#make old white dudes pissed off again

[presleyluvschris]

Hey I got a request for jj

That jj is a single dad to a baby girl and he is to scared to hold because he will think he will drop her and John b everyday will try and get jj to hold her then one day jj was holding her on his chest then he takes her everywhere With him hope that make sense

Koala Care

dad!jj x fem!reader x daughter

a/n ahh this is so cutie! thank you for the request anon, love you bunches!

desc JJ holds his baby girl for the first time

wc 1.2k

warnings cursing, grammar, fluff

"Peaches?" JJ comes in through the back door of the chateau, carefully shutting it behind him as he walks through the kitchen to set down a box full of baby supplies.

The usual. Diapers, baby food, her favorite yogurt melts, more of his old band & surf t-shirts to wrap her up in.

He notices Aria crying her eyes out behind him in between the white rails of her bed. he must have forgotten to change her when he left. He also noticed it was pissing off John B who was trying to work on something probably useless and he caught the hint that he's been listening to her cry for at least an hour.

"Shit," he mutters, messing with his backwards hat as he turns his attention away from Aria for a split second to glance at John B. Turns out he was fixing a cooler for the boat.

"Bro." he goes over to him, kicking him in the leg slightly, "You seen Y/n? I really need her help knowing what measurements of tit milk I'm supposed to feed mini me."

John B rolls his eyes to the ceiling as he screws in the side of the cooler handle.

"First of all," he says through a gritted tone from a bolt in between his teeth.

"You gotta stop with the teenage boy, language wording shit."

He spits out the bolt and screws another nail into the bottom.

"You're like a dad now. Its your dick and your daughter, buddy. You really want your kid to go around saying, tit milk?"

JJ tuts. "Bro she cant even talk yet. Plus, I don't remember half the shit i said as a fucking baby. Maybe thats cause my dad probably beat the shit out of me where I like- lost half my cells, but i ain't changing. Plus, daddy will raise her to be the best hooker of man kind. Shes a Pogue, shes not gonna be a goody two shoes if my life depends on it."

John B turns his head around and gives him a look.

"Jesus Christ JJ, did anything click when your girlfriend popped a living thing out of her ass?" He purses his lips.

JJ points his lips downwards and shrugs.

"Or are you always gonna be known as the dad who raised a stripper?" John B rolls his eyes again, taking a weird clear plate out of his box, "Y/n is a doctor for fucks sake, she's the only hope for raising her I swear to God."

John B shakes his head, "I've told you everyday now. You haven't even held her yet."

JJ grips his hat, "Thats because im gonna drop the kid!"

John b slaps his forehead.

"You're litterally her DAD, JJ! Y/n popped a baby out of her kitty sack and you seriously didnt even touch her the day she was born." John B raises his eyebrows. "Do you remember that? Y/n cried in Kie's room FOR AN HOUR thinking you didnt want the kid!"

JJ opens his mouth to respond then stops.

"Whatever. Go back to fixing your cold box and shit," He turns his back to walk away.

John B changes the tip on his screwdriver, "You're gonna have to hold your own ass daughter eventually, dude."

"I hope you screw a nail in your dick!" JJ calls out and tuts again, mumbling under his breath, "teaching me how to handle my own kid..."

"im the one fixing this goddamn cooler so you can drink your shit ass blue moon chilled!" John b yells back, JJ opening the door and slamming it shut to try and find you again.

"y/nnnn," he groans, calling out your name, finding you sitting on the steps outside.

He kneels down and wraps his big arms around you, kissing the side of your head gently.

"Hi baby," he mutters, "How was work?"

you felt your head pulsating before forcing yourself to give a response.

"Hmmm fine. it was busy."

"Yeah?" he strokes your head, "Real quick."

You sigh slightly, "Hmm?"

"how much ti-" He stops, and clears his throat.

"How much milk do I need to feed Ari?" He says in a soft voice, knowing you had a blaring headache from your shift.

You exhale, leaning your arms on your knees.

"theres about 7 oz in the fridge."

He nods, "thank you sweets," he kisses your hair one last time before leaving you in peace to rest your mind.

He goes back inside the chateau, opening the fridge and taking out the bottle, reaching over Aria's crib and putting the tip to her mouth.

"there we are, sweet girl.." he holds the back of her head while she drinks gently, her cries settling down.

After Aria is finished, he stares at her for a moment.

Why was it so hard for him to hold his own daughter? He feels a wave of guilt floods over his spine.

He reaches his hands out, then stops.

"God damnit," He sighs.

"Okay." He stares at Aria one more time. "3, 2.."

"Fuck this."

He picks Aria up gently in his arms, his heart jumping as he does so.

"Holy shit," he breathes. "Oh my God."

He holds her to his chest, making sure to support her back, something he learned in a parenting book he found online as he feels his soul melt in his stomach.

"There we go," he coos softly, rocking her up and down gently.

"Hi love." he holds her up to look in her eyes with the biggest grin on his face.

"You have your mommas eyes, don't you?"

It's like he fell in love with you all over again. Just this time, it was a baby. And it was his baby.

He holds her to him again, hearing you opening the screen door to come back inside the chateau as he looks at you with the stupidest smile on his face.

"JJ.." you breathe, a grin full of your white perfect teeth filling the room as you jog over to him.

You rub his arm gently as you stare at Aria in JJ's arms.

"im so glad." You said, tears slightly filling the bottom of your eyes as your breath catches in your throat.

"She has your eyes," He repeats the observation he made earlier.

You nod with a sniffle, chuckling slightly.

"She has your lips."

JJ presses another soft kiss into the side of your neck.

A few days later, you noticed that JJ dorkily bought one of those baby carrier things to attach to your chest, and you had to admit it was pretty cute seeing Aria giggle with him, taking her everywhere he went.

John B was relieved her finally built up the balls to hold his kid, and if you were honest, you were relieved too.

Kiara bullied him everyday for taking Aria with him everywhere because the baby holder he chose was literally hot pink. Really hot pink.

He was so happy everyday. To be the dad that he never had. The one he had prayed and wished for everyday as a kid.

JJ was such a tough guy, tough face, tough love, tough soul.

but I guess not when it came to you and Aria. You and her were his new world and there was nothing in the entire universe that could take that away from him.

☆ divider & gif credits to @viixcyre @baby-bearie

my navigation ♡

[archangeldyke-all]

idk if my ask fell into the void (ignore this if not) but sevika and reader at their daughter’s wedding !! sevika is near tears the whole time until the “i do”’s come and so do the water works.

LITTLE FUCKER ALL GROWN UP????? they grow up so fucking fast dude...

men and minors dni

your daughter's been lucky in love.

despite her first girlfriend breaking her heart in high school (and narrowly avoiding getting murdered by you and your wife) it only took her three months to meet the love of her life.

the girl she took to prom (the girl sevika almost made piss herself in fear when she gave her a stern talking to that night) became the girl she went to college and vet school with, and then the girl she opened an exotic animal rescue with-- and now, she's the girl your baby's marrying.

sevika hasn't stopped crying since she found out they were engaged.

at least three times a week, you've found sevika in some corner of your house, blubbering as she holds one of little fucker's old shirts or toys or the sack of laundry she dropped off because half an hour ago because she's almost thirty but still too fucking lazy to do her own laundry.

it's ridiculous. it's making you fall in love with your wife all over again.

"oh, sevvy." you coo as you reach up and wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. it's the morning of the wedding-- a small little backyard affair at you and sevika's house-- in the garden she's been building for decades.

the brides are getting ready in your basement with all their friends. your future in-law's parents are in little fucker's old room. you and sevika are in your room, getting ready and putting on your 'host' faces as you prepare for the guests to arrive.

"babe, i don't think i can put any makeup on today." sevika chokes out through her sobs, patting her eyes dry with tissues. you giggle.

"probably not." you snort, kissing her forehead. "unless you wanna look like a water-color painting in all their wedding pictures." you tease.

"ugh-- like you'll be any better." she sniffs, smacking your shoulder. "once i get going with the tears, you're never far behind me."

she's right. sevika and your daughter-- those are the two people who can always get you blubbering when you see them cry.

it's a beautiful wedding.

you and sevika wear matching dark purple outfits-- purple and pink being the colors of the wedding. you both walk your daughter down the aisle, you on her left, sevika on her right.she looks gorgeous, just like sevika did thirty years ago, wearing a beautiful lavender suit and a lacy white shirt underneath.

your daughter in law wears a flouncy, lacy baby pink dress, that matches the exact shade of the bright pink blush that blooms on her cheeks as you walk your girl toward her.

sevika cries so much you worry she'll pass out from dehydration.

during the entire ceremony-- officiated by little fucker's godfather, silco-- sevika's hiding her face in your shoulder, staining your beautiful purple top with her snot and tears. she'll look up for a moment to try and capture the moment, and then she'll let out a wobbly sob and have to bury her face against you again to muffle her cries.

it's not that she's sad. well, it's a little that-- this means it's official-- little fucker's all grown up.

it's that she's happy.

later in the evening, as your daughter in law's best friend's band plays on your patio and your family and friends dance around you in a tent propped up in your yard, sevika explains it to you.

"y'know. never in my life did i think i'd have anything close to this." she says, shaking her head. "and look how fuckin' lucky i am. look at our beautiful baby-- look how fuckin' happy she is. look at this house, look at these people, look at you. none of it woulda happened if i hadn't met you and i just--" sevika cuts herself off choking on her words as tears start to well in her eyes again.

you laugh, then wave down one of the bridesmaids to have them fetch sevika a water-- seriously concerned where she's finding all her tears.

and then, in the early hours of the morning when the party's finally over and you and sevika can collapse into bed beside each other in an empty home-- you reach across your bed and squeeze sevika's hand.

"hey." you whisper.

"yeah?"

"what you were saying earlier... it got me thinking."

there's some shuffling as sevika turns on her side to look at you in the dark. "'bout what?"

"wanna renew our vows?" you ask. "we had such a tiny wedding the first time around. could be nice to get all the friends and family we made in the past thirty years together to do it all over again."

sevika cackles, loud enough that a bird outside your window squawks and flaps away. you grin at her. "really?!" she gasps.

you shrug. "we'd have to wait a few years so we don't piss the girls off by, y'know, gettin' re-married right after them." you say. "but yeah. we've got nothin' better to do, no kid, retired-- we might as well plan somethin' fun in our free time."

sevika just launches forward to kiss you, and you snort when you feel more tears against your cheeks.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 16: Sanctuary

Contents | Part 15 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) Ellis gets the keys to her new flat.

Word Count: 7.9K (Grab a snack my dudes, it's a long one.)

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult and sexual themes, alcohol consumption, body insecurity. Smut: penetrative sex, oral sex (receiving), lurrv making, praise, worship, aftercare, feels. Readers must be 18+

A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter I would so, so, so appreciate it if you left a comment. It helps a lot and means more than you’ll ever know to hear what you all think. Thank you so much, hope you enjoy this one as much I do 🤍

"Jesus Christ." 

You considered it a talent; how easily you could compel a priest to take the Lord's name in vain. 

Father Benedict's knuckles were blanched, bone white as he clung to the handle above the passenger door of his car. You could have sworn you saw him make the sign of the cross from the corner of your eye, mumbling a prayer under his breath. 

"At least there's nothing here for me to crash into," you said, taking a hand off the steering wheel to gesture to the empty supermarket carpark around you. 

"Both hands on the wheel," he said.

"Sorry." 

"It's alright, you're doing fine, just... Remember you need to slow down as we approach this turn." 

"Okay." You looked down at your foot as you took it off the accelerator, swapping it to the brake.

"Eyes up, Ellis. You have to do it without looking." 

"Oh, yeah, sorry." 

"Now, get ready to press the clutch down." 

"Why do I need to press the clutch?"

He rubbed his eyes, trying to disguise his growing frustration. "To move into first gear." 

"Oh." You looked down at your feet again. 

"Ellis... Ellis!" 

You looked up, slamming your foot on the brake and bringing the car to a sudden, hard stop just inches from a row of bollards. The car shuddered and the engine cut out, you turned to look at Father Benedict, his hand still gripping the handle above his head.

He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself with a deep breath before glancing over at you. "It's fine," he said calmly. "Just restart the car and let's keep going." 

You fiddled with the keys until the engine roared back to life, the car jerking forward suddenly before cutting out again. 

"Clutch," he said quietly. 

"Right, yes. Clutch. I just- Y'know it's really hard having to do foot things, hand things and eye things all at once."

"Eye things... You mean seeing...?" 

"Yes," you said, starting the car again and moving the gearstick into first. You pulled off slowly, turning the corner that led you back into the empty carpark. "I have to look in front of me, behind me and either side, somehow all at once, while simultaneously using two feet to operate three pedals, and two hands to steer a wheel, indicate and change gear every other fucking second." 

"Change gear." 

"Hm?" 

"You need to change gear. Can you not hear the engine? It sounds like it's going to explode." 

"Oh." You looked down at your feet as you pressed the clutch, then down at your hand as you fiddled with the gearstick. 

He leaned over quickly, gripping the steering wheel with one hand to stop the car veering through the empty bays.

"Shit, sorry," you muttered, taking over again. "I'm pissing you off, aren't I." 

"No! No of course not. I just can't believe you've managed to go your whole life without ever driving a car." 

"Oh, well funny story actually," you began sarcastically. "See, I was in this really serious car crash when I was thirteen and had to be cut out of the wreck with heavy machinery. Oh, and my brother died in the driver's seat right next to me while we waited for emergency services. It was quite traumatising, believe it or not, so when I finally got old enough to take driving lessons I'd have panic attacks at the wheel. Which meant I never actually got to learn. Did I not tell you about that? I'm sure I told you about that."

"Okay, alright, fair point. I apologise." He held his hands up in surrender. "Why don't we have a go at parking instead?" 

He directed you to a space near the back, trying his best to sound encouraging as he talked you through it. 

"Here," he said. "So you're going to slow down and start turning the wheel just before this line, okay?" 

You did as he instructed, driving towards the space and beginning to slow down. 

"Slower," he said. "Even slower. Now start turning- Nope, not that much- You're still going too fast-"

You somehow managed to park diagonally across three spaces, stalling once again in the process. 

"You know what, it's fine," you said with a shrug. "I just... It's time we all accept that I wasn't made to drive, I was made to be driven."

"No, come on, you can do this," he laughed. "Turn the car back on." 

You huffed and did as you were told, like a sulking child. He leaned over and grabbed the wheel, glancing in the rearview mirror before looking at you. 

"Right, clutch down and put it in reverse... Reverse... The one with the R on it, Ellis... Okay, that's it. Now gently on the accelerator." 

The car slowly began to roll backwards. He took your hands and put them on the wheel. 

"Now brake. Okay." He let go and sat back in the passenger seat. "Clutch, first gear, and we'll drive down there." 

"You make this look so easy when you do it," you said as you fiddled with the gearstick.

"It is easy once you get used to it. Becomes like second nature."

"Mm. Or maybe you're just good at everything."

"I'm not good at everything," he laughed.

"Okay, name something you're bad at." 

He paused in thought. "My handwriting's awful." 

You laughed softly, bringing the car to a gentle stop. "Oh my god, I didn't stall." 

"See, I told you," he replied with a smile. "Now get out of my car." 

You climbed out and made your way to the passenger side, waiting as he battled to force open the stiff door. You grabbed the handle and pulled as he pushed, eventually managing to pry it open. He got out, blowing a stray curl out of his eyes and looking down at his watch. 

"Come on, we better get back."

He placed a hand on the top of your head, scrunching his fingers gently in your hair before making his way around to the driver's side of the car. 

You loved when he touched you like that. The simple, chaste gestures that served no purpose beyond showing his affection for you; the comforting hand on the back of your neck or the light squeeze of your thigh, the head scratches and sweep of his thumb across your cheek. There was something so intimate about being touched so purely, how naturally he had inhabited your personal space, and how easily you'd welcomed him in. 

You arrived back at the rectory soon after, Father Benedict's car shuddering as it rolled along the gravel driveway. 

"Have I fucked up your car?" you asked. 

"Nah." He shook his head. "It's on its last legs anyway." 

He got out and lifted two large packs of bottled water from the boot. You tried to take one from him but he refused, insisting on carrying them both. It was late August, the air void of any breeze, thick and muggy despite the cloudy sky. You walked with him down the winding path that led to the pub, beads of sweat peppering your face by the time you got inside. You followed him into the back room, another sign added to the door which read:'St Augustine's Church Book Club - Wednesdays 11am'. And for a moment you questioned why the hell you'd chosen to spend your day off doing this. Why anyone would do this at all. 

You quickly blotted your face with the bottom of your t-shirt, immediately walking over to the windows and pushing them open one by one. It made no difference; there was no air, the outside just as warm and still as it was inside. You rolled your eyes and wandered to the pile of metal chairs, taking them out and unfolding them one by one. 

Father Benedict was humming to himself, his back to you as he set the bottles down on the floor and tore through the packaging. "Ellis, would you mind getting started on the ch-" he turned around to find you already setting them up in a circle. 

"I'm a pro now, Father," you joked.

"That you are," he laughed, turning his back to you again as he unpacked the bottles and set them on the table. "Thank you for helping me with this, I know it's a pain in the arse."

"I don't mind. After that driving lesson this morning I think I owe you."

He chuckled. "Hopefully when Edith gets out of hospital she'll feel well enough to take over again. But until then," he turned around and placed his hands on his hips with a sigh. "Looks like I run a book club." 

You laughed softly. "You're a good soul." 

"I do try." 

There was a moment of quiet, your eyes fixed on each other from across the room, subtle smiles and unspoken desire. He broke first, clearing his throat and looking down at his watch. 

"Right, people should be arriving soon," he said. "Do you want to stick around for the meeting and I'll drive you home afterwards?" 

"I would but I have some last minute flat stuff to sort out before I move in next week." You placed the last chair down to complete the circle. "I can't believe how fucking expensive some things are. Dining tables, hundreds and hundreds of pounds. Why?" 

He bowed his head and laughed. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye," you said with a smile, certain you could feel him watching you as you walked away.

You held the keys in the palm of your hand, staring down at them like you couldn't believe it was real. You hadn't even realised you'd arrived until your father nudged you, jokingly singing She's Leaving Home by The Beatles. 

You rolled your eyes and breathed out a laugh, opening the door and jumping out of the van. You walked up to the front gate, staring up at the building, wondering why you suddenly felt scared. 

"Are you going in or what?" your father called out as he slid open the large side door of his van. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him, then back to the building, taking a deep breath and pushing through the gate. You unlocked the front door and walked inside, the cute frog doormat still sitting outside your neighbour's door.

Neighbour. You had neighbours now. 

You made your way up the first flight of stairs, turning to head up the second when the door of 336B opened and a man stepped out onto the landing with a large bin bag in his hand. You almost walked right into him, stumbling backwards slightly.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay," you replied with a polite laugh.

He stepped aside for you to walk past. "Narrow landings," he said. 

"Yeah." 

You had just reached the first step when he turned and called out to you. "Are you the new neighbour?" 

You nodded.

"Oh, cool, nice to meet you. I'm Rav."

"Ellis. Nice to meet you too." 

"Have you met the downstairs neighbours yet?" 

"No, but I like their doormat." 

He smiled. "Well her name's Lorna, I'm sure she'll come and introduce herself at some point. It's just her and her daughter Blossom." 

"Blossom...?" 

"Yeah." He laughed. "The name'll make sense when you meet them. Anyway, welcome to the building, I better go and get rid of this bag that is definitely not full of pizza boxes."

You breathed out a laugh, giving a slight wave as he disappeared down the stairs. He'd left his door ajar, and it made you feel safe, somehow. Like your building was the kind of place where people could leave their front doors open without worrying, have friendly chats on the landing as they passed each other.

You continued up the stairs, fiddling with the keys in your hand as you approached your new front door. Maybe you'd paint it a fun colour, get yourself a cute doormat too. You unlocked it and stepped inside, swallowing past a lump in your throat as you walked into the middle of the stark, empty living area, the wooden floor glittering with shafts of multicoloured light from the stained glass window.

You sat on the floor and lay down, arms and legs outstretched like a star, basking in the silence, the empty space that was yours to fill. It smelled like fresh paint, a piece of masking tape still stuck to the coving in the corner. You wondered how hard it would be to decorate the ceiling; cover it in stars or patterned wallpaper, paint it like a cloudy sky. You had all the time in the world to decide, the thought making you smile. 

"The fuck are you doing?" 

You sat up to see Mara stepping into the flat, Soleil perched contently on her hip. You clambered to your feet, staring at her as she stood with a raised eyebrow, still so pretty despite the confused scowl on her face. Her eyes darted around the room then back to you, waiting for you to say something.

You weren't a hugger. Neither was she. But still, you found yourself hurrying across the room towards her, wrapping your arms around her and holding her tight.

"Thank you," you said. 

She stilled for a moment before gently rubbing your back. "You're welcome. Just don't get the place repossessed." 

You laughed and pulled away. 

"Nathan's downstairs helping dad up with all your stuff," she said. "I just thought I'd come up and see the place before you fill it with shit." 

"It's nice, isn't it." 

"It's beautiful. I love this." She pointed to the window. "Anyway, I can't stay. I'm taking this little one to a mother and baby class. Shoot me. But I'll pop round once you're settled. We can kill each other putting together some flatpack furniture."

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. 

"I'll see you soon. Happy moving day."

"Enjoy your class." 

She brought two fingers to the side of her head, miming a gunshot. 

You watched as she walked out, her voice suddenly becoming high-pitched and animated as she talked to Soleil. When you could no longer hear her, you sat back down on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you waited for Nathan and your father. 

For months, your life had sat inside a cluttered garage, waiting, waning, much like you. Now all of a sudden there was light. 

You hadn't gotten used to the intercom yet; the loud buzz still making you jump whenever it rang through the flat. You rushed to the door, practically hurdling over boxes to get there, and pressed the button on the wall. 

"Hello?" 

"It's me." 

You inhaled sharply through your nose, trying to hold in the smile threatening to spread across your face. "I'll be down in a second." 

You ran downstairs, not bothering to change out of your t-shirt and pyjama shorts, and opened the front door, the smile finally breaking through when you saw Father Benedict on the other side. He was in his own clothes; a grey t-shirt, dark jeans and trainers. You still found it strange seeing him so casual, so normal. But even in the most ordinary of clothing, there was still something ethereal about him. 

"Hi," you said.

"Hi." He gave a charming smile.

"Do you want to come in?" 

"Yes, I would much prefer that to standing on the doorstep." 

You laughed sarcastically, allowing him to step in and closing the door behind him. 

He followed you upstairs, the closer you got, the tighter your stomach became. You were excited; excited to see him in your space, to blur the lines between your two worlds. 

"So obviously I've only been here for two days," you said as you walked into the flat. "So it's still mostly unfurnished. And there's boxes everywhere. And I haven't-"

"Wow," he whispered as he stepped inside. 

"What do you think?" 

"It's nice. Really nice. And this..." He wandered over to the window. "It's beautiful." 

"I know." You felt a slight sense of pride wash over you, his approval mattering more than you thought it would. "Do you want a tour?" 

"Sure." 

"Okay, well obviously this is the living room," you gestured to the space around you. 

There was a small second-hand couch, an old coffee table from your mother's house and a TV balanced atop a cardboard box. Your green chair sat in the window, the place you'd spent the majority of the last two days.

He followed you through to the alcove where you opened each door. "Bathroom. Spare room or office, haven't decided yet. And my bedroom..." 

He peered inside the empty room, furrowing his brow at the double mattress on the floor, your duvet and pillows strewn messily on top. 

"My bed won't be delivered for another three weeks," you said. 

"Ah." 

"I actually don't mind this though. It's quite comfy." 

He smiled at you, following you back towards the kitchen. 

"And this is my kitchen, complete with empty cupboards and a microwave I have no idea how to use." 

"Love it." 

You laughed.

He cocked his head slightly, eyeing you for a moment. 

"What?" you asked. 

He shrugged. "I just like seeing you like this. You're happy."

You paused for a moment. "I really am." 

There was a lull as he gazed down at you, eyes creasing with joy from seeing you so content. But after a moment he snapped out of it. 

"Oh, I brought you a little gift," he said, reaching to pull something from his back pocket. "Now, I know you're not religious, but in the catholic faith this is supposed to bring protection to your home, so I wanted you to have one..." 

He handed you a small glass picture frame, the edges decorated with intricate gold filigree. Inside was a depiction of Christ, a vibrant red heart on his chest. 

"It's the sacred heart," he said, an uncertainty in his tone. "You can tell me to go fuck myself if you don't want to-"

"No. No, this is... It's really thoughtful. Thank you." You pressed it to your chest, smiling at him appreciatively, before walking past him into the living area. 

He followed, watching from the kitchen doorway as you placed the dainty frame in the middle of the coffee table. You turned to see him smiling, creating the deep lines in his cheeks that you loved so much. 

You looked around for a moment before clearing your throat. "Do you have to be anywhere?" 

"Nope, I am completely free for once."

"Really? Well, would you maybe want to stay for a while? I was just going to order food and maybe watch some films or..." 

"What films?" 

"Oh, let me think, erm... Passion of the Christ... Stigmata... The Exorcist... The God Father." 

He gave a sarcastic laugh. "Hilarious." 

You smirked, far too proud of your own joke. 

"Yes. I'd love to stay," he said sincerely.

"Great." 

There was another moment of quiet between you as you stood across the room from each other. He was leaning against the kitchen doorframe with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, while you hovered near the coffee table, nervously twiddling your fingers. Since you met him, you had always been the guest. Now suddenly you were the host, and you weren't sure what you were supposed to do. 

"What's that going to be?" he asked, nodding towards a pile of wood, screws and nails on the floor.

"A bookcase. I got annoyed and gave up." 

He chuckled and walked over to it, crouching down to read the instructions before picking up a heavy, black Dr Marten boot. "Please don't tell me this is what you're using for a hammer."

"What else would you suggest I use?" 

"An actual hammer...?" He picked up a bread knife, holding it up at you with a raised eyebrow. 

"Screwdriver," you said. 

He dropped his head and laughed. "Okay. Okay, I can work with it." 

"Oh, you don't have to-" 

"I want to," he said, grabbing a large plank of wood and leaning it against the wall. "Doesn't look too complicated."

You'd never found traditional masculinity particularly attractive before; never desired a man who could build or fix or lift. But for two hours, you watched Father Benedict put together your bookcase. You watched him heave heavy slabs of wood with ease, hold nails between his lips as he eyeballed measurements and use his t-shirt to mop the sweat from his brow. 

When he was done, he took a step back, hands on hips as he admired his work. He knocked his fist against the side of it, showing you just how sturdy it was, and moved the entire thing across the room and back twice when you changed your mind about where it should go.

You were sitting together now, cross-legged on the floor in front of it as you sorted through a box of books. You had a specific system, a particular way you liked to order your shelves. You knew it was annoying, remembering how Alfie would huff whenever he put a book on your shelf only to have you move it back to its original place soon after. But Father Benedict didn't huff, didn't get irritated or tell you it was stupid. Instead he was patient; asking you questions and trying to learn the system so he could follow it without having to ask where things should go.

He reached into the box and pulled out the bible he'd given you, sticky notes still poking out from between the pages. It felt like a lifetime ago now, a relic of an era you didn't even recognise anymore. He held it up and you smiled. 

"You can have it back if you want," you said. 

"No, you keep it," he said, sliding it onto the shelf in the exact place you would have put it. 

You sifted through a handful of books, finding a small, leather-bound binder amongst them. 

"Is that a photo album?" he asked. 

"No," you lied, throwing it back in the box.

He pulled it back out immediately, opening it and flicking through the plastic wallet pages with a grin. He turned it around to show you a picture; your scrawny, eight-year-old self scowling at the camera as she sat on a sun lounger beside a hotel pool. 

"I was annoyed because my mum was forcing me to wear a t-shirt in the water," you said. 

He gave a deep chuckle in his throat, turning the album back to him and fanning his thumb across the photos. 

"Is this your brother?" he asked, showing you another picture.

You tilted your head to one side, looking down at the image you vividly remembered being taken. You were twelve, wearing a blue floral shirt beneath a brown pinafore dress, a large rubber mallet in your hand. Cain was standing beside you in a white vest, ugly Hawaiian shirt and bright red trousers, his hair styled in a ridiculous quiff. 

"Yeah," you said. "We were at my aunt and uncle's costume party." 

He looked at the picture for a moment. "He went as Ace Ventura?" 

"Mhm." 

"Nice." He smiled, before narrowing his eyes. "Who the fuck were you supposed to be?" 

"I was Kathy Bates in Misery," you said bluntly, as if it were obvious.

He burst into laughter. "What kid chooses that as a costume?" 

You shrugged. "What would you have preferred I go as? A Spice Girl?" 

He continued to giggle, shaking it away as he analysed the photo closer. "You have his smile." 

"You think so?" 

"Mhm." 

You took the album from him gently, closing it and putting it back in the box. "Evidently I have his driving ability too." 

His mouth opened slightly, eyes widening as he breathed out a laugh. "That was dark." 

"I was a kid who loved Stephen King films, what do you expect?" 

His mouth curled into a half smile. 

You struggled to your feet, your legs tingly and numb from sitting cross-legged for so long. You hobbled to the couch and picked up your phone, turning back to look at him. 

"Shall we order food?" 

The sun was slowly fading, a promise that summer was finally coming to an end. The dim light melted through the window, making the flat feel smaller, cozy and serene. You convinced him to watch trashy reality TV while you ate dinner on the couch, laughing as he grew invested in the drama, shouting at the screen with a mouthful of food. 

You couldn't remember ever feeling this comfortable with another human being. It was effortless, harmonious; two voices blending together to create something new and beautiful. You had been drawn to his exterior, attracted to the parts you could see on the surface. But the deeper you delved, you only seemed to discover more to adore. 

The coffee table was strewn with empty takeaway boxes and trays. Obnoxiously loud music played as the end credits of the show began to roll. You forced yourself to get off the couch, making your way towards the kitchen. 

"Do you need another drink?" you asked.

"Please," he replied, stuck to the couch and nursing his full stomach. 

You pushed through the door and opened the fridge, pulling out the bottle of champagne your mother had given you as a housewarming gift. 

He looked up at you as you returned, his eyes creasing with amusement at the bottle and two mismatched mugs in your hands. 

"I'm not the champagne-flute-owning kind of person," you said. 

"No way," he teased.

You rolled your eyes and sat beside him, popping the cork and pouring some into each mug. 

He waited for you to bring the mug to your lips before taking a sip himself, the pair of you sharing a glance as the sharp, bubbling liquid slid down your throat. 

You grimaced. "I forgot I don't like champagne." 

He laughed, taking it and placing it on the table for you. You thanked him and relaxed back into the couch, tucking your feet beneath you as you flicked through movies on the TV. 

It grew dark outside as the movie played, the TV illuminating the room with a blueish hue. You kept asking questions, another habit Alfie would groan at until you stopped watching movies together at all. But Father Benedict simply answered them, even laughing at how thoroughly you'd misunderstood the plot.

You sat forward and grabbed your mug of champagne, wincing as you took another sip. "So now who's that?" you asked, pointing at the TV.

"That's the big boss," he said. 

"But I thought the other guy was the big boss?" 

"He is. Of the rival group." 

"Oh. But then why did those men go and talk to him before?" 

"Well because it's obviously being hinted at that they're moles of some kind." 

"Ah." You put your mug back on the table. 

He looked at you, his mouth curling with a smile. "You're still not following, are you." 

"Nope." 

He gave a deep, throaty laugh. "We can watch something else if you'd prefer?" 

You shook your head and leaned back against him, absentmindedly taking his arm and draping it around your shoulders. "I'm enjoying it." 

"You keep saying you don't have a clue what's going on..." 

"Yeah but you do. So we're watching it." 

He paused for a moment, exhaling a quick, soft breath through his nose. You felt his body relax, his arm wrapping around you more securely. He placed his other hand in his lap, palm up, silently asking you to hold it. You linked your fingers through his and he squeezed your hand gently.

When the movie ended, you didn't move, too comfortable and content in his embrace. You watched the credits roll to the very end, the remote control just out of reach. Father Benedict moved his arm, scratching your head with the tips of his fingers. You turned your head to look up at him.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep," he said. 

You laughed softly and forced yourself to sit upright. "Of course not, I was just very invested in the film." 

He smirked. "Of course, silly me." 

You looked at him, admiring the structure of his face beneath the glow of the TV; the soft shadows and sharp angles, smile lines and pale, captivating eyes. 

"Thank you for spending your one, very rare night off with me," you said. "I know there's probably a million things you'd rather be doing than building bookcases and explaining movie plots to me."

He shook his head. "There is nothing else I'd rather be doing." 

His own words seemed to give him pause. You cocked your head, watching as his eyes rounded, turning soft and glassy, his jaw relaxing, lips parting ever so slightly. 

"What's up?" you asked. 

"Nothing," he said quietly, blinking a few times and swallowing hard. 

You thought about pressing him for a moment, but you didn't. Instead you got up and gathered the mess from the table. 

"Do you want something different to drink?" you asked. "I can't stomach that champagne anymore." 

He shook his head distractedly, staring blankly at the TV. 

You shrugged and carried the rubbish into the kitchen, stuffing it in the bin and forcing it down until the lid finally closed. Then you moved to the sink to wash your hands, peering out at the tall, thick tree that stretched across the window. In the mornings, you could hear birds singing inside it, and at night you would watch the leaves sway gently in the breeze. 

You were drying your hands when the door opened behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Father Benedict stepping into the kitchen. 

"Hey," you said. "Changed your mind about the drink?" 

He didn't say anything as he walked up behind you, turning you around to look at him and taking your face in his hands. 

You stayed quiet as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, inhaling deeply as he kissed you softly, slowly, earnestly. You placed a hand on his cheek, returning the kiss, following his lead. His breath quivered as he broke away - just for a moment - to tilt his head the other way and bring his lips back to yours. He moved a hand to the back of your head, clutching your hair in his fist, the other slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him. You curved your hands around the back of his neck, rising onto your toes to kiss him with more ease.

Usually when you kissed, there was an urgency behind it, a hunger, a primal, impatient need for one another that made you move with haste and vigour. But this was different, somehow. It was longing, desperate, intense. You could feel anguish in his hold of you, reverence in the way he moved his lips, so slowly and deliberately. 

He broke away again, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his chest, resting them there as you caught his gaze with your own, searching his eyes for a clue, a reason for his sudden sincerity. But all you saw was adoration, a shimmer in his waterline. 

You led him to your bedroom, his hold on you never wavering as you moved together through the flat, as though he couldn't bring himself to let go of you, even for a second. You opened the door and pulled him gently into the room, kissing him with the same care and patience he'd shown you. 

The room was dark and cool, the curtain-less window letting in a dim glow from the streetlights outside. You wished you'd taken the time to make the bed this morning; your rumpled duvet and mismatched pillows strewn across the sad mattress in the middle of the floor. You opened your mouth to apologise for it, but he caught the words in another kiss before they could surface. 

He broke away to take off his t-shirt, throwing it aside and immediately returning his lips to yours, as though any second he was deprived of you was a second too long. You let your fingers dance over the ridges of his torso; the firm muscle of his chest and soft flesh of his belly, the trail of hair beneath his navel and smooth skin slowly puckering with goosebumps. You could no longer imagine a world where this body didn't belong to you. 

You moved your hands to the waistline of his jeans but he stopped you, gently pulling his hips back and reaching for the hem of your t-shirt instead. You raised your arms above your head as he peeled it from you, still fighting the urge to hide yourself from him as he laid eyes on your body, even after all this time. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing you deeply as he unclasped your bra. You slid the straps down your arms and let it fall to the ground, melting as the warmth of his chest pressed against yours. 

He lowered you both to the mattress, laying you gently on your back as he began showering your body in kisses. Your core fluttered with every warm press of his lips to your skin, your nipples growing tight and hard, making you shiver as his tongue grazed over them. He moved lower, kissing your ribs, hips and stomach, letting his hands roam in tandem with his mouth, taking in as much of you as he could at once. 

You tensed your abs beneath his lips, arching your back, making your body appear firmer, ridding yourself of any curves, any softness you didn't want him to see. He responded by kissing the parts you couldn't hide; the dip at your waist and the rounds of your breasts, the soft spot over your womb and the imprint your pyjama shorts had left on your hips. He was admiring the things you thought of as flaws, worshipping them like virtues. 

He slid the shorts further down your thighs. You lifted your backside off the mattress, allowing him to drag them down along with your underwear. He tossed them aside and continued to cover you in kisses; the heat of his breath making your body tingle, the anticipation of feeling him in the place that craved him most sending shivers through your core. His lips grazed over the crease where hip met thigh, slowly travelling inwards but never touching your centre. 

You sighed in desperation, reaching down to stroke his hair. He glanced up at you, like your touch had snapped him out of a trance, and crawled back up to kiss your lips. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, the solid bulge in his jeans pressing against your stomach. 

"Are you teasing me?" you whispered, playfully thrusting your hips against his erection. 

He breathed out a soft laugh before falling serious again. "I'm indulging in you." He kissed your neck. "You, Ellis, are the most... divine woman I have ever met."

Divine - Of a God, or God-like. 

Was that really how he saw you? Heavenly? Seraphic? Something worthy of worship? In the beginning, you'd been a temptation, a test, a weakness. But now, you were divine.

He trailed his kisses back down your body, parting your legs and pressing his lips to your inner thighs. You lay back and closed your eyes, fists clenching the duvet beneath you as his tongue finally made contact with your clit, so lightly it was almost torturous. 

You'd gotten so used to the severity of your interactions; the pent up frustration or deep, aggressive need that made sex hard, rough and intense. It's what you wanted, what you enjoyed. You'd almost forgotten it could be like this; tender, forbearing, every breath hanging like a pause in the air between you. 

He licked along the seam of your pussy, lapping and sucking as he hummed in pleasure, like he could happily spend the entire night with his face buried between your legs.  

"Ben," you whispered.

Your back arched as he flicked his tongue, focusing the pressure on your clit, hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you in place. You whimpered, filling the quiet room with the sound of your shallow breaths as your fingers dug into the sheets. You never understood why it took so long to give yourself an orgasm, yet every time, without fail, he had you on the brink in minutes. It was like your body had an express setting, and he was the only person who knew how to activate it. 

He didn't speed up, didn't change pressure or adjust your positions. Yet still, the slow, gentle sweeps of his tongue drew the climax from you in a deep, shuddering rush. Your legs shook, toes curling as an electric current whirred through your core. You moaned softly, reaching down to grab whatever part of him you could as you rode out your orgasm against his mouth. 

You hadn't even realised he'd moved until you felt him kiss your jaw, the weight of his body on your chest. If you were divine, then you were convinced he must be God himself. You turned your head, catching his lips with your own and cupping his face in your hands. He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, his hard cock springing out against your stomach as he shimmied them off. 

You spread your legs further, rocking your hips wantonly. He sighed into your mouth, breaking away and resting his forehead against yours, looking down into your eyes as he shifted to position himself at your entrance. 

He groaned as he entered you, slipping effortlessly through the slick and filling you with a familiar, breathtaking pressure. He drew back and pushed inside again, slowly, making you feel every ridge and vein, every inch and pulsation against your inner walls. A quiet moan escaped you, a tight coiling deep in your belly making you squeeze around him. 

He kept eye contact as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, as though nothing else in the world existed besides the place your bodies became one. He slid his fingers between yours, pushing your hands above your head and holding them there, kissing you, moaning with you, connecting with you in a way you weren't sure you'd ever connected with anyone before. 

Your breath was trembling; the friction of his cock, his groin rubbing against your clit, the weight of him on top of you, all sending you into a heady daze. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning against your skin. You let go of his hands and wrapped them around his back, holding him close to you, fingernails pressing into the flesh of his shoulder blades. 

You weren't sure how long it had been, but your thighs were starting to ache, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with every steady slide of his cock. You dug your nails deeper into his back, eliciting a growl deep in his throat. He lifted his head, brushing away the hair that had stuck to your face with sweat, and kissed you lovingly. 

The next orgasm was different than the first; it was heavier, more guttural, coming from a place deeper inside you. The first was electric and airy, spiritual and sublime. But this one was earthly, carnal, thundering through your body like an earthquake. It was so visceral that he felt it too, almost losing his composure as you came around him.

He kept kissing you, moving with long, slow strokes until your limbs softened, head falling back against the mattress in bliss. Your eyelids were heavy as you gazed up at him, a part of you certain that you could have drifted off to sleep, sated and satisfied. But the other part never wanted him to stop. 

He rested on his elbows, propping them either side of your head. "You know," he whispered. "You're the only woman I've ever came inside." 

You let out a breathy gasp, his confession sending a shiver through your entire body.

"And it is..." he continued. "The most incredible feeling." 

You whimpered, clutching the back of his neck with both hands and bringing his forehead back to yours. He almost lost it again, his rhythm faltering for a moment. He planted his palms on the mattress either side of your head, looking down at you with intense, stormy blue eyes. 

He knew you liked his voice, liked it when he said dirty things, talked to you as he buried his cock inside you. But that wasn't for you. He wanted you to know that, to understand you were separate from whoever he'd been with before. 

"Come inside me," you whispered against his lips. "Ben..."

He exhaled a heavy breath, thrusting deep and slow before finally letting go. He growled into your mouth as he sank as far as he could, cock pulsing as he released every last drop of pleasure.

You wrapped your arms around him as he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, damp curls tickling your face. You smoothed them down, closing your eyes and relaxing beneath the shelter of his large frame. You could hear again; the whoosh of distant traffic outside, the annoying buzz of the lampposts, the sound of Father Benedict's heavy breaths. It was serene, a contentment you never knew you were capable of. 

After a while, he shifted slightly, laying kisses across your chest. You smiled, exhaling a soft laugh as his lips tickled your skin. He'd softened inside you, sliding out as he moved, continuing his kisses down to your stomach before resting his head there, seemingly more tired than he'd thought he was. You giggled again, stroking his head gently. 

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Mhm."

"You sure?"

"Yes," you said with a smile. 

"Good."

He stayed there a while longer, resting on you like a pillow, swirling his fingers over your hips and stomach as you played with his hair. 

"Ben..." you said quietly.

"Mm?"

"Don't leave me tonight."

He lifted his head to look at you. "I won't."

You nodded with a smile.

He shuffled up the mattress to lay at your side, draping a leg over yours and pulling you into him. You nuzzled your face into his neck and closed your eyes. 

You didn't think this place could feel any more like home. But with him there, you would happily never leave.

You woke groggy and confused, the side of your face stuck to Father Benedict's bare chest. You had no idea of the time, but the sky was still pitch black outside, the room colder than it was when you fell asleep. You sat up and began shuffling to the edge of the mattress when you felt him grab your arm with a sleepy grumble. You turned back to see him squinting at you in a half-sleepy state, shushing him softly and gently releasing your arm from his grasp.

"I'm just going to get some water," you whispered.

He relaxed back into the mattress and closed his eyes. You smiled and climbed to your feet, walking out of the bedroom as quietly as you could. 

You didn't bother to cover up. It was one of the joys of living alone, people would always say, being able to walk around naked. You never understood why anyone would do that, but as you padded through the flat and into the kitchen, completely unclothed, you felt like you finally got the appeal.

You glanced at the clock on the cooker - 2:34am - wondering what the hell made you stir from sleep at that time. Then you tried to swallow, your throat so dry it seemed to stick closed, and you realised that was why. You took a glass from the draining board and pulled your new water filter out of the fridge, pouring just enough for you to swill your mouth out. Then you poured a full glass, gulping it down without stopping. 

Father Benedict pushed through the kitchen door, the sudden noise making you jump in fright. 

"Sorry," he said, his voice low and croaky. 

He was naked too, his hair wild and messy, eyes still half-lidded with sleep. 

"It's okay." You put your glass down. "I didn't mean to disturb you when I got up." 

"Don't worry." He pointed to his mouth. "Could do with a drink as well."  

You padded around the kitchen together in a comfortable silence, naked in more than just body. Moonlight filtered in through the window, casting a milky glow across your skin, making everything seem soft, calm. You stretched on your tiptoes to reach a glass from the cupboard, handing it to him as he grabbed the water filter off the counter. You rinsed your glass at the sink as he guzzled down two lots of water, one after the other. Then you took his glass when he was done, rinsing it and placing it side-by-side with yours on the draining board.

You felt him press his body against your back as you stood at the sink, placing a kiss on the side of your head, another on the back of your shoulder. You let your head fall back against his chest, basking in the feeling of his hands as they roamed your body; squeezing your breasts and dipping between your legs. He slid a finger through the slick he'd left there and you hummed softly, tilting your head to give him access to your neck. He nipped you with his teeth, soothing the sting with a kiss, and you closed your eyes as his finger slid into your pussy. It was brief, shallow, but enough to make your stomach flutter. 

He brought his lips to your ear. "I like that there's still a part of me inside you." 

You shivered, composing yourself quickly and turning your head to look at him from the corner of your eye. "Only because I fell asleep." 

He gave a short, deep chuckle, his voice so gruff and low you could feel it vibrating against your ear. He inhaled deeply through his nose, letting it out in a calm, quiet breath. "Bend over." 

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him again. 

He squeezed your backside. "If you want to, that is..."

He fucked you in the kitchen, tiredness doing little to deter his stamina, and afterwards he carried you back to bed, stroking your hair and holding you until you drifted off again. The next time you stirred, it was you who wanted him, nudging him awake and straddling his lap, riding his cock until your body gave out, your mutual climax coming quick and with little effort.

Your joints ached, skin peppered with love bites and fingertip bruises, hair sticking to the nape of your neck with sweat. But you didn't care. It was all evidence of him, memories that would echo in the days that followed.

The mattress shifted. You opened your eyes to the room illuminated in the faint light of dawn. You blinked through the grit in your vision to see Father Benedict putting on his clothes, trying to be quiet as he hopped into his jeans and searched the floor for his t-shirt. He turned to find you sitting up watching him, making his way around to your side and crouching to bring himself face-to-face with you. 

"I have to get to the church," he said.

"Okay," you croaked, shifting to get up. 

"Hey, it's alright, you stay there and I'll let myself out." 

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Go back to sleep, it's still early."

"Okay." 

He tilted your chin up with his finger and leaned in to kiss you. 

It was gentle, lingering, like he didn't want it to end. And when he finally broke away, he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Goodbye, Ellis."

"Bye."

You watched him leave, listening as the slam of your front door echoed through the flat. Only then did you lie back down, pressing your face to the pillow he'd slept on and giving in to slumber once more.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara

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[the-kr8tor]

Im all good to put the ideas into multiple asks! I’m so glad u liked my ideas 🥰🥰!!

First one was TTN hobie and reader when they have reunited and they r going on a date after being separated for so long and just spending time together and hanging out

-🕊️ anon

Ly 😘 thank you again for the ttn requests!! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, drinking, a bit suggestive, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, set after the epilogue.

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN Oneshots Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"My favourite? Piña Colada" you nurse a cranberry vodka in your hand, voice whispering in Hobie's ear so that he can hear you through the loud chatter inside the busy pub.

Your back is resting on the chipping wooden wall of the ancient White Horse pub, body fully turned towards Hobie, your hand comfortably lying on the small of his back. He practically squishes you inside the booth with his arm around your shoulder, fingers absentmindedly kneading over your nape. Legs touching yours, a smile never leaving his lips, half full pint forgotten in front of him.

He would've preferred a much quieter place for your first date back home, but you wanted to visit his old haunts, and you were in a drinking mood. Hobie doesn't seem to care though, as long as you're with him, he's golden. Even if you suggested going to the sewers or God forbid a Mall, he would've said yes in a heartbeat. Because it's you, fresh from L.A. you who haven't finished unpacking yet even though you've been home for three days. He doesn't blame you though, how could you find the time to unpack when you two are busy snogging and reacquainting yourselves.

"Thank fuck" he chuckles. "Thought it would be worse like a can of whatever piss water they 'ave"

You roll your eyes, "Piña Colada is really good. I can make you one if you like"

"Sure, as long as it's not whiskey sour" Hobie mimics an American accent with his last word causing you to laugh out loud above the prattle of the pub.

"Do that again" you poke his side. "Come on"

"Fuck off, that's a one time thing" he hides his smile with his pint.

"You know back in America I had so many pints, it's insane" He raises a brow, knowing you're not much of a drinker. You continue on with your sentence. "Pints of ice cream"

"Is it too late for you to go back? Because I can ask for you–"

Leaning slightly, you kiss the corner of his lips as an apology for your attempt at humour. "I know, horrible joke. I blame the drink"

"Not the company though, right?" He says against your lips, long eyelashes fanning over eyes, looking down at your besotted face.

"Great company, ten out of ten" you press a cranberry filled kiss fully on his lips, lingering for only a moment. In that tiny booth with the squeaky leather cushions, you feel like you and Hobie are the only people in the world. "What do you say we go home." Whispering, you bat your eyelashes at him.

His eyes sparkle in the low light, "And?"

You don't miss his knowing tone so you decide to tease him more. "Or we can go to my office and ask for me to get transferred back to L.A."

"I like your first joke better, too soon, love" Hobie dramatically touches his chest like he's been hurt.

"You did it first!" You finish your drink, hand grabbing your bag from the table.

"And I did it better than you" Hobie takes your coat for you, standing up, reaching to help you out the booth.

Looking up at him, you smile mischievously. "Do an American accent first"

He rolls his eyes, "no" flexing his fingers, he feigns annoyance.

"Please? Just say one thing and I'll get up"

With a huff and a hidden smile, he surrenders. "Whiskey sour" Hobie does his best impression of an American man who's impatient to get his drink from the bartender.

Giggling, you still sit in the booth. "Say 'wassup, dude'"

"Don't push it, love or I'll start calling you bruv again"

Sliding out, you take his outstretched hand. "If you're into that then I'm open to try it." You laugh at your own quip.

"What have they done to my Gromit?" hand in hand, you and Hobie weave through the crowd whilst he guides you with his tender hold.

You snuggle closer to him, avoiding a guy with ten drinks on his tray. "Same Gromit, I promise"

"Love you still even if you weren't" He whispers back with fondness.

[kazimakuwabara]

Feral

Summary: Kurama goes Feral. It's more amusing than one would think. (1000 ish words, humor and friendship)

***

“Uh… what is happening here?” Yusuke asked, staring at a scene he hadn’t quite expected to walk in on.

Hiei at Yusuke's side, simply nodded along, his eyes fixed on the scene before him.

Kuwabara, battered and bruised, with some silver cuffs on his wrists that suppressed his Reiki, was sitting awkwardly, more or less in Youko Kurama’s lap. The great Youko had his arms wrapped around Kuwabara’s waist and was alternating between rubbing his face against the back of Kuwabara’s throat, cheeks, and the top of his head. Youko's white silvery tail was thumping loudly against the floorboards, as he cuddled and nuzzled against Kuwabara, whining like an overexcited animal.

“...Uh… well…” Kuwabara shrugged, going through a series of sounds as he tried to find the words to explain his odd situation, “Uh… the guy who captured us injected Kurama with something that turned Kurama into his Youko form… but he’s all… kinda feral now? He won’t talk to me either, he just makes these noises…”

Kuwabara was cut off as Youko let out a stranger chattering sound, followed by a keening yip, and then proceeded to cuddle Kuwabara harder. He buried his face into the back of his throat, his tail wagging even more enthusiastically.

Kuwabara sheepishly pat Kurama's leg and with a touch of embarrassment, but plenty of affection, cooed, "Yeah, you're just a sweet guy, ain't ya Kurama?"

“He’s become a cuddle monster,” Yusuke managed incredulously, his voice a mix of awe and delight. It seemed he might laugh at any moment, but was somehow managing to keep the amusement at bay, if at least for his own safety.

“The demon who captured you both and drugged Kurama. Where is he now?” Hiei asked stepping into the room. He was doing much better than Yusuke at keeping a straight face, though his eyes were rather wide.

Kuwabara smirked, and then gestured to the corner by their door, “Oh, well. I guess the guy was hoping Kurama was gonna like eat me or kill me, or something other than cuddle me. But Kurama sniffed me, and just started to cuddle, and it pissed the dude off. He got real pissy about it.”

A bubble of laughter snuck out of Yusuke’s throat as he started to reach his breaking point of keeping a neutral expression.

Kuwabara lifted his voice and continued to speak over him as he kept up with his explanation, “So the guy came towards us, clearly ready to do something to us, or well, really me. And Kurama attacked him. Just leaped at him with this ferocious snarl, fangs out, claws out, and boom! Snapped his neck, and left him in the corner!” Kuwabara lifted his cuffed hands and pointed to the corner of the room by the door again.

Yusuke and Hiei stepped further into the room and peeked behind the door. There, slumped in a heap, was the demon who had abducted Kurama and Kuwabara several hours ago.

Yusuke lost it, “Oh my God. I’ve been scared shitless, and Kurama, in a feral state, just snapped a dude’s neck that we couldn't take out as a team! And he’s here cuddling you like you’re his kit!” He threw back his head and laughed, ignoring Kuwabara who snapped at him to shut it.

Hiei stepped further into the room, and Kurama suddenly darted at him.

Yusuke’s amusement fell away as he tensed with worry, but it was unnecessary.

Kurama had rushed Hiei, sniffed him, and then made another high-pitched keening sound, and began to rub himself against Hiei, cuddling and nuzzling Hiei as if he was greeting an old friend. Kurama had even gone as far as dropping to his knees, so he could tuck himself under Hiei’s chin, and nuzzle at the fire demon’s throat. 

Hiei smirked at Kurama’s behavior, and chuckled, “Putting Kurama in a feral state was a foolish thing to do. We have Kurama’s scent on us. Even in a feral state, he would be able to recognize his own scent on someone and know if it made them his enemy of friend. He most likely regards us as his pack mates; his family.”

“That would explain why he keeps trying to feed me rats,” Kuwabara sighed, holding out his hands towards Yusuke.

Understanding immediately, Yusuke approached Kuwabara and carefully snapped the cuffs off, the silver shackles falling to pieces on the floor. Kuwabara sighed with relief and rubbed his wrists, before he stretched his palm and sent a sparkle of his Reiki over his hands. “Oh thank goodness. It’s back.”

“Kurama’s been trying to feed you rats?” Yusuke asked, sliding under one of Kuwabara’s arms, and hauling the large man to his feet.

Bruised and aching, but not too bad off, Kuwabara kept a hand curled around Yusuke’s shoulder and leaned on him for support. “Yeah. There were rats in the room. Kurama hunted them down, and he’s been trying to get me to eat them!” Kuwabara gave a sheepish grin, and gestured to a thin blanket behind them, “I’ve been stuffing them under there to appease him!”

Yusuke started to laugh again when the yipping Youko was suddenly invading his space. He snipped Yusuke’s cheeks, and neck, and then made a pleased, “mrrr,” sound before cuddling into Yusuke’s space, and rubbing his cheek against Yusuke’s throat.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Yusuke gasped, half laughing, “Wow, he’s happy to see us.”

“This isn’t like… gonna be forever is it?” Kuwabara asked, reaching out to gently pet one of Kurama’s long ears.

Kurama purred and then gave Kuwabara’s chest a nuzzle, happy for the attention.

“I have an idea of what they gave him, so I’m sure it’ll wear off,” Hiei said, grinning at Kurama. Kurama for his part, saw Hiei’s grin and rushed back to Hiei to rub against him a few more times before darting back to Yusuke. Kurama bounced between his three friends, yipping and whining, his tail wagging rapidly with excitement.

“He’s going to be mortified!” Hiei added with a cackle.

“Well, let’s head on out. We can stop by Koenma’s, or go see Yukina. Someone. Let’s make sure we fix this,” Yusuke sighed, grinning at Kurama as he affectionately nipped at Yusuke’s jawline. Yusuke used a free hand to gently push Kurama away, and chuckled, “While I bet his mom would love a more cuddly Kurama, we can’t let him stay like this for too long.”

“He’ll follow us right?” Kuwabara asked, limping as Yusuke helped to guide him out of the room.

“Oh, I don’t think we have to worry about that!” Hiei snorted, holding the door open for Yusuke and Kuwabara. The moment the pair cleared the threshold, Kurama darted off after them, before coming back to Hiei and whining.

Hiei reached out and patted Kurama’s cheek, “Calm down, I’m coming too. Go on now.” 

Kurama yipped and then exited the room. Hiei followed, snorting with amusement as he followed after his friends, “I can’t wait for Kurama to go back to normal. He’s never going to live this down.” He then laughed loudly and shut the food firmly.

The villain, whose body was still slumped in the corner, dead for his efforts, was quietly and easily forgotten.

[daisychains111]

incorrect chb camper quotes but it's actually just my sister's quotebook from Twitter

Disclaimer: This post is gonna be LONG AF

Percy: "Ahh, die quieter"

Clarisse to Silena: "Do I look majestic?"

Will: "I live in America. Cultures?... casserole"

Nico: "At-home lobotomy"

Baby Nico to Clarisse: "You look like Harry Potter, You just need a scar black hair, different clothes, and to be a boy. "

Annabeth:"I don't know if I have enough sanity for 2 Holy books"

Leo: "I've seen titties before....not really in person, but yk"

Annabeth: "Do you have ears?"

Jason: "I kinda wanna work at Taco Bell"

Piper: "I've never been passive-aggressive in my life"

Will to Apollo: "There's no batteries in my butt Dad I'm not a robot"

Clarisse: "I'm not upset I don't hold grudges"

Ares to Clarisse: "I don't like your clothes it forces me to look at you"

Frank to Leo: "It's not 'drip' it's stupid"

Travis to the whole Hermes Cabin: "I'm the Rizzington bear... like Paddington bear but Rizz" (after his 1st date with Katie)

Nico: "I love Olive Garden, I wish Italians were real"

Rachel: "Come on, you guys stop trying to cockblock the view"

Katie: "If people can smoke weed in the middle of the day, then I can drink chamomile tea"

Rachel: "You don't want to piss me off I'm witewally a werewolf"

Piper about Jason: "All my friends are boys, and one just died... he would have made a great bridesmaid"

Frank: "I was doing a silly but the funny didn’t land"

Jason: "Why am I white"

Rachel: "I am not a whore, I am a celibate queen!"

Drew: "It's not the fashion statement that you think it is"

Nico about the Ares Cabin: "They're gonna call you a slur, but they're gonna be really nice about it"

Piper to Annabeth: "If we both think it, it's not bitchy"

Grover: "I'm just gonna write a paragraph or two about global warming"

Annabeth"I have like a 7th-grade reading level!!! (this is impressive when you're dyslexic)

Jason: "Dude I love yoga"

Will: "They say that Utah is the promise land"

Kayla: *explains what a text-fic is to grandparents (Apollo)*

Clarisse: "Put that on your Twitter!" *points knife at me*

Travis: "Do you eat?"

Katie: "...um yes?"

Travis: "Oh, I mean do you want to eat." (when he asked Katie out the first time)

Hazel: "That's not gonna change my heart. That's just gonna make me cry!"

Alabaster: "I wanna find someone somewhere to impregnate and then steal the baby......Where's your Twitter, that was kinda funny"

Percy about Leo: "I would spoon that man so hard"

Frank: "The closer I get to nature, the closer I get to being a werewolf"

Apollo: "I feel like Jaba the Hut"

Rachel: "It's because you ate girl dinner"

Apollo (same convo^)"I fell asleep, and I woke up, and I ate a girl dinner, and I didn't feel that good"

Percy: Don't mind me just cleaning the ocean" *hand angrily on hip*

Will to the Stolls: "Although my bellybutton was once my mouth I don't want soda in it!!"

Connor: "Look at how majestic I am"

Clarisse: *gasps* *throws uno cards* "This is communism at its finest, and I hate your life." *Is losing* "All I'm doing is humoring you now. There is no reason for me to play anymore." *throws cards* *again*

Nico: *passes out*

Will: "We need to take you to the doctor like right now."

Nico: "No fireworks are more important than my health"

Leo about Percy: "That's a pretty boy right there... if we were in prison, it's over."

Kayla when Will came out to her: "Slay motherfucker"

Annabeth: "I hope to not run over any old ladies...old men are fair game tho."

Percy: "Main characters get bullied, Jesus....yep!"

Leo: "What if I was an astronaut!!!!"

Travis: "Banana, Banana, Meatball"

Clarisse: "I am going to break your toe shut the hell up"

Katie to Connor: "I hope you get bullied in high school."

Clarisse about Leo: "This guy's a fuckin goober"

Clarisse: "What did you do to your sweatshirt? Did you get hungry?"-Grover: *sighs*

Nyssa (Hephaestus kid) to Leo: "Dont hurt me. I'm Batman!.... You better not tweet that"

Kayla to Apollo: "It's called multi-tasking Apollo! "

Apollo: "It's mother to you"

Clarisse: "I could fight God and win"

Percy: "So you wanna fight rn"

Clarisse: "No, I'm good"

Jason; "You look gang"

Leo: "What? I look gay!?!?!"

Jason: "You look straight, but nice"

Leo: "Oh... thanks!"

Apollo to Rachel"Lie, deny, cry, and for good measure be a raging slut."

Silena: "There's all kinds of nature out here"

Katie: "Live, laugh, love, low iron"

Annabeth to Piper: "Keep backing up...Cuz you have a fear of commitment

Lou Ellen to Katie: "Does your knee affect your shoe size... or are your feet just that small??"

Travis: "The amount of testosterone in me, peanuts are allergic to me!"

Leo: "I'm cracked up on feeling sexy"

Connor to the whole Hermes Cabin: "The "10" of us? our parents sp*rm pets"

Apollo about Athena: "OH gods, a single mom"

Apollo about Kayla's dad: "I cheated on myself with a man"

Malcolm about Athena: "She's a mom boogie woogie woogie"

Nico: "I cried at Chick-fil-A the other day"

Nico: "Live, laugh, lobotomy."

Drew about Thalia: "She has no friends and a dead brother."

Katie: "I wrote fanfiction on my i-pod touch"

Lacy to Leo: "Was it a tech? or was it a human?"

Will: "Live, laugh, love, tampons"

Kayla: "Die, cry, hate, condoms"

Aphrodite to Clarisse: "Do you like being a girl? You just always wear pants"

Percy: "Chill I know how to make conversations I have Rizz"

Will: "What! no! cow!"

Frank: "Fvcking knock it off seriously you guys are acting like children!!"

Travis to Lou Ellen: "Yesss pussy-pop you slayed"

Ashlyn (Hermes kid): "Chick-fil-A is mid, Taco bell is where it's at"

Percy during tlt: "You couldn't even buy a gumball with that shit (drachmas)"

Percy (same convo ^): "A quarter? You could buy a gumball with that shit"

Nico: "Your soul and your money!"

Tyson: "You've seen fishes, fishes move fast"

Leo to Frank: "What the fvck is a kilometer"

Leo making fun of Frank: "Mua ha ha ha I'm Canadian"

Percy: "Jesus didn't give up his life he gave up his weekend"

*as seen at 2am in the Apollo Cabin*

Gracie: "You're discriminating against me"

April (the token straight): "It's cuz she's gay"

Will: "We're all gay."

Nico: You don't have any slurs about you."

Leo: "No because I'm perfect"

this was fun to make lol....there will probably be a part 2 but like far in the future. if you made it this far I love you....also if you don't recognize names it's bc I deep-dived Wiki to find canon names for each cabin.

If y'all want one-shots based on these TELL ME I NEED STUFF TO WRITE ABOUT

[bellswlw]

mechanic!ellie telling off readers dad;)

i have mechanic!ellie brainrot… (cw: weird possessive parent, homophobia, ellie is 24) seriously thinking i need to make a neighbor-mechanic!ellie fic bc fuck..

Ellie was inside, her palms gripping the countertop from the underside of the lip, just coming in for her break and from the blistering heat.

It was particularly hot that day. Not unusual for the area, but still Ellie was sweating through her white tank top just at the start of 11AM.

“Okay, alright. Buh-bye. Yep, see you tomorrow. Yep… fucking dick.” and she reached up with one hand to remove the landline phone that was wedged between her ear and shoulder.

“What happened?”

Ellie scribbled down the customers details adding Tom L. — red hair, asshole before turning around toward her coworker. She sighed, folding her arms under her armpits and shaking her head.

“This guy fucking called asking why we thought it was okay to charge three times as much as his old mechanic?! Like dude I don’t fucking know who your mechanic was but he must’a been a shit one if he only—”

And Ellie’s speech was sliced right down the center when the phone rang again.

She huffed, wiping a hand across her face that was somehow already covered in oil and dirt. She noticed this and pulled the reg rag hanging from her back pocket and wiped her hands after answering the phone and shoving it between her ear and shoulder for what felt like the 100th time that day.

“Ellie, how can I help you?” and her tone immediately shifted when she heard the sound of your voice from the other end of the line.

“Hi, um— I came in for an oil change and uh… checked my tires, and you guys charged me $200? I was just calling b’cause um..” and Ellie’s coworker must have seen the look on her face when he whispered to her.

“Same guy?” with his hands pointing to the phone.

She shook her head, mouthing money before she was met with another 50 year old bigot who was either appalled with the prices or calling to tell Ellie off for supporting “that lifestyle”.

“My daughter came in yesterday and you charged her $200 dollars for an oil change?! An— what? Yes! and putting air in her tires! Which is usually free! She came to me after saying how expensive a mechanic was, only to find out you barely serviced her car!?”

“Sir—”

She let out an exhale, shoving the rag back into her pocket before she put the phone on speaker and actually sat down.

“No, I want to talk to your manager.”

“Sir, I am the manager… and we definitely didn’t service your daughters car yesterday. We were cl-.”

“I— no. You’re not listening to me… This is fucking bullshit,” and it was then that she was granted that sweet sweet sound of being hung up on.

“Dick.” her coworker said, leaning against the doorframe before shaking his head slowly.

“What I’m saying..”

Ellie pushed off the stool, her converse padding against the smooth concrete as she made her way toward the small back office that had just enough room for a desk and 2 chairs. Along with a mini fridge that hoarded her snacks and lunch pail.

She opened it from behind her seated position at her desk, leaning over to feel the cool air hit her exposed arm and a portion of her neck. She pulled out a snack along with a bottle of water, cracking it open and letting it settle into her burning chest.

A few minutes later, the knock on her open door made her brows shoot up from the paperwork she had been meaning to fill out all day.

“What’s up?” she asked, without looking up just yet.

Her head had slowly started to turn before her eyes had caught up with her, noticing the look on her coworkers face.

“Someone’s here for you.” is all he said.

Ellie scoffed under her breath and stood from her chair, dragging her feet until she makes her way toward the front counter and is expecting to see Tom, but see’s you there instead.

Along side your dad— who is visually pissed. “You work here?” he spits, coming up to the counter with you trailing slowly behind him.

“Yeah. I’m the manager.” and she prepares herself for the comment, but it comes out in a sigh from you, pinching your eyebrows together with two fingers and dipping your head down.

He turns to look at you before speaking. “My daughter came in here yesterd—”

“Sir— no. We were closed yesterday. Holiday.”

“Hol… what fucking holiday?!”

She sighs. “We were closed. We didn’t service your daughters car. I would have remembered.” and she looks at you when she says it, trying not to let her eyes still on you for too long.

You shuffled in your stance, fighting the low butterflies that started hatching in your stomach.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he looked over his shoulder at you— missing the arrow Ellie had so intentionally shot at you.

“Means I would have remembered.” that’s not what it means.

Ellie would have remembered such a pretty face, and such a sweet voice when you finally spoke up and look up from your phone with a horrored look across your eyes.

“Um… she’s right. I um, called the wrong place. Sorry.”

Your dad was appalled. Floored. Enough so that he draws all his attention away from Ellie and floods you with a tight grip on your arm and speaking with gritted teeth.

“The fucks wrong with you? You embarra…”

It takes the look in his eye when it’s off of Ellie’s face to make her feet shift against the tile floor and quickly make her way toward you. Speaking as her hand reaches out.

“Hey, hey— no. We’re not going that. Let go of her.”

He scoffs before he opens his mouth again. “Mind your business, girl.”

“This is my fucking business. If your coming in here with a problem, it’s mine. And if your coming in here thinking I’m putting up with that… no. Let go of her arm, please.”

“Dad, let go.” you whisper.

It takes the whisper of your voice to loosen his grip on you, leaving a trio of fingerprints against your skin.

“You know.. life would be so much easier for you if you would just find a nice boy. Finally settle down, a nice boy.”

“Dude. I’m gonna have to ask you to get out. We’re seriously not doing this. Get the fuck out of my shop.”

“I tried to be respectful, but that’s a two way street, yeah? Get out of my shop if you can’t use your goddamn manners.

He stared her down… almost as if he thought maybe she was joking.

It had only taken about a minute and a half to make him crack, sending him out the front door with a sigh as he muttered “Fucking bitch,” under his breath.

“I’m sorry about him, he’s…”

“Don’t apologize. He’s an asshole. And he shouldn’t put his hands on you, ever. You’re not a little kid.”

“Yeah… I guess so. Anyway, sorry; for the mix-up.”

Ellie waves her hand and makes a ‘psh’ sound. “Don’t worry about it. How about this? You sign up here and I’ll take a look at your car— no charge… and let me take you out to dinner as payment. That work for you?”

The smile cracks through your lips like a sunrise striking against the backside of a mountain, vibrant and real.

“Yeah, okay. That works.”

Before you know it, you have a new mechanic and a date with the same one next Friday at 6.

[beevean]

Give each NFCV and Nocturne character ratings, as in scores :P

Why must you hurt me in this way.

Trevor: 7/10. A cliché personality, but enjoyable enough, and with a nice mini arc in S1. Too bad he was turned from protagonist to silly comic relief by S2.

Sypha: 5/10. She's supposed to be the plucky innocent girl, but she's just too rude and insensitive, and not even by design.

Alucard: 1/10. A cunt with a bad boob job.

Dracula: 9/10 in S1, 5/10 in S2. He started out so well in the first episode, being actually the grief-stricken monster he was supposed to be... and then he became a Stupid Old Depressed Man for the sake of propping up Carmilla. bruh.

Lisa: 4/10. Way less likeable than she appears. She's condescending towards the peasants she supposedly wants to help and she doesn't give a single shit about her only son, even preferring to let him grieve the death of his parents.

Hector: 8/10 in S2, 5/10 in S3, 2/10 in S4. Started out as a promising character with an unique worldview and genuinely morally grey. Became nothing more than a punching bag for Ellis, losing his personality and dignity in one fell swoop. Will always be remembered as the dude who fell for vampire pussy. The way he was written in S4, which was supposed to "fix" him, makes me want to destroy a house by punching it.

Isaac: 2/10. He gains some points by being the only character with a coherent character arc, even if rushed like hell. But he's still a pretentious prick who got unfairly sucked off by the story and nowhere near as "deep" as his fans tout - he was just lucky to be the only character written with respect in the shitstorm that was S3.

Carmilla: 3/10. She's like Mephiles and Starline all rolled into one unlikable OC villain who only exists to paint Dracula in a bad light. She seems like a mastermind manipulator only because everyone around her lost IQ points exponentially. She became utterly irrelevant after S2 and had a grandiose death for nothing. She could have been much more, but this is what happens when a sexist pig writes a radfem villain.

Lenore: 1/10. That one point is because she had the potential to be an interesting, fleshed out antagonist with again an intriguing grey morality. But she had the misfortune of being written by a hack who can't give his characters a consistent personality and a sex pest with a clear dommy mommy fetish, so she became rape apologism bait and now she pisses me off at sight :D

The Lesbians: who?/10. Waste of good character designs. At least Striga was used for Berserk bait.

The Japanese not-twins: 0/10. Completely pointess torture porn fodder.

St. Germain: 8/10 in S3, 5/10 in S4. Pretty enjoyable in his first appearance, and surprisingly faithful to the game counterpart in spirit. I didn't even mind his descent into villainy, in theory. But let's just say that his motivation is... lacking. and hilarious.

Death: fuck/10. He's the ShTH of NFCV.

Richter: 6/10. Not too bad? I don't understand the hatred for him. He's perfectly inoffensive, if not bland. The only line that made me go "bruh" was him correcting the girls about the meaning of "fraternity" lol

Maria: 4/10. This is not a character. This is a parody of a communist teen on Twitter.

Annette: 1/10. As I said multiple times, she doesn't feel like a character, but as carefully engineered rage bait.

Tera: don't care/10.

Abbot: 4/10. I would care about his conflict more if he wasn't the stupidest man alive. Also his Devil Forging machine sucks ass.

Cecile: 3/10. Maybe don't teach your student that she is perfectly in the right in looking down her white French friends...?

Edouard: WHEN I'M LAID/10.

Olrox: 7/10. As for now, he's fairly interesting, mainly because of his intrigue. A bit too try hard, though.

Bara Agent Stone: bro really was shocked at the abbot having a child when he was happily sticking his dick in a male vampire/10

Sun Thundercat: 0/10. By far the worst villain I've ever seen in any kind of story.

Tiddied Isaac: 4/10. I would like her more for her unapologetic style (calling it "personality" is a stretch) if she didn't expose the sheer hypocrisy in the fandom :^)

[thisaintascenereviews]

Eminem - The Death Of Slim Shady (Coup De Grace)

Millennials seem to love rapper Eminem, don’t they? A lot of people my age, or just a bit older, grew up with the music of Marshall Mathers, and they’re nostalgic for his brand of offensive, edgy, and offbeat humor and bars. Eminem had some hits back in the day, but you really could make an argument that he’s washed up. Hell, I’d make that argument, but I’ve also never been a fan of his work. Millennials love it, though, and every now and again, you’ll see videos from millenials that claim Gen Z is trying to “cancel” him, and it’s so painful to watch. The funny thing is, no one is trying to cancel him, when it’s really that Gen Z just doesn’t care about him.

I’m in the same boat, despite being of the age that should love his music. I suppose I’ve just never seen the hype for it, despite being able to acknowledge that Em has talent as a rapper. He’s got a solid flow, and he has the ability to spit pretty fast, but I’ve always said that rapping fast doesn’t equal being good. You can rap fast, but if you’re not saying anything worthwhile, who cares? That’s how I’ve felt about most of his work. I listened to the Marshal Mathers LP II back a decade ago, and thought that way about “Rap God.” An impressive flow, but spoke almost gibberish.

Saying Eminem sucks won’t win me any friends, and I might be in the minority when I say that, but his “2edgy4u” shtick never struck a chord with me. There are better rappers out there, so why people want to listen to Eminem baffles me, but he’s back with a new album — The Death Of Slim Shady (Coup De Grace). I’ve ignored his music in the last decade, but I figured I’d check this out because this album is supposedly the final appearance of his character Slim Shady. Shady is basically his justification for using slurs and offensive language, but I guess Em wants to grow up, despite being 51-years-old, so does this album succeed in that?

No, not really, because despite this album being called The Death Of Slim Shady, most of this album has Em making a profit off the character he’s claiming to want to move on from. This album is told through some skits where Slim kidnaps Em, and they have a back and forth on a lot of tracks, only for Em to finally kill Slim Shady at the two-thirds mark. The last third is Em being himself finally, but he proves he has nothing to say outside of his edgy Slim Shady persona. It’s also easily in the top three of the worst albums I’ve heard all year, and only a couple of other albums this year have pissed me off to this same level, maybe even more.

This record employs a lot of typical Slim Shady tropes, such as using slurs and offensive language to sound edgy and cool, as well as insulting various groups of people to be relevant. Relevant to who? I can’t say for sure, but probably his immature fanbase of conservative white dudes that think saying slurs is funny, especially insulting trans people. Em is weirdly obsessed with three things on this LP — insulting trans people, mentioning Caitlyn Jenner, and wanting Gen Z to cancel him. It makes for some of the corniest and most awful music you’ll hear all year, especially coming from a grown man, and it makes me cringe and makes me angry.

There are some awful transphobic bars on this record that aren’t even funny, but he insults other people, too, and there’s no rhyme or reason for it. He keeps begging Gen Z to cancel him, too, but they’re not, though, so he sounds really desperate. It’s almost funny, but in a sad way, like he’s begging for relevance. When he isn’t being edgy and corny, he’s got songs that are titled, and I kid you not, “Lucifer,” “Antichrist,” and “Evil,” where he talks about how he’s evil, the antichrist, and the devil, and all that corny ass stuff. Maybe a few clever bars show up here and there, but it’s bad.

When he has to be himself, he talks about his daughter, making two songs about her on this album for some reason, and they’re as bland as you can get. Eminem is just trying to make a 90s / 00s Em album in 2024, despite not being young and relevant anymore. Sure, the album has some solid production, and some of the guests are good, but Eminem’s just being Eminem, and it feels dated and cringy now. Who is this for? The transphobic and offensive bars are corny, lame, and unfunny, and everything else is nothing new, so why bother?

For being called The Death Of Slim Shady, he really milked that character for most the album’s hour-long runtime. This album sucks, plain and simple. It’s one of the worst albums of the year, and it’s a shame, because he can do better. He’s got technical skill, but instead of actually honing his craft, he sounds like a 12-year-old who learned a new cuss word, and won’t shut up about it. I’m not even “triggered,” either, because most people who love Em think that anyone who doesn’t like him can’t handle his offensive bars, when it’s really that he sucks, and his shtick is for edgy teenagers, or Millennials that have their rose-colored glasses on.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

What a Man - A Manny/Reader One Shot Story.

You meet Manny in a bar... and promptly take him home for some filthy fun! Focuses on the dynamic of a younger man/older woman age gap, as there are so many younger woman/older man fics out there, I thought I would mix it up a little. Can be enjoyed by whatever age, though (18+ of course!) because it’s smut, and we all love that, but yeah, I wanted any 40+ readers to feel specifically catered to, for once! 

Words - 4,571

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“Triple Jack, no ice.”

Christ. It sounds like the guy who just took a seat beside you at the bar has had a similarly bad day to you.  

You see his ring adorned hand from the corner of your eye, long, tapered fingers clutching the glass, sinking it back. “Another.”

The bartender dutifully fulfils the request. “Another.”

“Might as well put a straw in the damned bottle,” you mutter, but not quite under your breath as much as you might’ve hoped.

“I would, but Logan here frowns upon that.” Turning your head to the side, you do a rapid double take. Good grief. That is one hell of a tall drink of water. “Evening, mamacita.” His eyes give you a quick up and down, smiling widely, turning back to his drink. He then looks at you again, his face a picture of curiosity. “What the fuck is a fine assed lady like you doing sitting in this dank shit hole alone? Or am I about to get my shit rocked for taking an interest in some dude’s ole’ lady?”

He makes reference to receiving trouble, but turning to look at him, you aren’t left in any doubt that he could more than handle himself in a fight. Bikers know how to ruck. Outlaws – of which he is from the kutte – even more so.  

You take a breath through your nose, sinking the rest of your drink. “You seem like a real charmer, but I’m not in the mood for it.”  

His reply is quick. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Being left alone while I make my way through that bottle of Sailor Jerry.”

His eyebrow arches, a wide smile showing a mouth of perfect, white teeth. “Well, alright, baby. You don’t gotta be all mad about it.” he pauses then, sipping his drink. “Just know I’ll be sitting here, not able to get those thighs out of my damned mind. Ignore me, it’s cool.”

‘You’ve put on weight; I don’t like it. Go on a diet, for heaven’s sake.’

There they are, his words, echoing through your head again, the words of the man that up until that afternoon, you’d been married to for twelve years. Until he left you for a younger woman. A younger, slenderer woman. You are by no means fat, your stomach has remained flat, your arms are toned, but you definitely carry a little more weight upon your thighs, some more junk in your trunk, too.  

Curvy is en vogue right now, but your ex? He wanted a toothpick with breast implants. Bad ones. And usually, you would never shame a woman for the kind of figure she has, or how she chooses to enhance it, but, well, you’re forty-five and feeling a tad bitter. She’s twenty-one, and living in your old house with the man who promised to love and remain faithful to you forever.  

And now here you are, alone, in a dive bar, ‘celebrating’ your divorce being finalised as of five hours ago. It’s more drowning your sorrows; the simple truth of the situation is not lost on you. You did not intend to become a divorcee. What is lost on you, however, what you cannot even see, is just how attractive you still are, or how much the outlaw - who you might notice is at least ten years younger than you, if you were paying attention - cannot keep his eyes off of you.  

“Thick thighs save lives.”  

You can’t fight the upturn at the corners of your mouth. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that.

“Is yours in need of saving, especially?”

He snorts softly, cocking his head a little. “Depends on who I piss off.”  

You can imagine, in his chosen career field. “I envisage it takes more than thick thighs.”

“Likely,” he confesses, “but after a long, hard day, they sure are nice to have wrapped around me.”

Oh yeah. He’s smooth as hell. And he knows it.  

“Mine aren’t on offer for said wrapping.”

He hisses a breath, turning to you more fully. “That’s a damned shame, querida. Because I assure you, you’d very much enjoy me being between ‘em.”

You glance around the bar, seeing two groups of women who you have at least fifteen years in age on, if not more, looking back at the outlaw with the deep, chocolate brown eyes. “Why don’t you try your luck with a girl a little closer to your age?”

“Because I don’t want to.” Simple, concise. You can’t fault that. “I tire of girls. I want me a woman. There’s only one in here who I find attractive, so I sat myself down next to her. She ain’t biting at my bait, though. Damn you, making a fella doubt his game.” He shakes his head, sinking the bourbon, placing the glass down. “You want another in there?”

You have to mentally stop here, and promptly slap yourself. The most gorgeous man in here is working his damned ass off in order to flirt with you... and you keep knocking him back. Are you really so turned into such a hardened man hater, that you can’t even accept that one might, just might, find you attractive?  

“That’d be great, thank you...” you trail off.  

“Manny.” He offers his hand forward. You reveal your name, shaking it, a little ripple turning your tummy over pleasantly when he winks at you, so rapidly that you’re unsure if he actually did. He then calls Logan back over, the bartender dutifully refilling both glasses with your chosen poison.

“Thank you, Manny. Cheers.” You touch your glass against his, smiling as you sip your rum, turning and taking him in properly. Yes, he most definitely is the most handsome man in the bar. You truly should let it be the little shot in your arm you likely need to just unquestionably enjoy.  

“So, why are you attempting to see yourself to the bottom of the rum bottle, then? You having a time of it, or aspiring to follow in the footsteps of Jack Sparrow?” Charming, gorgeous, flirty, and he’s funny too. You could do a hell of a lot worse. You could still be stuck with your philandering husband, as well as his bald spot/beer gut combo. Yikes. And he told you to go on a diet. The audacity.

“Both?” He laughs, shaking his head. “My divorce was finalised this afternoon, so I decided to take myself out to celebrate. Except it turned into a lament that I’m forty-five with a failed marriage behind me.”

He raises his eyebrows, glass paused on its way to his mouth. “You’re forty-five?”  

“I suppose you find that a turn off,” you scoff lightly.  

“Nope, I just put you at around thirty is all. I ain’t flattering either, for real, girl. Damn, you look good. I’m thirty-five and I have more smile lines than you do. As for the failed marriage, better off if he didn’t make you happy.”

“Nah,” you shrug, taking a swig of your drink. “He’s reserving that for the twenty-one year old with the square, plastic tits he cheated on me with.”  

“Oh, man. Ain’t nothing worse than a bad boob job,” he grimaces, shaking his head. “My ex had hers done and they never looked or felt right. Made her sick too, so she took ‘em out in the end. I never wanted her to get ‘em done in the first place, but eh, it made her happy. Until it didn’t. Jokes on your ex, though. Because at the risk of getting slapped, I gotta say, yours are gorgeous. In fact, all of you is damned gorgeous. He’s out of his fucking mind, playing away from all of that.”  

“Yeah,” you accede, feeling confident. “He fucking is. He wanted skinny, though, and that’s not me.”  

“Skinny chicks, eh,” he pauses, sucking his teeth. “While I ain’t got nothing against ‘em, they’re a dime a dozen. Seeing a woman built like you, that’s what excites the shit out of me. I like what you have going on very much, mamas.” His eyes tour you again, a faint ‘Mmm’ noise echoing his throat as he licks his lips, his right eyebrow fluttering.

“That’s nice to hear, I guess.” You have to give him a little more, he’s working his butt off, and you see that clearly.  

“It sounds like it’s about time you had someone tell you.” He pauses, biting his bottom lip, letting it slide out from his teeth. What it is about that action, you aren’t sure, but it made your insides throb. “If you were mine, I’d never let you out of bed. My free time hobbies would solely focus on making you damned happy with my tongue.” Such a statement makes you blow your drink back into the glass, Manny laughing into his, knocking back the rest. “Logan!”  

The bartender ambles over, pouring him another measure. “Sorry if that was too much, by the way. I kinda lose my filter, the more of this stuff I drink. Also, after a little initial frostiness, I sense I’m getting you to thaw.”  

You lean forward a little, catching his scent. Oh, boy. That’s one very nicely scented man, spicy and woody, with a hint of leather. “So... just your tongue?”

His smile widens, turning into a full-blown grin. “Take me home, and you get to find out.”  

You drop your head for a moment, considering your options. Two fingers then lift your chin, Manny staring at you intently.  

“You won’t regret it. And if you do, I won’t leave your bed until you don’t.”  

That’s the best offer you’ve gotten since your divorce lawyer gave you five free billable hours.  

“Drink up.” You both slam back the contents of your glasses, heading outside, taking your phone out and calling an Uber.  

“How long?” he asks, nodding at your phone upon noticing the app.  

“Four minutes.”

“Ahh,” he takes your face in your hands, leaning closer to you. “Enough time to enjoy this, then.” His mouth descends, lips capturing yours in a kiss, both of sugar and embers. It deepens in a nanosecond, his arms wrapping around you, yours draping around his neck. Oh, god. Ohhhh... can the man kiss. Slow, sensual, passionate. Fuck. It makes a warm, rich wave of longing wash right through you, so much so that you don’t even notice the Uber pulling up until the driver opens the window and calls your name.  

The ride back is spent in much the same way, fused at the mouth, keening gently for one another. Once you arrive at your home, though, it isn’t quite as PG.  

“Fuck, you are so goddamned beautiful.” he moans, pressing you against the hallway wall, his hands pulling at your top, tugging it over your head, fingers trailing down your neck to grasp at your tits. He then ducks, lifting you over his shoulder with ease, his hand pounding off your butt, making you scream with laughter. “God, I’m gonna fucking wreck you. Which way to the bedroom?”  

“Down the hall, second on the right.” You’re carried there quickly, thrown down on your bed, reaching to turn the lamp on... and then swiftly regretting it when you see him shake off his kutte and undo his shirt, revealing the lithe, athletic body beneath, all tattoos, smooth chest and lean muscles. And he’s ten years younger than you. That’s when the gravitas of it hits you.  

“You looked spooked. I’m not that bad, am I?” he smirks, moving to pull your legs straight again from where you’ve drawn them up a little, feeling self-conscious, trying to hide a bit.

“No, no it isn’t you,” you begin, sighing. Oh yeah, this is so sexy, having a panic with a one-night stand, one who looks as utterly magnificent as him.  

He reads it well, shaking his head, getting back up off the bed. “Baby, we don’t have a problem here.” He keeps eye contact with you firmly, stripping off his jeans, kicking his boots and socks off, his tight, grey boxers the last item to be shed, standing there and gesturing to what can only be described as a very hard, very beautiful cock. “This should tell you how lacking in a problem we are right now.”

He crawls back onto the bed, hands parting your knees, kissing you heatedly as he begins to unfasten your jeans. “Let me see this sexy body.” By the time his kisses have reached the side of your neck, your legs feel like jelly, your body malleable to him entirely. Just from neck kisses. You’ve never had a man arouse quite so thoroughly, but with such little effort, yet you know from the way his mouth tours your skin, effort is exactly what you’re going to get with him.  

Tugging your jeans down, he pauses at your underwear, leaving them on as his body settles against you, and that right there is a gesture that hasn’t gone unnoticed. He wants to see you nude, but he also knows that you’re a tad uncomfortable. He knows there’s still a little thaw left, a little winter remaining within you that the flush of spring he rains upon you with careful caresses, kisses and tongue swirls will eventually melt away.  

Pleasant mists of heat trickle down your spine as his hands bracket your waist, his tongue fluttering over your collarbones, hands moving to begin stroking your breasts. Your nipples rise to his fingertips, your own hands smoothing up his arms and down his back, feeling the lithe muscles cording beneath your touch. His skin is utterly beautiful, a soft blanket of caramel brown covering you, juddering when your nails trail up his spine, his hips shunting against you. Hmm, he liked that.

“Did that feel good?” you whisper, stroking his short beard, steering his mouth back to yours, receiving decadent kisses full of need.

“Yeah. Pretty much my entire back is a hot spot.” Right on cue, he judders again, a soft moan pooling in his throat as your nails drag his shoulder blades. “Damn.”

“Mmm, noted.” He kisses you again, tongue circling in a slow swirl with yours, that coupled with him shifting, his cock brushing your hip has you keening against him, body arching to his, Manny reading your responses perfectly as his hand creeps beneath your back, flicking your bra undone with the kind of finesse you do not doubt for a second he possesses. Pulling it from you, he makes a low, quiet rumble of appreciation, mouth closing over your nipple and sucking, the action causing heat begin winding through your core.  

“God damn, these are some quality tits, mamas.” His compliment makes you snicker a little bit, Manny glad to see you more relaxed. “What?” he chuckles, turning his focus to the other, tongue circling the stiffened peak.

You shake your head softly, still rippled by amusement. “I’ve never heard them referred to as quality tits before.”

“Ain’t you? Well, get used to it.” After he’s given thorough attention to your chest, he begins to shift, a little pool of excitement overflowing within you, because if he kisses and licks the rest of you like that, just what on earth is it going to feel like when his mouth is... oh, just where his fingers brushed against. He grunts lustfully at feeling the dampness of your underwear, a little bite placed upon your hip, hands tugging at the satin covering where his mouth begs to lead him to, pulling your undies off, parting your thighs and wasting no time in tease, his lips lowering to your centre and kissing your folds before his tongue laves through them.  

“Mmmmm, oh my fucking god,” he moans, laying another few licks against you, mouth moving to sprinkle kisses over your pubic mound. “Y’all need to expect me to be down here for so long, you forget what I look like. Damn, that’s one sweet little pussy.”  

Just twenty minutes or so in a bed with Manny, and you feel more attended to than you ever did in the entirety of your marriage. That truly does speak volumes. There he is, a man ten years your junior, with all the skill and care for a woman’s body that dictates he’s a giver, someone who pays attention, who thrives on showing a woman exactly what he’s capable of, painting a picture of passion across the canvas of her body, and doing so in a way so masterful, you can barely form thought.  

He kisses your inner thigh a few times, thumb gilding your clit with strokes that evoke pure sunshine, pushing the hood back and making it stand out before his tongue takes over, soft flickers back and forth having you reeling, the pressure gentle, his eyes watching you as he smiles. “That feel good, mamas?”

“Ohhhhh!”  

He chuckles, kissing your bud softly, the heat of his lips searing. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He’s right to, as well, for the pleasure conjured by the simple, soft beating of his tongue has light beaming through you, your walls fluttering, each lick sending tingles skittering down your spine. When he presses his tongue flat against you and drags right through your folds, your back arches, body bent like a bridge over a torridly flowing stream, Manny the water that rushes beneath you. “So fucking wet.” he mumbles, taking another greedy lick at you, mouth closing in a suck as his cheeks hollow, his mouth full of the softest, wet velvet.  

His eyes close, his stupidly long, beautiful lashes casting shadows beneath his eyes, like the feathers of a crow wing, a few more long licks given before once again, the tip of his tongue focuses in on your clit, licking the tiniest of circles all around it. He moves it around, little by little, your body suddenly shuddering violently.  

“Hmm, right there is pretty good, huh?”  

“Yeah, yeah that’s amazing!”

“That’s where I’m staying, then.” This man. He’s so good that not only does he know how a clit works, and how to touch it, but he finds out exactly where he should focus upon it, wants to know where the biggest concentration of nerve endings is upon the little bud, and then targets them. That’s dedication you can get behind, and find utterly mind blowing. He has you out of your head with ecstasy, his tongue beating back and forth, circling, then back and forth once more, lips sucking, and then repeating it all over again, and again... and, oh... again.  

“Come on, baby. Damn, I really want you to cum for me, get my tongue even wetter, fuck.” he encourages you with, voice deepened with lust, each lick now placed firmer, driving your release, like a spirit being exorcised as you pant and tremble, crying out helplessly, your hands clutching his head as he brings you to you peak, crumbling for him like an ancient tower as your release fizzes through you, leaving you breathless. “How was that, gorgeous?”

“Can’t talk... ruined...” He bursts out laughing, a deep, rumbling laugh full of mirth.  

“Not yet, you ain’t.” He emerges to kiss you, and you taste sweet on his lips, shifting back down again and gripping your thighs. “Hold these sexy assed legs up for me.” You hook your arms beneath your knees, pulling them back to your chest, Manny groaning at the view presented to him. “God fucking damn, that’s a beautiful sight.”  

He takes a long lick at you, your clit still sensitive, making you quake when his tongue skims it, Manny realising this and gentling a little, moving his focus to gently push inside of you, tasting your pussy on the inside, moaning as his tongue bobs in and out, moving it down, circling your puckered star, your legs trembling in response. No one has ever done that before, and after a few moments, it seems he cottons on to that fact, too.  

“What’s the matter, querida? Never had a horny Latino dude lick your asshole before?” He grins up at you, laying a soft bite to your butt cheek, chuckling with amusement.  

“Nope!”  

“Alright, I won’t stop, then.” he doesn’t, circling you, pushing within, thumb moving to stroke at your clit, your body feeling like you have entire galaxies burning and collapsing in on themselves within you, your entire sex burning with the continued divinity of what his mouth lavishes upon it. Moving his focus back to your clit, he sucks on it gently, moving his hand to push one, and then two fingers into your soaking heat.”Fuck, that’s so damned hot.” he exclaims quietly, moaning around you, eyes finding yours again, watching as he begins to trawl you, dragging your plush, fingers curling, pushing right against your g spot. “There?”

“Yes, right fucking there!” you wail, the circle he draws inside you burning you right to your bones. That, coupled with the licks he lays over your clit have you gleaming once more, body undulating, your hips purling against his face, Manny groaning as he feels you clench around his fingers, giving you more, sliding a third in and raking your walls, fucking you with them until the lewd sound of him cutting through your slick fills the room, along with your cries as he sends a sweltering flush of pleasure coiling through you, that coil snapping as you cum for him again, breathless and lost in the haze of your orgasm. “Fuck, I want your cock so badly!”  

He grins, fingers gentling, kneeling before you, grasping his hardness and rubbing it through your folds. “Yeah, this big dick what you want, baby? Want me to fill you up and stretch you out?”  

“Yes, oh god, so much!” you grit, the feel of him, the rigidity of him sliding over your folds and nudging your clit making your cunt throb.  

“Can I bareback you? I fucking swear, I don’t got nothing funky you can catch, carina,” he states, lust blown eyes fixing on you, giving you a look that despite your usually better judgement, tells you loud and clear he isn’t lying. You nod, and in one fluid push, he fills you up, the heat of his bare cock within you scintillating, sending a storm of hail through your core. His mouth falls open, an almost helpless moan echoing from his throat, and you can feel the rigidity of him twitching within the snug clutch he’s buried in, parting your knees and leaning down to kiss you, hands sliding through your hair as his cock begins to pump into the silky slick of you.  

You wrap your legs around him, squeezing your thighs at his waist, groans tumbling from him as he arrows you a little deeper, tilting his hips in a way that has him filling you, but not hitting your cervix. God, the man knows how to lay pipe, leaving a trail of lusty kisses across your throat, sitting back on his heels and spreading your thighs, watching his cock entering and retreating from you.  

“Shit, mamas. You take me so damned well. Ahhh, fuck!” he grits, groaning deep, adding more speed, losing himself to it and beginning to pound into you, evoking your wails, hands clutching at your thighs as he fucks you deep and rough, slowing again, grasping that tentative composure, giving you slower strokes, pulling out, rubbing the head of his cock all over your hard little clit until it throbs against the weeping slit of his hardness, plunging back into you again with a barbarous grunt.  

He alternates between unfettered vigour and slow, sensual trawling, pausing every so often to lean in and kiss you, his whispered words making butterflies erupt through you. “Do you feel beautiful yet, baby? Because you should.”  

Because of him, you do. Anything your ex told you, about how you weren’t good enough for him, it’s being washed away on the current that is the man inside of you, Manny grasping your waist and hauling you up to begin bouncing you on his cock, mouth stealing hungry kisses full of need from you, strong arms holding you steady as you begin to ride him in a rhythm that has lightning darting up his spine. When you begin trawling your nails over his back, you increase that for him tenfold.  

His skin erupts into goosepimples, his mouth kissing constellations across your neck as you grind down on his cock, the pressure perfect, but every bit of this tryst having you greedy for more, for as much as he can give. And give to you he does. Grasping your waist, he levers his hips beneath you, driving up into the sodden mess of your cunt with aggressive thrusts, meeting you in perfect sync, your mutual moans filling the room as your flesh smacks together.  

“Oh god, fuck me!” you holler, Manny taking his instruction and giving you every last inch in rapid thrusts, slowing suddenly, levering you off of him.  

“On your hands and knees, carina. I wanna watch this gorgeous, round ass bounce while I pound that sweet pussy.” His words set a further blaze through you as you move into the position he requested, feeling him behind you, cock stroking your folds before he daggers into you again, doing exactly as he said he would and pounding the life out of you.

It’s gut rearranging, skin smacking, nerve tingling, all out carnal brutality, your cries rasping your throat as you grip the covers, his hands fixed in a hard clutch on your butt, kneading the cheeks as he pistons into you furiously. You can feel it again, the light from the edges of heaven warming you as he sends you closer and closer, your walls tightening on him as the swell of nirvana throbs through you, each clench milking him of his release as he grunts furiously, thick ropes of cum shot deep into your fluttering heat.  

He continues to move slowly within you, breath hot at your back, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your spine. Your divorce left you feeling pretty much dead, but the handsome, relative stranger you picked up in that bar, well, he truly did make you feel alive again. He makes you feel alive another five times that night, too, and at your door the following morning, makes it very clear he keeps on intending to as well.  

“I’ll call you later, when I’ve slept longer than two hours. Damned insatiable woman,” he chuckles, kissing you softly.  

“Alright, and thanks for last night.” He knows from your tone that you don’t believe him, but later that evening, when you’re out with your friends, not waiting around for a call you don’t expect to come, your phone rings.  

“Hey, so I’m looking for this gorgeous woman, yeah, I think she can help me with something.” Your smile widens in an instant.

“Oh yeah? Word is, she helped you with enough last night,” you reply playfully, waving your hand when your girlfriends begin squeaking. Of course, they received the 411 on it all. It made for some juicy pre-dinner drinks fodder.

“Well, yeah, this much is true,” he begins, grinning at the memory. “But I still didn’t get between her sexy, thick assed thighs quite as much as I wanted to.”

Four hours later, after a cab has dropped you to his place, that’s exactly where he returns.  

[goodusernamepending]

I’m really digging Malevolent so far, here are my reactions to the first 5 episodes.

Warning: it's super long and dumb

E1

“~And you call it madness ~ Ah but I call it love~” a bop

Off to a great start, our head’s haunted and our eyes have stopped working. Also the voice in our head started growling when we picked that book up. This is some demonic possession shit

The voice started out so soft and friendly like ‘hey buddy, I’m your friend. Just calm down’ and then it immediately gets pissed when Arthur start asking questions

“I have your eyes” disconcerting

And we murdered our partner… this is a great start to the podcast

Several shenanigans including hiding a dead body and almost killing a guy later

We learn that the thing in our head was sent to Arthur via book, it’s possessing our eyes so we’re dependent on it. There are other worlds caused by the choices each world makes and when a being or world dies it is sent to The Dark World where our creepy new friend is from. A junkyard for realities.

We also learn that it’s 1934 and that Arthur lives in Arkham ma. The same town Lovecraft wrote about….

Catchy little tune from the opening again except… the voice recognizes it and Arthur doesn’t… I’m going to remember that for later

Obligatory: someone else (wearing a white mask the voice recognizes) is after the cursed artifact that we’re in possession of and almost shoots us

Voice reveals that they don’t remember who they are before getting very angry at Arthur for basically trying to be a good detective even though he’s blind now. *Growl*

Oh and the previous tenant of our office left town in a hurry… great!

Oh creepy mask guy knows where we live… GREAT!

The last detective who worked in our office that we got our cases from had a partner who died horrifically… GREAT!!!

And I’m so happy to know that our dead partner Peter (RIP) felt like he was being watched in this creepy house when they were trying to find that dead girl

But at least the voice is nice enough to tell us it’s a sunny day, right?

Nah, he’s suspicious, why did he get so angry when Arthur mentioned not asking more questions about the dismembered dead girl. Why is this important to them?

Hidden bookshelf door!!! 10/10 podcast!!!!

That mural… a mass of black tentacles, wet mouths and writhing goats legs…I kinda want to draw it now

And if there was any doubt in my mind that this was going to be some Lovecraft shit, Arthur name drops The Miskatonic University

What are you, voice? How do you know the mural’s name?

“Arthur, I am not this creature” oh but you’re totally a completely different eldritch horror, aren’t you?

A second more secret, more evil basement

Oh… very bad things are going to happen to us

E2

I agree with Arthur, you got a cult! What are you!

You saying “I have your eyes still” like it’s a threat doesn’t instill confidence!

This conversation with the librarian makes me realize that if this were one of the older cosmic horror short stories, Arthur would be the weird stranger someone meets that kicks off the plot. You meet this guy that walks as if he can’t see but his eyes are clearly assessing everything around him. He leaves long pauses when he talks as if he’s listening for something and once he slips up and calls himself we while asking to see a cursed book on an old god because he’s researching a cult. Our boy is a weird dude and I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets chased by monster hunters in the future.

congrats, you've upgraded to homicide

Wait. waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait! "I can't feel my arm!" "No, but I can" Body Snatcher!

I have a very bad feeling about this new development and Arthur agrees but at least Voice doesn't seem to actually want our body. can't tell whether or not this is foreshadowing.

God I love the conversations that these two have about their situation and the possibility of them switching places. And who tf are you voice?

dice again? why?

out of everything, Accidental child acquisition was not something I was expecting

Are we being chased by goats right now?

That song again! and something terrible happens immediately after

I swear to god if this child is the antichrist I will eat aquarium gravel

E3

"Where's the car?" "All over the place" "And the driver?" "All over the place as well" add vehicular manslaughter to our list of crimes

with the creepy mansion this feels like a ttrpg side quest

Arthur speaks so softly about the baby

dice sounds again? maybe this is a ttrpg. Is it a meta thing and the writers are choosing story beats with them or is it part of the story?

I think this show solved the problem of visual descriptions in podcasts.

Normally a writer has three choices for this 1: make the characters describe their surroundings and appearances of other people which can sound a bit stilted and out of place since sighted people don't do that, 2: choose not to describe anything or anyone unless you have to which feels more real but sometimes means the audience has no idea what's going on, or 3: have the audio show told in something other than first person or present tense (It's a radio show, series of letters, phone calls, there's an omnipotent narrator, ect...)

But with a blind main character and a secondary character guiding them, there's an in-universe reason to describe the scene to us. we can see just as much as Arthur can so the voice is our eyes as well. It's brilliant!

maybe that's why I feel the need to use the word we while talking about this podcast, I feel like I'm inside Arthur's head.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

one of the missing girls was an unnamed immigrant, was this polish family related to her?

This is some spooky ghost shit that I can appreciate

I feel like the choice to free or destroy will have ramifications for Arthur down the line

"I have to hope that any creature can be redeemed" Damn! careful, your insecurities are showing (luv this)

E4

Arthur is very sweet with the baby

probably not a good idea to bring a baby on our horror road trip anyway

Aww <3 he described the baby for Arthur, this is so sweet

This is too relatable. If I accidentally asked for a ride from the wrong truck and the driver said yes I would also get in anyway just to avoid being rude.

I feel like every new episode is just a different horror movie, this one feels like a hitchhiker slasher flick

Maybe the weird gas mask guy is nice actually? Maybe I'm just being too judgemental.

nope he's going to kill us

it's like a bad joke 'Two men who hear voices are on a road trip together'

there are four known fear responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn. Arthur is a fawner, in times of danger he will become so polite that he will follow the serial killer into the creepy basement

first dice and now a coin flip I really hope this series has a Q&A

can he... hear us? is it something about sanity that brings you closer to these monsters? Oops never mind

"We need to get the fuck out of this basement now!" really Arthur? NOW YOUR CONCERNED!

Another Missing girl!

"Arthur, tell that voice in your head that my mother was not a whore" Literal chills

Arthur has been stabbed and Oh the tension is palatable!

Pros to bringing the severed head: We might get some answers. Cons to bringing the severed head: It's a rotting severed head.

Every time violence happens the voice gets very excited by the prospect of murder

Calamity follows these two wherever they go

Well Arthur is dead, that's the end of the podcast

"This too shall pass"

E5

Oh god not another voice. Fuck are we in jail!

Adam Fry

An asylum, if MoonKnight taught me anything it's that this is neither real nor harmless

the door feels oddly shaped... please don't be flesh

Oh that is not a human

"Wait did I tell you my name?" Oh god something was in our head and we just told it exactly where to go and who to find!

"We've been in a coma for over a month" I'm so excited to see how things can possibly get worse than this over the course of the podcast

At least our voice has a name now. Hello John, it's nice to meet you

That song again

Oh no... we're too late...so what killed her

Wait... I actually had to go back to listen to our confrontation with Eddie. Arthur did shoot him but I'm pretty damn sure that John strangling him is what finished the job... what game are you playing here, John?

Between the monster library book, Arthur dreaming of that otherworldly asylum, and these new visions I think that he might be slowly un-tethering from reality. Using these visions is tempting but I think John's right about this changing us. Let's see what the dead girl has to say

fingers

oh it's never good when the creature can see you through your visions

"It felt like he tricked us" "He wanted us to touch her" I am having all the bad feelings

"He can't come through"

"No"

"But?"

"But maybe other things can"

Not much to say about this next part there's a monster chasing our boys and I'm terrified. Good job podcast.

"It looks like foulness"

Ah yes when in doubt pull a Hansel and Gretel

John knows Robert Frost

Dice whenever we find something

We're being hunted, something has seen us, our lead is dead, and we need to find her diary to get some answers lets fucking go!

So far I am LIVING for everything going on here definitely going to keep listening

[theenpcbracket]

Seeding Round: Poll 2

(No images were submitted for these characters)

More about each NPC below the cut!

Character Descriptions are in the order of their appearance in the poll!

Character 1

Name: Skeleton Sam Party: Inconceivable Relationship to party: Traveling Merchant What makes them the best NPC: Skeleton Sam is a living skeletal being that drives a caravan and travels across the different plains selling his wears. He has no interest it typical currency such as gold and instead prefers rarer things like memories, dreams, or person artifacts. Skeleton Sam was willing to make a trade to replace a warlock party member's pact with his own and gave her the pact of the undead. His cart has seemingly endless storage on the inside. Quote: "Be careful with what you give away. You might not miss them now but losing too many memories can change you entirely."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Character 2

Name: Professor Torrin Party: Rigsby Raiders Relationship to party: Party's favorite academic/partner in crime

What makes them the best NPC: Torrin is a gnome man of unknown age and origin. He has a bushy white beard that makes it impossible to see his mouth. He has faked his death 4 times, 2 of which were to hide from the gods cause he pissed off Zeus (again). Torrin is a professor at a university and when one of the PC’s pretended to be a student he realized he was lying but made him do the homework anyways (He got a C-). The man has written nursery rhymes about what a hypocrite Zeus is and LIVED. He has two clowns at any given time. He used to do extreme sports as a young man. Torrin will often say something vague and cryptic and when the party asks for more information he will simply say: “I don’t want to talk about it,” sounding devastated, and the party will drop it. By far the coolest thing about him is that his character was made cause the DM made a funny face and did a bad ‘old man’ voice and the party kept visiting him until the DM was forced to flesh out his character into the most dangerous mortal man alive. He is also queer like most dnd npcs.

Quote: Torrin: "I remember my first amnesia" The Party: "Do you?"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Character 3

Name: Radish Party: Department of Disregard for the Constabulary Relationship to party: Little dude we met someday

What makes them the best NPC: Radish is a little radish with arms, legs, and a face. He runs around a farm owned by a crocodile man and screams. Constantly. Quote: "I'm a security system!"

[turningtummyrubs]

Hii

I'm so glad you are taking requests again! I missed your writing. Can we please get something with your OCs Henry and Lucien? Maybe one of them is feeling really sick to his stomach at an event he tried to get out of but his parents didn't believe him. The other one is the only person who actually notices how unwell he is and tries to take care of him.

Thank you so much in advance if you decide to fill my silly little prompt!!

hi!! so i forgot to mention that i'm no longer really taking requests for my old OCs, just taking ideas to apply to whatever new OCs i choose. totally my fault for not specifying. BUT i still wanted to do something for this prompt, so here's a very (very) loose interpretation of the request with some random people i made up on the spot lol

———

Breathing in through his nose, Sanders hooks his fingers into the chain-link fence and rocks forward into the metal. The chill permeates his fever in a brief zap—dissipates, gobbled up and swallowed. He touches his tongue to the roof of his mouth and suppresses a low burp.

At the rhythmic pound of footsteps, he tilts his head and drawls, “If you leave school premises, you will not be allowed to return unless you repurchase tickets at the entryway of the south parking lot.”

The group of kids bumble forward. One girl, one of Sanders’ students, says, “Are you alright, Mr. Chao? You look…” The trail-off is rewarding, as is the sheepish look on her face.

“Yes, Priya, I’m fine. Move along.” He makes a curt shooing gesture. A boy laughs and grabs her arm. They stumble out into the street.

Sanders shuts his eyes, opens them again, then turns his attention to the gleaming square of the field, where students churn along booths of food and carnival attractions. He checks his watch. At 7:30, he’s meant to man the cornhole station. It’s 7:28.

Sighing, he straightens and makes his way over to the main event. This task mainly involves standing around watching teenagers swear and make jokes about objects and holes, which is what he does for another half an hour, until the low-level discomfort that’s been swelling in his abdomen reaches a crest and he’s forced to make a quick break for the bathroom.

There are porta-potties set up along the perimeter of the carnival, but Sanders will be damned if he takes a chance on one of those. Grabbing his key card from the back pocket of his pants, he taps it to the reader and slips into the dark empty school. The change in environment is refreshing—no more butter-thick air and screaming children—but it does little to detract from the pain in his gut.

He strides for the nearest staff bathroom and flinches back when, upon flinging open the door, he finds Rufus White, the freshman English teacher, pissing in the urinal. Eyes wide, Rufus yelps and zips up his pants in a clumsy rush. “Oh my god. Sandy, what the fuck.”

“Why didn’t you lock the door?” Sanders demands.

“No one else is supposed to be in here!”

“I wasn’t using one of those Godforsaken porta-potties!”

“Neither was I!”

“Jesus…” Sanders slides a hand across his forehead wearily. “Look, this didn’t happen. It’s fine. Get back to the carnival, please.”

Rufus looks at him funny. “I’m not penciled in for another twenty minutes.”

“Lucky you. Get out.”

“Are you okay?”

“Rufus.”

Rufus just continues staring at him until a soft wet rumble emerges from the caverns of Sanders’ belly. It echoes in the silent dimness of the bathroom. Rufus’s eyes move down, then back up again. “Oh, dude, you should’ve said.”

Sanders rolls his eyes and pushes past him, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. The toilet water is blue with disinfectant, and as he inhales, he catches an acerbic antiseptic whiff. His nose wrinkles.

To his chagrin, Rufus locks the door behind them and comes to crouch by Sanders’ side. Rubbing a hand up Sanders’ back, he says, “Do what you gotta do, man.”

“You don’t have to be here.”

Rufus doesn’t say anything, just staring at him with that big friendly face.

Sanders sighs heavily and leans forward, another unsettling noise rising up from his intestines. He palms the area and feels irregular vibrations—short rough bursts of matter moving through his system. Eyes fluttering shut, he stifles a burp into his forearm, then groans weakly.

“Are you gonna actually throw up or what?” Rufus asks.

Sanders levels him with a glare. “It doesn’t just happen.”

“It does for me.”

“That’s because when you throw up it’s because you’ve eaten three large pizzas and a loaf of garlic bread.”

“Well, what did you eat?”

“A—a corndog—oh fuck.” Sanders clambers forward and heaves into the toilet, the memory forcing it back up. Half of the slurry is thin as water, acidic, and the rest is composed of thick chunks of meat and soggy bread.

“There ya go,” Rufus says with a grin, thumping Sanders on the back. “You’re doing great.”

Between retches, Sanders reaches back and digs his nails into Rufus’s thigh. His head empties out and fills with static, like someone inserting a mass of bees into his skull via syringe. The bridge of his nose pulses with a dizzying ache.

Rufus makes a sympathetic noise and wraps an arm around Sanders from behind, tucking his hand up and into Sanders’ shirt and pressing on his lower belly. Two meaty fingers encircle Sanders’ navel, over and over—a slow warm slide. The tiniest addition of pressure has another gush of vomit splashing into the water, and Sanders squeezes his eyes shut further, curling imperceptibly around the contact.

Once he’s done puking, he flushes the toilet with a limp hand and remains slumped on the floor. The back of his throat is slick with oil and fat, and those greasy substances bloat up his belches, rendering them viscous as they spill from his mouth. He presses a thumb to the center of his forehead and inhales slowly.

“Still churning pretty bad,” Rufus murmurs, moving his hand from one section of Sanders’ stomach to another to another.

Sanders shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t know…” The top of Sanders’ belly remains tender and firm, but lower down, his clammy flesh moves noticeably against Rufus’s palm, swelling and rumbling in certain places before capsizing like a black hole. The gentle massage of any of these rumbles results in a spasmodic tightening of Sanders’ abdominal muscles, and then a similar ripple of mixed pain and relief on his face.

“I have to get back to—to cornhole,” Sanders murmurs, head lolling onto Rufus’s shoulder.

“They can find someone else.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, a fucking PTA mom or something.”

Exhaling a breathy laugh, Sanders relents.

[prettyflyshyguy]

Alright Season 3 lets give it up for season 3 everyone.

Cannot believe this show left me on "How do you know what you brought back it 100% pure Sam?" and I just said to myself

GODDAMN

and then just didn't watch S3E1 for three days

Anyway. Liveblogging spn while I work tonight. We're bringing back the old days where I did this with x files if any of you remember that LMAO

Kicking things off with a bang (and me trying to not post too many rambles about a stupid tv show, so I'm conglomerating my thoughts into big posts instead)

we have S3E1 - The Magnificent Seven

Love this show's deep appreciation for full black contact lenses MWAH

cheffs kiss

Sorry I know I should be focusing on the evil demon smoke going to infect whatever city this is but like. Do you guys actually genuinely have flags out the front of your houses like this for real

Like really. Do your houses really have flags like that.

OH YEAH BABEY SEASON 3 GOT AN INTRO STING GRAPHICAL UPDATE!!!!!!!!!! NICE

He is SO concerned

No one is giving me practical effects like this show is and I'm living for this

I WISH there was more of a scene in australia cause god I'd work as a prop maker for a living if it was a viable career to do more horror aligned stuff here.

They've spiced up the camera work this season and it is FUN!!!!

These two are great I hope they're gonna be regular supporting characters PLEASE

Highly entertaining seeing Dean's superpower of "Flirt with woman successfully" actually used as a utility (bonus points because it's making him uncomfortable)

RARE HAT-LESS BOBBY SPOTTED

Oh.

Absolutely visceral death, but a real damn shame because these two were cool :(

This show has no right just putting jokes like this right after a scene like THAT.

These dickheads are far too fun to be a one off PLEASE

Australian chanting

FOIGHT FOIGHT FOIGHT FOIGHT FOIGHT!!!!!!!!

Alright that was a fun way to start a season. Nice recap. I get it. It'dved been a while since it last aired. I like shitty pissed off Sam a LOT.

Are you tired of being nice Sam? Don't you just want to go apeshit?

Round 2 Electric Boogaloo with S3E2 - The Kids are Alright

Starting strong once again with a callback to Victorian worksafe ads!!

(Victorians know.)

Love that Sam inherited NONE of the lying genes in the family

I'm sorry you cant make the comment "as many as I can squeeze out" (EUPHAMISM) and then immediately smack me in the face with a fucking GUMBY REFERENCE?????!!!!!!!!!

Fuck off I hate this show. Fuck you dean you stupid piece of shit

A FUCKING

GUMBY REFERENCE (how many of you know what that is LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO)

Look I get it, I do, but c'mon he looks so fucking awkward getting cake while these two women are talking about the explicit details of his prior intimate experience with Lisa from 8 years ago

Like what the fuck did they DO to illicit a reaction as intense as these two women are giving

No I will not suspend my disbelief for the running gag No I'm not taking this too literally NO i don't have a problem with interpreting jokes

The closeup of Dean's face as his brain was doing the dialup tone killed me, then immediately PANIC but don't drop the cake (SAME)

Anyway. Lisa I love you. You're amazing. Please be done justice by this show. Please.

Need you all to know I go through hell (HAR HAR) to watch this show

And I thought my conversations in cafes sounded unhinged to bystanders (LITERALLY had some old dude tell me and a friend we were weirdos as we minded our own business drawing horror art in a cafe hgakjrhgkagh)

HATE that my brain just went "NOT THE SARAN WRAP SKIN" (we don't call it that. Next I'll start pronouncing things more wrong than I already do)

Not the white DS Lite!!!!!!!!

Remember this kid you bullied in highschool? This is them now

Oh this show doesn't pull punches and it has some NICE shots

Anyway bye Lisa I love you I hope you come back soon :(

the running gag of bizarre interior décor hotel room never ceases to entertain me, I'm like a small child

Anyway

ran out of room for more images on this post so. Who knows maybe I'll fuck off or I'll do a part 2 tonight we'll see

[thebahwrites]

TG ‘86/TGM  Leverage AU in which Mav and Ice are the only remaining members of the old squad but then a new insane job that involves destroying a huge corporation that’s killing a small town or something like that comes along and they need a new team, so Ice gets his ~old contacts Cyclone and Warlock into finding them a team of proper ~~experts~~ to team up with Mav again.

Character ramble under the cut but I’m just, shakes fist, THINKING SO HARD ABOUT THIS. Just this heist team-found family shenanigans of old criminals putting a wholeass team together and them becoming family.

And then we get, of course: - Iceman as the mastermind/the brain. Ice Cold plans, no mistakes. Maybe he’s not as insane as Mav but his plans? Flawless. - Maverick as the partner-in-crime/master criminal, of course. Man was a CIA cold war spy who simply “disappeared” at some point, never to be found. Became a legend where criminals were concerned. Dead? Alive? Impossible to catch. Some people might even believe he was D.B. Cooper and all. Man is just impossible to catch and does whatever he wants. Too chaotic. (Insert backstory.) - Rooster, Goose’s son*, as the hitter/muscle/brawn/physically trained bastard, the field specialist with a random bunch of skillsets (he plays piano? getaway driver? cook? sing?) that would make him a very decent spy if only he didn’t have a TEMPER, so in general he’s just VERY GOOD at everything else that doesn’t require direct acting or talking too much; *adjacent story with being Mav and Ice’s surrogate son after Goose’s death, etc etc - Hangman as the reckon/spy/grifter, man’s got charm for days, can play any part and has the lightest hands in the business, catch-me-if-you-can type. Nothing gets past him. Watch the hands, not the mouth might be his biggest trick. Getting him into the job? Was a job in itself. Renowned art thief/white collar criminal. Foster kid who got adopted into a rich family and learned how to act the part maybe?  - Phoenix as the thief, safe-cracker, stealth skills to the max, will break in and out of any vault, security code, lock and key. Will get in and out through any vent, limbo skills against safety lasers to the max. Also a proper martial artist. Ex-CIA who wanted to do good but turns out being like that doesn’t really help anyone. - Bob as the specialist. Phoenix’s partner in crime & best friend, the one who maps out the territory, her guy in the chair (and ultimately the team’s). He’s the one who knows the places, schedules, everything there is about their plans. Has NO social skills alright but he’ll have everything memorized to a T.  Don’t put him to directly interact with the targets, though. No sad backstory, he really just decided to Robin Hood the gig after realizing the insurance companies he tested security systems for were absolutely corrupt and screwing up their clients. - Fanboy as, of course, the hacker & gadget guy. The guy in the chair. He’s not the one to draw plans but he’s the one who help make it all happen, is a huge dork and knows way too much not only about pop culture but about pretty much everything culture. IT genius, definitely broke into the Pentagon systems and got himself into hot water. Payback was his saving grace. You know. The weapons specialist/assassin. The nickname comes with a reason. Mellow dude, another former CIA you don’t wanna piss off. The team hopes they don’t need to use his skills but you won’t get a better sharpshooter in the business. He usually sits with Mickey during their assignments and helps him out with the tech prep. - Coyote as the fixer, he didn’t start as Hangman’s partner but they did a lot of work together so they’re happy to be in the same crew together. Not a criminal as his main profession but he’s ‘the guy who knows a guy who knows a guy’, he’s got the inside, the networking, he can sell anything to anyone, knows everyone, is generally well-loved by the underground community. His main job? Family’s pawn shop. Ends up roped in because he cares about Jake and hey, why not. - Halo, Fritz, Omaha, Yale & Harvard as the guest-in-a-while with different needs to fill in. Omaha & Halo as the decoy/bait, being models as their actual job but they’re friends with Hangman! Fritz as another hacker, Fanboy loves him but their styles are just too wildly different so he brings him in when they need extra juice. Yale & Harvard as underground number runners, the counting cards type people that you DON’T wanna piss off, usually they run casinos to the ground and disappear.

Did I think too much about this? Yes. Did I actually think HARD about it? Yes. Am I considering writing? Maybe. If no one else does. I have even more ideas for the 86 crew. ANYWAY. Please don’t look at me.

[lonespektr]

Oct 29th Run Sweetheart Run

Missing women posters

Right out of the gate assuming you didn't see the trailer or get it from the title

A young woc is in HR ( who's also black guy) is reporting something fucked up HR says hey sistah are you heard right, take the hit and get a good letter of rec but ok if you really want to report it we have to be...careful about our approach

Pan to the oh so subtle, all female secretaries taking calls for the all white man names

Our heroine is called "sweetheart" by her boss who calls later pissed. She apologized for reporting the creep and he assures her no its not that and the creep is fired!!! But she fucked up something else a double booking! She doesn't know what the boss is talking about but instead of chewing her out further there's a kind of..promotion??

Why don't you go the client dinner? You double booked me, but the client just needs hand holding

All this whilst creepy men are being creeps on the bus so clearly not getting paid enough to afford a car

It was weird on the bus the guys seemed oddly like conspiratorial in their creeping like they were in on it together

She's a single mom

Bestie provides not only emergency baby sitting but a wow wow red dress a compromise is made with a very beige very professional, trench coat

Exceedingly bashful European does the kiss kiss at the door

Blood spot yikes period leaking how embarrassing

The house looks like a fucking museums

Once again another this woman knows more than you and man talks like he knows what

Random dog goes bat shit (animals always know)

And he goes batshit

And SHE apologizes for a strangers dog

He says he was bit by a dog in childhood. They are basically on a date now????

Is roller skating appropriate for a client

They haven't talked shop once but the boss said don't bother, now she's kissing the client going inside after saying she had to get her kid

Ummmm

There's a weird bit with. 4th wall break he looks and the camera and music stop abruptly and the audience is left outside the door completely unclear how much time passes but she burts back out the front door mascara running panicking

Neighbors see her screaming, and ignore her

Finally blocks two white women call the police begrudgingly they book her for public intoxication

Survivors aren't believed ✅

Sex worker with a heart of gold gets her to share her sob story then flips a lid and wants out of the cell saying the woman's clock was ticking that guy she met was bad news and women have died access if she can get to the First Lady she might make it and good luck lil girl

Cops are on the take and let the guy in her cell it's all very too super villain when it doesn't have to be cause he's just a connected rich guy

But full sicko the rich guy let's her out and says he is going to stalk her and hunt her through the night

She takes a cab from a seemingly one not shitty dude left alive to her bosses house

The sex worker lady did tell her not to go home and the creepy guy said he would follow her, it stands to reason she doesn't want the guy tracing her back to where her kid lives AND if the cops are on the take she needs another rich powerful white man as a shield

In true millennial fashion she doesn't know any of her numbers. I sure as hell fucking don't , they are in my phone 🤷🏾🤷🏾🤷🏾 should I remember at least one? sure! Do I? Fuck no I got dyscalculia when I'm stressed I forget MY number

Anywhoo me boss is very rude to his wife despite saying mostly the right things he still says "sweetheart" and the wife is giving off battered woman vibes, keeps making hi signs

How are you so rich your office has a bathroom

She is clearly a smart cookie and checks bosses laptop there's no hard evidence but she sees she didn't double book the calendar and she is booked for something under TITHE she checks the calendar for TITHE and it's the creepy guy with all women meetings that's enough for her she books, the boss follows it clear he is trying to run her down

She's in the wifees old woman onzie fucking ha I really like the intrusive title cards that shout RUN and then the music picks up

So far the public transport drivers are the heroes of this a bus driver lady picks her up for free I mean she's clearly bleeding from the head (still) and there's white guy clearly chasing her

The fourth wall camera breaks pull us in as unwilling co-conspirators in the mess we are in on it we are hunting her too we are the creepy man

This is the second time I have seen it in these types of films and when I say it's absolutely necessary

They are doing something weird with the menstruation the wife said he can smell her blood and she's been outta tampons

Another reasonable guy intervenes kinda when the creep catches up to our heroine (who is trying to buy tampons) he fires off a warning shot but then backs down as the creepy white guy is rich and ...a clear lunatic but it's enough distraction for her to

She calls the shit x from the bus drivers phone

He's still shit

They are conveniently under a hyper sexualized Billboard

He demands answers before taking her anywhere, she finally fesses up and he goes machismo and says he's going get the guy but they go to the ex house who is fucking her best friend

Turns out ex is swanky and accomplished business man of types lives in a nice house the ex bestie is about to say no way until she sees the state of her and it's all girls club and the man is the odd man out girls support girls

The tv is playing a classic slasher where women are brutalized a clear commentary on these types of films

The ex boyfriend apologizes for blaming her for the incident and says of course he was being an idiot

It's nice they establish simultaneously the fear of Schrodinger's rapist men around every corner but not also saying all men are trash to hell with them it's a nuanced depiction of men while still establishing the patriarchy is overwhelming

Tarot reading

He follows her to the ex house

The whole family is there and tooled up they are going to kick this guys ass and they tell Cherie and a younger relative to hide

But he kills them all

Dance number

WHOA OKAY(just went into supernatural ) he's literally like a monster he ripped the ex head off

RUN

he gets hit by a car (because he's in the middle of the street like an idiot)

She tosses a soaked tampon on a moving truck

Enough time for her to run as he chases a false lead post car accident

Now there's something odd at a church he's ...doing mind tricks..it act entirely clear there is obviously a shape-shifting element but...maybe he just shape shifted after he walked the priest on the head

Real priest isn't dead and catches him one so she can ditch

Another outfit change after a bleach wipes bath ouch

Some body horror whoop I thought she was gonna put that bleach wipe up her hootch

Another clothing swap

And another save by women in the secret underground party to the rescue

She FINALLY calls the First Lady (the number on the missing women posters) and gets a ride

He literally wrecks the car off the freeway he's fully ready to end the chase cause he just car wrecked a car full of bio science majors who were going to change the world

He actually does hate dogs a dog just walks up and he takes off

Think the dog is a girl

He may be allergic to sunlight

The lady is a secret spa with secret women club and she's putting her blood down a bunch of city drains clearly a full scale operation

Vague references to angels and demons maybe been on earth for a long time but maybe so has the first lady

But they don't work for free they want her to be bait to kill him

You don't own me 🎵🎶🎼🎵

But she is gearedup in a gi

And there's a plan

That she is perfect for because she is the ultimate final girl, nobody else has made it to near sunrise

For someone obsessed with her blood he's a priss

About getting it on his tan suit

The throughline here is that the patriarchy serves to keep smart talented women underfoot

And ego is always a mans folly

Now she has hold of the camera and instead of the careful cutaways they have been doing to avoid the violent porn they do not cut away (very much) from his gruesome death

The ending is a a guard dog / nanny dog because pits were originally considered a nanny breed

And her going home to her baby

Adorable dk brown baby

That's it baby cute the end