hundred at minimum. White walls, warm recessed lighting, hardwood floors, and off-beige colored furnishings for the most part. There was the occasional pop of saturated color, like the red bedding and what appeared to be teal accents in the bathroom, but for the most part the resort seemed to be trying to convince him that they’d died. And not honorably, either.

Like, really boringly died at the end of a long nine-to-five with no real attachments to anything but the vague concept of a full night’s rest. No personality to speak of beyond what could be agreed on in a tense but ultimately meaningless boardroom meeting of old, out of touch CEOs.

Nice, but like it would really suck to live here.

The view was nothing to sneeze at, though. Panoramic windows overlooking a private balcony of just a small slice of the ocean just off the kitchen. A little cozy hot tub merrily bubbling away. Not that Andy could imagine cooking anything in the kitchen, it looked painfully staged. Like he’d open the fridge to find an open glass pitcher of milk and sample sized glass bottles of syrup for coffee. Maybe craft coffee beans and dragon fruit in the cupboards if whoever staged it remembered that people generally tended to eat things but damned if they could remember how that worked.

Sterile and just a little out of touch seemed like a good description of the place, actually. Even if it was bigger than his apartment.

Andy eyed the beige couch and wondered if he’d smell like a department store after sleeping on it. It looked too small to fit him though, and he wasn’t a particularly large guy to start with.

“Well, at least it’s not a trafficking scheme.” Koala finally sighed, setting down her bag and removing her cap. Soft red hair puffing out now that it was free. “I feel too gross to sit anywhere though.” She huffed and Andy definitely agreed with her.

“Well, we’re free for the rest of the night to settle in. You can try out the shower first. We’ve got to show up for breakfast and…” Andy fished in his pocket for the activity list. Clicking his tongue as he squinted over the frilly calligraphy. “After that, snorkeling? Snorkeling at eleven for two hours and then lunch. Free until dinner at seven.” He eventually summarized. Koala looked at him with intrigue.

“What else do we have to do?” She asked, popping open her suitcase to sort through the contents.

“Looks like the day after tomorrow we have a short nature hike after breakfast and a spa treatment after lunch until dinner. Next day is a cooking class to make our own dinner. Yoga early the next day. The last two days are our own outside of meal times. Then we leave before noon.” Andy mused, glancing over the list.

Really, he’d have liked to choose his own activities, but considering the whole damn thing was free, he had no real complaints on the matter. Nothing seemed too outlandish at least.

“Sounds like a pretty decent plan. Kinda wish the meal times were more flexible but I guess the whole thing’s free so…” Koala shrugged while unknowingly agreeing with him. Plucking out some clothes from her suitcase and going to the open doorway to a clean, white tile bathroom with teal decorations. Andy smiled, deciding to go onto the balcony and check out the view while he waited for Koala to finish taking a shower.

Frankly, it was breathtaking. The distant crash of the waves below. Faint conversations of staff and probably a few other guests testing out the facilities. Sea salt heavy in the air as a cool breeze swept by. Andy could easily get lost in this sort of view…

If only he could forget how there’s literally only one bed.

And the couch in the main area was not big enough for him to sleep comfortably after a moment of contemplation unless he suddenly gained the ability to sleep like a lego on it’s side. And even then, he’s pretty sure his ass would be hanging off the edge.

It was unclear if it was meant for just looks or really skinny rich people.

Who knows, maybe there’s a secret couch-upgrade where they swap it for an identical fixture with three extra inches of cushion… probably costs an extra grand per inch though, knowing his luck.

And now he was trying not to think of the very obvious issue he’d need to solve for the week by imagining couch-related-upcharges.

Thing was, if it was anyone else, he might get away with sleeping on the floor.

But Koala would toss his ass into the sunset if he even tried to imply she needed separation to ‘protect her modesty’ or whatever. So… no. Koala would not stand for him to sleep on the floor and she’d laugh herself hoarse if he tried to squeeze onto the barely functional couch when he’s the reason she got to be here. And to hell would she sleep on the faux leather couch when there’s a perfectly good bed. Really, she wouldn’t see any issue with sharing the bed once they tossed out the rose petals. They’re friends. It’ll be just like a sleep over!

Because it kind of is.

And they are friends.

But Andy’s issue was more… personal.

He sucked in a sharp breath, gripping the sturdy railing suddenly as he finally allowed himself to admit the truth.

Koala was really pretty and Andy was a horrible cuddle bug.

Anything breathing in his vicinity ended up in his arms shortly after he passed out. Pets. People. Once, a particularly almost certainly haunted doll.

Side note of his own thoughts, Andy frowned at the realization that a succulent might not be the first or only vaguely haunted object following him in his own home…

And he’s getting distracted again! He needed to think of a solution before Koala finished up or he’d be stuck flailing in front of her trying to hedge around how handsy he got in his sleep!

It was mortifying. All the more mortifying by how lovely Koala was. Even if she scared him a little, but, never let it be said that his response to fear was rational. And he’d always thought Koala was lovely just as much as he knew she was out of his league. Embarrassingly so, actually.

It’s a whole thing is what Andy was trying to get at.

And Andy, the mad genius and utter fool he was, invited her to a beta-test couple’s retreat for an entire week.

If there was anything more horrifying than a bible in the nightstand, Andy was saving Koala the trouble and flinging himself into the setting sun.

“You better have brought pajamas because I am not cuddling up to your naked butt.” Koala piped up suddenly from right behind Andy, startling him badly enough to yelp. Face red from embarrassment and the thought of such an intimate embrace. Loose shorts barely mid thigh and a matching red spaghetti strap, crop top her pajama of choice for the night.

Andy quickly looked away from her soft shoulders exposed to the setting sun and, even more enchanting and dangerous, the gentle curve of her inner thighs. Her skin flushed and silky. Lean muscle packed neatly away under plush curves. Enough to fool most men, but not Andy. No, Andy knew better.

Even if he’d probably handle the sight of her so casually dressed better if he didn’t know how easily she’d break his spine. Alas, it was too late for him on many fronts.

“C-Course I did!” Andy sputtered quickly. “I-I’d never—” Koala snickered, rubbing a towel over her wet hair. Eyes bright with amusement as she smiled. His heart fluttering at her expression that he could almost imagine as enamored.

Andy cleared his throat quickly.

“Anyway! I thought I’d take the couch—s-so it’s not a concern!” Andy tried to deflect but Koala arched her bow at him. Pretty pink lips twisting into a scowl.

“Andy. I’m not convinced I could fit on that couch laying down. Any smaller and it would be an artsy end table.” Koala pointed out dryly, shaking her head. “Just take a shower, Andy. And don’t you even think of trying the couch.” She huffed, storming off. Wet hair bouncing over her shoulders, flicking water behind her.

Well… that was that, he supposed.

What a shame.

Dead of mortification on his first night on an all-expenses paid vacation. What a waste.

Andy swiped up a change of clothes and his little toiletry bag before Koala could do something horribly embarrassing like rifle through his bag and pick out his underwear. He didn’t pack any of his goofy boxers but he just knew that somehow Koala would reach in and pull out something gaudy. Like heart boxers or middle-school style dicks. Badly edited cat pics or maybe repeated ‘live, laugh, love’ patterned boxers.

He didn’t know how, he just knew she would.

Andy barely glanced at the bed to see Koala tucked in on one side, petal free, and scrolling on her phone in boredom. She looked so cute and domestic waiting for him to join her.

It took effort to rip his thoughts away from such dangerous trails, choosing instead to puzzle out the fancy shower. How Koala managed without cursing up a storm, he wasn’t sure.

Or maybe he just didn’t hear her?

Still, he managed somehow and quickly ducked under the spray. Letting hot water trail down his spine, cool teal tiles pressing into his forehead as he braced himself. Fingers clenching as he imagined the bare plush of his palms being something else. A different kind of heat building in his blood just as quickly as shame did. His cock throbbing with neglect as he tried to think of something else.

Anything but how soft her thighs would be in his hands.

How sweet she’d sound as he kissed up them.

She’d break him in half for the audacity—and if it happened after he got a chance to try his luck, he’d likely thank her.

Andy sucked in a sharp breath, his calloused palm wrapped around his cock. Water squeezed against his stiff length. He clenched his fist, thumb rubbing over the tip. Slipping in precum as his knees threatened to buckle.

Andy justified his indecency with the knowledge that if he didn’t take care of it now, he’d be likely wind up with it burning a hole through his pants. It certainly wasn’t going away on it’s own, no matter how cold he made the water—it was going to be a very long week if he didn’t find a way to manage this issue.

Andy gasped and panted into the hot, moist air as he stroked himself. Electricity shooting up his spine with every motion. Mind running wild as he pleasured himself for the first time in months. Unreasonably turned on from recycled fantasies with his ex being fashioned into something more compelling. Koala’s face where Cashmere’s once was—had originally been before he shamed himself for thinking of his friend that way while he had a girlfriend.

And now here he was, almost choking on steam as he went faster. His palm slapping the base of his cock just loud enough for his ears to burn. His eyes squeezed shut as he swallowed a moan. Imagining Koala gently crying out his name.

“—Andy?”

He gasped, nearly slipping as he came. Spilling onto the wall and his fist in thick spurts.

Nearly choking, still trembling with the aftershocks, Andy responded.

“U-Uh, yeah, K-Koala?” Andy said, trying to sound casual as his hand stroked his cock, riding the waves of his orgasm. It didn’t escape his notice how he throbbed when she spoke up. A particularly heavy spurt of cum splashing the wet tile as his whole body flushed with heat.

“Want me to set an alarm an hour before breakfast?” she asked politely. A fresh wash of shame falling over him.

Koala was such a good friend and here he was!

A fucking degenerate jacking off to her!

At least his libido cooled down considerably but at what cost?

“Yeah. Thanks, Koala.”

“No problem!”

Andy pulled his hand away, face burning as the water washed away the only evidence of his shame.

Hopefully, that would be the end of it.

That would not be the end of it, unfortunately.

Andy woke just before sunrise with a whine. His nose tickling with the soft scent of peaches and honey. Soft breath blowing across his chest. His cock arching against the fabric of his sleep pants to nestle into a soft, warm crease.

Koala was curled up in his arms, hands clenched into his shirt.

And his cock was practically trying to slip into her shorts.

Mortified, Andy tried to slip away. To maybe turn around or escape to the bathroom. But Koala whined, low and sweet. Her body shifting in a roll, grinding against his thigh trapped between her legs. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him, his whole body freezing as he tried to will his erection away.

Andy did not fall back asleep easily. But he only tried to slip away once more, triggering a more petulant and aggressive shuffle. He then realized that if he kept going, Koala would wake up to something a lot more embarrassing than his hard on pressing into her thigh. Uneasy, he fell back asleep hoping it would go away on it’s own.

He could only assume it did, seeing as he woke up to a cheery alarm instead of Koala’s hands on his throat, throttling him for his indecency. Andy groaned and buried his face into the pillow when the image of her straddling him did little to tamper down his pre-existing problem.

“Wake up, goober! It’s time to get dressed!” Koala chirped from somewhere nearby. Andy sighed, face still buried in his pillow.

At least she sounded happy… he could handle a week of mortifying self-control if it meant she had fun.

“Alright, alright. I’m up!” Andy huffed, smiling as he rolled out of bed.

And promptly wanted to roll back into it when he saw Koala.

“How do I look?”

Practically glowing with excitement, the cutest expression of mischief on her face. Cut off shorts barely mid thigh and a soft pink, short sleeved button up tied under her breasts, exposing her stomach and the cups of a yellow floral swim suit tied around the back of her neck. Large sunglasses perched on her head as the morning sun peaked in through the gauzy curtains. Flip flops clapping against the tile as she finished rubbing in sunscreen over her arms. A faint sheen across her cheeks hinting she’d already applied it there as well.

“You look good! Uh, new swim suit, right?” Andy asked, certain he’d never seen that one before.

“Yep! Got it just for the trip! And a matching swim suit for you too!” Koala grinned, tipping her head towards the dresser with aforementioned swim trunk.

A couple’s set?

Shit… Andy wanted to kiss her, she looked so cute and happy. And she’d so thoughtfully gotten him something nice to swim in rather than his ratty old pair of swim shorts he’d gotten years ago. As abrasive as Koala could be, there was no denying that she could be incredibly thoughtful while treating it as an afterthought. It’s one of the many things Andy loved about Koala.

Confident, passionate, endlessly thoughtful in her own way, and stunning even when she was pissed as hell. The list was really endless and Andy would die a happy man if he ever got to properly thank her for being even a fraction of the wonderful woman she was.

Not that she really needed his thanks, honestly.

She was also a little impatient, which Andy was reminded of as her expression began to twist into something approaching frustrated.

“Oh! Uhm, thanks, Koala! It’ll be nice to match when we go snorkeling!”

Andy picked up the shorts and raced to the bathroom, not wanting to see her good mood spoiled because he got lost in his head. This trip was a stroke of luck and he’d be a terrible friend if he wasted it waxing poetic about how great she was.

The resort was as nice and vaguely minimalist-industrial-backroom-hell that had been advertised. Everything looked so clean and hauntingly off-white. Decorated only with lush greenery and pieces of modern art he could only fathom as interesting to look at and not much else. The staff were also very nice with clean, pressed uniforms designed for the warm, breezy weather. They at least looked like real, comfortable, not-quite-minimum-wage people. Andy would have lost his mind if they all looked like supermodels.

“Ah, pardon me ma’am, do you know where they’re serving breakfast?” Andy asked a passing maid in pastel yellow, noting the name tag pinned to her chest. The woman, maybe around forty with a deep tan and laugh lines, chuckled.

“Yes, I do. Follow me!” Mariah cheerfully declared, turning on her heel sharply.

“Oh! Directions are fine if you’re busy, Miss Mariah!” Andy called out, but the woman barely paused as she laughed over her shoulder.

“It’s no problem, sir! We barely have any guests for this trial run so my hands are empty of meaningful work.” Mariah called out. “And no ‘miss’! That goes for either of you kids!” Koala laughed.

“Alright, ma’am!” She responded with a sharp grin as Mariah glared back.

“Sorry, miss—I mean ma’am—I mean Mariah!” Andy sputtered, faltering under what was definitely a well-worn motherly glare. Koala slapped his arm with a bark of laughter as Mariah joined in.

“This is the dining hall where every meal is served. I don’t know when you have cooking lessons but there’s a special area just to the left where Javier, my cousin, will teach you. If you have any questions, just let me know! You two have fun—oh! And if you wish to be, well, undisturbed, there’s a tag to hang on the door handle! Just don’t forget to remove it when you leave your room!” Mariah chuckled with a wink, leaving Andy sputtering again as Koala blushed.

“T-Thank you, Mariah!” Andy tried to speak, as the woman in question left them to their meal with a laugh.

Their breakfast was served buffet style. The table clearly not stocked to capacity, likely to cut down on waste, but still more than enough for a good meal. Andy served himself pancakes with fresh fruit, getting little samples of the ones he’d never seen before and would likely never have the chance to eat again. Koala’s own plate similarly stacked with immaculate, golden brown pancakes.

They ate in companionable silence, Koala occasionally stealing some of Andy’s fruit to try, which he offered only mild protest to.

The food was delicious and Andy realized it was the nicest meal he’d had in months. A little regretful that he’d be back to depression takeout when the week was up. Still, he’d enjoy the moment while it lasted.

They had over an hour before snorkeling, so they spent that wandering around the resort. Looking at the vaguely off putting architecture and areas that clearly would be expanded on at a later date. Koala’s arm wrapped around his as they meandered towards the beach where their lesson would take place, waving to the staff they passed by with amused expressions.

Their snorkeling teacher was a man built from a mountain, Andy was sure. Tan and broad with thick arms of hidden muscle. Salt and pepper hair tied in a bun and a stubby beard barely hiding his grin. He looked at them like they were the funniest thing he’d seen all day.

“Aha! Our lucky guests, a pleasure to see you two! First and foremost, I am Victor! I will be your guide and teacher for our little excursion!” He bellowed, a faint accent twisting his words pleasantly. “You have your sunscreen, yes? Apply more while I inform you of the safety rules!”

Andy and Koala did so while Victor followed his very informative script of what they were allowed to do, what they weren’t allowed to do, and how to respect the environment as they observed.

“Perhaps, if you impress me, you will be allowed to help hunt down lionfish! They’re unfortunately invasive in these waters and many locals fish them for fun. They’re also dangerous, so don’t touch them if you see them! Remain calm, don’t touch anything spiky, and you should be fine. Don’t disturb any coral, our gift shop has plenty of ethically harvested samples if you wish to have a keepsake.” Victor laughed, though he still sounded quite serious. “Above all else, just have fun! Our waters are beautiful and deserve to be appreciated as they are!”

And Victor was right about that.

They were stunning.

Miles of clear, clean water teeming with sea life. Colorful and curious fish swimming by them as Victor showed them around. They did see the invasive fish Victor mentioned and steered clear as instructed. Andy wasn’t sure he’d take Victor up on his offer of hunting trips, but it seemed like an interesting experience at least.

Andy would never forget how beautiful Koala looked though.

Twisting to watch a passing school of iridescent fish so close they grazed her with their fins. Her hair a halo around her stunned face. Bikini strings nipped by particularly curious fish mistaking them for worms perhaps. Sunlight streaming through the water in wide ribbons around them. Sharks idly swimming beneath them as they patrolled the seafloor peacefully.

Andy kind of thought he’d died for a moment, forgetting his own hands cupped to let small fish explore the unexpected space.

As ever present his desire was, Andy frequently lost himself in how beautiful Koala was. In and out of the water.

Curious and sweaty, surrounded by foliage and flowers as they hiked. Showing off a blooming flower bigger than her face with a wide grin.

Utterly relaxed and nearly asleep as she sighed, back popping under the attentive hands of her masseuse. His groan partly from sheer relief as his entire spine was reset and the hazy, distant smile Koala gave him.

Scowling as she carefully tried to debone a fish for their meal. Javier laughing as he barely looked at his own, watching them both struggle. He at least looked over their attempts to make sure it was safe, only needing to pluck a few from either of them with a proud smile.

Nearly halfway through their vacation and Andy was convinced he’d fallen in love with Koala all over again. The two of them relaxing in the hot tub as the sun dipped down over the horizon.

“Man, this is the best.” Koala sighed, partly leaning over the edge to take a cube of cheese from a sample tray that had been delivered to their room in leu of dinner—some sort of malfunction taking the kitchen out of commission. A promise of grilled fish a while later as an apology they gratefully accepted. Andy swore he could smell it down below on the beach, perhaps lionfish Victor caught he mused.

“I know, right? Even a kitchen disaster turns into a win. If this happened back home, I’d either be standing outside while the fire department hosed down my building or bedridden with food poisoning.” Andy laughed, slipping under the hot water until it lapped at his chin. Koala looked at him over her shoulder, skin already a few shades darker with faint white lines where her bikini had been resting consistently.

Now much more practiced, Andy managed to ignore the hot impulse to run his hand over her spine just to feel her breath under his palm.

Koala smiled and sank into the water, partly floating to his side and accidentally sitting on his thigh.

Before he could apologize for taking up so much space, she grinned and slipped fully onto his lap, leaning against his bare chest.

Andy froze, uncertain hands stuck just before he could grab her soft waist to move or—or maybe steady her?

“Best seat in the house, huh?” Koala winked, teasing him. Andy chuckled nervously. The trip had clearly been too peaceful if she was teasing him like this.

“A-Ah, c-can’t beat the view, clearly!” Andy stammered before flushing, looking out at the sunset to emphasize his meaning. Not wanting Koala to move because she thought he was being a creep—though the sight of her leaning against him was stunning. Warm, sun-kissed skin on full display, water dripping down between her breasts and under her swimsuit.

Koala sighed, her slender hand wrapping around his wrist as she brought his hand to her stomach. Andy nearly jumping out of the water as she looked up at him, pressing his hand higher until his thumb grazed under her covered breast. Her dark eyes searching his as his heart thundered against his chest.

“What if I could make the view better?” Koala asked softly, her expression almost hopeful.

“You’re already here.” Andy breathed, her eyes shocked at his declaration.

Andy was pretty shocked at his audacity too.

Rather than be offended or any variation of pissed, Koala smiled, quite pleased as she pushed his hand higher. Allowing him to press his palm over her breast entirely.

“I-I—are you—Koala, are you—do you want m-me to--?” Andy could barely breathe, his words cut off as she leaned up and pressed her soft lips to his chin. His hand reflexively squeezing, drawing out a soft moan.

“I’ve been waiting for you to touch me for ages.” Koala whispered against his skin.

It was like a dam burst open in his chest. All heat and thrill as it felt like his wildest dreams came true in an instant.

She wanted him?

She wanted him?!

“How much do you want me to touch you?” Andy asked softly, voice hoarse as he fought the urge to moan when she pressed her ass into his lap further.

“Completely. Anywhere you want to, Andy.” Koala swore, voice like silk in his ears.

“Anything you want, lovely.” Andy sighed, settling his hand on her thigh like he’d dreamed shamefully on that first night. Kneading and brushing between them while his other hand toyed with her breast. Teasing the cup of her swimsuit down until her breast spilled free. His eyes fixed on her face as she blushed, lips falling open in a clear invitation he didn’t deny.

Her lips were soft against his, her moan tickling against his skin as he brushed his thumb over her nipple. Teasing it into a stiff peak while he stroked her thigh. Dizzy from how soft she was everywhere. A groan rattling his lungs as her tongue slipped between his teeth. Andy didn’t know when he closed his eyes, but they fluttered open instantly at her bold motion. Desperate to see her expression as he curled in closer to her to return the favor.

She looked almost frail in his arms. Like she was dissolving under his tongue, sweet, delicate flavors driving him deeper.

He wanted to see her break down under his hands. Watch as the strongest woman he knew utterly fell apart for him. Soft breaths keening between her lips as his hand between her thighs slipped to her trembling belly. Teasing lower slowly, pressing under elastic as she whined, breast heaving in his palm.

“Is this what you want, lovely?” Andy asked, panting against her lips as he flicked his tongue over the trembling swell. His fingertips shyly slipped under her bikini bottom.

“Andy, don’t you dare stop now!” Koala hissed, the usually threatening tone weak under his apologetic kiss.

“I don’t mean to tease you, baby. I just want to hear you say you want me. Love you too much to take what you won’t give.” Andy swore, her eyes wide as his fingers slipped over her clit and between her folds.

“S-Strong words for someone who’s been pussyfooting around me all week!” Koala moaned. “M-Man up and do something about it already--!” she bit out but the sting was drowned in how wet she was.

Arousal thick and oozing under his hand as he teased her folds.

“You’re so generous for me, lovely. Feel how much you’re already giving me?” Andy breathed, pinching her breast and grinding his thumb over her clit. His fingers dipping into the hot source of her arousal. “What a beautiful view…” Andy pulled away to admire her expression as he parted her walls slowly.

Eyes wide with beads of tears, face flush with red, parted lips. Looking up at him like he hung the stars, crying out as he found a sensitive spot in her soft walls. Squeezing his hand between her thighs as her back arched against him.

“A-Andy~!” she whined sweetly.

“You’re so fucking lovely~” Andy slipped his tongue back against hers, quieting her cries as he worked her open on his fingers. Rubbing the spots that made her whine and squirm. Groaning as she sweetly pressed her ass against his throbbing cock when she came in his hand. Quivering around his fingers with a moan that shook his bones.

And then she ripped away from him. Andy’s heart dropping and ice filling his veins as he panicked.

But instead of cursing him out and slapping him, Koala throw off her bikini top and slipped off her bottoms. Eyes burning with hunger as she stabbing his chest with her finger.

“Take it off!” She barked, free hand clenching the waistband of his swim shorts. But she didn’t wait for him to do more than lift his hips before yanking them down. “Who the hell said you could be this fucking hot?! O-ooooh A-Ah—ndy~!” Koala straddled him and let the tip of his cock slip into her folds. Sinking down onto him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his hair. Lips pressed against his ear and allowing him to hear every moan.

Andy gripped her waist, whining as her tight cunt took him in deep. His hands slipping to grab her ass, clenching the soft fat just above her thighs and yanking her up.

“K-Koala, y-you’re so tight mmmhgh~!” Andy managed to spit out before slamming her onto his cock, her yelp ringing in his ear. “I-Is this okay? T-Tell me this is okay—I-I n-need t-toooo~ Fuck~!” Andy’s tongue felt thick between his teeth as he jerked her on his lap. Barely refraining from slamming her against the side to drive into her like he wanted so desperately he could taste it.

“Stop! Holding! Back!” Koala bit out, nipping his ear as her nails raked across his back. “I’m riding you till you cry, Andy. For being such a cute dumbass! S-Shit, only man I know who’d ask if it’s okay when I literally sit on your dick!” Koala growled, slamming her ass onto his thigh at a hard pace. Bouncing on his cock as he watched in awe—the most beautiful woman he knew throwing back her head with a moan.

Andy would rather gut himself than stop her, so he silenced his embarrassing lips with the soft swell of her breasts. Palms hot on her ass, kneading as she kept going. Moaning with pleasure as he flicked his tongue over her nipples. Her pussy clenching onto his cock relentlessly. Water splashing around them furiously as his muscles tightened. Spasming as he started to cum.

Unwilling to do it alone, Andy reached down and ground his thumb over her clit. The both of them crying out as she slammed down, thighs trembling as she came suddenly. Clenching and pulling his own orgasm to the surface.

“I-I just—Koala, I don’t want to fuck this up. Love you so much, I can’t afford to fuck up with you.” Andy pleaded against her breast as they heaved for air.

Her hands carded through his wet hair tenderly. Voice faint between pants.

“Oh, Andy.” Koala sighed, sucking in a deep breath. “I love you so much too… so take the hint and fuck me, you goober.” She laughed, voice a little rough with emotion.

“How do you want it?” Andy pulled back to kiss up her neck, enjoying the little trembles as she quivered on his cock. Moaning with want.

“I’m more interest in how you want it, Andy.” Koala teased his hair before pulling it sharply. “How about you start with whatever had your cock grinding on me from night one?”

Andy inhaled sharply before a giddy smile overtook him.

“Do you want me to surprise you?” Andy asked after a moment of thought.

Koala had practically been begging for him to take the lead the entire time she’d been riding his cock.

“Absolutely.” Koala purred, yelping as Andy launched out of the hot tub with her in his arms. A complaint of her lips as he tossed her onto the bed that died as he gripped her wet thighs in his palms. Lifting them up high.

“Ah. Wait.” Andy abruptly dropped her and left to find the tag Mariah had mentioned before. Koala cursing him out instantly.

“You shit! Get back here—you can’t just pull that shit and bail!” she whined. Carefully, not wanting to flash anyone, Andy slipped the tag onto the outside of the handle and locked the door. Eagerly sauntering back to the bedroom. “Is this a game?! Tease me all week until I can’t take it anymore?!” Koala demanded, sitting up with her pretty legs partly splayed out, dripping onto the bed.

“Sorry, lovely.” Andy grinned sheepishly with a helpless shrug. “Didn’t want any interruptions when I finally get my hands on those pretty thighs.”

Andy slipped back onto the bed, grabbing under her knees and lifting her up again. Koala’s face shocked and a thrilled smile growing on her lips. Her arms collapsing under her when he started a trail of wet kisses down her thighs.

“A-Ahh~! I-I guess I can forgive you!” She laughed, moaning as he nipped her. “Oooooh! An-dy~!”

Andy chuckled against her cute, dripping pussy.

“But I haven’t apologized properly yet, lovely~ let me make it all up to you!” Andy licked between her folds and moaned. “So sweet inside and out!”

“Andy!”

#one piece #one piece smut #koala one piece #koala X OC #modern au

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grandmaster-anne · 1 year

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Gone to rack and ruin?

By Vice Admiral Sir Timothy Laurence | Published 29 July 2020

Country Life Guest Edited by HRH The Princess Royal

What on earth do you do with a ruined, but historically significant country house?

This is a question that plagues the average workaday heritage chairman, causing headaches, insomnia and occasional bouts of teeth-grinding. Here, I will use four examples from the English Heritage portfolio to illustrate the challenges we face. Country Life readers may have their own views about how we should deal with them; if so, I anticipate a flood of letters offering advice. Each site is different and no one solution fits all.

Kirby Hall

Kirby Hall in Northamptonshire was built in the 1570s by Sir Humphrey Stafford and, after his death, by Sir Christopher Hatton, Lord Chancellor. This magnificent house shows all the creative energy and architectural innovation of the first Elizabethan age.

In the 17th century, it hosted five royal visits and boasted one of the finest gardens in England. After four generations of Hattons (all called Christopher in that charming, if rather confusing, English way) it passed to the Winchilsea family, who lived there until the 1770s. Abandoned in the 1830s, it is now roofless, but retains enough of its form for us to imagine how astonishing it would have looked when first built.

John Summerson wrote: ‘The beauty of Kirby’s decline is that it was private and without violence. The house was never burnt, ravaged, used as a quarry or assaulted by mobs.’ English Heritage looks after buildings that suffered exactly those fates, but because Kirby was spared all of them, one can still appreciate there the romance of a lost grandeur.

What should we do with it? The Ministry of Works in the 1960s did its usual thorough, if, by current standards, a little over-zealous, conservation job. Part of the house is still roofed, but leaks are threatening the ceilings underneath. One proposal was to re-roof a further part of the house — the Great Gallery — and use it to display a collection of contemporary furniture, paintings and so on.

That idea has not yet passed the ‘value for money’ test. We are currently working on a modest new exhibition, which will be completed later this year. Major additional work would require a substantial funding package to match.

Sutton Scarsdale Hall

Sutton Scarsdale Hall in Derbyshire is another example of the rise and fall of a noble country house and is one of our greatest conservation challenges.

It was a Baroque masterpiece, built in the 1720s for the 4th Earl of Scarsdale using some of the notable craftsmen of the day. The splendid exterior stonework was carved by Edward Poynton of Nottingham; the Italian master craftsmen Arturi and Vasilli carried out the fine stucco decoration in the principal rooms, remnants of which are still visible.

The cost of the building over-stretched the Scarsdales — an all-too-familiar story, I’m afraid — and the house was sold in the 19th century to a local family, the Arkwrights. In turn, they were forced to sell in 1919 to a company of asset strippers.

Despite the fact that Lord Curzon’s 1913 Ancient Monuments Consolidation and Amendment Act had by then provided the Government with protective powers, many of the hall’s finely decorated rooms were sold off as architectural salvage.

Amazingly, some still survive, but sadly not in Derbyshire: three interiors are displayed at the Museum of Art in Philadelphia and a pine-panelled room is at the Huntington Library in California. The latter was given to the library by a Hollywood film producer, who had used it as a film set for Kitty in 1934. He had bought it from the newspaper magnate and collector, William Randolph Hearst.

More happily, the hall was saved from intended demolition in 1946 by Sir Osbert Sitwell. His descendants handed it to the nation in 1970.

The roofless hall stands proudly on a prominent hill, an important part of the visual landscape of the area and visible from Bolsover Castle across the valley. However, the exposed hilltop location and lack of protection from a roof or glazed windows make the building itself, and especially the exceptionally important plasterwork, acutely vulnerable.

We are currently spending considerable sums patching and making good, but, for a charity such as us, this cannot be a long-term solution. What should we do? One option would be to re-roof the whole hall — at huge expense. Another would be a partial re-roofing to cover the best areas of plasterwork.

A third would be to devise some form of tailor-made protection for the plaster-work in situ, but anything of this nature would have significant aesthetic impact. We have even thought of a private investor taking it over and turning it into a hotel or apartments. All options remain under consideration.

Witley Court

My third example presents a very different set of issues. A new house was built on old foundations at Witley Court in Worcestershire in the early 1500s, but eight generations of the Foley family (all called Thomas — rather proving my earlier point) progressively modernised the Tudor original in Jacobean, then Palladian style, enlarged the park, built a new parish church next door and, in the early 19th century, commissioned John Nash, the leading Regency architect, to remodel the house extensively.

In 1837, ownership passed to Lord Ward, later Earl of Dudley. During the Dudleys’ tenure, the house was transformed into a ‘Victorian palace’ in the Italianate style made fashionable by Prince Albert at Osborne.

The whole house and church were encased in Bath stone; a new wing and a conservatory were added. Among many additions to the gardens was the magnificent Perseus and Andromeda fountain, fed from a new reservoir in the hill behind.

As happened so often elsewhere, the estate began to be broken up after the First World War and, in 1937, a serious fire gutted much of the building. From then until it was taken into public guardianship in 1972, it was stripped of materials and vandalised, but, thereafter, it was stabilised and made accessible. The great fountain continues to operate for an hour each day and looks magnificent after a major restoration in 2004 and further work in 2016, the latter generously funded by Unilever.

Visitors can now enjoy the park and gardens and wander through the house, where the fire has revealed the various stages of its development.

There are no plans to re-roof the main house, but how can we enhance the pleasure of visiting the place and bring more of its history to life? For example, we are considering digitising the many excellent photographs of the interiors taken during its heyday, so that people can call them up on their mobile phones as they walk round.

We would like to refurbish the conservatory as a cafe. This would require expensive works to bring in services, yet those might enable us to produce more events there, following the very successful art exhibition held in 2019 — perhaps that was a harbinger of things to come.

Belsay Hall

Now, at last, for something with a roof — Belsay Hall in Northumberland. The site comprises three distinct, but related elements: a medieval castle, a 19th-century hall and, linking the two buildings, an outstanding garden. The Middleton family has owned the estate since 1270 and still lives nearby.

The hall’s designer, Sir Charles Monck, drew on the classical ideal he had seen on honeymoon in Greece and transposed the style of a Greek temple into an English villa from 1807 (Fig 6). Its sense of space, balance and rigorous architectural logic were unlike anything seen in Britain. Incidentally, Monck demolished the old village of Belsay on the site and rebuilt it in its current position outside the park — the sort of thing you could do in those days.

He deliberately quarried the stone for the hall in a way that left space for a unique garden, the ravines, pinnacles and sheer rock faces he created inspired by the ancient quarries of Syracuse, Sicily. The gardens still showcase the interplay between natural beauty and the sublime, between wild and tame, from natural woodland through the exotic-ally planted quarry to the more formal terraces and garden rooms near the house.

The family moved from the draughty castle to the new hall on Christmas Day 1817. Sadly, flaws in Monck’s internal guttering system led to wholesale infestation with dry rot. By 1980, when the family handed the buildings and garden into public guardianship, it was unoccupied, unfurnished and stripped of much internal wood and plasterwork. The silver lining of this cloud is that it is now possible better to appreciate features of its design. Standing in the beautiful central atrium,

it does feel more like a temple than a house. The windows are huge, allowing in plenty of natural light, and the acoustics are exceptional, thanks to the empty rooms, vast cellars and a network of flues.

Sound, light and empty space may hold the key to its future use; it is an ideal place for creative programming. We have in the past held innovative fashion and art shows there and have staged acoustic experiences, one with voices broadcast down the chimneys. There will, I am sure, be more of this.

We are in the middle of a major project, part funded by the National Lottery, which includes urgent conservation work, a full restoration of the gardens and a new cafe. The Middleton family and its trustees remain engaged, supportive and, I hope, appreciative of the promise of a new lease of life for Belsay.

These four examples illustrate the enormous technical and financial challenges we face with these and other houses. It’s not unreasonable to ask: why are we doing this? What is the purpose behind a heritage body preserving and/or conserving a building?

Well, we want the places to be informative — to tell us something about the people who built them, about their architectural style, about the people who lived in them or who visited them. It’s all part of explaining the story of England to current and future generations, not only to please or inform expert historians and architects, but to encourage a much wider body of people to see and enjoy our buildings.

From school groups (we host many) to local enthusiasts and anyone who has become fascinated by these places — perhaps after reading about them or seeing a Google arts fly-through online. We hope they will all want to see more, to learn more and enjoy (that word again) the experience.

We have to ask: should we preserve such buildings as they are now, strip them back to their original state when first built or restore them to how they appeared at the height of their glory? With our intact houses — such as Osborne, Apsley or Audley End — the answer is as self-evident as it is with a completely ruined castle or abbey: there really is no option. However, my examples here and others fall between those stools. There are no straightforward answers; we have to look at each on its own merits.

Total returns to past glories are rarely feasible, but allowing further decline is not in our DNA. More commonly, we seek to stabilise each place in a state of ‘sustainable conservation’ — a condition that we can maintain in the long term, avoiding costly repeated repairs. It is an evidence-based way of prioritising work according to historical significance, current condition and a better understanding of the specific causes of deterioration. Once in that state, the typical approach is ‘adaptive re-use’: bringing a building back to life by giving it new uses, which complement, rather than obscure the original.

Above all, these houses must be nurtured and loved so that they can tell their part of the story of England. English Heritage will do what it can, helped by the communities living nearby, many of which provide terrific support — and, perhaps, by the occasional generous benefactor.

#tim laurence #article #english heritage #country life

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arabian-batboy · 2 years

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is it me or have you been doing nothing but complain all the time lately? like is there anything you like?

Well I like DC vs Vampires, the first issue of the current TEC arc seemed interesting and if the rest of the arc continued being like this then I will probably like it too, I recently started World Finest because its a sequel to Batman vs Robin and I really like it, Batman: The Knight has started getting enjoyable in the past couple issues and depending on the story of the month, B:UL can be really good imo.

I'm sure there are better comics out there, but I'm only interest in Batman-related stories at the moment, so can you really blame me for complaining? I personally don’t want to be negative all the time, but lets be real here, it's not like DC is giving me anything that I can be positive about when it comes to the treatment of all the members of the Batfamily, I tried to bear it but almost all of them have it bad at the moment.

Alfred is dead because of a dumb storyline that no one liked and DC is dragging the shit of his death, Bruce is back to being an emotionally constipated manbaby, Dick is being written by Tom Taylor in one of the most bland and cringey runs of all time, Barbara is still an empty-shell of her past self and is nothing but Dick’s girlfriend/the Batgirls' mom, speaking of the Batgirls, Cassandra and Stephanie are infantized as fuck in their run and are treated like a package-deal at all time with no sense of individuality, Jason had everything that made him interesting/formidable stripped away in favor of being an over-sized moody teenager whose role is basically “spare Batkid #3” whenever his daddy wants him too, Tim is deaged and back to being Robin again at the expense of Damian and I already complained as much as I could as to how in the past 2 years following his character assassination in TT:R, Damian has been turned into a generic bland teenage character (even though it makes no sense for him to already be a teen when everyone around him is being deaged) without any of his past personality or skills that made him himself in sight, just an angry dumb whitewashed teenager that literally only appears in one book only and separated from the rest of the Batfam except for his manbaby father (The only one who kinda has it semi-okay is Duke.........who only had lines in like 3 or 4 comics a year, I'm sure if he had his own book they will fuck his character too)

I'm not gonna say its the worst era of the Batfamily, because much worse things have happened to them in the past, but usually it was only some of them that had it bad while others had it good, but this is the first era where almost all of them had unenjoyable comics out at the same time.

So with that being said, can you really blame me for complaining all the time?

#anyways let it people hate things in peace #the last issue of Robin is dropping in a couple of days and I'm charging up to talk shit about it #so if you don't like that I suggest you unfollow me because I'm about to go in #someone at DC need to say stop lets take a moment to revaluate what we're doing with these characters #because it seem like they think that having all of them appear in everything is good enough #and this quantity over quality approach needs to go #actually look up what people like about these characters and build your about it #your story*#instead of these weird unnecessary stories that no one asked for and underwhelming characterization #barabra gordon #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #stephanie brown

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tomsilverstone · 3 months

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