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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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your pegging fic with bucky was SO FUCKING GOOD. can you please do another one?? like im literally so into it i was drooling the whole time

as for plot, just making him cry again LOL and overall just having him be a mess because

we love that for him.

thank you thank you thank you!

Bro I am so sorry I have no clue how this escalated. You have another free Bucky railing fic that doesn’t include my brain going wild. But he do be crying and a complete mess. Thanks for asking and I hope you are at the LEAST entertained!

Goes along with Praise Kink

Shadowplay - Joy Division

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3,882

Tags: TW‼️WHUMP, DEAD DOVE, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS, OFF SCREEN SUI‼️, Everyone is crazy, the reader is having a Hydra Life Crisis, Lots of ass play, pegging(m!receiving), fem dom, reader is ace spectrum, Bucky is a crybaby overstimulated touchstarved Angel, praise kink, slight dacry, angst ANGST ANGSTTTTT, switching pov’s like me in bed, they do a little Russian it’s called they do a little Russian, Hydra!Reader

A/N: idk man I’m just a vessel, also just liked the idea of there being a lead up to Buckbuck being like I Cannot Compute Anymore You Assholes then his boyfriend Steve saves the day💞 HC: Pierce likes Bucky be in emotional pain so sends him to her thinking he’ll kill the reader. Translations under cut

Russian translations: Милый (dear), блять (bitch/whore), глупая девчонка (foolish girl), Малыш (baby/bb boy), Умница (good boy), да (yes), хуй (cock), Трахни меня (fuck me), командир (commander), Спасибо (thanks/ty), зимний солдат (winter soldier)

To the center of the city where all roads meet, waiting for you.

To the depths of the ocean where all hopes sank, searching for you

The asset knew he had to report to his Komandir. That’s what happened every mission. They tried to tell the asset that Rumlow was his handler now. Rumlow was not his handler. Komandir was. But she had been gone for some time and he needed her back. The strike team leader was reckless and too bloodthirsty, not calculating enough. The asset could not say that out loud.

He trudged through dark alleys and poorly lit streets, rain pelting down on his leather tactical gear.

Nice Komandir. She was nice. The asset had unregulated emotions for her. He needed maintenance badly. First, the asset must give the mission report to her. The fake handler would be monitoring for the asset now, with their dogs and strike team.

Strike team would not find the asset. He will return himself after reporting to Komandir. The asset got intel on her whereabouts. She was relocated in New York under a new alias. The asset could almost smell her, see her, if he focused enough.

His boots slapped through a puddle before launching up a fire escape. The rain poured down harder— threatening to fill up the alley like an ocean. The asset would swim until his lungs gave out. The Director couldn’t take her away, putting her in an swarm of people or in the deepest cave. Because the asset would find her. She had to be locked up. She would never leave the asset.

They took her— he’d decided earlier after reporting to the pretender. The asset’s morale was sinking fast under Rumlow. That’s when the Director informed the asset on his Komandir. The Director had waved a hand dismissively, “Go find her then, do what you must and come back.” He didn’t understand but went out anyways.

I was moving through the silence without motion, waiting for you.

In a room with a window in the corner, I found truth.

Soldat climbed higher and higher until he was outside her window. He’d memorized it over and over and over and over. The asset grappled onto the thin balcony with a jump, using the moment to swing himself onto the platform. His covered eyes gathered the limited surroundings. A couple of flowerpots, an ashtray on the windowsill, and her familiar face gaping in the window.

The asset wanted to weep, kneel, receive her perfect touch. The asset only got stabs, bloody thrusts, and punches between his bloodshot eyes. Then wiped and put on ice. Although he hadn’t been put on ice much since transitioning to the United States. They had lots of people to get rid of before that. So the Director wiped him more often.

The window opened and her familiar rasp rang out in the rainy night, “Sweet soldier. You must be cold. Come in.” The asset nodded dumbly, shoving himself precariously through the window, contorting his broad shoulders and thighs to get through. Inside was a silent, thinly furnished room.

Cigarette stubbed beside the couch, the television playing something. His blues caught on a blanket and book, her handgun laid on top. Air blew the curtains softly from the window in the corner. The asset whimpered, “Where did you go Komandir?,” he fell to padded knees, “I cannot comply when Rumlow doesn’t have clearance for mission report.”

She cooed and stood tall as always, only clad in a thin gown. Komandir’s lips turned down at the mention of Rumlow. Her hands brushed his cheeks. Off came the goggles, then the mask. The asset’s wide blue eyes followed her obediently. One of her calloused thumbs strummed against his stubbled jaw. She said, “Sweetheart, I’m not officially your handler, not your Komandir anymore.”

He nuzzled into her hand, lips already wobbling. Why would they replace the best Komandir? She learned from Vasily Karpov, Vasily from…from. He couldn’t remember— there had been so many. One that smelled of aftershave and two older men with glasses that made him feel very cold.

She sighed, “They said I wasn’t worth their time sweet boy. I had to go.” The asset believed her, Komandir always told the truth. She knelt down and smiled, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re a star, precious, you shine so bright that not everyone can keep up with it.”

He replied, a ghostly whisper if anything, “The left me to Agent Rumlow. You couldn’t stay under him?”

Fear laced her stern features for the first time. The asset grew uneasy. His programming was screaming, “Maintenance! MAINTENANCE!” Her heart rate spiked rapidly while the agent fumbled for words. He gripped her wrist to bark, “You defected then! You defected like a coward and left me,” a sob tore his throat, “with them!”

His silver hand wrenched Komandir‘s other wrist towards him, her grunting in pain. Her breasts heaved as she panted. The asset glared her down, so many emotions swirling he felt he may explode. She lied to him. Why would she lie to him? Her star.

“Soldat. Status Report please,” she quavered.

Soldat’s tight shoulders relaxed minutely as he listed off, “Physical functions one-hundred percent. Maintenance required as soon as possible. Confusion, dangerously elevated norepinephrine, panic, traumatic response, and- and-,” he bit his tongue to stare. Komandir’s face was wrought with grief.

She murmured, climbing into the asset’s lap, “I need you to slow down comrade. It’s just you and me right now,” she pet his long locks to elicit that chest deep purr, “Can I tell you what happened while I get you clean sweet boy?”

The asset’s lids dropped at her soft body, familiar scent, and wise words. His plump lips trembled while whining, “P-please. I-I’m becoming…defective.”

“I know,” she soothed, “I know.”

In the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more.

As the assassins all grouped in four lines, dancing on the floor.

As the former agent pet her broken star her chest constricted with emotions. Pierce knew. The bond between asset and handler had grown entirely too close. He’d spat at her, “That thing is a weapon, not a puppy for you to coddle.” She wanted to tell the Director that a person could only go so long under this treatment before snapping completely. Render them useless to the plan. Whatever that may be.

Surprisingly Pierce had demoted her down to the lowest strike team squadron and elevated the prick Rumlow to be the next handler. The Director’s shiny teeth looked like fangs as he spoke, “I’ll keep you around because of your…skills. Any infractions you’re dead.”

So the former Komandir was a grunt again, under Strike Team Omega. They mainly went around sabotaging small terrorist cells. Soldat whined under her hand again, the woman tilting his wide eyes up. She frowned. Poor baby looked so broken, so lost. He had no clue he was going to leave here without his Komandir.

“Take off your gear, precious,” she ordered.

The Russian divested soldat of his guns and knives, laying them out on a neat line. She asked, “How much are they putting you on ice sweet boy?” His blues grew disoriented as he thought. Mechanical as ever, Soldat’s hands divested his leather top.

“Not much. More wipes. Something is coming.”

Something was coming. Maybe not now but in a couple of years. Pierce had something big. There was a reason scientists were holed up in one the hangars, crews building day and night. So they were over-using the soldier to make sure nothing crept out.

She thumbed the seam of scars along the asset’s prosthetic, the other’s hands jolting at the sensation. His pretty lips opened to whimper. Komandir unbuckled his belt and hummed, “They demoted me. I was with a lower strike team. I couldn’t take it anymore. W-without you I cannot provide anything useful for the greater cause.”

The woman remembered her last point. They were in Zagreb celebrating after a arms dealing commune was torn to shreds. Instead of going home, the team helped themselves to the women in trafficking. Assassins, warriors— dancing fools with these broken women. The former handler left and didn’t look back. She knew nothing. Hydra had a purpose once. It grew rancid just like everything else.

And with cold steel, odor on their bodies made a move to connect.

But I could only stare in disbelief as the crowds all left.

Alone in the world again. The Komandir wandered and wandered. Somehow always getting roped back into the underbelly of civilization. She told the silent asset about it. He seemed just as lost contemplating free will.

“I joined a couple of syndicates, former KGB, some widows. I moved around the states and just found no one had a goal. I just try to get by now, my sweet. It’s not pretty out there.”

She wiped her nose, “And to think I’d always dreamed of having you to myself forever. Sick. Selfish.”

I did everything, everything I wanted to.

I let them use you for their own ends.

Tears welled in Komandir’s eyes. She pulled his huge frame close and cried into greasy hair. “I should have got you back, kept you safe, get Hydra back to stage one,” her voice cracked, “I don’t know. I just ran and left them to break you down even more. I-I-I-I’m so sorry Милый, I’m so sorry.”

The Russian knew how this would end. She would die and be a remnant of something unattainable. Perfect was unattainable. Soldat was the closest she would witness and that’s enough. She stroked his wide back with gentle circles, sobs dying.

Soldat’s voice was a dull rasp in the pitch room.

“What would you have me do, Komandir?”

He looked so hopeful. Rage filled her heart, cracking and blistering from exposure. Run with me, start anew, kill that блять Pierce. The woman sat back and put on a smile. She purred, “I would have you relax and let me take care of you, sweetness.”

The asset nodded, unlacing his boots, plates in his arm clacking and humming. The woman thumbed his delicate nose, the thin skin under a once bright blue eye. She whispered, “Such a pretty soldat, perfect soldat.” Silent tears slid down her face. Vasily was probably in a hideout shaking his head. глупая девчонка.

She said, “I’m going to get the bath running, just lay your clothes out and join me,” she shushed his panicked noise, “Just around the corner Малыш.” She padded through the small apartment, ignoring the state of it. Soldat likely cared.

The former agent ran it scalding hot, throwing some lavender in there. She readied a towel and fluffed it. The bath tub was small, but she wanted to pamper her perfect star anyways. She worried her lip, he seemed to be cracking, bad. Too much time off ice and repeated wipes have not been studied. Komandir had never heard him speak so much, all that raw emotion.

Soldat’s hulking frame shadowed the doorway. Knelt down the Komandir beckoned him over. He gracefully clambered into the tub, sitting down with a grimace.

“Too hot?”

“No. I like it hot,” he murmured.

Her eyes roved the beauty of his body, stopping on heated cheeks, full lips, bulky chest, and that beautiful cock. It laid on his belly, a deep red and leaking. His balls were tight but she could see the stress, the heaviness of it. Supersoldiers needed to cum much more than the average man.

The woman grabbed a cup and dunked it to fill it up. Her other hand cupped his knee, thumbing the soft inside. Soldat whimpered again, dark lashes fluttering. She poured the water over his oily dark hair, doing it again until it was soaked.

“Lean up baby.”

She poured some cheap shampoo into her palm, lathering it up. The asset groaned deep in his chest at the contact— nails scritch-scratching away the oils and dirt. He stated, “I’m not supposed to remember you.” His watchful orbs looked up.

“You’re not supposed to remember that you’re not supposed to remember, Умница.”

He bit down on his lip and warbled, “I’m s-scared Komandir. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

You’re falling apart.

“Shh, baby, in the moment now, in the moment.”

He stilled but Soldat’s eyes had that ingrained wide-eyed fear. She washed the suds out and combed through the tangles, earning some pretty sighs. The Komandir found herself lecturing, “What the Americans do not get…you have to make sure your weap- agents are clean and cared for.”

She hissed while scrubbing his wide shoulders and neck, littered with yellowed bruises, “They don’t take care of their prized fist, that’s why poor soldat is feeling down.” He nodded along, shoulders relaxing minutely. Komandir washed down his arms, digging out the blood encrusted into the plates.

She did the rest methodically: Wash the feet, move down to the toes, calves, thighs. Stop. Soldat was mewling and squirming, face trained on her. His lips wobbled, brow furrowed in agony. The asset whined, “Komandir, please, need your touch, help me.” She ran a hand slowly down his trembling belly, palming the swollen cock.

“Soon, Малыш,” she promised.

His bitten lips pouted, but her good boy always listened. She stated, “I was blind that Hydra would keep the original goal alive. I felt more confident leaving knowing that. But I was wrong, sweet baby. You’re the key and they don’t know it.”

Komandir pulled out a straight razor and shaving cream. She shaved his stubble while continuing, “You will be the one to change Hydra. Burn it into the ground or rise above the sham it’s become. That’s your reality, and the time will come. You must not fail now dear soldat.”

He steeled himself, relaxing under orders, vague as they are. She knew Soldat knew he had to wait for the perfect moment. The brunette thanked her in the softest voice when she wiped off his newly cleaned cheeks. The woman cooed, “Never seen a prettier baby. Turn over so I can get everything.”

By the time she’d cleaned and prepped the soldier out he was a mess. He’d come once already, scrabbling at the tile and wailing in ecstasy. Poor thing wasn’t done. Now dry, her perfect soldier rutted against her soft, soft thigh. His pink lips were sealed around her nipple, whining and suckling.

She pulled at his long locks and said, “As a gift,“ she tapped his cleft chin, “Do you want your Komandir to fuck your sweet hole?” The Russian wouldn’t mention it was a final gift. He babbled in multiple languages but the message was clear— fuck me. She smiled down at his teary cheeks and cooed, “Eager baby. I’ll show you what it’s like to be fucked. Not like those jackasses.”

“Mmmh-pleaseee,” the brunette wantonly begged. He rutted against the bedding while the Komandir moved to a chest in the room. The asset drooled, spreading his thick thighs to draaag his achy cock against the too-soft material— eliciting an annoyed whine.

“Almost there my star,” she laughed. There were some noises of clipping and leather. To their ears it sounded like a gun belt or harness of sorts.

She clicked the heavy black silicone into place. There was no other side to stimulate the woman. Same as it always was, it was her precious boy’s pleasure to take, not her own.

Ambling over to the bedside she asked, “Front or back sweetheart?”

“Front, front, front!,” he babbled.

“Okay. When you see me and change your mind just say so baby.”

He made a confused gesture but flipped onto his back, exposing that pretty pink cock again. Drool actively collected on his plump lips at the sight of Komandir’s strap. He obviously had never seen anything like it. Scarred hands gave it a slow stroke, fingers barely able to meet around the girth.

“Well?”

The asset whined her name thinly, begging for her to take him. She climbed upon the bed one knee at a time, hand on the cock, eyes heady and glued on the trembling soldier. She purred, “Are you sure you want it? Reaaaally think baby boy, there’s freedom of choice under all that mess.”

She tried to play it across seductively but the true meaning was laid bare. Soldat’s eyes flicked about the heavy silicone, throat bobbing in anticipation. He began to speak, faltered, frustrated tears welling up. Finally with his head down the soldier croaked, “Please, want you, please.”

“I’ve got you.”

To the center of the city in the night, waiting for you.

She stripped off the gown and tossed it to the dingy carpet. The woman crawled between his legs and kissed a path up to his waiting mouth, puckered tightly. He was vibrating with need, huge arms circling around Komandir’s slim waist. He closed the gap, licking into her open lips.

The woman seized Soldat’s throat with a loose grip, just to stabilize the inevitable freefall. The brunette’s lips were insistent, demanding— like he was trying to take her soul. She moaned lowly, twisting around his probing tongue easily, lips wetly smacking. She nipped his lip playfully, squeezing his veined throat.

The soldier cried out, teeth gnashing against hers as he kissed and kissed and sucked. The soft skin of Komandir’s belly rubbed against Soldat’s achy need, sending pin pricks of pleasure to overstimulated nerves. When she suckled on his tongue, the titanium arm shifted with a shrill whine.

She pulled back breathless, patting the hand once round Soldat’s throat on his sweaty chest. He mewled in frustration, rutting his cock into the air, no release on the horizon. The Russian cooed, “More kisses soon needy boy. You want my cock in you, да?”

Soldat nodded, tears dripping like a leaky faucet down his red red cheeks. The assassin spread his legs wide open, tucking heels against the meat of his ass. Komandir crooned, “Look at you, precious thing, all open and ready for my хуй.”

“Трахни меня! Fuck me!,” he sobbed.

She shushed him with a slight slap to a muscular thigh, wrapping them up around her hips afterward. A once-manicured hand guided the fake cock to the asset’s pink hole, glistening and ready with slick. He babbled, “Oh please- need it, командир, please!”

Without a pause she jabbed the entire length into his eager ass, pretty soldat crying in relief, ripping his big hands through the shitty sheets. She thrust into him deeper, before pulling out with a lurid squelch, then diving back in twice as hard.

The Komandir poured all over her anger, heartache, stupid stupid love, agony into the brutal fucking. The asset’s brown locks bounced around as he drooled and moaned like a slip of a thing getting her pussy split in half. He was in paradise. The woman grunted, smoothing her palms up his ridged torso, “Singing so sweetly baby, you feeling good star?”

“Y-yes,” he choked on his spit, “Gonna cum!”

She cocked her head in surprise, not missing a beat, “So soon, after I milked you out in the tub too? Greedy babe.” More tears leaked at the humiliation, the asset pulling her on top of his writhing body. He nuzzled into her sweaty hair, panting, “Mmmfuck, more, always more, never enough from you Komandir.”

Finding her own eyes growing wet the woman fucked him harder, shaking hand rolling his still swollen balls around. The asset mewled in her hair, getting it sticky with spit. His back was tightly arched as he clung to her. Behavior one wouldn’t see out of a six foot, two-hundred something pound killing machine.

He whimpered, “M’cumming, cumming for you, fuck!”

She seized his newly shaved chin and pressed damp foreheads together. The Russian breathed, “C’mon then, paint me up my precious. Good boys like you get to cum all they want.” He fell apart beautifully, all violent twitches of big muscles and the bloody biting of lips. Cum plastered her belly and even tits. The asset cried for his Komandir, trembling as she licked his tears up.

A feeling of time slipping struck the woman in the chest. In a fervent frenzy she coaxed him onto his belly, the soldier still dazed from the earlier release. The woman propped his ass up, praising the greatest creation of Hydra through her tears.

Die between his beautiful thighs.

She slid back into his sore hole, thumbing around the rim as she watched the stretch. Soldat snuffled, “Спасибо, Спасибо, Спасибо.” The brunette rutted back onto her brutal thrusts, bracing himself on his arms. Constant noises dried his mouth out but everything felt so good. His Komandir, back again to take care of the asset.

The Komandir was drilling his sweet spot dead-on now, moaning softly in delight. She pulled at her precious baby’s engorged cock and cooed in his ear, “Taking me so well, that’s my boy. I love you. You’re going to do big things,” he sobbed and spread out sluttily, “Bigger than me, Rumlow, Director, the whole lot of them.”

The asset was mewling and babbling, nose runny from how overwhelmed his body was. Everything felt like it was getting fucked on his touchstarved body. The cum getting forced out of his balls was spreading all over Komandir’s bed. But he was listening to her words, trying to, hard when he was about to explode.

“Promise me зимний солдат,” she whispered, “Promise me that when the chance comes you take it, okay sweetling? Do it for your Komandir who loves her star very much.” The woman couldn’t hide the crack in her voice at the end. Those gorgeous blues gazed at her like she was good, whole, someone who hung the moon and stars.

“глупая девчонка”, Vasily would say.

The woman kissed his blubbering lips to stop herself from crumpling. He panted, “I promise, I promise Komandir. I will cuh-comply.” He was puffing out weak cries now, twisting underneath her clumsy strokes. She swiped her thumb over the red hot tip of the asset’s cock and watched him spill for a third time, crumpling with a cracking wail. Only a bit spurted out this time.

The Komandir pressed her lips to the center of his spine, chest heaving. She sounded like a broken machine at this point. “Promise me, promise me precious star.” He wept, “I promise, I do, I love you, always follow my Komandir.”

The once prideful woman knew that was the last words her boy should utter. She eased out of his overtaxed hole, shushing him and holding on to that sweet little mewl for dear life. She took off the harness, aware of the soldier waiting. The woman would cuddle up for now, letting the soldier gather her up in his warm embrace. She snuggled tight, imprinting this moment into her soul.

His breath petered out into slow puff, mumbling ‘love you’ sleepily. The Komandir slid from his embrace, padding to the kitchen. Her heart was eerily calm. She knew this had to occur for the greatest creation of Hydra to rise above. His pain would fuel the fire of the future.

She scrawled out a letter, sweet as could be, apologizing for everything. The woman knew she deserved death. She wouldn’t make him do it. Ripping off the Hydra insignia necklace she kept on her neck was placed on the letter.

The woman moved the the couch and grabbed the gun. Shift, click, pray for me soldat, pull.

To the center of the city in the night, waiting for you.

#READ THE TW AND TAGS #answered asks #bucky is touch starved #ws bucky gets his ass rammed #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #hydra trash party #hydra reader #angsty angst angst #songfic

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pilotheather · 3 days

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we're back

youre trying so fucking hard to set up this unit spin off. im going to be horribly honest with you: i dont really care, and i think this is such a corny way to do it. i think torchwood (the show) is something people see with rose-tinted glasses a lot of the time, but i do think its slower introduction to the characters, completely isolated to its own tv show, made more sense. i feel like this weird vibe of just setting up these big personalities who all neatly fit into the exact archetypes you'd Expect... i dont know. i dont care for any of them. i love big weird non human robot-adjacent entities and i dont even care. and that fucker has cable-like tentacles too. i should be sold.

i think its also cuz they are like so obviously these Scifi archetypes for shows like this which is fine but leading first with a quickfire round of rather than getting a softer introduction to them just sort ofmakes them feel like fake cartoons. i think thats sorta why ive never truly warmed to paternoster gang too.

like i think my issue - and im welcome to be proved wrong, whenever we do get this unit spinoff - is i feel like its leading with the idea of "i want a spinoff" first rather than an attempt to fill a specific niche or hole for stories. i feel like sja and torchwood were both very specifically shows that would be in the universe, but would cater to things that would not suit the proper show, and had their own cast driving it.

like i'll be honest i like kate but ummmm im not sure i like her enough to follow her into a spin off. LOL.

sorry thats my hater era over im 2 seconds in

oh no nevermind i also hate big budget takes itself too seriously bullshit wheres the losers

is rose still meant to be like 15. her in business casual for the day job at unit.

okay The Vlinx.

WHYS THERE A LITTLE BEEFCAKE SECURITY GUARD. IS HE LIKE YOUR LITTLE BOYTOY, UNIT? sorry hes not even my typ. harriets really cute though

sorery i still dgaf

rtd and his anagrams. christ.

ive been laughing all day about a reddit comment that said "rtd is a" and i cant stop laughing at it and i dont know anyone who will find that funny in my life so i cant even

WHY ARE THEY JUST FUCKING

SORRY THATS SO FUNNY THEY WERE LIKE LETS QUICKFIRE ADDRESS THE STUPID MYSTERY BOXES. SUSAN. TARDIS... S TRIAD.... SUSAN AGAIN.

i really fucking hope it isnt susan. people have said it before but i just feel like ive always liked the idea of jsut leaving her be. dont revisit it. its fine.

sorry help me why are they just pulling everything out help me

i feel like theyre trying to be too meta about it and not in like a clever way its just like a lets state the obvious to everyoneits that vclassic TELLING NO SHOWING that i feel like christ it keeps ... feeling like the writing is doing that so much

CAN ANYONE TALK ABOUT HOW NCUTI LOOKS IN THE LEATHER JACKET BTW?

soery its like not even 10 minutes in and im like already feeling like a hater i just i dont know i feel like so im fine with them cashing in on nostalgia and being a bit self aware in finales sometimes but i feel like this and then the trilogy last year... LOOK most dw finales and special eps of the nu era are kind of rooted in some sort of classic right its like dalek dalek cyberman master dalek lets go to gallifrey for this one but its like still at least one thing sorry im sick of it i dont wanna see mel any more i dont wanna be in unit CAN WE FOLLOW THE DOCTOR AND RUBY see them figuring it out PLEAAASEEE they can point out its obvious its fine but the fucking round table discussion

SORRY I KNOW ITS BEEN THE HOT TOPIC ITS LIKE THE WAY THIS SEASON HAS GONE TOO FAST CUZ ID SAY A LOT OF THE EPS WERE GOOD IN THE END BUT ITS LIKE SO MANY OF THEM WERE TOO HARD DEPARTURES FROM WHAT WE REALLY NEED WHICH IS JUST

TIME WITH RUBY AND THE DOCTOR . PLEASE.

nevermind i love mel on the moped

ugh ive been wanting a bike for so long but i keep hjearing about so many accidents i wanna kms in a controlled environment

my second thought btw: i think one of my favourite season finales will always be s4's. and yes that does also bank on this big, lets have ALL OF THESE PEOPLE COME TOGETHER!!! and have one huge crossover event even if the story isnt as good. but as ivealways said: that works because its earned through four seasons of building up all of those individual characters. it can stand on that legwork thats already been done. i just dgaf otherwise. its why, and maybe this is controversial, i can never give a shit about a good man goes to war. (although i also loathe that because that storyline does my fucking HEAD IN)

im also hating this so hard im not even far enough in sorry i just love to hateeeeeeeeeee

help e christ if it wasnt for reddit i would not fucking recognise anyones fucking face is hat the same woman i mean rby also isnt clocking her does she have some fucking perception filter on . missus flood what is up with you

missus flood what even is wrong with you

"why did you never go back to see her?"

because susan was lowkey annoying af

SORRY

SORRY WOMEN

i also do wanna know: if hes mentioned her face popping up a lot, are they not scanning their fucking databases for matches. like thats definitely technology they have. lets be so for real

AGAIN SORRY THE OTHE RTHING I HATE ABOUT IT IS THE TIME SINK IT IS GREAT LETS HAVE OUR INTRODUCTIONS AND HAPPY WOOPEEEES AND MEETING THE TEN BILLION FUCKING PEOPLE WE'RE BRINGING ALONG WHEN THEYRE REALLY NOT ENRICHING THE EPISODE AND ITS JUST WEARING EVERYTHING SO THIN DUDE COME ON OH WAIT HANG ON LETS INTERRUPT THE FLOW AGAIN TO BRING IN SOMEONE ELSE AND STOP IT!! EEEENOUGH!

(again with the way s4 finale was handled: i think it was really good the way they had everyone sort of... separated out? they had them all cleanly following their own plots. so it didnt make shit a fucking mess.)

caralas literally chill w can bring carla

Do you have a time window. Ten floors down. classic shit.

i think i also ironically did i say this bit already i fucking hate trying to do big... sci-fi organisations like this trying to fight the aliens or villains or whatever. sorry just a taste thing. like compare this to how torchwood was presented in s2. it just feels like we're thriving in it and im not a fan of them being our unapologeticbesties we swing around and giggle with. can we get some nasty fucking vibes in here please. i loved when capaldi was a cunt with them.

this is also why i refuse to ever engage with the avengers content

christmas eve 2004. god shesso young. (im 4 years older literally).

sorry i also hate mystery box companion bullshit fuck off can we not just get some cunt from the local

SORRY I JUST THINK RTD FINALES ARE SO BADLY CAMP SOMETIMES

i keep thinking about how she looks like jodie i think its the boots with the ankles sort of poking out

thats my bad aura sorry i was hating too hard

NOT THE BOYTOYS

THEYRE PICKING OFF THE BOYTOYS

theres that irony again of like they'll sit there and do a whle bit like haha duh ofc we know its an anagram DUHHH but then half the dialogue is just fucking . SAYING SHIT STRAIGHTFORWARD AND OUTRIGHT SHUT UP

hes in hell. god damn it. i hate it when i lose my boytoys and he ends up in hell

imagine if this was the beast from the satans pit

what a hilarious hater moment that would be

sorry now I- UMMMMM THE BOYTOY IS DUSTTT AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

colonel winston is making me giggle. lke the monkey. guys i dont know anything abou overwatch but that monkey makes me laugh

guys we're on susan watch

shes going to be the dumbest red herring ever isnt she amen shes just nothing please rtd you fuckerr- DOCTOR CALM DOWN

CAN WE GET HIM A FUCKING STIM TOY

CAN WE GET HIM A BLUEBERRY MATCHA

CAN WE GET HIM SOMETHING TO COPE WITH

so cool we brought an image of this thing up before and it wrecked our shit lets do it again hell yeah come on

harriet i need you

SHES NOT HER ITS SO FUNNY

EVERYU TIME SOME CRAZY BITCH NAMED SUSAN APPEARS DO YOU DO THIS.

BRO DOES THAT MEAN THESE GIRLIES WRE CONNECTED HELP ME IMAGINE IF THAT WAS SUSAN AND NOW SHES JUST STUCK WITH THE FUCKING MEMORIES OF RAISING LINDY. COME ON SUSAN. BREAK THE FUCKING TRAUMA CYCLE. YOU DIDNT NEED TO RAISE HER LIKE THAT MAN.

can we get the tardis a ginger ale

THAT FUCKING CAMERA ANGLE BEING A FAKEOUT FOR A FUCKING RUBY SUNDAY THIS WHOLE THING IS A TV SHOW SHTICK IS SO FUNNY ACTUALLY

SUSAN TRIAD DOING THIS IN AN EMPTY CROWD IS SO FUNNY

SUSAN TRIAD YOU HAVE TO GET IT TOGETHER GIRL THEY'LL BE CLIPPING BITS OF THIS ON TWITTER

the king innit

HARRIET ARBINGERRRRRR YESSSSSSS

SLAYYYYYYYY

NEVERMIND THAT BIT GOT ME A PRETTY WOMAN WILL GET ME SOOO EASY

TRICKSTER MENTION IS INSANE

her children doubt and dreaddddd so silly

WHOS THIS HATER

SUTEKH

THATS SO FUCKINGH FUNNY

HUNDREDS OF REDDITORSARE PUNCHING THE AIR. MAYBE EVEN TENS

I LOVE HOW IT LOOKS LIKE SHIT

SO WHAT IS WRONG WITH RUBY

HELP ME I SPENT SO LONG BEING A HATER I DONT KNOW SHIT ABOUT SUTEKH SORRY CLASSIC FANS

ANYWAYS

#egg.txt

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goremet-chef · 8 months

Text

will NEVER get over the fact that sons of the forest really gave me a man and a woman and i can just look at them all day like WOW thank you for my girlfriend and our boyfriend for real this is so.

honestly i need to draw virginia more cuz . DO NOT BE FOOLED i know im always talking about men but i do actually like women so. what a win dude her in her like. LEATHER SUIT? fucking killing it shes so. GRRGRGRR also her with the guns 🙈 OKAYYY hiii

i really liked drawing her the few times i have i should do that more shes so. love a woman that is feral and kicks food to death and eats raw arms what more could you want!! man i should play sotf again soon ive been missing it i just havent had much to do. i play solo since my friends didnt get sotf and wont get sotf 😔 (we play the forest a lot but like. us playing in our one world is just us doing our patrol tower bridges across the lake and whatever to find cool mutants to kill, rinse and repeat. ITS FUN but its a little boring like we've done it all. i was thinking maybe we could try and get that artifact that increases aggression or something then we'd get so many guys all the times but. yknow how it is)

ANYWAYS i play solo so that means i play peaceful cuz im a little bitch and cant do that shit on my own but honestly like im just trying to build us a nice house i guess? theres not much else to do SKJFS so i just stopped playing after a bit cuz i got tired of LOGGING lmao i do really like our base tho its cute

ive been spending most my time thinking about sotf and less time actually playing it SOOO.. love thinking about it tho cant get enough of it lol

#sons of the forest

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lux-scriptum · 4 months

Note

I'm sneaking into your inbox to ask about the oc that Veronica reminds you of bc I also have A Favorite Type lol

Amara. My wife. My beloved. God. Shes so annoying to everyone around her. Not me tho. I designed her as a devil may care mean assassin lady and she’s both devolved and evolved and devolved again. She’s been around since middle school tho. I use a chicken website to explain how shes more supernatural than human but objectively she has more human than specifically angel or demon. She’s good with a knife, prefers guns but they dont do much against immorals. Shes feral and her morals are 100% a moving target (she never misses tho /j). She mostly sells herself out to kill angels, demons, fae… honestly humans and witches too if it’s interesting enough. She’s just so snarky and she wears leather real nice. She can dress up too, but there’s a non zero chance she stole the dress. And the shoes. And the jewelry. She was raised by heaven as a curiosity more than anything else, and fucked off in the 80s to be a teen on the streets (of earth) rather than deal with the abuse of the angels anymore. Dark hair, grey-blue eyes, 5’10 and athletic. I know for a fact if I hit on her she would find me funny. Beyond that? Eh. Thats ok, I can pine :3 she’ll do most anything for the bit. Feral enough to be a lose canon. Domesticated enough she is not chewing on the furniture anymore. I will tag this post mostly so I can tag dive for her better edits, cus between her and her (distant) cousin Lev they’ve got the most edits 😂 and Im always happy to reblog them and show them off

#amara #😭 what i would give to date her #she would chew me up and spit me out without even meaning to #im not even a blip on her radar #I’m not above groveling #i do play it up a bit because we all need a bit to commit to #😎 only bit i committed to was those wedding vows ayyy #kidding #its late and I’m feeling goofy

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dufrau · 5 months

Note

hey, i’m thinking about getting blundstones for work/woods traipsing. i know i want a waterproof pair, but is there anything else i should look for/do you have a specific type of blundstone you might recommend?

Hmm. Im not sure I can be super helpful, I dont have any Blundstones, theyre not really my aesthetic or the kind of construction im into personally but from what I hear they are super comfortable and i know people who love them a lot!

Personally i love a brown boot so my advice is always buy brown unless you wear a lot of black pants. I like the look of the tobacco suede color or the saddle brown, but again i am admittedly biased (for some reason I feel like chelsea boots especially look good in rusty colors, i dont know why!)

they do look super comfy though. i just watched a video of one cut in half and the outsole is like an inch and a half of foam under your foot so yeah. whichever you buy is probably gonna be very comfortable! looks like theyre all made with "water resistant" leather, which either means there's something tanned into it to make it extra water resistant or maybe they just finish them with a leather protector of some kind. leather is never really "water proof" just by nature of being a porous natural material but these boots should keep your feet dry unless youre going out of your way to get them wet.

basically if youre looking for a comfy boot that's easy to slip on and off you can't really go wrong with a blundstone from what i can tell.

sorry im not more helpful im just like the opposite boot demographic, im all about a heavy leather insole and midsole that make you suffer to break them in lol.

i also have never owned a chelsea boot in my life! what kind of boot guy am i even???

(if i WERE going to buy a chelsea though i would probably get the thursday cavalier in the dark brown suede (if they ever release this boot in a more rusty looking suede i will 100% buy it tbh). very different aesthetic than a blundstone, and the leather sole is obviously not really suitable for stomping around in the woods. but for my use case i uh mostly stomp around breweries. so.)

ANYWAY. cheers! happy boot shopping!

#boot posting #asks

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myrammmortal · 18 days

Text

Chapter 41, porn = love

AN: 2 every1 hu kepz flaming diz GIT S LIF!!!!! I bet u proly odnt no hu gerod way is ur proly al prepz and pozers!!!!!!!!11111 neway sum1 hakked in2 mi akkount in November and dey put up my last chaptah but now der is a new 1. im surry 4 nut updating g 4 a while but ive been rilly bizzy. im trying 2 finish da story b4 da new movie kumz out. Im gong on vacation 4 a mons I wont be bak until abott 2 weeks. OMFG drako iz so hot in all da pix 4 da new movie!!!111 I wunted dem 2 put a kameo by geord way lol he hsud play drako. if u flame ill slit muh risztz!!!!!!!!11 raven u rok gurl hav fun in ingland.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX666XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When I wook up I wuz in a strange room. I loked around I wuz wearing da same outfit I had when is performed wif XBlakXTearX!!!!!11 I looked arund confusedly. It wuz da Norse’s office but it looked difrent!! On da wall wuz a pik of Marlyin Munzon!!!1111 (just imagin dat he is an 80s goffik band 2 ok koz he is more old den panic?! at da dizcko or mcr) der wuz also a goffik blak Beatles calander with a picture of the beetlez werring iyeliner and blak cloves. On it said ‘1980.’

“OMFG!!! Im back in Tim again!!!!111” I screamed loudly. Suddenly Satan(dis is actually voldimort 4 photo refrenss!). Voldimort wuz wearing a blak leather Jackson, blak tight jeans and fishnet pantz. He looked so sexah I almost had an orgy!!!!11

“OMFG Paul Shadow Omnipotentia Raven Face Landers r u ok.” He asked gothikally.

“Yah Im okay 4 ur in4mation.” I snapped sexily. “OMG am I dedd???” koz I remembered I had jumped in front off da bullet from Jame’s gun. I also rememberd cing Richard doing it wif Snap!!!!111

I guessed dat when I had slit mi wrists I had went bak in tim instead of dieing. I knoew I could go forward in time if I found a time-toner or da tim machine.

“No ur not dead.” Satan reassured suicidally as he smokd a cigarette sexily and smoke came all over his face. “Ur a vampire so u kant die frum a bullet. You should know that you can only die from slicing your wrists with a steak. Cum on now lets go c how Hairy’s dad is doing.”

I noo dat da real reason I didn’t die from da ballet was koz I was from da future. “WTF!!!! James almust shot Luciious!!!” I said indigoally. I knew that James had really ben possezzed, but I didn’t want him2 know I knew.

“Yah I know but he had a headache he wz under a lot of stress.” Satan reasoned evilly.

“I guess that’s ok.” I said because James hadn’t really shot Lucian. Also I noo that Lucian wood now have 2 arms instead of 1. I walked seduktivly outside with Satan. Suddeni I saw a totally sexi goffik bi guy!!!!!11 He had bleched blond hair wiv blak streaks up 2 his ears and he wuz wearing goffik blak iliner, a blak Green Day shirt (it showed billy joel wiv bolnd hair since it was da eighties), blak congress shoes and black baggy pants. He walked in all sexly like Gerrd way in the vido for I Don’t 3 u lyk I did yesterday and you cud see a blak tear on his face lyk da wmn in dat video. “Hey.” He sed all qwietly and goffically.

“Who da fuck is that?” I asked angrly cos I did nut kno him.

“Dis is…Hedwig!!!!!!!!!11” Sed Volximort. “He used to be in XBlackXTearX 2 but he had 2 dropp out koz he broke his arm. Or his wing I guess. He is an owl after all. And a girl. So I guess she broke her wing because she is an owl.

“Hey Hedwig.” I said seductively evn tho I wuz nut tring to b.

“Lol hi stranger I have never met before but I guess because of your immense beauty I shall call Paul Darkness Great Mal Omnipotentia Raven Face Landers.” He answered but then he ran away bcos he had hair of magical creature. Some would call them feathers. He was humming Welcum 2 da Blak Prade under his breth( I no dat is not 80s but pretend it is ok!!)

“Bye.” I sed all sexily.

“Dat was Hedwig. He used 2 b my boifreind but we broke up.” Satan said sadly, luking at his blak nails.

“OMFG I can get u bak 2gether!” I said fingering something I didn’t know wuz in my pocket- a blak Kute is What we Aim 4 cideo ipod that I could take videos wif (duz ne1 elze no about dem??? dey kik azz!!!!).

“Ok u can 4get about ur class for now, Hedwig. Im going 2 show u something grate!!!!1” I led them to da Great Hall. “Cum on u guys.”

Lucian, James, Serious and Snake were all in da Grate Hall. Lucian woudnt talk wiv James because he had tried 2 shoot him.

“Go fuk urself you fukking douche!” he shouted at him. “Richard is never gong 2 b frends with vampire now!!1 Though I have no idea who these two people are anyway because I'm 16 and from a different time!"

“Yah go fuck urself Samaro!” Snape agreed but I noo he wuz lying koz it had been his folt James had almost shot Lucian.

“B quiet u guys.” I said sexily. Mi plan waz working oot great. Now I kood make Voldement good wivout doing it with him! Now Vampire’s dad wood never die and “OK Satan and Hedwig, u guys can start making out.” I said and I started 2 film dem wiv da ipod. Because making a gay porn is totally the way to true love! And if you disagree with this I will bring out the homophone again!

“Kool.” said Serious as Voldemort and Hedwig started 2 make out sexily. We watched as tdey started 2 take each odderz cloves off sexily. Samaro, Serious, Snake and Lucian all watched koz dey wer prolly bi. I noo Snape was bi.

“Oh my fukking god!!!! Voldimort! Voldimort!” screamed Hedwig as his glock touched Voldemort’s.

But suddenly everything stopped as da door opend and in kame………………Daddy Till and Mr. Norris!!!!111111111111

Daddy Till was carrying Mr. Norris in his arms and stroking him like an evil villain. "What are you doing here?!" I screamed all sexily and suicidally. "Do you think you can just walk in here and expect to be part of this very hot, spontaneous, true love, steaming gay porn scene?" "No Paul Darkness Elementia Raven Face Landers," he said while he was still stroking Mr Norris the cat, "I expect you to die!".

"NOOOooooOOOOooooo!!!!" I screamed, and everything went black again.

#my rammmortal #rammstein #christoph schneider #fanfic #flake lorenz #oliver riedel #paul landers #rammstein fanfic #richard kruspe #till lindemann

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oh-katsuki · 2 years

Text

Where The Panther Killed The Stag - Chapter 2 (Hanma x Reader)

masterlist | ao3 | series masterlist

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Pairing: Hanma x Reader

Series Content Warnings: THIS SERIES IS A PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR AND INCLUDES THEMES OF: murder, violence, abuse, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, hard kinks, rumination, guilt, depersonalization, dub/noncon, organized crime, mind break, and other similar themes.

Summary: You're a good student at the top of your university class and the vice president of your student-led club. A shiny toy on the top shelf of your social circle. Hanma likes toys he can break. Slowly but surely, you begin to spiral into a twisted situation that is entirely out of your control, putting your life and the lives of the people around you at stake.

Or, Hanma takes an interest in the University of Tokyo's resident good girl.

Chapter Title: Infection Of The Highest Caliber

Chapter Content Warnings: fem!reader, dub/noncon, loss of virginity, fingering, rough sex, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, implications of violence, threats, erratic / unpredictable behavior, coercion, slight fear play, blood, praise, slight degradation, sir kink, slight choking

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: I lied about uploading twice a week. i think im gonna do every other day or every two days for at least the first few chapters. or i might just do it ao3 style and upload whenever my heart desires lol. also im nervous about this series... as in i upload and immediately am anxious for several hours. i think its because ive been working on it for a while so the writing in the earlier chapters doesn’t reflect where I am as a writer now. oh well, enjoy this chapter! heed the warnings please!

The next week rolls around with little reprieve from the growing paranoia you’re experiencing. It’s almost neurotic, the way you’ve been watching your back, certain that someone is following you. By the time you arrive at your council meeting, you swear that your hair is standing on end.

But you’re flooded with relief when you see Suzuki seated in his usual spot, teeth intact. He’s bruised up, bottom lip busted and his delicate cheeks bruised and growing yellow. They must have waited for him last week. A shiver runs down your spine thinking that they could have seen you walking home. You aren’t careful enough.

“Suzuki,” you start, “are you okay?”

It’s a vague question but when he nods, you understand. He must have gotten the money to him, or at least enough to stave them off. You swallow thick, eyes drifting down to the bruises on his face and you wonder if they were left by sin or by punishment.

Tension is thick in the air as Hasegawa starts the meeting, clearing his throat in the way men with power do. He doesn’t command a room as well as Hanma does. That’s what you’re thinking as he’s talking and it’s making you insane. You’re bored hearing him talk, despite the delicate cadence of his words and your previous fascination with him. A week spent looking into perhaps the most dangerous man you’ve ever encountered and you’ve the nerve to sit here bored.

You remind yourself what all this is for, your silence, staying away from people like Hanma, not that you could ever find him again. You know from your research that he won’t be found unless he wants to be. Your future is everything to you, one tall man with tattooed hands won’t ruin it. You won’t let a panther among deer ruin your shot at your dream life. It’s what you’ve worked for all these years.

Or that’s what you tell yourself. You really should have known that he’d have you in his web if he wanted. You shouldn’t be surprised by the car that pulls up next to you on your walk home or the frighteningly handsome man inside who sits against sleek black leather seats. That familiar deadpan is set on you again as the heavily tinted window is rolled down, the glass humming with electricity as it reveals him.

And then Hanma Shuji says your name despite you never having told it to him.

You stare at him, eyes wide as he takes in your appearance. The clean-cut pants, sweater, tote bag filled with books and a laptop. Such a goody goody. Hanma wants to eat you alive and under his gaze, you feel yourself shrink, feel the way your fingers grip the phone in your right hand tighter. All while he watches you. No, it isn’t watching, it’s appraising. Hanma’s looking at merchandise.

“Get in the car.” He speaks, that rich baritone invading your ears. You feel the wall on the other side of the sidewalk bump your back, not realizing that you had been stepping away from the car.

“Why?” It’s an automatic response, a scared one.

Hanma rolls his eyes before setting them back on you and then he does something that shocks you further. You swear that there’s a smile on his lips. A sadistic one, but a smile nonetheless. “We’re asking questions now?”

You swallow thick, tiptoeing, choosing your words carefully. “I really can’t. I’ve got studying to do. Thank you for the invitation, sir.”

It’s too formal, but the honorific slips from your tongue easily. It fits him.

Hanma can see you shaking, the way your fingers tremble, the innocent look in your eyes. He likes that you’re so polite, such a pretty pushover. And all for him? Isn’t he the lucky one.

“Taking mommy’s advice and not going out with strangers?�� Hanma asks. He seems to ask a lot of questions. “But I’ve got a dress for you and everything. It’s your size.”

Your blood freezes in your veins. It’s your size? Something in you sings, there’s an animal in your chest purring at the thought. The thought that you weren’t the only one thinking. That you’ve lived in his mind for this past week. It’s frightening and all too enticing.

“No, thank you.” You say it a little firmer, with more conviction. Hanma looks back inside of the car, the interior dimmed by the heavily tinted windows. He rolls his eyes and you can see the flash of white before they come to rest to whoever sits in the driver’s seat. You can’t see the driver from where you are, but Hanma seems to give him a look.

“We could do this all day but y’know, I really don’t think you want to see me bored. So get in the car, doll. I won’t ask again.” He folds his hands across his lap, staring at you, through you to the brick behind.

You’re a good girl. You’ve always been a good girl and it’s moments like these that you curse that part of yourself. The part of yourself that needs to be liked, to be praised. Because when Hanma Shuji tells you to get in the car, when he calls you a doll and threatens you so sweetly, you find yourself sliding in next to him, slick collecting between your legs shamefully as the leather hits the back of your thighs.

Hanma nods to the driver, reaching over you and shutting the door. His car smells like cedar, like leather and cologne. It’s clean, nearly untouched, and you find that the most unsettling thing of all is that, beneath the smell of his cologne, you can smell blood.

—

The dress Hanma bought for you could hardly be called a dress at all. It’s a little number, a small, shiny red dress with spaghetti straps. It’s made of silk and the fabric slips expensively over your body when you move. He’s right, it is your size. It hugs your curves perfectly and you’re beginning to feel like you really are a doll, brought along under threat and dressed up pretty.

Even now, in his car again as you drive to a place he hasn’t disclosed to you, you wonder how the fuck you ended up here. Your eyes glance down to the bag of clothes on the floor of the car, your belongings from class and the outfit you wore earlier in the day. Whatever attitude you seem to have beside him, your mind is different, confused, frightened, screaming profanities that your peers couldn’t even imagine would come out of your mouth. And beside you, Hanma is still, his chin resting on his hand as he stares out of the car window.

“How did you know my name?” You find the courage to ask.

“Friends.” He offers a one-word response, not sparing you a second glance until you inhale a sharp and frightened breath. “You worried I’m gonna hurt you?”

You shift in the seat, “duh.”

“Relax. It’s just some fun.”

“Why?”

Hanma’s eyes dart over to you. “Why, why, why. You sure ask a lot of fucking questions.”

You’re startled by the emotion in his voice, the way his expression curls up into something nasty as he mocks you as if your reaction isn’t perfectly normal. You’re beginning to think that Hanma has no concept of what normal is.

“You looked interesting.” He finishes his statement, eyes falling deadpan again as they drift over you.

You wouldn’t call whatever this is interest, but something about being praised by him satisfies you, if you could even call it that. You briefly register that this isn’t how someone should be treating you, but garnering the interest of someone like Hanma feels like an achievement of some sort and bite your bottom lip to hold your tongue.

You quickly learn that Hanma’s emotions are as erratic and unpredictable as his actions. When you arrive at the club, he tosses an affectionate arm over your shoulder, striding past the bouncers and through the crowded club to a table in an adjacent room. People stare as you pass. They stare at you when he walks you past them, bored eyes sparing the room little more than a glance as he brings you to your destination. It’s obvious that they’re afraid of him, but also of you.

He sits you down in a booth in the far corner of the club, separated from the rest of the room by a red velvet rope that matches the upholstery. One moment, Hanma is calm and cold and the next, he’s shouting. Through the evening, there is always someone to be upset with, always something to piss him off, always something less than satisfactory. You find yourself struggling to please him, sitting close, letting his broad hand roam up and down your thigh.

You don’t drink. You don’t like the way being drunk makes you feel. But when Hanma pushes a glass in front of you, you sip it. When he slips his hand up your dress to pinch the fat of your thighs, you widen your legs. When he asks you to sit pretty and wait, you do. Because Hanma is someone that you want to give what he wants. Because despite the fear creeping in your veins, you want him.

The lights in the club are dark, pulsing with each beat of the upbeat music. They flash across his features, illuminating the dull look in his eyes and moving across the hard edges of his face. It smells like sweat and liquor. Your shoes stick to the floor when you move them and it would bother you if you weren’t so hyper aware of the man next to you and the heat radiating off of him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way bodies mingle on the dance floor, shapeless in the lights as they blend and shift until they are unrecognizable and abstract shapes glittering like gold under the strobes.

Hanma is reclined in the booth beside you, hands splayed over the top of the red leather that you’re matching so nicely. His fingers drum across the surface lightly with the music, long, vascular hands ghosting over the decor before his arm sinks down around your shoulder.

It’s a possessive grip, languid in movement, and in this position his long arm dwarfs you. You don’t miss the way he looks at anyone greedy enough to check you out, fingers running a circle around the ball of your shoulder as they realize their mistake. And it makes you feel good. Being desired, being possessed by someone other than yourself. As dangerous as this is, as strange as this situation is, you find Hanma charming. You find his hair-trigger sexy because right now you’re on the good side of it, safe under his arm while he frighteningly threatens another man.

“You’re not the type for clubs.” Hanma speaks, bending low by your ear. It’s not a question, but a statement rather, like he already knows.

You shake your head in response, turning to look at him. Over his shoulder you can see the entry way to a separate room, away from the pounding of the bass and the multi-color strobes. Despite the situation, the bags of drugs you can see being run from this room to the next, the guns in men’s belts that you have no idea how they got, you feel somewhat safe with him. Well, not safe per say, but far safer than you would be watching this from the outside. And Hanma loves that he can see that on your face.

He loves your uncertainty, the way you stick to his side like a good girl because when you’re here, he’s the only thing you’re somewhat familiar with. Hanma has a particular adoration for girls like you. The ones that break so easily. The ones that break forever.

He lets his gaze roam slowly down your figure, to where your thighs spill out of the sinfully small red dress he’d bought you. You match the booth like an accessory, like you’ve been bought. Hanma admires the way your unpolished fingers cup the drink he’d bought you in your lap, hardly touched, ice melting slowly in the glass. It clinks and shifts, sliding against its self and spinning with even the slightest movement.

He brings his fingers to the underside of it, knuckles grazing your upper thigh before he pushes it up delicately to your lips, all while maintaining your gaze as if he’s the fucking sun. Hanma pushes the rim to your slightly parted lips and his body hums when you let him tilt it back. Watching you like you’re an experiment, something fascinating and interesting.

The alcohol burns your throat. You’re not used to it and you’re sure that this drink is probably just straight vodka. But you let him tip it down your throat and you let him watch you while you do as you’re instructed.

Hanma hums, low in his throat as he takes the glass from you and sets it onto the table. Then, he leans in and puts his lips to yours in an open-mouth kiss. It’s aggressive and wet, his tongue dipping into your mouth and exploring. You part your lips for him, eyes fluttering shut because Hanma’s mouth is hot and his tongue is soft as it swipes across yours.

You’d be embarrassed to be kissed like this in front of so many people, but the alcohol is soaring through your veins and the kiss only makes you feel more separate from the situation. Even here, in your own body, you are an outsider.

Hanma’s lips move against yours, open-mouthed before he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard. You whine against him. It hurts, his teeth on the soft flesh of your bottom lip, but you’re squeezing your thighs together at the difference. The difference between how soft his tongue is in your mouth and the blood you’re sure he’s just drawn from your bottom lip. You can taste copper as he kisses you, gliding his tongue along the cut on your bottom lip. He shares with you, coaxing his tongue against yours as the metallic taste spreads through your mouth.

Hanma pulls away after a moment, eyes open as he looks over you with a bored expression, gaze flicking down momentarily to where you’ve tangled your fingers into his dress shirt.

“This is expensive.” He comments, pulling your hands from his chest and smoothing down the wrinkles. “If you want to ruin my clothes, you should at least do it at my place.”

Hanma tilts his head back and despite the fact that it sounded like an invitation, you know it wasn’t. In the short time you’ve known him, you’ve learned that Hanma doesn’t make requests because Hanma gets everything he wants. What makes you more nervous still is this growing desire to be that, to please him. You don’t think you could say no if you wanted to.

Alarm bells glare in your head as he stands and guides you from the club, the hand that reads “sin” pressed flush against your lower back, urging you forward with him. You should be getting home. You have work, club activities, organizational duties to complete, but your mind is foggy and your breath feels too loose to keep yourself together. Slowly, you unravel like string. All you can think about is the hand on your back, the way his long fingers would feel pressed up inside of you.

You’ve been touched before but never in a context like this, never in what’s shaping up to be something emotionless and filthy. You want to save yourself, to a degree, for someone you love. Hanma must know that you don’t have much experience because in the car, he eyes you from where he sits.

You’d expect the situation to be sobering because you’re afraid, but instead looking at him makes you feel drunker, makes you sink deeper into this unfamiliar intoxication that is Hanma Shuji.

Hanma doesn’t need to wonder what you’re thinking about. He already knows. You’re thinking about his hands, if his cock matches his height, if it’s going to hurt when he puts it in and if he’s going to hurt you after. He deals a lot with girls like you. The nice ones he finds in shops or on odd jobs. Innocent girls who want to please, who want to be something more than themselves for the sake of someone else. He loves the martyr type. So he lets you believe that you’re being a martyr. Hanma plans to let you think you’re making a difference even when he knows that you’re not. He’s not someone who can change and it’s fun to break things that don’t belong to him.

He staves off boredom with girls like you. That’s really all you’re good for. After all, someone who can’t think for themselves is nothing more than a dog anyway.

—

Hanma lives in the northwest portion of Minato Ward, in Aoyama, the wealthiest part of the city where he owns a penthouse overlooking the attractive neighborhood. It makes sense when you think about it. A man with a price on his head living in one of the safest areas, in a tower equipped with security and on the top floor.

His apartment is stale. That’s how you’d describe it. It’s full of sleek furniture clearly not designed for comfort and modern art that lacks feeling but no doubt has a high price tag. The floor plan is open with gray wood floors. It looks like it’s been pasted from a high fashion magazine and the space feels too clean to have been lived in. Against the bright interior, he looks like a devil, dark plastered against sterile whites and muted grays.

“Get out.” He commands, and behind you, you hear someone shuffle out of the apartment as the door clicks behind them. You’d almost forgotten that Hanma was accompanied by guards, high up on Tokyo’s underground food chain. You suddenly want to go home.

“Well, uhm-” You start, hooking your fingers together in front of your body. “Thank you for tonight but- I really should get home.”

Hanma doesn’t look at you while you speak, instead walking to the bar and pouring a glass of whiskey, liquid gold against a pristine glass. You think it’s for him until he walks over to you and hands it to you.

“Drink.”

“I don’t think I should.” You respond, holding it, fiddling with the dips in it.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to refuse a drink?” He muses, walking to the sleek black couch and sitting down. You follow him, caught in his gravitational pull, standing near him but not sitting because he hasn’t invited you to.

The last thing you want to be is rude. You’ve never been rude, not intentionally, so you nod, taking a small sip of the drink. You hate the taste of whiskey but all you can think of right now is how stupid you are for not accepting.

Hanma watches you take a sip, pleased again with your malleability before he reaches his hands out for your hips, pulling you between his legs.

“You’re pretty.” He says, low-lidded eyes looking over your figure.

You’re shocked by the praise. It’s the first real compliment he’s given you all night and despite yourself, despite the thrumming of your heart against your ribs, you melt a little.

“I like pretty things.” Hanma runs a hand over your cheek, stroking along the curve of it before running two slender fingers down along your jugular. “Red looks good on you.”

His fingers close around your throat and you suck in a sharp breath, screwing your eyes shut. This is a man who has killed. You wonder if the fingers around your throat now have ever done this to someone else. If they’ve ever closed around someone’s throat so tightly that the light fades from their eyes.

“Thank you…” You squeak out.

“Are you afraid?” He draws you closer by the neck, the hand on your hip giving a firm squeeze.

When you nod slowly, he hums his approval, bringing his lips to yours. They move against you languidly, tongue delving into your mouth like he’s claiming it, mouth hot and greedy. You let him kiss you, swaying slightly until he pulls you into his lap, taking the glass and setting it on the coffee table in one swift movement.

Hanma’s hand stays seated on your throat, your center pushed against his hips. He strokes the soft skin of your neck with his digits when he kisses you and each drag of his finger against your pulse point makes you feel like you’re choking, air catching in your lungs. He exhales languidly against your mouth, each movement calculated, meant to scare you.

As he guides your back to the couch, the tension feels like a chord about to snap. You want him, you do, but you also want to run. Your legs feel frozen as he lays down between them, covering you with his body that feels larger than life. Against your stomach, you can feel the hard ridge of his cock and your blood thrums with nerves you never even knew you had.

You’re dancing along a wire. You can feel it as he kisses down your neck where his hand used to be, biting harshly at the flesh, warning you against doing things he doesn’t like. You’re meant to just sit pretty for him, let him work you open. That’s what’s going to make him happy.

When Hanma drags his teeth harshly across your collarbone, you yelp and he chuckles into your skin. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh and it’s intoxicating, as frightening as it is. It means that you’ve done something he likes and you’re obsessed with the feeling of it.

He’s surprisingly gentle but, beneath it all, you can feel his hair-trigger. The paper-thin string is taught between your legs, caught between pleasure and punishment as his fingers trail under your dress and up your thigh.

He’s taunting you, gauging your reactions. You can’t decide if you want this. You can’t decide if you want whatever you’re spiraling towards but when his fingers come into contact with your clit and he closes his eyes at the feeling, you know you can’t turn back. This game he’s playing—and it is a game—is one you’re becoming more invested in by the moment.

It really isn’t until his fingers are curling inside of you, long and slender, that you realize what he is. Hanma is a predator, a panther with sharp eyes, and you’re caught in his jaw. But more so, as he works you open helplessly on his fingers, you realize that he’s the type of person who makes you want to end up as prey.

“You’re so tight down here, doll.” Hanma purrs. His voice is thick and deep and full of pleasure. For the normally cold man, the tone switch is disorienting. “You save yourself just for me?”

You don’t answer, instead gasping when he crooks his fingers up harshly. “H-Hanma-”

He stops, pulling himself from you. The faint trace of a smile falls from his lips, another sudden switch. You realized you’ve tripped the trigger. “Using my name now?”

Hanma lines his cock up with your entrance and you eye it, eyes wide. It’s long and slightly curved, tan and flush at the head with two angry veins running up it. He smears your essence over it, not watching what he’s doing, where’s he’s putting it as he feels around for the ring of your cunt.

“We’re familiar enough now that you can use my name, are we?” His voice is cruel, elated with the slightest uptick of anger. “If we’re so fucking close, let’s get a little closer.”

You put your hands against his chest, pressing back because you can feel what’s coming. “H-Hanma wait- wait-”

“There’s that fucking name again.” He thrusts into you and you gasp, fingernails digging into his shirt, ruining it like he promised you would. He looks angry, staring down at you with a nasty scowl on his face. “Show some fucking respect, eh? I’m not playing around here.”

“It hurts!” You cry out, back arching up at the fill.

“Yeah?” He says. “Does it hurt, doll? Got some fuckin’ nerve calling me by my name. Thought you were a good girl?”

“I am! I am!” You plead as he drags his cock along your walls and pushes back in with a harsh flick of his hips.

“Then what the fuck do good girls call me?” He spits down at you, pistoning his hips into you. “Only good girls deserve to feel good. Casual sluts get used like one.”

“Sir!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes. “Good girls call you sir!”

You feel Hanma’s cock twitch in you. He wants so badly to put you in your place, to ruin you now. He wants to take the knife from his pocket and drive the point home by pressing it to your neck, watch those pretty eyes well up even more than they already are. But if he breaks you too soon, you won’t break for him.

He pushes his hips flush against yours, stilling as he holds them there forcefully. “That’s right. And what are you gonna be?”

“Your good girl.” You respond, wary eyes finding him.

You need something to ground yourself with. You need something to tether you to earth and right now, you’re finding that he’s the only thing. The sterile decoration in the room around you offers you no comfort so you turn to the next living thing to validate you.

Hanma breaks out in an adoring smile. It reaches his eyes and sits wide across his face before he laughs.

“Oh, you’re so good.” He lowers his mouth to yours, pulling his hips back slowly and this time you can register the way he hits the sweet spot inside of you. “You’re my good girl now, right? Never going to let you go. So fucking good for me.”

You soak up his praise like a flower, like it’s a reprieve from everything else. When he likes you, when he wants you, you’re safe. Fear still hums in your veins but you pull him closer, for safety, to stay protected by walking the tightrope with this predator.

You moan your response, lost in it, the alcohol making your head fuzzy. You don’t have the mind to think about how fast this seems to be moving, about his words of possession and the adoration he regards you with so early into your tryst.

It’s a long while before he lets you go. A long while before he’s finally decided that he’s had his fill of your cunt and the loss makes you sad in a fucked up, perverse way. You’re half asleep by the time he’s finished, too fucked out to register that he’s cum inside of you with a deep groan, with threatening praises in your ear.

There is the distinct feeling that this is the cut that will cause the infection. You can feel the way it begins to invade your blood. It’s a new, unrecognizable part of yourself, brought about through your blood. Infection of the highest caliber.

---

The next morning, you wake up in his bed, or at least what you think is his bed. You’re clean and washed, a favor you didn’t think he would do you. His bedroom is as stale as his living room, a black duvet comforter covering your body. The bed beside you is empty and as you sit up, your head pounds with the hangover. You shift your body to move and your legs ache, body screaming for rest, for someone to massage the creak in your muscles away.

You let yourself think stupidly that he’s done this because he liked something about you last night. And you’re not entirely wrong. It’s never been this easy that he’s gotten a virgin to submit like that, but you’re also a fucking idiot to imagine that it makes you special. Still, you replay the words in your head, that he’ll never let you go, and though it sets a deep fear in your lungs, you also sing at the praise.

When you pad into the kitchen on shaky legs, unfamiliar with the layout of the apartment, he’s reclined on the couch, arm thrown over the back of it. His tattooed hand reading “punishment” lays idly along the cushion and in his other hand, he holds a newspaper. It’s oddly domestic and he tosses you one single sideways glance before removing his hand from the back of the couch and tossing a white and purple package to the end closest to you.

“Take this.” You walk over to the package, turning it over in your hand. You recognize the brand, Plan B. “I don’t need you getting fucking pregnant on me.”

You mumble your thank you, walking to the kitchen. As instructed, you take the pill and Hanma hums his approval.

“What are we doing today?” You ask, immediately regretting it when his eyes shift to you.

“You’re going home.” He responds cooly.

It should make you relieved to not have to stay here any longer with a man who’s known for being cruel, but something in your stomach drops. So he’s done with you? Bored with you already?

You don’t respond, in fact, neither of you says much to each other on the ride home. Instead, Hanma remains eerily quiet, uninterested in you once again. You watch out the window as the scenery passes, a bit dazed, but still registering as it begins to get more familiar. Beside you, Hanma does the same, cheek against his hand. He looks a bit like a child like this, spoiled rotten and unhappy with his new toy. It makes your stomach turn.

As the sleek black car pulls up in front of your apartment building, despite the fact that you haven’t told him your address, you find fear creeping back into your veins. He could kill you now. He could take you out to avoid any of this getting to the authorities, to avoid exposing where he lives, who he works with, what clubs he frequents, though you suppose the authorities already know. The problem isn’t not being able to find him, it’s that he covers himself so well. He could do the same to you.

You move to get out of the car but he stops you, a hand around your wrist. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir.” You respond, chest tightening.

“Hm.” He says, letting go and watching as you walk around the other side of the car to the sidewalk, dress from the night before still wrapped around your figure. Hanma rolls down the window, leaning out of it onto his arm. “Oh, and if you tell anyone about this, I’ll fucking kill you. So be good, okay?”

You wonder how he can say such frightening things so easily, how he can look bored when he’s just pressed a metaphorical gun to your head.

“Yes, sir.” For some reason, it’s hard to find the words when you’re around Hanma. You think that when it comes to him, there is very little to say.

“Atta girl.” As he rolls up the window, you hear him tell the chauffeur to drive before he pulls off.

You watch him pull away before turning to walk back to your quaint apartment. You don’t have the mind to ponder if you were just kidnapped, if it still counts even if he took you home after. Does a death threat mean anything if you plan to take it to the grave? Did that really happen?

Even as you let yourself into your apartment, you’re not worrying about yourself. You’re home and safe, the bruises will fade. All you can think of now is whether or not he got bored of you. God, you hope he hasn’t already grown bored of you.

#hanma x reader #hanma x reader smut #hanma shuji x reader smut #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji smut #hanma smut #tw: dark content #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: praise #tw: loss of virginity #[ 📕 – writing ]#tw: blood #tw: coercion #tw: drugs/alcohol

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jinkicake · 1 year

Note

BIG MOOD PATHETIC SCARAMOUCHE IS SO FUNNY HES RLY THE LITTLE MEOW MEOW😭 need him to be absolutely obsessed w me but he’s too embarrassed that he wants to hold my hand so he pretends to hate me and im like “ that’s mice sweetheart what di you want for dinner?” Saw someone make a dc where you ignore him for like 5 days and he’s on his knees begging like “PLEASE LOOK AT ME” like thats so real to me😭😭 bc once you’ve given him affection he’s gunna do everything to keep it within his grasp😔 ALSO HE DEF WOULD TIE YOU UP AND LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN💀 childe and singora are so casual about it😭 when he comes back they talk like you’re not even there “how long have they been here?” “I lost count after the fourth hour” “ they’re still conscious I’m impressed” like he’s such an asshole but he will do the 🥺🥺👉🏼👈🏼”can I have a hug” afterwards💀 love that for him. Keeps him in my pocket like a little purse dog, he’s my guard dog boyfriend bc he will kill first and ask questions later. “ I don’t like how he looked at you” “he’s the waiter” AND YOOOO DONT EVEN LET DOTTORE UGLY ASS COME CLOSE TO YOU ITS OVER FR-don’t like his new design he’s just a creep like I was the “clones” back the short haired funny scientist dude like I like them unhinged in a clown way!! He’s fuckable, the abusive leather daddy dom on the other hand😒 like he’s fun if he has a tired annoyed uncle personally like he lives to bully childe. But just going around threatening scaramouche and collei bc I forgot he did experiments on her too in the manga is musty like that mask is lame!! WHERE IS THE CLOWN KING😡- he would reflexively go for his throat like he opens his mouth and suddenly his throat is slit “ my bad I got anxious” SGDHSHS UNDERSTANDABLE😭😭😭 and the streets is saying he’s gunna have a claymore??? BE SERIOUS HES A SCIENTISTS TWINK WHOS HUNCHED IVER IN A LAB ALL DAY HE CANT CARY THAT SHIT?? Like he only experiments on KIDS bc he could never kidnap a whole adult like imagine he tries to get itto?? HIS ASS WOULD BE DEAD IN 10 SECONDS!! HE CANNOT FIGHT DELUSION OR NOT!! I would beat his ASS like if you don’t get your ass out my face looking like an X-ray 😒 like be bothering all them people bc he wants so ass he weights 70 pounds soaking wet so he needs to borrow childes body weight

no exACTLY. listen, i love mean!scaramouche as much as the next person but if he's not obsessed then i dont want him. pathetic!scaramouche is the best scaramouche

i saw this scaralumi fanart of him drunk at a bar and diluc calls lumine to calm scara down and when she answers hes like 'hey ugly' and she hangs up and he starts crying again and ugh it's too perfect like that artist captured his best side with that simple fanart heheh

HAHAH yeah scaramouche is the worst bc he would do something so mean to you like ignore you while working but the second he finds out youre mad at him he'll be begging for your attention like he didn't just starve you for two days.... hes a great yandere me thinks-

Scaramouche = purse dog is the best comparison ive ever read T T

okay hear me out... i can forgive all the heinous crimes dottore has committed but i draw the line at him being UGLY. Maybe if he were cuter I would also be obsessed w him but he's so..... eh- LOL i like the clones better than him! (rip to the clones :-(() but also.... him being ugly is kinda the appeal? am i right??? i can never make up my mind-

dottore is supposed to have a CLAYMORE?! WHAT THE HLLL,,,im very confused about his leaks bc i heard that the shit company can't let characters be playable if theyre evil and tbh i dont want him to be redeemed bc he literally cant be redeemed and hes fun as a psycho like??? idk idk idk im just focused on sexy yelan in 3.4 she will be mine!

also isn't dottore one of the top three strongest in the fatui??? right i think....? i seriously dont know how but tbh i dont care! i just focus on mr hottie soooooooooooo sexy capitano teehee

#sarahandoikawatalkshit

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wench-and-jezebel · 1 year

Text

Dark Angel Reaction: Art Attack

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)

We had spare time before this episode, so have fun with our bonus content! Link available here!

– – –

["Must be a guy thing" Ah, yes, women don't exercise] Or a decent person thing, ya know

[OH YEAH THERE'S APPARENTLY A FAMILIAR FACE IN THIS! @witchy-writer-lady told me abt it]

The circles that have been talked in this scene [Ma'am calling him out on circular sentences like she doesn't do that constantly]

There is plenty more romantic. Weddings are so overrated and expensive ☠️☠️🤣

“Why not?” OC!

🤣🤣🤣 This woman deserves to have her dress stolen if she didn’t notice it gone from two feet away [asdfkjalfdkj you're not wrong] She’s blind as hell with both eyes intact ☠️☠️☠️

Oh Sketch noooooo

Get ‘em OC [No "Get 'em Normal"?] HES SO MEANNNN ☠️☠️☠️☠️ [You do realize NoBody there does Any work right alkdsjf] That’s true 🤣🤣 [Not even Alec, love him as I do alskdfj] Oooooof [He legit just sits there chatting with Normal about boxing the whole time. Or delivering single packages]

Oh! Hello Logan!

NORMAL 🤣🤣🤣

His little “hm she’s aight” look

[This was me earlier today!!! I understand his aversion to public speaking aslkdfj] ☠️☠️☠️ Moood

Oh Buddy

[His look at her alskdfj] Their little exchange was cute tho ['sigh' This is true]

Poor Normal [I knowwww! Will the hostage situations never stop?] Right?!?

[An actual coherent monologue alkdsjfa]

Loooool I thought the brother was Palmer (Ducky’s Assistant you haven’t met yet) [idk for sure but that's not the pertinent one… Watch for Daphne]

Poor Max done got put in her feelings

Le gasp [Oh, last name drop! I forgot Max's last name was on screen. I don't think Alec's is]

Ooop! We get more jam pony

He said ten bucks [tbf, they are in an economic depression] True 🤣🤣

[Normal be lying abt the bip-bip-bip-ing] ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Poor buddy can’t have a good family! Oooof

Was that SPN Mary? [Yup!] Le gasp

Oooooof jealousy

[That was a painfully fake smile, Max]

[Also this be the plot to your Nomral fic. But more guns. And less love life. And Normal's in a leather jacket and not a bathrobe] ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Oh boy: Logan done put his foot in his mouth

[I'm cringing in preparation for this ep btw. Heads-up] Oh noooo

– – –

Jezebel: Midpoint!

Wench: Bravo! Ma'am remembered better than I… do go on!

Jezebel: Ok so first off it’s a Jam Pony ep which has proven to be some of my favorites! And I swear I love a “I don’t like this person but I don’t hate this person so I’ll help” storyline

Wench: Poor Normal alskdjf

Jezebel: Yusss. Alsoooo POOOR LOGANNNNNN! BUT MAX TAKING UP FOR HIM WAS ADORABLE, IM SORRYYYY!! But then here comes Mary-

Wench: Daphne

Jezebel: I know 🤣

Wench: Hmph

Jezebel: -and just threw a wrench right in it

Wench: And finally the jump I paused it on ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ In that dress… Just…. Wot ☠️🤣🤣☠️☠️

Wench: Apparently we have lots of photos to give y’all this time alskdfj On we go!

– – –

I swear ☠️ The dress makes the jumps look so bad ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Oooof

Mood max

[Okay but he lost his job because of the messenger service so-] ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Buddy she’s no angel

Bruh CAN NO ONE KEEP UP WITH SHIT [I mean. Technically she just. Decided to leave with it] FAIR

[Remember when I said I was. preemptively cringing.] ☠️☠️☠️☠️oh shit the second hand embarrassment

[Poor Normal expecting to get killed tho] Ooop Normal reality check on being a good person lol [Let it be known, btw, that Normal in s2 has very good moments and very BAD moments. I recognize this. But for now I'm enjoying his minorly-asshole-ish-but-no-worse bits.]

This man and his bitch slaps

I love "defenstration"... it's one of my favorite words

Poooor Normal

[Have fun. I'm. Not watching btw. Tell me when the speech is over plz. I'm. I have it muted.] I have it turned down☠️ I’m still cringing at the faces

This. Is Tony coming out of Logan

Max coming through again [Okay, now you're uber-whacked; technically she only came through because she caused the problem in the first place by not handing the paper back] Fair [This is the one non-anti-Max comment you've made that I don't agree with] 🤣🤣🤣

[This. Is an NCIS episode.] ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ ["I've got a military vessel heading out to-"]

A ghostttt [Max disappearing: Cas-coded]

Oooooop- [Plz let DaphMary be a lesbian] SBC… If not OC GON make her one

[This whole dress thing is so ridiculously unrealistic. It's pulling me out of the story. She definitely smells like trash and yet no one seems to notice; she's bound to have it all dirty, stained, and ripped, and yet she's acting like she's gonna return it... just wot]

OOOOF THAT WOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TODAY

[Showing off her powers again 'sigh']

☠️☠️☠️☠️ [She (Max) annoys me] Fair

Oh boy

OC 🤣🤣 [Um. DaphMary looking like she was heading over to OC as soon as she caught the bouquet.] RIGHT

[Um. UM. THEY ACTUALLY DID THAT!!! DAPHMARY I FREAKING LOVE YOU] Oooooop! Dean’s getting a new momma. [Well, he always seems to lose one, so he needs two] Oooof ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Ooop- Somethings missing on miss presses neck 🙂

“You first” Heart eyes

[I. I think we found out why she dumped him… Lickity-chicks] ☠️☠️☠️☠️ Logan’s not clueless I love it [This is true!]

Dawwwww! Genuine smile! [I will give you that Max/Logan are good in this scene]

Another dawwwww

Le gasp

Buddy HOW BOUT YOU NOT [HE WAS TESTING IT] “My feet work again… Lemme break em”

– – –

Jezebel: Ok! End point! 🙃 Jam pony still are my all time favorites! Like you said it’s the Normal fic but make the girl a painting ☠️☠️ and the depression is his, you know, will to live.

Wench: lkjlkj;lkj oof

Jezebel: Also Logan was adorable in this one. Very Tony-esque. And his family sucks.

Wench: All true

Jezebel: But DAPHNE(MARY) 😮‍💨💕 love herrrr!

Wench: I KNOW! I FORGOT THEY DID THAT AND JUST. GOLD

Jezebel: OC really just be coming in and swooping up all the ladies. Also, Max was annoying but her taking the necklace made me happy. So *sigh* 😤 I’m conflicted

Wench: This is fair! To be honest, she’s not as bad in s1 as she is in s2. It’s her dynamic there that causes the issue.

Jezebel: Ending note. Catlike jumping in leather = meh, goofy but believable / catlike jumping in fancy schmancy dress = the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen

#dark angel #dark angel reactions #reactions #episode reactions #s01e11 #art attack #max guevara #logan cale #normal #original cindy #herbal thought #sketchy #jezebel (pr)

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2lekk · 2 years

Text

The Elvis Ask Game

thanks for the tag babe @missmaywemeetagain

When and what was your first exposure to Elvis Presley?

im not sure if this was actually my very first exposure or not but this the earliest memory i have lol idek if it really counts but when i first watched ‘forest gump’ & they were saying he got his moves from forest. & then after that i remember hearing about him through ‘full house’.

And what was your first impression?

i didn’t really think too much about him & it’s crazy bc i’m beyond obsessed now lol i never really dived into him or music until recently. i mean i always thought the way he danced was interesting LOL but yea all i knew about really was the basics, the dance moves, jumpsuits, the ‘King’ title, his connection to black culture & and his death. it’s insane bc i very recently found out that my mother was a HUGE elvis fan & i was so in shock bc she never played any of his music or mentioned him to me or around me. i was offended lmaoooo bc i could’ve been had him in my life😭

Lace shirts or jumpsuits?

this is a very hard question bc baby the lace shirts?!?! especially when he tied up the bottom & showed a lil stomach?!?! pls. he was eating the gworls up. but also the jumpsuits. the fucking jumpsuits. he really did his big one w those. the taste🤌🏾😘

You can steal one of Elvis/Austin’s outfits, what’s it going to be?

sheesh. idk. it may just HAVE to be the leather suit… or maybe the outfit with the hat & the pink jacket from the merchandise scene. knowing me, i’ll probably wish i chose a different one when i’m scrolling on my feed later😂

C’mon, we know you’ve been watching/reading old interviews and random footage of the man, so what’s your favorite random Elvis quote?

PLS it’s soooo many. i’ll list a few

-‘if you don’t come back (take 3)’ hes messing around singing then he goes “i go crazy at 4 o’clock, you people never seen me. they have to put me in a straitjacket”

-during the 68 comeback special singing ‘love me tender’ he changed the words & says “you have made my life a wreck- uh complete”

-during the 68 comeback special again, he’s telling the audience that the 2nd audience is coming in next and they get a little upset & he goes “i just work here”

-one i ALWAYS catch myself saying now “my boy my boy” my dad asked me other day where i got that from & when i started saying it😂😂

it’s a lot more but that’s just off the top of my head

Did you find Austin Butler’s lips distracting despite them being in a movie about the King of plush upper lips? (Be honest now)

of COURSE i did. him as a whole was a little distracting🤣🤣

What’s an aspect of Elvis’ character you wish more people appreciated?

how loving he was. that man gave & gave & gave until he died. i wish the ppl that were in his life appreciated that instead of taking advantage of it. i 100% believe if those ppl really appreciated him like they say now then he would still be alive. i’ll leave it at that before i start crying

You meet Col. Tom Parker for the first time, forewarned with the knowledge of what a scumbag he is, what do you do?: A. nothing, you’re a coward who doesn’t care about abused golden-hearted men B. you give the Colonel a stern telling off C. you encourage Elvis to leave him and break the contract E. you slap a legal document against that fat suit and declare “Mrs. Claus is bringing you a lawsuit” F. you waste no time with formalities, it’s a letter opener to the juggler for that piece of trash

this depends on what point in elvis career we’re talking about here. id say i’d let him be until 58ish. i say this bc i’m not gon lie, he gave elvis the start he needed but 58 is when king creole came out & that was the last movie role of his i took serious🥴 i of course enjoyed the ones after that but it’s not the serious drama he wanted. he was given all bs roles & he wasn’t performing & making music he really enjoyed. i feel like from then on is when colonel started blatantly playing in his face. anyways, to actually answer the question, B C & E

What was your favorite aspect/scene from the Elvis 2022 movie?

fave scenes hands down, the vegas rehearsal & the trouble performance. i love love love the music that baz had created for this, that man is genius & everything fell into place perfectly.

it’s so many mixes that were such a small part of the movie that it wasnt released that i love SO much.

-i want jimmy’s elvis impersonation of ‘how do you think i feel’.

-i want that slowed down version of ‘that’s all right’ that “big boy crudup” sang

-the slowed down version of ‘that’s all right’ from when colonel first heard elvis

-the slowed down CRAWFISH?!?! pls i need that

that’s just a few, i need EVERYthing

but i literally wouldn’t change a thing. the transitionsssss!!! so amazing. idk the movie was just so fucking perfect. i watched it over 20 times (over 10 in theatres)

You can choose only one song or piece of media to convince someone to become an Elvis fan, what is it going to be?

there is literally no way i can answer this & i refuse to stress myself out trying🤣🤣 the way my fave elvis song changes every week?! pls, i wouldn’t know WHAT to put on. i would have that person there alllll damn day trying to convince them

How many children would you give Elvis Presley from your own -or theoretical- womb? (listen to the beast in ya, your feminism won’t serve you here)

pls. i will never have the desire to raise a child🤣 even if i did, im too selfish & would want him all to myself anyways lmaoo

Where are you hanging out with EP, his bedroom with the teddy bears, Club Handy, his private jet or Graceland?

graceland for sure, real personal. i would say the bedroom but the teddy bears would’ve been too much🤣 & i wouldn’t be the center of his attention at club handy LOL

What is the peak Elvis era? warning, this says an awful lot about you…

oh late 68- early 70 EASY. top TIER. i’ll stand on that forever.

How long have you been an Austin Butler fan (be honest now, God is watching)

i’ve known of him for a good minute but i wasn’t actually a fan or even paid him any actual attention until Elvis movie.

What kind of Elvis chick are you? -a 1950’s prospective wife material that he’s already sampled, a 1960’s filmset fling or a Vegas torrid backstage affair?

ummmm can i make up my own & say 60s wife?😂 idkkkk filmset fling maybe? LOL

Is Austin Butler an honorary southerner now? Answer options: A. hell no, California can keep his sweet cheeks. B. hell yes, he’s practically been possessed by the soul of the King of the South

oh possessed for sure😂 that’s stuck w him for life now

Pick your poison in the fan-fiction realm: angst, fluff, smut, fluffy smut, angsty fluff, angsty smut?…or is reading about Elvis Presley an acknowledged health hazard?

angsty smut & smutty fluff. easy picks LOL

Spit or swallow for this man? (And if you don’t understand this question move right along)

PLS im SWALLOWING. is that even a question???

Would Gladys approve of you? Take your above answer into consideration

i’m cracking up, gladys wouldve NEVER known that side of me. now me as an actual person? idk LOL but based off my love for her son? she would approve & love me 100%

Which of Elvis’ cars is your favorite?

i’m not a car perso bc n at all so the pink cady just bc it’s my fave color.

What are your odds for besting this man at karate?

oh pls. none. at all. it would’ve been over for me REAL quick

If you could meet Elvis and have enough composure to tell him something, what would it be?

oh wow. ummmm. to sum it up(not going in detail bc i’ll start crying LOL) i would just let him know exactly how loved he is & how he’s still changing lives of millions

What’s the Elvis 2022 quote you’ve been mumbling to yourself ever since you heard it?

“let it all hang out EP, let it all hang out”

“been a long time baby”

i repeat a lot of them very randomly but those are just two

What are your top 3 go-to Elvis songs?

as i was saying earlier, the answer to this changes pretty often lol but rn these are the ones i’ve been throwing on first (don’t confuse this list w my all time fave songs lol)

‘after loving you (take 2)’

‘if you don’t come back’

‘just pretend (midnight show)’

If you could spare him one tragedy what would it be?

the death of his mother. no questions. i 100% believe SO much would’ve been avoided if she lived longer. elvis for SURE would’ve lived longer, can’t convince me any different.

Is there a modern artist that sorta scratches for you the itch that Elvis’ absence leaves?

no. LOL sorry not sorry. it’s one elvis & nobody gives me the feeling he does. literally.

How did you react at the end of the movie when In the Ghetto started to play A. I got up and fixed a snack because I have no soul, B. I left feeling alarmingly horny, C. I was impressed but didn’t realize how affected I was until days later when it was still with me D. I cried buckets they had to bring in a mop E. I may have appeared emotionless but in fact my soul was leaving my body and I don’t think it’s returned quite yet

D but at the same E? by the time in the ghetto comes on i’m still stuck & also upset that it’s over & instantly want to rewatch. i will quite literally never be the same after that movie. i can’t express enough how much it has affected my entire being. i never been so impacted in my life

This was much fun!! thanks again for tagging me to be apart of this @missmaywemeetagain

now idk who to tagggg. i’ll tag you friend @ooshhella hope you have as much fun as i did😁

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