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#or however that audio goes
bambeebirdie · 1 year
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I saw this one post a while back (the post) that was someone’s au idea where Dick Grayson joins the Justice League instead of Bruce. This makes everyone kind of think Batman is a myth and then one day he reveals Batman is his dad freaking everyone out. Just this idea but also make it a superbat fic so nightwing traumatizes the league by revealing Batman to be his dad and Superman traumatizes nightwing by becoming his step dad.
Essentially it’s just this
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runaaur · 7 months
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realized that Rayla doesnt have Runaan's bowblade in the new screenshots. tdpo what the fuck.
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moonbounds · 8 months
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lowkey died and then “Sleeping Next To Your Alpha Werewolf” drops and the butterflies send enough electricity through my body to keep me kicking for a thousand lifetimes and harness the power of Thor
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ice-palace-art · 1 year
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If i ever get around to listening to Castle audios (im very close to caving) i will do what i do with redacted and make the couples only queer couples.
Redacted is a mlm/nblm universe while Castle is a wlw/nblw universe
Cishet? Whats that? Never heard of her.
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nephyria · 8 months
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eh. eht! I just get the feeling that sometimes when ppl say “destigmatize [Condition]” they do not actually know what a stigma is and in fact are just looking up How To Not Mis-ID Some Poor Un[condition]ed Bystander And Actually Target The REAL [Condition] Freaks So We Can Stig All Over Them
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necodrop-archive · 1 year
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Me @ white country men irl: UGH. SO UGLY. Why are you showing me this vile creature from the depths of the underworld
Cartoon country men: OH! SUCH A BEAUTIFUL AND WHIMSICAL CREATURE! SO CUTE! MY HEART IS FLUTTERING
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cassandralexxx · 1 month
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jump scare is blocking a guy you know irl on TikTok bc his posts are… something. And then he creates a new account and you can see them again
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velvetures · 8 months
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Got Me Snoring
A/N: One of my favorite things inspired by all the Ghost/König cosplayer TikToks using that one, song audio. Summary: Ghost admits getting head is boring. Reader isn't happy with that idea and goes about changing his mind. T/W: NS/FW 18+ Only, blowjobs, deepthroating, size kink if you squint, spit?, cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and it's been a long ass time since I've written full-on smut.
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“All I’m sayin’ is that if she calls again, I’m not about to answer.” Soap’s voice carried from the living space of the hotel room to the kitchenette where you stood microwaving some rice from a convenience store down the street.
After-mission talk always leads to the most strange conversations. Maybe the adrenaline or the high of getting almost killed got everyone in a talking mood. However as the Captain slid behind you to go grab more ice outside in the hallway, you couldn’t help but shoot him a questioning look. They’d been talking about their previous accomplishments and failures in the bedroom for nearly twenty minutes, and thankfully they’d not roped you into the ridiculous conversation but with the Captain leaving out of the room, it drew their eyesight right to you standing patiently for your instant rice to finish cooking.
“What about you, huh?” Gaz was the one to poke a little. “Have any horror stories from the bedroom?” His eyebrows raised in mischievous curiosity as all three men sat staring at you with great intent.
“I’ve faked it plenty of times.” You reply offhandedly, waving a hand at them and going back to staring at the small plastic cup rotating around in the microwave.
You overheard the men pass through the moment of silence with low laughs, most noticeably, Ghost. Who’d apparently found something very funny and decided to grace everyone with the sound of deep and resounding chuckles. With a gloved hand, you take out your food and rejoin them in the room, finding a spot on the corner of one of the beds and crossing your legs to hold the bowl while you watch and listen to more of their recounted stories.
Soap complained more about the one night he’d met up with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and drank himself into oblivion to try and ease his nerves. The only problem was, that when he finally had enough liquid courage to make a move, he couldn’t get it up. Even watching him recount the tale now, you could see his embarrassment. You couldn’t imagine just how beautiful that woman had to be for Soap to give himself whiskey-dick so bad that to this day he regretted the memory and undoubtedly wished he could take it back. Gaz got pressured into retelling the story of the woman he met in Russia just for you since you’d never heard it; Detailing just how she’d been absolutely obsessed with him right from the get-go.
She couldn’t stop fawning over his accent and just how downright good-looking he was. Gaz on the other hand felt very embarrassed and never really tried to take things further on that trip. Fortunately for him, on a trip back a few months later for pleasure, he ran into the woman again and this time around she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Soap and Ghost laughed, poking fun at how utterly exhausted Garrick was when he met up with them in London. His shit-eating grin was more than enough for them to surmise that his little Russian vixen had taken him for a hell of a ride.
Then there was Ghost.
He didn’t have much to say in the way of his own successes, but did share one or two small comparisons with the other two as they kept pulling out detail after detail about the many people they’d met over the years and how they either felt they’d left their mark… or totally fucking missed it. All of it came to a very interesting topic that you suddenly became very interested in when Ghost uttered one single statement that left your mouth hanging open and staring at him almost in disbelief.
“I don’t like someone blowin’ my cock,” his voice sounded flat. Totally unbothered and nearly sleeping at the idea. “Never cared much for it when half doesn’t fit.”
You couldn’t help but insert yourself into the conversation after a long hour or so of sitting like a viewer at a movie. “Wait a second… You mean to tell me you don’t like getting head because you're too big?” The gasp in your tone was obvious, and even Soap and Gaz looked at him a little strangely as if they didn’t truly believe the idea either. It gave you a bit more reassurance in your belief that almost all men enjoyed it. Sure, there was the odd chance that Ghost just didn’t like it at all, but you really wanted to hear his explanation if he’d give you one.
The Lieutenant turned to look at you and nodded stiffly. “Yeah, ‘bout always puts me to sleep.”
It was at this point you felt the slightest urge to tell him he’d never had someone give him a legitimately good blowjob before. But before you could even say something to the contrary, a thought crossed your mind. Ghost didn’t seem like the kind of man who attracted ill-experienced women. Especially when he had already proven throughout the evening that his previous encounters were much more interesting and expansive than even that of yourself. Something a bit… jealous rose inside of you at the thought.
Imagining your Lieutenant laying on his back and hardly making any sort of sound while someone pulls out every single trick in their arsenal to make a blowjob somewhat entertaining or arousing. You didn’t necessarily profess yourself to have a crush on Ghost, due to just how grey the line between operators and anything felt when you spent so much time together under high-stress environments. There was bound to be some level of emotional attachment that devolved past… professional. And for whatever it was, knowing that Ghost had such a bad opinion on the receiving end of pleasure became a challenge you wanted to overcome.
About that time, Price returned with half-melted ice and a half-smoked cigar hanging between his lips.
“Finished talking about chasin’ tail yet?” He grumbled, walking past the group of you still sitting around each other like a bunch of kids getting caught staying up late by Dad at a sleepover. “Wanna go to fuckin’ sleep.”
He dropped the ice bucket down on the dresser with a little thud before settling himself down on the pull-out couch with his hat covering his eyes and both arms resting behind his head with that cigar still puffing smoke rings into the air. Ghost was the first to stand up, making his way out of the hotel room without as much as a comment about when he’d be back or where he was going. Your eyes trailed over his shoulders tapering into a slim waist before giving way again to thick and muscular thighs enhanced by all of gear still strapped to his body. His kit did leave a lot to the imagination. And god did your mind start to wander as both Soap and Gaz began winding down, settling themselves down to sleep for the night or at least lay somewhere quietly so the Captain didn’t lose any more of his patience and kick someone out or force them to pay for their own room. Not nearly tired enough with all of the questions and thoughts about Ghost now floating through your mind, you didn’t care the least bit about laying down or pretending not to care about the fact of the matter and headed out of the hotel room after the Lieutenant as Soap turned out the final lamp in the corner of the room.
The air was a bit cold outside without your jacket, breath materializing in front of you in light wisps of fog with every exhale as you looked down both ends of the hallway hoping to see some sign of where Ghost might’ve gone to. Down on the far left side, a larger cloud of smoke blew past the breezeway entrance and you knew right away that Ghost would be at the end of it. And when your eyes peeked around the corner, you weren’t the least bit surprised to see him with a shoulder resting up against the wall; his back to you with enough of his mask pulled up so that he could smoke a cigarette. The sweet vanilla and cherry smell hit you like a wall, reminding you that Ghost preferred rolling his own cigarettes and used pipe tobacco instead of buying packs of anything else.
Leaves no trace behind… He’d explained without prompting one night after noticing that you’d been watching him.
“Followin’ me now?” His voice heavy with smoke and unhindered by his mask landed directly on you, not even needing to turn around to know you were the one tailing after him.
“Couldn’t let you freeze to death alone.” You reply with a little smile, taking it as your chance to go ahead and walk -slowly- over to him giving him the privacy to smoke without needing to fuss with keeping his face covered.
By standing just at his back leaning against the wall, he knew right where you were, and it put the weight of conversation on him for the moment. He gave you a gruff sort of sound and took another drag off his cigarette before turning just far enough to offer it to you. You take it from his gloved fingers carefully, licking your lips a little in slight nervousness. This wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a hit, but it was the first time you’d ever actually taken him up on it. Seeing the damp rolling paper on the end made you shiver a little; Hopefully, the cold weather would be a good enough excuse to keep him from recognizing your sudden anxiety around him. Wrapping your lips around it and inhaling, you’re a little more than guilty for noticing the taste of Ghost instead of the vanilla and cherry. With a quick glance to your side, you saw his mask was pulled back down over his mouth and his dark eyes were focused right on you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth and back in through your nose. Attempting to hand it back, he just shakes his head.
“You didn’t come out here to be cold,” He finally broke the silence. “What’d you really want from me?”
No matter how long you spent around Ghost, you never got used to just how miserably direct Ghost could be. Like nothing was truly surprising to him or worth being the least bit delicate over. Even if it concerned someone -like yourself- at least attempting to be a little more discretionary. Yet you sighed and took another drag before tossing the rest of it down on the concrete, putting out the ember with the toe of your boot.
“Were you lying earlier?” Your question falls a little short of confident, giving Ghost the impression right away that you were nervous. For a split second, you thought you saw the phantom of a smile under the cover of his mask before it was quickly hidden back under late-night shadow and white paint. Ghost put his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and gave a sigh, making more fog swirl around and through the woven material around his mouth. Another thought of what his mouth looked like flashed through your failing mind.
“Why would it matter?”
You licked at your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to word this without sounding desperate or downright shameless in front of your commanding officer… you shouldn't be thinking about doing this in the first place. So many more bad outcomes could come of this than the one good one. Even then, it was risky. Leaving you a bit dazed and staring at Ghost.
“Asked you a question. I’m expectin’ an answer.” He pressed forward, a slight swagger in his hips as he got closer to you, resting a hand on the wall and tilting his head a little to the side. Damn near mocking you for being so much smaller and easily intimidated. You look down at your boots for a moment, deciding to just put your money where your mouth is and take the hit no matter the outcome.
“If you weren’t lying…” You look up, internally screaming at how heavy his eyes look down on you. “I’d like to try and change your mind.”
A deep chuckle comes from the Lieutenant in response followed by his heavy hand resting on your shoulder, almost totally engulfing it.
“You’re jokin’,” His voice lowered with humor that made you almost shrivel up and die inside. “Why would I let you do that?” You give a frustrated sigh and take a step back away from Ghost. Mentally and physically distancing yourself from the slight Ghost had given you by accident or otherwise.
“Never mind.” You give a short nod and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel room and find somewhere to curl up on the floor or in a bed with someone and try to sleep off your damaged ego.
Yet five steps away from Ghost, you’re stopped short with his arm snaked around your waist tightly and his mouth resting against your ear with a heavy and hot breath fanning against your neck. His palm spreads over your stomach and squeezes almost aggressively at the soft flesh under your shirt. Tall and wide, Ghost yanks your back flush to his chest as a silent threat.
“Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me,” His low growl makes you shiver. “I’m not finished with ya.”
In an instant, you’re spun around and hauled aggressively with your back against the nearest wall with Ghost’s chest holding you from fighting back. His legs limit your ability to try and escape out from under his arms, and while one hand is flat against your chest, the other restricts both your wrists above your head. Breath evacuates your lungs with the sudden shock of your back against the wall, but your eyes are locked on Ghost’s as he glares at you harshly through the wavering mist of his breath in the cold air.
“Now I’ve got you pacified…” His smirk was clear in tone, outright mocking you by pressing those massive thighs tighter against yours. “Let’s continue shall we?” The gloved hand pressed against your heaving chest slides up to grasp firmly at your chin and jerk it up to look him in the eyes.
“Why don’t you be a good little thing and tell me why you think you could change my mind, and maybe… I won’t punish you for talkin’ shit to your superior officer.” He spat loudly, his face less than an inch from yours, eyes flaming with aggression.
“Sorry Lieutenant…” You mutter stiffly through the struggle of his hand against your jaw. “Thought I could do better.” You add a lot weaker, averting your eyes as far from Ghost as you can.
“What was that?” He made dark fun of you, terribly obvious, and downright happy with himself. “Say it again.”
You squirm in his grasp, only to get your wrists slid up higher on the wall and a thigh shoved between your own to lift your feet almost totally off the ground. Toes tapping the ground, Ghost holds you totally of his own power without the slightest effort needed to keep you held right where he wanted you to be.
“Thought I could do better.” You repeat yourself louder, and more clearly, feeling utterly stupid for enduring such pathetic treatment. Only you knew it was your fault for letting such a pipe dream of an idea come to reality by prodding Ghost about his sex life so confidently. The masked man hummed lowly, tilting his head as he inspected your face lighted only by a small sliver of moonlight creeping around the corner of the hallway.
“Better, huh?” Ghost chuckles darkly, this thumb tracing over the bottom curve of your lip carefully. “That’s a lot of confidence for someone so small.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Size has nothing to do with it.”
Ghost barks laughter, grumbling something under his breath before dropping his hand away from your jaw and releasing one of your hands to press against his groin. You can’t miss his meaning from the massive erection pressing back against your hand and twitching impatiently when your Lieutenant squeezes your hand around it tighter. A growl escapes his throat and he looks up at you with almost evil eyes.
“Still think size doesn’t matter, little one?” He questions, one eyebrow raising above the hemline of his mask.
Your mouth falls open in shock. Not only because of the sheer girth of Ghost’s cock pulsing in your hand but realizing that he was actually taking your proposal seriously no matter how aggressive his mockery of you was. It shouldn’t have been so damn surprising when taking into account just how large of a man Ghost is. Surely everything would be proportionate, and his erection was proof of it.
Your face is enough to make Ghost chuckle. “That’s what I thought…”
It’s enough of a dismissal that thaws your speechlessness and throws you right back into the present with enough of the guts to speak up for your own desires.
“I can do it,” You blurt breathlessly, fingers tracing along the curve of Ghost’s dick and earning a lusty growl from him. “I can make it good. I’ll make it fit.” You nod your head feverishly in an attempt to keep your chance open. Ghost’s eyes widen at your desperation and his cock twitches hard in your palm with the sound of your shallow breaths and pleading eyes.
“You want it, huh?” He questions, mask moving like he’s grinning under it.
“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”
The moment his hands release you, you feel yourself sliding down the wall until your knees make a bruising thud against the concrete floor in front of Ghost. Your hands holding on his thighs without the slightest care that you were standing in the middle of a hotel breezeway where anyone could see you. A weight settled in your lower stomach with the idea of anyone coming out of their room and witnessing such a sight.
“My belt.” Ghost instructs a bit pinched, looking down at you with his chin almost touching his chest.
You’re frantic yet shaking as your hands slide up his thighs and begin pulling his belt loose, hearing that metallic clink as you pull the two sides apart with a watering mouth. No instruction is necessary for you to know where to go next, and as you unbutton his cargo pants, your free hand palms his cock as you pull down just enough of his waistband to expose him but not make him cold. Ghost’s hands help just a little, settling extra material where he prefers it, almost patiently holding up his own hoodie and t-shirt out of your way as you slid your hands under his boxers.
“Fuck…” Ghost mutters quietly, tensing when your fingers wrap around his base and free him from his underwear.
Your thumb smears over his swollen head soft enough to not make him jerk away with sensitivity, and you lick your lips at just how wet his cock already is from sheer anticipation. Hell, you were turned on too, practically dripping in your underwear at the sight of Ghost with nothing but a perfect dick exposed and ready for your mouth. The first lick is a teasing one. Flattening it over his head just because you couldn’t wait to taste him, gathering up his arousal, and making it a point to swallow with your eyes locked right on Ghost’s. You're certain it’s enough to affect him just by the way he grunts and rests both of his hands against the wall behind you to steady himself.
When your lips wrap around his tip and slide down towards his base slowly, you hollow your lips and suck hard. Almost mimicking drinking through a straw with both hands wrapped around his thick base to restrict blood flow, adding to his sensitivity. You feel his feet flex in his boots next to your thighs and another low grunt. It spurs you forward, sinking down further and massaging your tongue on the underside before raising back up to lick at his frenulum and repeating the process with quiet whines each time he’s unable to hold back some sound.
“Shit-” He hisses after no more than a couple of minutes, jerking his hips back away from you and moving your hands out of the way so he could tighten his own fist around his cock with a heaving chest.
He stays like that for a few moments, undoubtedly trying to stave off the pleasure you’d been giving before his eyes meet yours again and they’re downright hungry and raging with fury that you’d brought him so close without any extra fancy moves or those fake moans that porn always showed. With one quick movement, he stepped closer and tilted your head back until it gently rested against the wall behind you, his cock smearing your own spit and his arousal over your open and awaiting mouth.
“You look pretty like this…” He muttered, rubbing his length over your face and tapping it teasingly against your mouth. “You hungry for more?” You’re sticking out your tongue and nodding right away, earning you a tense chuckle and the feeling of Ghost’s dick sliding into your mouth while his hand cushions the back of your head from the wall.
“Let me feed it to ya,” He grunts. “Shove my fat cock in your mouth and fuck your throat..” He adds with a feral sort of sound mixing with an ever-thickening accent.
You moan around his length, feeling your jaw muscles begin to start aching when your nose just barely grazes his pubic bone and his tip touches the back of your throat. He’s thick enough to qualify as the largest you’ve ever experienced, but you’re not the slightest bit concerned about whether he’ll be able to fit. You know he’ll make it fit if nothing else.
And him utterly pounding your throat sounded so hot that you tried pushing further down on his shaft yourself. Eager to feel Ghost as deep in you as possible. Ghost obliges you, and rocks his hips forward slowly, easing his thick head past that ring of pressure at the back of your throat and cursing under his breath when a wet, gurgling sound vibrates around his shaft as you begin swallowing around him.
“Bloody, fuucckk yes…” His groans punch through the quiet air, far louder than he should be risking in such a public space. But he’s only getting started with this experience as your nose presses against his pubic bone, and his hand flattens against the wall.
“So tight… doggin’ me right where anyone can see.”
It’s the thought that had you so eager, and right away you felt just how much it turned Ghost on too. Because the second he said it, he pulled back just a fraction and pushed himself back down your throat, beginning tight and quick thrusts that made your eyes roll back. He kept a furious pace, growling and holding tight to the back of your head until you tapped at the back of his thigh a few times, and he pulled out with a loud grunt, giving you a moment to breathe. You panted, seeing a thick web of spit connecting your mouth and his tip before watching it break and drip down your shirt.
You’re about to tell Ghost… something. But you instantly lose thought of it when he’s bent down with his mask rucked up just far enough to smash his mouth to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth and practically eating you from the inside out. You can still taste the salty edge of his skin, and it’s almost heady to have his mouth mingling with yours and sharing his arousal between soft moans and heavy breaths. The kiss is long and feverish, but not near long enough before he’s standing back up and stroking his fist up and down his cock right in front of you like an unreal kind of dream somehow coming to life.
“Please.” You mutter a bit hoarse from the rough treatment of your throat, totally unsure of what you really want most. Between his mouth, words, and dick there’s so much more than just one you desired, but at least one of them needed to be delivered to you to attempt satisfaction.
“Open up, little one…” Ghost whispers face re-masked already, and it makes you whine pathetically, having naively believed he’d allow you just one glimpse at the mouth you’d just tasted. “Need to have more of you.” You’re totally happy to resign by leaning your head back against the wall with your tongue wetting your lips in the cold air.
Ghost starts painfully slow, holding your head on both sides of your jaw and teasing his head against your tongue and the textured roof of your mouth; indiscernible words falling from his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. You would’ve thought it was nothing more than your Lieutenant just taking his pleasure as offered. But the way his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and his fingers would occasionally rub over the stretched muscles in your jaw gave you the feeling that he was well aware of what you were surrendering to him. As well as how thankful he was to have you on your knees, and looking so fucking angelic swallowing and spitting on his dick like a dirty little whore.
“Let me - Wanna…” His rising breaths and steady strokes begin to falter the longer he thrusts inside your mouth, meticulously avoiding forcing himself deeper in disappointment; resulting in your whining and muffled complaints and pleasure. Had his hands not been purposefully holding you back to prolong the session, Ghost probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.
“P-patience…” His stammer made your chest clench in satisfaction. “Don’t - don’t wanna finish in your mouth…”. That breathy comment nearly struck you stiff as concrete.
You couldn’t believe that after this entire ordeal, Ghost was actually trying to end a blowjob without you finishing it the way you honestly believed it should always end. With you swallowing every last fucking drop that the Lieutenant gave you; wearing a goddamn smile bigger than anyone has ever seen. If he hadn’t been lying and head never impressed him, there wasn’t a chance in Hell you were going to let him finish anywhere that wasn’t down your throat. In a split second, you were shaking your head no and pulling back off his cock with a slight gasp.
“No, finish.” It’s the most demanding and certain you’ve sounded all night. “Finish in my mouth, Ghost.”
His eyes say it all.
They’re wide with his pupils blown at impressive dimensions and his thick eyelashes flutter as his shocked expression forces him to blink over and over again to make sense of you. Mouth and chin covered in spit, on your knees, and literally begging him to come in your mouth.
“Goddamn, you’re so fucking filthy…” He mutters aloud, watching intently as you slide back down over him one more time and begin doing what you wanted to from the very beginning.
Bring Ghost to his knees.
It’s a moment before you have him cursing and holding onto the wall with both hands again as you push deeper and deeper until you're teasing the tip of your nose against him yet again. Unwilling to let him pull you off this time or prolong this. Deserving this release was the bare minimum. Not only did you want to provide him ultimate pleasure where no one else had, but you enjoyed every single bit of it. You needed this as much -if not more- than Ghost.
Heavy and twitching in your mouth, Ghost was teetering on the edge of his orgasm with stuttering hips and one hand sliding down to rest on your head. Not pushing this time, just laying at the crown like your movements were too much to feel with only one part of his body. Short pants were cut short by unintelligible words and strained attempts to say what you already knew.
As if giving your final approval of the idea Ghost had found unacceptable, you push him as deep as you could one final time; Hearing his loud shout echo down the breezeway as both of his hands grabbed harshly onto the sides of your head. Pumping stream after stream of his hot release down your throat you moaned deeply, feeling him gently rock his hips against your face as he rode down his high on shaky legs. You gagged a little as he pulled out, feeling your throat begin to burn in an unfamiliar way that had never followed you sharing a moment like this with another man. Only one look at Ghost’s cock right in front of your face was more than enough to reassure you he’d just been the one who gave you enough of a delicious stretch to feel for days to come.
Your eyes met his and a small little shy smile crossed your sore lips, contrasting the absolutely deplorable -and punishable- act you’d ever committed with a superior officer. Wordlessly Ghost tucked himself back into his underwear and neglected to button his pants back up before dropping to a knee right in front of you and pulling up his mask again to brush his lips against yours.
“Want to taste,” He whispered ever-so-softly, hands holding your head gently.
“Need to taste me inside your mouth.” He added, licking your lips before closing the distance between you for a second time. This kiss was still intense. Ghost controlling the pace and just how much dominance you had, which nearly came to zero when he licked into your mouth, groaning shamelessly. He could taste his release coating your mouth as he utterly overwhelmed you with kisses, licks, bites, and more moans that fell like honey on your ears.
You were the first to pull back for a gasp of air you’d gone full minutes without, feeling your own mouth and body beginning to feel a little weak with exhaustion not typical of a well-conditioned soldier like yourself. Your Lieutenant took note right away and rested his head against yours reassuringly, his nose touching yours.
“You’re too cold to be out here like this.” He whispered, pulling your cheek affectionately and wrapping the other arm around you. “Not gonna let you freeze after that.” He chuckled a bit sluggishly, kissing you again long and chaste.
He pulled his mask back down and gave very little effort to pick you up off your knees and into his arms without question or hesitation. Leaving you feeling like a treasured prize he’d won and refused to let out of his sight for more than a moment. Safe and protected, you couldn’t care one bit about the cold nipping through your thin clothes and resting your head against Ghost’s shoulder as he carried you back to the hotel room the 141 had already retired for the night in.
Expertly avoiding Soap and Gaz laying on couch cushions on the floor and covered with extra bedsheets, sliding around Price’s bed without bumping it, all while carrying you Ghost sat you down on the edge of the bed he’d been keen to claim as his own right when you’d arrived. You were nearly asleep just sitting there when he unlaced your boots enough to tug them off, pulled your shirt off over your head, and replaced it with one of his hoodies. Finally, he takes off your pants and nods for you to move up to the top of the bed, acting just as he would normally. But as he climbed into the bed next to you and tugged you back against him tightly, you realized you’d gotten a lot more than you bargained for.
Sure you might’ve changed Ghost’s mind about getting head… but you weren’t finished yet. Because Ghost was curling his arm around your waist and burying his masked face in between your shoulder blades like cuddling with you at night was the usual way of things. His fingers innocently traced the waistband of your underwear, and he radiated body heat that melted away the fringe sensations of cold on your body easily.
“I’ve made a decision,” He whispers very quietly so as not to wake the others. And you wiggle back a little closer to him, nodding your head as a silent acknowledgment for him to go on. Expecting him to say that you did -in fact- change his mind about getting blown.
“You’re mine now.”
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Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated
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uzaydenizanasi · 1 year
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Legalize nuclear bombs :3
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vanillabat99 · 1 year
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I've started watching a "Corpse Party" playthrough, and so far it's the kind of thing I've been looking for in horror media!! It fills the content holes that Danganronpa didn't meet!! Downsides so far include:
I think I started with the wrong game, but I can't find any playthroughs of the first game on this particular channel.
Playlist is like 24+ hours total. This will take awhile.
Videos are from 9 years ago and the max resolution is 240p. I suffer.
Game audio is weirdly balanced between music and voice acting, and the video itself is also weirdly balanced between the game and commentary. I cannot win the volume settings battle.
The game text is translated, but the voice acting is not, so I can't put it on in the background and I have to read everything.
All of those things are more technical/personal issues and don't have much of an impact on my enjoyment so far!! If I manage to get through this playlist, I would like to get into the rest of the games as well ^-^
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angelofacidx · 3 months
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Pet
Dark Ghoap x Fem! Reader
CW: Kidnapping, drug mention, violence, death mention.
Johnny had an incredibly easy time keeping himself busy during retirement. There was always something to be done around the house, a new local sport team to join, or an outing he’d convince Simon to humor him on with a bat of his lashes. However, years of military service were not kind to his body. Cleaning the gutters would leave a strain in his shoulder. Bopping around at a shitty punk gig he’d dragged Simon to would wind his muscles tight for days. The nail in the coffin was at his last rugby game, an over compensated move completely throwing his back out.
That was enough for Simon, being the judge and the jury for Johnny’s sentence of doctor ordered bed rest. In the first days Johnny had still tried to keep up around the house, following Simon around and chittering on that he was fine before getting promptly carried back to bed like a sack of potatoes over broad shoulders. He’d fully given up after that point, his little spirit crushed as he laid in bed absently doom scrolling on his phone for hours. That was, before one of your videos came across his screen. Written in the stars by the algorithm.
The video was innocent enough, a ‘Get ready with me’ style set to some cute music which unknowingly doomed you. Thumbs flew across the screen as Johnny tapped on your profile, greedily drinking in your entire post history over the course of a couple hours. His favorites he’d bookmarked and watched over and over again, already memorizing whatever little song you’d picked to go over your video. His heart hammered in his chest and he swallowed a lump in his throat, hovering over the direct message option.
Hello :) Big fan! Do ye think ye could wear that black dress from 20/11 in yer next video? Loved it.
Johnny waits anxiously for your reply and decides to send another message apologizing for coming on strong, only to realize he’d been blocked by his newest little project. With a pout and a sigh he resigns himself to making another account, rinsing and repeating his actions of following you, going through your videos, and bookmarking his favorites. His head is too far in the clouds to even register that Simon had been standing over his shoulder for a minute, watching him.
“Whatcha got there, pup?” Simon’s voice sounds from above, causing Johnny to almost jump out of his skin.
“Jesus! Ye scared me,” Johnny said, placing a hand over his heart for dramatic effect.
When he saw that Simon was still awaiting an answer, he shook his head to rid the jitters.
“A real pretty lass. Somethin’ about her. She’d fit right in.” Johnny said with a dreamy sigh, looking to Simon and trying to gauge his reaction.
Simon’s hand is held out expectantly before Johnny places his phone in his calloused palm. His eyes fixate on the screen as he goes through the videos. He’s right, you’re pretty. His pup’s eyes look as if he’s a child pleading for a new toy at the store and he’s nothing if not a sucker for it. With a resigned sigh, Simon pockets the phone and ruffles Johnny’s hair.
“Bed time,” Simon says with a soft canter to his voice.
Johnny obliges, mumbling good nights and kisses before he’s out cold and Simon makes the trek downstairs to haul himself up on the couch, the room illuminated with Johnny’s phone screen.
You have piss poor internet safety. Simon gathers information quickly, half military training and half having brain cells to rub together. You make it too easy, like you are begging to be whisked away.
A video in your likes about being non contact with parents.
They wouldn’t ask where you were.
A ‘‘jokey” audio about your pet being your only friend
No one would come looking for you.
A video was taken in your work uniform with a name tag and a clock in the background during the shift.
Location and time you’d be on the premises.
Once he was satisfied with his findings Simon trudged back up the stairs, slotting in bed next to Johnny and lazily throwing an arm around him. His pup deserved a playmate while he was down for the count. Someone soft and docile like you to play with. Even if this was a big task, Simon would get what his precious boy wanted.
You’re a lot more bite than bark, and Simon had not been anticipating that. Muscling you into his truck and binding your limbs was easy even with the thrashing, but the deep bite mark blossoming purple and red hurt and he was not patient with disobedient mutts. Your screaming was silenced by a metal cage being strapped to the back of your head, the clasps tugging at your hair and a leather bit in the middle that made drool pool in your mouth and any noises come out hushed and gurgled.
“Really don’t wanna drug ya, love. The side effects are nasty and I’ve already got a pet on bed rest.” The masked man driving the car says, his voice deep and gravely like he’s smoked since he exited the womb.
You resign from fighting pretty early on, not missing the 9mm tucked into his waistband; a silent threat and promise. Instead, you focus on your surroundings out of the window which is mostly trees and fields as he drives out of the city limits and to, well, wherever he’s taking you. You catalog this information and commit it to memory and hold onto the delusion that when you escape you’ll be able to tell the police exactly where he took you and which way you went.
The road he’s driving on takes a sharp left and turns into more gravel and dirt than sleek tar pavement. Down the beaten path you pull up to a house, very unassuming and nice on the outside but you can only imagine the state of the inside. Every horror movie and true crime video you’ve ever seen plays in your mind. The filth, the squalor, chains and sex toys and rotting corpses in refrigerators.
The masked man gets out of the truck first, shutting the door with a surprising amount of care and then opening your side. He grabs the middle of the rope, where your hands are bound, and shuffles you out of the vehicle. When your feet meet the ground you’re tempted to run, but his gun remains front and center in your mind. Dumb idea. He crouches down on one knee then, like a parent getting on their child’s level to reason with them as he speaks to you; his grip still strong on the rope.
“Now, I need you to be good f’me and listen. If you make any fucking noise until I tell you to I’ll break your little jaw right off your pretty face and you’ll be eatin’ baby food the rest of your life. Got it?” He says in a soft tone but with no room for thinking he’s joking.
You nod your hand in understanding, too high on adrenaline and fear to cry even though your throat feels closed off and your eyes and nose sting with that familiarity. He rises to his feet then, unlocking you through the door and pulling you through the threshold. You prepare yourself for the worst but you’re met with the most mundane setting you could imagine. The walls are beige and gray, an accent wall in dark blue. A nice leather sectional couch, flat screen TV a few feet away from it. The place looks…underwhelming.
“M’ home. Just puttin’ the shopping away, hold tight up there in bed.” The man calls up the stairs to god knows who before turning his attention back to you.
He leads you by the wrists into a spare room right off of the living room which at first glance looks just as underwhelming as the rest of the house. A desk with a large dog bed under it, a few paintings on the wall, a book shelf, and a board for darts. When you’re being drug further into the room though, you notice it; a sturdy chain mounted to the wall and attached to a collar with a thick padlock. The leather is engraved with a name: Johnny.
The collar is placed around your neck and locked, gapping awkwardly in the back and ill fitting. The man tries to tug it over your head a few times but is satisfied when it won’t go past your jaw. The numb tingling in your hands draws your attention down to them as you try to wiggle your fingers and get some blood flow back. Survival is not guaranteed but you’re relieved that you’re not on the set of Texas Chainsaw Massacre at least.
You’re guided slowly onto your knees with two strong hands onto your shoulders, until you meet the plush carpet. You look up at him finally, a proper look. His eyes are dark and devoid of emotion, like some sort of a living breathing shell. He’s tall and filled out everywhere, even without the gun you now believe his promise of breaking your jaw more. You’ll have to use wit and gain trust to get out of here; you’ll have to fawn.
“M’ gonna go get my boy and you’re gonna act like you’re over the moon to be here.” He says, taking a step back from where you’re kneeling.
“I don’t like to take in strays and I sure as fuck don’t put up with rowdy mutts. Give me a reason to show you, and you’ll learn real quick darling.” He says, before opening the door and shutting it behind him.
You’re left to your own devices then, chest heaving and eyes darting around the room. With him gone you can finally let your defenses down a little so the tears start to cascade down your cheeks silently. The gag, well, muzzle makes it hard for you to catch your breath as you heave and sputter as quietly as you can. You wonder who Johnny is, the poor soul before you in this position. By the way the collar fit, were much larger than you and still fell at the hands of this man. The thought made bile rise to your throat.
Far away voices and footsteps get closer and closer to the door then as you’re frozen in place kneeling. Your chest rises and falls quickly with each breath before it hitches all together as the doorknob is turned. The door opens, and another man has joined your captor. He’s smaller, a dark mohawk and striking blue eyes. He is absolutely elated to see you, apparently. He’s a blur of moment, on his knees by you in a blink and gathering your tired body into a spine crushing hug.
He turns his head behind him to the mask man with an ear to ear grin, beaming and nauseatingly giggling to himself.
“You didn’t!” He says excitedly, like someone reviving a way too expensive present in a secret Santa exchange.
“Just for you puppy. You’ve been down since your injury an’ I figured I could get you a playmate.” The man says, a hint of a smile in his voice.
He seems to care a great deal about this man with a death grip on you, happy just to see him happy.
The man affectionately referred to as “puppy” buries his nose in your hair, sniffing deeply and letting out a deep shuddering breath. You feel his cock twitch against the outside of your thigh where he’s got himself pressed against you. You’re beginning to think this was the Johnny you were feeling sorry for a second ago.
His hands move up towards your muzzle to undo it but the other man stops him, warning that you’re not properly trained yet and might bite. He whines, but gives a nod in understanding, giving you another rib bruising squeeze.
“Don’t worry lass. We’ll take care of ya’.” Johnny says, planting a kiss on top of your head.
The larger man steps out of the room then, shutting it behind him and leaving you to get accompanied with your new playmate and acclimated to your new home. Hope slowly starts to leave as Johnny whispers promises of giving you pups and never letting you out of his sight.
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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months
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I'm On Your Screens.
Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
Vox's POV of "Get Off My Screen!"
A/N: This is the silly TV man's POV on what I had written earlier since it was mainly just how dear reader saw everything. I wanted to do this before working on the Vox x Reader requests so I could do some practice on this dude's character hahaha. Also my goodness Tumblr you are THIRSTY for this man! Aaaaah I love it anyway so keep those ideas coming people!
Vox is a busy man, dealing with the other two Vees' chaos alongside his company kept his hands full daily.
Either always irate out of his mind or even grumpy because of it.
Velvette called him again because of Valentino making a bloody mess.
Oh great, this shit AGAIN-
Upon further inspection, the moth overlord was pretty much throwing another pissy tantrum because something didn't go his way.
Something about one of his whores stepping out of line or whatever?
Vox wasn't exactly listening.
Throughout that entire fit, Vox had half a mind to tell Valentino to just suck it up.
Sometimes shit goes wayside, it is what it is.
He was already exhausted mentally and physically by the time he dragged himself back into his monitor room.
Plopping himself back down on his chair, Vox let out a tired sigh and just stared at the many screens around him.
So imagine his surprise when he saw a random screen just crackle and fizz like an old CRT booting up.
Hell had done away with those darn things years ago-
He even made sure of it!
He swiveled his chair around to look closer at the fuzzy image that had appeared.
The static filter over the picture was definitely reminicent of an older TV screen.
He could barely make out a group of figures hunched over... something?
Vox tried to travel through the screen, as he could with the many many others in the room around him-
"FUCKING-! OUCH?!"
Only for it to rebound back.
Vox didn't know whether to be confused or surprised that he managed to zap himself.
HimSELF.
Besides that, a random prompt appeared on the screen.
What kind of haunted bullshit was this?
"What's your name?"
Okay, someone had to be pulling a prank on him.
Despite being skeptical, he decided to humor this weird situation.
"Okay-? The keyboard doesn't work. How am I supposed to use this thing? Just write on the screen?"
Despite his sarcastic remark to no one in particular, yes.
That was in fact what he had to do.
Which Vox found out pretty soon, and he felt a little idiotic that it wasn't the first thing he tried.
He had to squint to kind of understand what was happening on the other side of the screen.
He'd written his name on the screen aaaaand-
Great, absolutely nothing happened.
Someone had to be fucking with him.
There wasn't even any audio so he couldn't even use that for hints.
The group he'd been watching just all of a sudden jumped up and pointed towards him.
Or at least that's what it looks like.
Could they see him?
He wasn't even sure what happened next, the group somewhat hastily moved out of his sight.
Oh whatever.
Vox was about to just forget about the weirdness of the situation if something else hadn't popped up on an adjacent screen.
A phone homepage.
What the hell was that doing on his screens?
It wasn't like there was anyone in particular he was interested enough to look through their stuff.
Ohhhh he could interact with it this time.
Dumb fucking hackers could only zap him once, HA!
The screen with the TV filter quickly shut off when he interacted with the phone menu however.
He should really check his mainframe security and firewalls after this-
It took him no time at all to rummage away and scrounge up whatever he could from the phone.
Might as well do away with the tacky wallpaper while he's at it-
"Y/N huh?"
He saw your photos as well, only becoming more and more confused with the situation.
Were you a living human???
The camera app was unresponsive to his attempts at interacting with it.
So was the recording app...
Guess he couldn't use it to spy this time.
Before long, the phone was also being interacted with.
Vox could only guess it was you.
"Oh great- yeah, just go back to using the shitty wallpaper that I switched out on PURPOSE."
It didn't take much longer before Vox noticed other nearby screens popping up with electronic screens similar to this one.
He totally switched back the wallpaper before messing with the other stuff-
It was always the same, the cameras wouldn't work and neither would the microphones.
For a technology overlord, Vox found himself slightly irritated by how limited his actions were.
wtf was he even supposed to do with this?
Once he retired for the night, he wondered if all of this would just go away come morning.
Spoiler alert: It didn't.
Though the tacky wallpaper was back again.
Hm... this could be fun.
This went on for a few days, he and you were switching the wallpapers back and forth.
It was either his face or whatever random shit you'd change it with.
Sometimes Vox would just let you have some peace before switching it back after an hour.
He could only imagine how irritated you were.
Too bad he couldn't hear or see it.
But seeing you constantly battle with him for the wallpaper priority was entertaining enough.
Vox didn't bother with any of your other files or anything else at the moment.
He didn't see the point in doing so yet anyway.
Of course that was until the notepad opened.
"I know you're in there. Stop messing with me."
He chuckled seeing you type out the message, guess the jig was up.
But he wasn't going to stop this game you both were playing just yet.
"Oh I know, you're just fun to mess with doll."
Little did Vox know that his snarky response would've been the start to an... odd companionship to say the least.
Both of you exchanged messages over the months.
Either idle talk or just conversation about anything under the sun.
If something bothered him at work, most likely he'd leave a rant on your notepad for you to find.
Similarly, if you've had a shitty day- he'd quickly know.
"You're obsessed with this Alastor guy huh?"
"No, he's just an old timey prick who keeps fucking up my stuff."
"You're obsessed."
"Fuck you. >:/"
Interacting with you ended up taking more of his free time and the other Vees would be confused why he spent so much more time in his monitor room.
Vox just brushed them off and rolled his eyes.
He wasn't attached.
He didn't actually care for you did he?
Yeah no absolutely not-
There was a point Vox did get bored enough to look into your files though.
He spent a good hour sorting through stuff while you got work done.
"You should really label your files better."
"It's not that bad."
"Really? After I spent a good while organizing and managing your shit because of some randomly named ones? A goddamn 'thank you' would've been nice."
"Random? I don't do random."
"Oh yeah? What's this one? 'Yeetus' or this one- 'Bababooey'?! Hell, this one is just keysmash!"
"Oh shut up, I still find my things."
"HOW????"
Vox proceeded to rant and bitch about it for another hour-
Sometimes when he just wanted to fuck with you, he'd steal control of the cursor.
It was purely just to spite you.
Your notepad rants afterwards kept him entertained.
He was slightly proud that he beat your wallpaper war.
Or so you dubbed it.
Now his grin was practically a permanent plaster on your devices.
Even so, when he wasn't busy Vox sometimes found himself looking over at your work.
"How is your grammar this shitty?"
"We have grammarly for that, I don't really care much."
"Grammar- what??"
Inadvertently he ended up being your spellchecker every so often.
He only realized how much help he'd been giving once you mentioned in passing that your English professor bumped up your grade.
Why?
Because your writing was just better.
Correction-
Vox's writing was better.
He wouldn't let you hear the end of it for weeks.
You knew it was a mistake telling him.
He didn't even stop his trolling there.
Once he figured out how to overload your computer's memory, it was lag central.
Then he started messing with the display and aspect ratio, making visual glitches while he pulled up random tabs or applications you needed to fight him to close.
"I'm in class you jackass! We can do this when I get home!"
"Nope, I don't think I will. >:3"
He thought he was doing you a favor giving your devices some custom flair as well.
"Are these emojis of you?"
"Yeah, I thought you'd enjoy them."
"Huh, cool."
He thought he was doing great as your companion, until you downloaded that thing.
What in Lucifer's name was it even?
Another tiny human in your desktop?
"What the fuck is that."
"My new desktop companion, do you like it?"
Vox didn't even bother replying, watching it move around and emote for a hot minute while his eye twitched.
Were you trying to piss him off?
Eventually he took his frustration out on it with the cursor to the best of his ability.
Even if it only irritated him more that it kept getting back up unharmed.
Fucking hell, if you wanted a visual desktop companion you could have just ASKED.
Even if he stayed up a few extra hours to work on it, Vox felt like it was worth it.
He was better than that stupid little companion thing you downloaded.
"Did you upgrade my desktop pet by any chance?"
"Why? Do you not like it?"
"Nah, it's actually pretty cute. Thanks."
Vox couldn't bring himself to reply to that.
He was not fucking CUTE!
It totally flew over his head that you called it a desktop "pet".
Depending on his mood, he would use the small thing to emote or just keep you entertained.
At least you could sort of see him.
Even when he couldn't see you.
However, Vox was still Vox and he couldn't help himself to a little mischief here and there.
You both met by sheer coincidence from a weird situation.
Still, the tech overlord couldn't help but be just slightly glad it happened to him.
If Vox had to actually be honest, you weren't all rainbows and sparkles.
You could be a total bitch if you wanted to.
Heh, maybe there'd be a chance he'll finally meet you down here.
Guess he'll just have to wait and see until then.
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tim-shii · 10 days
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tiktok trends with bf!sae
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a/n: my man MY MAN RRAAAAHHHH i need him in my life it is crazy INSANE that hes not real and hes not in my arms rn (p.s sae is taller in this ,, it doesnt specify how tall but just tall enough that he has to lean down for a kiss ty)
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it’s a rare occasion that your boyfriend agrees to go along with your antics. a prank, a trend or just him being in the frame. however, sae can’t seem to ever say no when you ask him nicely to do a tiktok with you. he has one condition though: he will never ever do a dance.
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" THINK I LIKE YOU BEST WHEN YOU'RE JUST WITH ME "
the green in his eye looks so pretty. it goes perfectly well with the brightness in yours. sae looks straight in the camera as you instructed. yet there’s an itch in his system telling him to look in your direction instead. his pupils are dilating, he knows. and he knows that you notice it too, the growing blush on your face an indication of you acknowledging his obvious adoration. a few seconds before the audio ends, sae turns his head slightly to kiss your cheek. resulting to you dropping the phone. failed ending, yes, your followers found it cute though.
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" STAY WITH ME, I DON'T WANT YOU TO LEAVE "
now, this. sae agrees to do this trend with you the moment you showed him the video. why would he refuse? he gets you kissing all over his face. that’s practically heaven to him. the marks are just freebies. after leaving a decent amount of lipstick stains on his face (sae thinks you should’ve left more), you pushed him out of frame and hit the record button. he waits until you purposely smudge the rouge past your lips, his thumb smoothly wiping it away. his periphery catches you sliding the phone to show him in the frame. his eyes are locked on your tinted lips before going back up to lock gazes with you. his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you closer yet pushing you back simultaneously away from the frame, and his lips meet yours. your lips transferring color to his already rosy ones.
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" YOU BETTER LOCK YOUR PHONE "
from what he saw, you either stand there looking pretty or twirl around. either way, all he has to do is walk over, hook an arm around your waist and walk away (in a cool manner). it’s going well a few seconds in. you stand in front of your phone, showing your outfit. he starts sauntering the first time you turn your head to him. the second time you do it, he’s left stunned when you swiftly ran to the other direction. he follows after you, his longer limbs allowing him to catch up to you within seconds. sae throws you over his shoulder and carries you back to where you left your phone, that was still recording. the video ends with him dropping you to your feet and pinching your cheek.
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" I'D NEVER FIND SOMEONE LIKE YOU "
this trend is somewhat similar to the other one. it starts with him off the frame and ends together with you. he can only hope you don’t rush out this time. if sae was being honest, the song used is definitely one of his favorites. not his go-to genre to listen to, yes, but he truly does believe you’re out of his league sometimes. he bumps into you at the beat, wide shoulders colliding with yours. he makes sure there’s no aggression behind it, sae doesn’t want you hurt over a video. when you turn back, he’s blessed with a smiling face. your arms wrap around his waist, chin on his chest. sae finds it easier to lean down and capture your lips this way. there’s a warm hand holding the back of your head and the other found its home on your hip. when he pulls away, his eyes drift past you and he’s reminded of the device diarizing this very moment.
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likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist
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naffeclipse · 9 months
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I don't know when I'll ever write this, but I've had this AU in the back of my mind ever since Bendy and the Dark Revival came out, and it's best to get it out of my head before it festers and rots.
More or less, it's BatDR and the DCA smashed into one. The premise is that you are an animator at Fazbear Studios and Sun and Moon are humans who go by Cyrus and Mani respectively, employed as voice actors. (First AU with human Sun and Moon whoo! don't get attached though) Vanessa is a janitor who is a bit odd, mostly keeping to herself though sometimes you feel like she's starting at your back when you're alone.
Cyrus and Mani perform as extras in the Fazbear cartoon, adding supporting voices for side characters and miscellaneous lines. Cyrus often supplies humorous, wacky, and surreal voices to his performances. Mani tends to get villainous or spooky characters with his deeper, raspier voice. They both enjoy what they do and love that they can work together as brothers.
You can't help but notice Cyrus and Mani. You admire their skill, their passion, and their smiles, and you sometimes even work up the courage to wave at Cyrus or Mani whenever one of the brothers happens to pass by your work desk.
They inspire you—not just with their work, but with their small acts of care. You find coffee on your desk when you return from a meeting with the other animators with a little smiling sun doodled on the cup. Sometimes, Cyrus asks you to join him on a walk since it's your lunch break and you could really use some sunshine and a chance to stretch your legs. When it gets far too late and you're burning the midnight oil, Mani is somehow always there, doing a funny voice to surprise you with a little reminder that it's past your bedtime. He leaves you little treats in blue wrappers, hidden in places on your desk, among your ink and papers.
It's not a surprise that you start drawing a character for them in your rare off hours when you still have the energy to hold a pencil. The Fazbear cartoon could add a new, permanent character. A robotic jester, lanky and tall, but with two forms for the day and night, funny and sweet and mischievous. Cyrus and Mani could both voice him!
That's silly, however. Fazbear Studios does not want your chaotic and half-brained scribbles nor do you dare show the brothers what they inspired—they might hate it. You keep your little jester character tucked away, along with a small doodle of a minor, nobody, gray character who may or may not be a tag along to the main act that is the jester. Your sketches and concept art are hidden away, far from where the light of day or the shine of night will ever see.
It goes missing one day. You're upset and asking everyone who went through your desk. No one confesses. Cyrus tells you that it'll be okay, he'll help you find it. Mani suggests that you keep locks on your drawers from now on.
It's never found, not that you wanted either of them to stumble upon it. Yet, they stay late with you after everyone has gone home, looking for your precious and secretive sketchbook through the many departments of the studio.
Somewhere along the way, Cyrus disappears, promising to return with your sketchbook. You lose Mani in the audio department before, oh, there's Vanessa. She tells you to come to the basement with her—she found your notebook. You're relieved but a little put off by Vanessa and reluctantly follow her down into the dark.
You don't find your sketchbook, but you do find Cyrus slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, and a strange collection of shrines to one of the studio's cartoon characters.
Before you can rush to his side, pain explodes in your skull, cracking white across your vision. You fall to the ground, dazed, as Vanessa gives a cryptic promise to return with the last sacrifice. You manage to crawl across the floor in your pitiful state to reach Cyrus and attempt to revive him, but by then, Mani is walking in. His shock overtakes him but he dodges a swipe of Vanessa's wrench and starts struggling against her. You try desperately to drag Cyrus somewhere safe as he murmurs for you to get out of here, but in the middle of Vanessa's and Mani's fight, she flips a switch and ink begins filling the room.
The black flood sweeps Cyrus away from you. Pages spill out from the inside of Vanessa's vest, dozens of sketches of your jester character. You cry out. Mani looks to you. Vanessa at last shoves Mani into the surge of onyx liquid beside Cyrus, and you watch both of them go under together. You scream their names. She turns to you, grinning.
The last thing you remember is Vanessa shoving your head into the ink.
Then it's the only thing you remember. You're vaguely aware that your jet-black hands are strange and shiny, and that you don't know where you are in this sepia-colored studio, but you know something's not right. You're missing someone, and someone else. You're scared.
You wander around for a bit until you're attacked by monsters emerging from the ink, shrieking and wailing in gluey dark forms until a wonderful and terrifying automaton arrives. He destroys such a creature about to tear you apart. He stands so tall, detailed with sharp teeth and even sharper sun rays around his large, flat face, but you think you recognize those yellow eyes—a living cartoon.
He helps you calm down and asks for your name in a loud and funny voice that rings like a bell in your mind but you can't name the tune. You don't remember your name. He doesn't remember his either. He leads you away from the harsher spaces of the studio, somewhere 'safer'. You don't know if there is anything as safe, but you feel better with him.
You're startled when after a time, in the middle of talking to this sunshine character, he melts and morphs and bubbles until a crescent moon face emerges and a new grin. You panic before a darker, raspier voice, like a cartoon villain, tells you it's alright. He's here, too. He's not sure what's going on but he, and the other 'him', and you are gonna make it out of here, somehow.
You don't have hope anywhere else but in this unique robot jester, and he seems to want you to stay close to him. So it's you two, the last sane partnership in the crazed and dripping studios, fighting off ink creatures and surviving other bizarre characters. You learn how to wield a gent pipe and the jester is strong on his own, often able to tear things apart or toss monsters off of you before they can do worse. He has claws and teeth and he uses them well.
Vanny is a lady rabbit and a constant threat. She's smart and cunning, unlike the other mostly senseless attackers. She keeps tracking the two of you down and spouting off the religious rhetoric of Inktrap, promising that your sacrifices will be well worth the pain. You had to be introduced to the cycle. The ink has corrupted you perfectly. You are part of this place. You are never leaving and will give in to Inktrap.
You and he avoid Inktrap at all costs. You've only caught glimpses of the shadowy, pitch-black beast, but that's all you need to see as you both hide and hold your breaths until the danger just barely passes by.
You start to call the daytime jester Sun, and he seems to respond to it. The nighttime joker is Moon, and he neither hates nor loves it, but he answers when you call. He has a name for you, too, or rather names. Peach, bird, thrill, calico, and sweetheart. He gets creative and goofy. You think he's being mean sometimes but he tells you he's not, he means it, and you don't know how to take that before you two have to focus on escaping this part of the studio and getting into safer areas. You protect his back and he protects yours, and together, you make this living, unending nightmare bearable. Sharing bacon soup, falling asleep in Moon's lap, and patching up any drips in Sun's inky form becomes something like a life.
It just never stops, repeating over and over. The jester deserves better than this, whatever happened to him. You know you both do.
You become determined to learn how the cycle works and how to prevent it from going on. There's a funny feeling you have that, somehow, you're going to have to go through Vanny and the Inkdemon. One day, you will get the jester and yourself free.
You need to see his and your happy ending.
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gamma-radio · 9 months
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I hate when people play phone audio out loud in public spaces. The screechy quality of phone speakers, the disregard for literally anyone's auditory comfort, my poor autistic ears — I rage mode.
I know I'm not alone, so I am going to share my flawless embarrassment-free technique to get them to stop.
1) Carry a pair of earbuds on you. Not required, but it helps give you the confidence to actually confront them
2) walk up to them and be as nice as possible, no matter how mad you are. However, do not explain yourself or apologize, just make a simple request: "Hi, would you mind using earbuds for that?" (You're not asking them to stop, just change their method)
3a) 90% of the time they will shamefully put their phone away, and because you were so nice, they aren't even mad at you!! Then you can thank them for being so thoughtful, and maybe compliment their shirt or something! Everybody loves compliments.
3b) Alternatively, they might say, "I don't have earbuds." Normally, this would put you in an awkward situation, but You aren't normal. You are Prepared.
OFFER THE EARBUDS: "That's okay," you say, "you can borrow mine!" dazzling smile, you are so nice and thoughtful, what a great guy you are
Don't worry about losing your earbuds (or if you don't actually have earbuds), because they won't accept your offer. THEN they will put their phone away of their own free will. You never even had to ask.
If you want a detailed explanation of why this works (for the autistic besties, I see u):
People don't like it when you tell them what to do, especially if that request is to stop doing their activity in any shape or form. It pisses them off, and rightfully so! No one wants to be controlled.
That's why this method is so good: you never asked them to stop their activity, you asked them to make a small change to how they are doing the activity, which is far less obtrusive.
This works for lots of things, and lots of people. Imagine being a kid, goofing around, and someone says, "Stop doing that." Upsetting! Compared to: "Would you mind being quieter?" Because really, the issue is not that you are goofing around, the issue is that you are being loud and disruptive about it.
Same goes for the stranger on their phone in public. It's totally fine that they're watching a video, the problem is that they're being disruptive, and chances are they know that being disruptive is rude.
The second half of why this works is offering the earbuds.
When you ask them to change how they're doing their activity, you are placing a burden on them. If they have a pair already, it is a very tiny burden. If they don't have a pair, it is suddenly an insurmountable burden, and that's very uncomfortable. In fact, it's so uncomfortable that by making the request, you might become the bad guy in the situation (according to them) even if you're being nice, and even if they're in the wrong.
That's why you offer the earbuds. Now you are actively helping them by alleviating the burden. You are being kind and thoughtful instead of demanding!
Sure, they might think you're a little weird, because it's not part of the social script, but they've got no ground to be mad at you.
Which brings up the last point: offering to lend your earbuds isn't part of the social script. It's surprising, and so their default reaction is to avoid that path: they will decline your offer. So, you don't have to worry about a stranger wearing your earbuds with their gross stranger ears.
So that's the whole idea behind the method. Confrontation that is respectful and thoughtful of their autonomy and your comfort all at the same time. ~social engineering for good~
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spiderlandry · 5 months
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connect — ethan landry
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Description: Ethan is enamoured with the girl who beats him during a college trivia night.
Pairing: Ethan Landry x F!Reader (she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a girl)
Warnings/Tags: non-gf ethan, fluff, probably super corny (you have been warned.)
Word Count: 3k
Author’s Note: the trivia is based off an episode of only connect. for the record, i’m not british i just love that show
There aren’t many things in college that really matter to Ethan besides his grades. Sure, he has his friends—but they understand his incessant need to excel in academics once he opened up about his aspirations, which more often than not have him holed up in the apartment he shares with his longtime roommate, Chad. They’ve been roommates since freshman year in the dorms, and Chad said he didn’t want anyone else to be his roommate, so they decided to rent an apartment for junior year. Being a good roommate is third in the list of important things.
However, the thing that takes second place is something that his friends don’t understand. It’s the annual trivia competition held by Blackmore’s Honor Students Society. Particularly, one held by the STEM students. This tradition, having existed since the society was founded, has been a loved custom.
Spanning three days, the winner gets a donation to a charity of their choice under their name at the end. It’s been vital for frats and sororities to win because of the reputation points earned for their society, but Ethan is not part of one; yet he still wants to win.
Often, he gets teased by Chad and Mindy while he prepares for the upcoming few days. But he lets them, knowing they’d agree to be his teammates like they always do. His team during the first part—the trivia bowl—has always consisted of him, Chad, Mindy, Anika, and Tara. They switch out teammates for different categories. It has worked all these years, there’s no reason for it not to work again.
Well, he’d be proven wrong this time.
The first day is by far the most difficult due to the amount of people participating: twelve teams.
The lecture hall is alight with excitement, nerves running through the crowd as the host gets on the stage. Ethan being the team captain, he sits in the middle with Chad and Anika on his left, Mindy and Tara on his right.
(After some trial and error, it was best Chad and Mindy didn’t get to sit together because of their banter, and if the arrangement was Mindy with Anika and Chad with Tara, it’s just Ethan fifth-wheeling.)
“Who’s ready to rumble?!” The host shouts, the boom of the microphone travelling around the room. They cheer in anticipation. “Alright! I’ll explain the rules for the quiz bowl, then we’ll get to introducing our teams.
“For this first day, we’ll play connections—the goal is for your team to find the connection between the clues we put on the screen,” he points to the big projector screen. “For the first ten seconds, there will be two clues. After that, the other two clues will be shown and there are fifteen seconds for your team to figure it out.
“The clues will get harder as it goes on. Every team has a bell, whoever dings first gets to answer. Now! Let’s get to introducing! From the front of the room, you—“ he points.
Chad speaks for the team, “We are the Fab Five, and we’ve got a champion with us.” He half jokes, shaking Ethan by the shoulders.
The host chuckles, “That’s right. Certainly a legend, Ethan Landry, who’s won the past two years. Think you can keep your streak?”
Ethan, confidently nodding, “Absolutely.”
Every other team introduces themselves. Nobody stands out, at least not for now. There are only some familiar faces to Ethan and that’s it.
It’s not until about halfway through the game, during a question that Ethan realizes he may have actual competition. Of course, he’s been confident throughout the past hour, his team in the lead with the most points, but there’s a close runner-up that answers from across the room.
The screen reads:
Audio CDs. Details of The Budget.
The silence in the room is cut with a familiar ding. Ethan looks to the source, spotting the one person who seemed to have an edge over his entire team. You.
“Red books,” You answer.
God, who are you? Ethan thinks. He shakes his head—he has to get it together. His strategy has been to focus on his team only, and he can’t stray from that now. His brows furrow when the host says you’re correct.
“This has been interesting,” the host smiles, “The Fab Five has tied with the Three Fates.”
Ethan looks closer, and indeed, there are only three people on your team.
You don’t seem to pay him any mind.
So the game continues.
Aqua Regis. Aqua Fortis.
“Alchemist names for acids,” Ethan answers.
Oscar Niemeyer, Brasilia. Charles Barry, London.
“Architects of parliaments,” you chime.
Meanwhile, his friends can definitely sense the nervousness radiating off Ethan. He isn’t usually concerned with staying first place, but he keeps sneaking glances to your position in the room and they’re beginning to think it’s not just about trivia.
All in all, their team still stays in the lead with two points ahead of yours.
-
The second day.
The host welcomes everyone back into the room, a few less people than yesterday. He leans against the podium, grinning as your team and Ethan’s are forced closer together, tables next to each other.
“The teams have been cut down to the top four who earned the most points yesterday,” he explains. “The other teams are invited to come watch, as well as anyone else interested as the game finally gets interesting.
“For the next hour, you’ll play sequences. The goal is to predict the fourth in a sequence—if you predict it with less clues on the screen, you get more points. Two seconds in between each clue. No need for introductions, let’s do it!”
Fear.
Surprise.
Ethan rings the bell. “Devotion to the Pope.”
“Three points to the Fab Five. Next!”
Observation.
Statement.
“Testing.” You answer.
“Three points to the Three Fates, well done.”
It goes on like that, with the other two teams occasionally answering. But mainly it’s just either yours or his that answers.
A game of cat and mouse. It gets under Ethan’s skin, the way you easily answer the questions while laying back in your chair all the while Ethan is probably bouncing off his seat.
Amidst the chaos inside his own head, a jumble of questions and answers, there’s something about you that stands out. In his own circles, he’d never seen or heard about you. Though Blackmore was a big college, the amount of STEM honors students they had was relatively small, with the university being known for its film programs. He needed to know who you are.
The game is over before he knows it.
Hours later, thinking about his choices and zoning out, his train of thought is interrupted by an object being hurled at his head.
“You okay?” Chad throws a pillow at Ethan, who is sitting on the couch. He catches it last second.
“Why?” Ethan hugs the pillow close to his chest as his roommate gets something from the kitchen.
“You just seemed fidgety today. At the trivia thing.”
Even after knowing Chad all these years, it surprises him that he notices.
“No, yeah. I’m fine. Nobody’s just come close like that before.”
“Well, Y/N’s smart.”
Ethan’s interest piques. “You know her?”
“Yeah. I met her at a party, last semester. She just transferred here. She was drunk, going off to me about this new thing they discovered in physics.”
“Oh,” is all he can say.
“What, are you nervous?”
“Why would I be nervous?”
“Tomorrow’s the big day. You’re gonna have to face her without us.”
“Shit.” He sighs. He was so caught up in beating you that he’d forgotten the last part of the challenge. He has to face you individually with other teams watching to see who gets the winning prize.
“You guys would get along, I think.”
“Are you kidding? She’s getting on my nerves.”
Chad tilts his head, akin to that of a confused puppy. “I don’t think you know the real reason, bud.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying!” He shrugs. “She’s very pretty.”
And as his (infuriating) roommate walks away, Ethan can’t help but silently agree.
-
A few continuous buzzes from Ethan’s phone is what finally takes him out of a studying session. Picking up the device, the screen reads:
Quinn
can you come pick up ur notes
He groans. The sun had taken its place above, a contrast to when it was just dawn as he woke up to study for the final part of the quiz. It was probably a good idea to go outside, though.
On the steps of the Carpenter/Quinn residence, he taps his foot against the welcome mat impatiently.
The door swings open.
Here’s the thing: With the three people living in this apartment, it was a common occurrence for friends to be over. Tara’s got a big group that she knows, Sam has coworkers over, often Danny even opens the door or one of Quinn’s flings.
But out of all the possibilities, the last person in his mind to open the door is you.
Ethan’s smile drops, and you seem to notice it. “Oh, sorry.” You stand aside to let him in, yet he doesn’t move an inch. “Who are you looking for? You’re Ethan, right? Chad’s roommate?“
Just then, Tara’s voice booms from the other room. “Come in, Ethan!”
One second under your scrutinizing gaze is enough to make him stumble into the apartment, and he’s sure he can feel your stare burning the back of his head as he rushes to Quinn’s room.
He closes his sister’s door with a slam, making her jump. “What’s your problem, asshole?” She turns from her spot on the bed, facing him.
It takes a minute for him to catch his breath. “My problem? I should be asking you that!” He’s careful not to be too loud, his words coming out more as a whisper. “Why would you ask me to come here?”
“To pick up your notes? I told you.”
“No that—” He shakes his head, “That Y/N is here. Didn’t I tell you about that girl from trivia?”
“The one you have a crush on?” She laughs. “So? She’s friends with Tara.”
“Friends with—” His head tilts to rest against the wall. “You didn’t tell me she was here.”
“…I did. Didn’t you read my texts?”
Texts. As in plural. He fully opens his phone into the app, and lo and behold, the texts are there.
Quinn
the girl you have a crush on is here lol
where have u been
can you come pick up ur notes
She laughs even harder when she realizes his mistake.
“Please shut up, Quinn.”
“Why don’t you just talk to her? She’s nice!”
“Keep it down.”
“Fine,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Your notes are on my desk.”
He picks them up and turns to leave, however not without an additional comment from his sister.
“I promise you won’t regret talking to her.”
He only grumbles, walking out. He has to face you again, though he’s sure if he’s fast enough he can avoid you.
Nope. Totally wrong.
You stop him before he exits the apartment, he shoots a stern look to Tara in the background when she audibly holds back a snicker.
“Hey, you.” You nod to him. “You’re my competition.”
He finally faces you. His eyes scan your expression, treading lightly as to not get lost in your eyes. “I am.”
You flash him a devilish smirk, “You think you’ll win?”
“I know I will.” He quips back, slowly gaining confidence. You slide in front of him, opening the door to let him out.
“See you tonight?”
“Good luck,” he smiles. “You’ll need it.”
Unbeknownst to him, it was Tara who invited you over just to psych him out. And it worked.
“The final day of this competition,” The host speaks to the crowd consisting of the teams who competed. “It’s been a close race between the Three Fates and the Fab Five.
“Per our tradition, the team captain of the two leading teams are to face off each other in a timed game of missing vowels.
“On my right is Ethan Landry, team captain of the Fab Five with twenty-two points,” He reads off an index card. “He’s an honors statistics major, in his third year here at Blackmore. On my left is Y/N Y/L/N, team captain of the Three Fates who have twenty, she is a double major on linguistics and anthropology. She recently transferred here from Rutgers University.“
The audience cheers. You and Ethan stare at each other intensely, like you can see straight through his soul.
“The objective of this game is to fill in the missing vowels of what’s on the screen. You’ll be given a category, the first one being endangered mammals. Thirty minutes on the clock, use your bell to answer, and best of luck. Time starts now.”
FRC NLPH NT
Your bell goes off before he can even think, “African Elephant.”
You have an advantage, he realizes. But he studied.
BLC KRH NCR S
“Black rhinoceros,” Ethan answers. You smirk—for a second he’s thinking if you hadn’t answered on purpose.
The game is back and forth.
RN GTN
“Orangutan.”
BC TRNC ML
“Bactrian Camel.”
He can feel the audience’s eyes jumping between him and you, and besides either of your voices and the host moving onto the next category, the room is unusually quiet. It’s not like any other year, he should have worked harder.
It does not help that you’re gorgeous, but it takes all of his willpower not to get distracted by your frustratingly enchanting smile and the crinkle of your eyes when you beat him—
You beat him, and he lost.
“Time’s up!” The man announces, and he meets you halfway on the stage to shake your hand.
“There’s always next year, man.” Chad pats him on the back pitifully, though he knows it’s out of kindness. “Look who’s coming,” His roommate gestures to behind him. He turns around, and of course you’re there.
Ethan can see your group exiting the room, and he can sense his group leaving, too. It’s just you and him now.
“You did well,” you say. And to his chagrin, it really does sound like you mean it. “Wanna get a milkshake?”
He tries not to show surprise. “With me?”
“The least I can do,” you nod.
“Lead the way.”
He hopes you don’t notice the beads of sweat on his forehead.
He can’t help but feel slightly guilty when you pay for his drink. Slightly. You did beat him.
Expecting to separate from you after that, he moves to leave but you catch his wrist. “Where are you going?” There’s a laugh brewing, but you hold it back.
“I’m—“ He pauses. “I thought—“
Thankfully, you get him. “No, I wanted to talk to you. Come on, I know a spot.”
The cold drink in his hand is surely a good distraction. He follows you into a small academic building, and you start making small talk with him. He really doesn’t mind, not when it’s you.
“Where are we going?” He finally questions when you lead him to a set of stairs.
“Rooftop,” you reply when you both reach the top.
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Illegal?” You open the door, ushering him outside as you follow.
The sunset is the first thing he sees. He’s drawn to it, staring in awe. Various pink and orange hues paint the sky.
“It’s not illegal,” you pipe up. “Blackmore just doesn’t allow it. It’s a liability.”
He knows that, though. “So how did you get us up here?”
“That’s for me to know.”
He mirrors your grin. “Come on, tell me.”
“Maybe one day.”
The implication of a deeper friendship with you makes his heart soar. Or something more than that.
“What does the competition mean to you? Do you just like the bragging rights?”
His brows furrow. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. That’s a lie, he knows. “I donate the money to this animal shelter where I got my childhood dog.”
It’s a moment of honesty that is unexpected, even for him.
“What’s the shelter?”
“Why?”
“So I can donate it under your name.”
Hm? “What?”
You chuckle, “I like your reason. It’s nice.”
“But you won.”
“And I get to decide,” you say.
He can’t really argue with that. So he does the next best thing, “We can do it under both our names. You keep the bragging rights.”
“What makes you think I want it?”
“You were teasing me!” He bickers.
You go back and forth again, this time without any prying eyes. You stay talking until your milkshakes are done, even more after that. The sun has almost gone down, with only a little bit of light left.
When it’s time to leave, though, neither of you want to. It’s an invisible string.
“Just text me the name of the shelter.”
“Text—“ he starts, “I don’t have your number.”
You raise your brows, as if asking something. “Well?”
Getting the hint, “…Can I have your number?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
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