#shotgun staff

[sorcererest-sorcerer]

*cracks my wizard’s staff in half to reload it with spells like a shotgun*

[sga-owns-my-soul]

do you think ford and rodney fought about who got shotgun when they first started going on missions

bc i absolutely think they did

[chuthulhu]

So what Shakespeare do you think Alfred best likes performing

Well this disappeared and just reappeared! I get the vibe in his younger days he did a killer Coriolanus, but he's aged into a very solid Prospero.

[tarjapearce]

I need to know how ranchero Miguel convinced the parents to let him marry their daughter. Was it a shotgun wedding? 👀

Indeed 👀. Bit of Drama and slight angst under the cut.

-------

You had woken up nauseous and dizzy, for the third time in a row. Your mother was concerned. Had something made you sick? She was stricter with the kitchen staff to be more careful. But upon the wafting smell of your usual morning soup, an egg drop soup, entered your room, you retched on the bathroom, again.

You paled.

When was the last time your period came? It was hard to keep tabs when you were trying to attend other business and try to not die in the process. Two months and counting. You barely had the chance of seeing Miguel as well, since he had his own good share of work in the barn.

And he was the last and only man you have been with. Your hands went around your tummy and tears were in the verge of spilling. You were pregnant.

God, you were so scared. You knew how your parents thought of him, and for all you knew, they still thought you were pure.

But as things were going sooner or later They'd find out, probably kick him out and you'd be forced to marry a guy that looked like him to make pass the child as his. The thought scared you shitless, so you washed your mouth, bathed, got dressed and went to him.

He was talking with the foreman of another estate, but excused himself upon seeing you.

His smile faltered when you approached, solemn look, and red nose by the constant sniffling.

"Hey, hey. Come here. ¿Qué le pasa a mi chula?" (What's wrong with you, gorgeous?)

You whimpered and buried your face in his chest. He held you tightly.

"You mom got you on another date?" He rolled his eyes and you shook your head.

"Your dad tried to sell Luis again?" Another shake of your head.

"Then what is it? You gotta tell me,princesa."

"I..." You hiccuped, "I think I'm pregnant."

You could feel him tense and he made you look at him. You thought he'd be angry but the shine in his eyes proved you otherwise.

"¿Voy a ser papá?" He questioned with a excited yet strained voice. You just stared at him and he kissed you, deeply (Am I gonna be a dad?)

"¡Me vas a hacer papá!" (You're making me a dad!)

He was happy and you broke down.

"Why are you crying? Aren't you excited?"

"I am but... Dad will kick you out and... and.. -" You hiccuped and he just held you with a smile.

" Ps, que me eche. I've got my own home anyways. And if... things get bad, you'll come with me. Okay?" He squeezed you tightly and grunted happily, "Dios te vas a ver preciosa con esa panza toda grandota y redonda. Te voy a cuidar, vas a ser mi reina. Ya vas a ver."

(He can do that.) (God, you'll look gorgeous with that big and round belly. Imma take care of you, you'll be my queen. You'll see.)

He just kept rambling things you couldn't understand, but seeing him giddy made your aching heart to relax.

"I'll talk to him. I... Le voy a pedir tu mano." (Imma ask him your hand in marriage)

"W-What? are you sure of it? I mean, I don't want you getting hurt. He might look like an old man but... he knows his tricks.

"Your mother is the one that I'm concerned about."

And he was right.

"ABSOLUTELY NO." She had protested, the staff had been hiding behind the doors, listening to the scene unfold.

"How dare you asking for such thing!"

"Mom-"

"No. Who do you think you are?! Of course you won't marry her! She's set for better things!"

Miguel's eyes narrowed and your heart stopped with sudden rage.

"I want him!" You stood up, stomping your hands on the table.

"I'm old enough to decide on my own, Mom. I... I love Miguel." With every word that spilled from your mouth, she held her heart as your dad just pinched his nose bridge. He had been silent the whole talk, just glaring holes at Miguel.

"Good lord... Just... Imagine the scandal, the people... What would they say about you?! About us?!"

"They already talk shit under our nose, mom. Their opinion is irrelevant. None really approaches us if it's not for a favor."

"You... you brat!"

"I'm pregnant."

Miguel stood to calm you down as the fight kept rising. Your dad immediately straightened up and looked at Miguel.

"You." His voice venomous, but calm, "And you." He pointed at you.

"Tomorrow at church. 8 am."

"You can't be serious! You'll wed them?!

"Your yelling won't make her less pregnant. And I rather have them wedded than having an off marriage child. A sin." Your dad mumbled and looked at you, your rage seemed to be consuming you by how they spoke of your future child. Miguel's expression hardened, a low growl emanating from him.

"Once you're married, I want you both out of my property, got it?"

"Fine! I didn't want to spent my life being a fucking trophy wife for some rich man I barely know."

You were wedded, and despite your dad underlying sadness, and he wanting to swallow his words back, pride didn't allow him to speak and ask you to stay. Your mother didn't even look at your way.

Miguel had packed your things and put them on his truck. You left to a new life with him and your future family.

[prokopetz]

High-magic setting where carrying a magic wand (i.e., as opposed to a full-size staff) has approximately the same practical function – and approximately the same cultural connotations – as carrying a sawed-off shotgun does in real life.

[vln-vibes]

The Good Ol’ Switcheroo

GUYS

GUYS

GUYS

I know there’s fics out there with switcheroo hijinks with Tim and Danny but imagine this---

Jazz and Babs

and

Danny and Tim

But like at the same time

So the Fentons are visiting Gotham, the reason why is a bit up in the air;

Jazz wants to visit the Gotham U campus, the Fentons have a meeting with W.E for a business deal (they’re sus about the whole ghost hunting thing but it doesn’t hurt to scope out what they’re capable of) or maybe they’re hunting down Batman because they’re sure he’s a ghost. Reader’s choice tbh.

Unfortunately Jazz sprained her ankle the week before while ghost hunting with Team Fenton. This also led to her parents coddling her and she just barely managed to convince them to still go on their trip as a way to get Danny a vacation.  The only caveat; they force her on a wheelchair for the duration of the trip.

Spring forward to a random Thursday afternoon during their vacation; Danny and Jazz were dying of embarrassment (in his case re-dying) with their parents antics. They didn’t think Gothamites would blatantly stare at them all things considered but even they had their standards they guess.

Danny bought himself some sunglasses and a coffee while Jazz just put on her reading glasses and just tried to bury herself in her new Spoiler themed sweater.

Of course that’s when the chaos started.

It was just their luck that just as they finally got away from their parents that a rogue finally attacked; where there was a rogue the Batman wouldn’t be too far behind.

Danny’s plan was just to hide in a random alleyway or wait until the coast was clear to use his powers and fly them back to their hotel room and wait for everything to die (hah) back down. That’s not what ended up happening.

“There you guys are, c’mon time to suit up”

The duo are too stunned to do anything as they’re dragged off by this random rich guy (Bruce Wayne) and into a really expensive and familiar looking car (the Batmobile). The door folds open and Jazz’s wheelchair is fastened in seconds, Danny just kinda goes to sit next to her (can’t let his sister be kidnapped by herself). 

There’s a guy sitting shotgun next to the original alley guy. He’s wearing a mask. Oh shit its Nightwing.

“Looks like Freeze is at it again, Uptown’s already halfway covered in ice. No time to waste Red Robin”

Red Robin? Like the food chain??

In those few seconds the Batmobile is speeding off, the alley guy is now the Batman and they’re passing a speeding RV going the other way. Cue that one Umbrella Academy meme but its Tim and Babs staring back at Danny and Jazz.

A compartment opens up revealing Red Robin’s suit with the cowl. 

‘Why the hell not? It’s not like it’ll kill me’ is all Danny thinks while he puts on the outfit, ditching the cowl tho because it looks ugly and instead grabs one of ‘Robin’s’ extra masks that were next to it. He took a selfie and sent it to Sam and Tucker, one also featuring a Done looking Jazz.

“You got that RR?”

“Hn yeah sure”

It isn’t until halfway through their fight with Mr.Freeze, not even noticing how the usually chilly Tim doesn’t look the slightest bit cold, when they meet up with Black Bat that any of them are clued in to what happened.

“Not Red Robin. New brother?”

“What are you talking about Cass, he’s right there?”

Cue to Danny using Tim’s bo staff to propel himself and air kick Mr.Freeze’s helmet.

“Ice to meet you frosty!”

“Yeah no. Our parents may be nuts but we’re not open for adoption” Jazz quips from the comms, strangely not too different from the system Tucker uses when they out hunting for ghosts.

“Wait I thought you were just recovering from the cold!?”

“Twisted ankle actually. On your five!”

Meanwhile Jack and Maddie got a ecto signature at the other side of town. They spotted Danny and Jazz leaving the library, grabbed them (not noticing the yelling crowds running the other way). 

They let the GAV fasten the kids in before speeding off to catch the ghost.

In his defense Tim was working on one hour of sleep in the last 48 hours and Bab’s lost her voice from her cold. In all the ensuing chaos Babs dropped her phone and Tim’s just ran out of juice.

They’d thought it was a Standard Wayne and Co Kidnapping until the duo in hazmat suits kept referring to them as Jazz and Dann-o. Hopefully not insane and trying to fake being a family. Hopefully

They take a turn into Crime Alley and the duo look at each other as they see the GPS head towards one of Red Hood’s places.

This would be good

[wilwheaton]

Why did Mr. Meadows squander his career, his reputation and possibly his liberty by casting his lot with Mr. Trump? He once seemed an unlikely casualty of Mr. Trump’s wrecking ball — he was a savvy politician who knew his way around the corridors of power. In fairness to Mr. Meadows, three of his predecessors also failed as Mr. Trump’s chief. “Anyone who goes into the orbit of the former president is virtually doomed,” said Jack Watson, Jimmy Carter’s former chief of staff. “Because saying no to Trump is like spitting into a raging headwind. It was not just Mission Impossible; it was Mission Self-Destruction. I don’t know why he chose to do it.” In their motion to remove the Fulton County case to federal court, the lawyers for Mr. Meadows addressed Mr. Trump’s now infamous Jan. 2, 2021, call with Georgia’s secretary of state, Brad Raffensperger — during which Mr. Meadows rode shotgun as the president cut to the chase: “All I want to do is this. I just want to find 11,780 votes ….” Addressing Mr. Meadows’s role, his lawyers wrote: “One would expect a chief of staff to the president of the United States to do these sorts of things.” Actually, any competent White House chief of staff would have thrown his body in front of that call. Any chief worth his salt would have said: “Mr. President, we’re not going to do that. And if you insist, you’re going to make that call yourself. And when you’re through, you’ll find my resignation letter on your desk.” Mr. Meadows failed as Mr. Trump’s chief because he was unable to check the president’s worst impulses. But the bigger problem for our country is that his failure is a template for the inevitable disasters in a potential second Trump administration.

 Mark Meadows Is a Warning About a Second Trump Term

[sassyfrassboss]

So as a daughter of a former courtier, I have some information of such to share.

What Meghan Wants - this wasn’t just about the wedding, as when Harry proposed he proposed with a basic ring and Meghan wanted something more bling so to speak and alongside Harry, approached The Queen and basically demanded that she have the centre emerald of the choker necklace placed into a diamond pavé ring alongside two other large diamonds from the royal collection, which I’ve heard were from the Victorian or Georgian era.

When the Queen said no, Meghan got venomous and is the reason why the Queen said she was evil. When they couldn’t get any further, they apparently approached The Earl Spencer to have him hand over diamonds from the Spencer tiara to place into the tiara, to which he denied. This was among the reasons why he did not attend the christening, the wedding he did attend because of optics.

The hatred of Catherine links back to a time when Meghan got drunk while living in Kensington Palace’s cottage with Harry, and threw a large party that went on for hours. William was apparently away at the time and Catherine was pregnant with two young children living close by. Catherine went down to tell her to stop the partying and the loud music, and Meghan again got venomous towards her. And by venomous, I mean in her face, obscenities falling from her lips and insults right to Catherine’s face. Also Meghan did buy Catherine a set of stainless steel butcher knives and smirked that the blood wipes right off.

Meghan also hates Pippa, because she tried to worm her way into her friendship circle first through the Chelsea society circle but failed as Pippa is very closed off to outsiders and very protective. Harry has had a well known weird obsession over Pippa and Catherine for a long time.

Meghan is behind the Rose rumours, this is a fact known by the family and staff. This is another reason why most have frozen her out and it is indeed due to Rose and Harry being together, and him raving about how “fit” she was to everyone afterwards while Meghan didn’t get to attend.

Meghan didn’t believe Zara had miscarriages and this is a big reason for why Anne, Peter, Mike and Zara hate her guts. Basically what was said is that Meghan didn’t see how an Olympic standard equestrian could have two miscarriages one after another and maybe it was that that caused it.

The racism thing is a nothing burger. Basically Charles and Camilla alongside William and Catherine sat down with Harry, without Meghan there before they married but apparently engaged, and basically brought up about whether he’d be able to cope with racism in the media directed towards Meghan and their child, what I’ve heard is that those shotgun engagement rumours are indeed true. There was a lot of talk about a miscarriage, and it wasn’t about Catherine or anyone else in the family. Which is why his family brought it up, as they knew he wasn’t the strongest mentally or emotionally. But what also was brought up was Harry’s racism and whether he’d be able to handle a biracial child… he had commented on Senna and Tāne Lewis among others.

Eugenie’s engagement announcement and wedding were both pushed back to accommodate Meghan and Harry, and their wedding pushed forward. The Queen apparently wanted a toned down wedding because Meghan was a divorcee and she was pregnant out of wedlock, but then suddenly they were accommodating basically anything she wanted, to which I’ve heard is because she cried wolf over a miscarriage, saying they were the family she never had and really manipulating them as while the Queen and others were strong and smart in the institutional way, they are a soft and supportive family. But she did bring up nonstop questions about Philip’s Nazi in-laws which irked him, The Queen and others massively.

Meghan wanted the Vladimir tiara, but not how it usually looks - basically she wanted to take the emeralds out of it and place those emeralds into the Lovers Knot, which she was told no because it is on lifetime loan to Catherine and its current frame is fitted to her head shape.

That Givenchy anon that was going around? That is basically all true. Meghan hated Charlotte with a vengeance but also Mia Tindall and later Lena Tindall because she like Louis dared to be born in 2018. She hated family members bringing children to events or family gatherings.

Also Meghan kept calling Louis, Lewis instead of the Louey pronunciation because she was jealous of him. Apparently Louis was also the name that she (more so Harry) had approached the Queen and Philip about using for their unborn child.

Doria never got anything. She turned up a few days before the wedding and jetted out a few days later. Jessica Mulroney kept pestering the courtiers and royal staffers to which they ended up blocking her from further communication.

Nobody knew Meghan was pregnant when she announced in 2018 with Archie, everyone literally found out when she posted on the instagram account in the middle of the night in the UK but a good time in California. Nobody got to ask about medical provisions, as the staffers wanted to help arrange the appropriate procedures for her with the Queen’s medical team. But she didn’t take them up, and Harry didn’t know basic things about the pregnancy when asked by family and staff. There is a very very strong case for a surrogate being used, as it was noted that Meghan ate unsafe food, traveled to unsafe places, did unsafe activities, and got basic information wrong about pregnancy when asked like Harry.

Nobody has seen him or Lili, they were not in the UK for the jubilee or any other time. The Queen did not visit them at Frogmore Cottage.

Breaking this down:

So as a daughter of a former courtier, I have some information of such to share.

What Meghan Wants - this wasn’t just about the wedding, as when Harry proposed he proposed with a basic ring and Meghan wanted something more bling so to speak and alongside Harry, approached The Queen and basically demanded that she have the centre emerald of the choker necklace placed into a diamond pavé ring alongside two other large diamonds from the royal collection, which I’ve heard were from the Victorian or Georgian era.

-So around this time Meghan’s PR was insane. It was clear that she intended on making “emerald” her stone/color like Catherine had “sapphire.” At the time, her PR was claiming that the emerald stone was going to come from a necklace of Diana’s and that Harry was going to take diamonds from the famous sapphire chocker for the rest of the ring. The problem that I always had with this rumor was that the emerald Meghan wanted wasn’t really suited for a ring. Unless she wanted to have it recut.

When the Queen said no, Meghan got venomous and is the reason why the Queen said she was evil. When they couldn’t get any further, they apparently approached The Earl Spencer to have him hand over diamonds from the Spencer tiara to place into the tiara, to which he denied. This was among the reasons why he did not attend the christening, the wedding he did attend because of optics.

Rumor was that Meghan asked for the tiara for her wedding, hence why her veil was scalloped to resemble the tiara.

The hatred of Catherine links back to a time when Meghan got drunk while living in Kensington Palace’s cottage with Harry, and threw a large party that went on for hours. William was apparently away at the time and Catherine was pregnant with two young children living close by. Catherine went down to tell her to stop the partying and the loud music, and Meghan again got venomous towards her. And by venomous, I mean in her face, obscenities falling from her lips and insults right to Catherine’s face. Also Meghan did buy Catherine a set of stainless steel butcher knives and smirked that the blood wipes right off.

It was also said that the Gloucester’s complained as well. Loud drunken behavior and at one point there were fireworks. But it was more than one occasion. Apparently Meghan made some rude remark regarding them about how they needed to move and it got back to TQ who relayed to Meghan she needed to keep her mouth shut. This is also why William stopped any potential move by them into KP.

Meghan also hates Pippa, because she tried to worm her way into her friendship circle first through the Chelsea society circle but failed as Pippa is very closed off to outsiders and very protective. Harry has had a well known weird obsession over Pippa and Catherine for a long time.

I remember there being a rumor that Meghan tried to make friends with Pippa to actually turn Pippa against Catherine. I also remember Meghan putting out PR that she was super close with Pippa and it was causing issues because Pippa was taking her side against Catherine.

Meghan is behind the Rose rumours, this is a fact known by the family and staff. This is another reason why most have frozen her out and it is indeed due to Rose and Harry being together, and him raving about how “fit” she was to everyone afterwards while Meghan didn’t get to attend.

Amsterdam SOHO is where she spilled the rumor because some people were willing to out her for her “extra party activities” so she started the rumor.

Meghan didn’t believe Zara had miscarriages and this is a big reason for why Anne, Peter, Mike and Zara hate her guts. Basically what was said is that Meghan didn’t see how an Olympic standard equestrian could have two miscarriages one after another and maybe it was that that caused it.

Yeah, Meghan believes that she is the only one to have ever suffered from a miscarriage…

The racism thing is a nothing burger. Basically Charles and Camilla alongside William and Catherine sat down with Harry, without Meghan there before they married but apparently engaged, and basically brought up about whether he’d be able to cope with racism in the media directed towards Meghan and their child, what I’ve heard is that those shotgun engagement rumours are indeed true. There was a lot of talk about a miscarriage, and it wasn’t about Catherine or anyone else in the family. Which is why his family brought it up, as they knew he wasn’t the strongest mentally or emotionally. But what also was brought up was Harry’s racism and whether he’d be able to handle a biracial child… he had commented on Senna and Tāne Lewis among others.

He felt the conversation was awkward because he knew how much they all disliked Meghan and she knew it as well. So she twisted the conversation to suit her narrative.

Eugenie’s engagement announcement and wedding were both pushed back to accommodate Meghan and Harry, and their wedding pushed forward.

Stole her wedding date from what I heard. Also another rumor, Meghan was FURIOUS because she wanted the tiara, after she had been denied others, that Eugenie wore and her announcing her pregnancy was retaliation.

The Queen apparently wanted a toned down wedding because Meghan was a divorcee and she was pregnant out of wedlock, but then suddenly they were accommodating basically anything she wanted, to which I’ve heard is because she cried wolf over a miscarriage, saying they were the family she never had and really manipulating them as while the Queen and others were strong and smart in the institutional way, they are a soft and supportive family. But she did bring up nonstop questions about Philip’s Nazi in-laws which irked him, The Queen and others massively.

TQ really had an issue with the veil as well. I remember when it was said PP might not make the wedding because of health issues and I always wondered if he was going to use that as an excuse to stay home because he hated Meghan. He also retired when he knew Meghan was coming on board…which is very telling.

Meghan wanted the Vladimir tiara, but not how it usually looks - basically she wanted to take the emeralds out of it and place those emeralds into the Lovers Knot, which she was told no because it is on lifetime loan to Catherine and its current frame is fitted to her head shape.

It was the Vladimir and the Fife emerald tiara that was on display at the time at KP. At least that is my theory.

That Givenchy anon that was going around? That is basically all true. Meghan hated Charlotte with a vengeance but also Mia Tindall and later Lena Tindall because she like Louis dared to be born in 2018. She hated family members bringing children to events or family gatherings. Also Meghan kept calling Louis, Lewis instead of the Louey pronunciation because she was jealous of him. Apparently Louis was also the name that she (more so Harry) had approached the Queen and Philip about using for their unborn child.

Yeah I heard she was furious that W&C went for Louis because she had called dibs on the name prior to there even being a wedding, let alone a baby. She was also furious because she felt that Charlotte should not have been named after TQ and Diana.

Doria never got anything. She turned up a few days before the wedding and jetted out a few days later. Jessica Mulroney kept pestering the courtiers and royal staffers to which they ended up blocking her from further communication.

Doria was literally trotted out to remind people Meghan is bi-racial.

Nobody knew Meghan was pregnant when she announced in 2018 with Archie, everyone literally found out when she posted on the instagram account in the middle of the night in the UK but a good time in California. Nobody got to ask about medical provisions, as the staffers wanted to help arrange the appropriate procedures for her with the Queen’s medical team. But she didn’t take them up, and Harry didn’t know basic things about the pregnancy when asked by family and staff. There is a very very strong case for a surrogate being used, as it was noted that Meghan ate unsafe food, traveled to unsafe places, did unsafe activities, and got basic information wrong about pregnancy when asked like Harry.

Nobody has seen him or Lili, they were not in the UK for the jubilee or any other time. The Queen did not visit them at Frogmore Cottage.

So I did the math and according to Meghan’s timeline, she was still heavily drinking and partying around the time she became “pregnant” with Archie. There is a lot of questionable behaviors surrounding all of this. I did find it odd the left the “kids” at home for the 2022 Jubilee/Trooping because I figured she would at least try to get a photo with them looking out a window.

Thanks for all of this BTW!

[redheadspark]

All Shook Up

Summary - Druig takes care of you after hours.

Warnings - SMUT WARNING! NO MINORS ALLOWED!

A/N - I got inspiration for his one shot from the GORGEOUS photoshoot Barry Keoghan did with Bumble for Valentines Day's. With him in front of the Pool Table... ;)

Enjoy responsibly :)

“Fuck…FUCK Druig!”

“That’s the idea, darlin’.” 

You opened your eyes seeing the lights shining down above you as hands were griping your hips so deliciously and possessively, your mind was in a pleasurable fog while your back was rubbing against the material below you.  Your thighs, though spread with no abandon, were starting to burn while you were covered from head to toe with sweat.  All you were feeling and sensing was red-hot heat, insane pleasure from the top of your head to your toes, and an insane high from Druig making love to you.

No, he wasn’t making love to you.  He was downright devouring you.

This was his idea, you had no idea you would end up literally on your back on top of a pool table with Druig drilling his cock into you at a steady rhythm.  He wanted you to come out to his pub and poll hall that night, you two haven’t been able to spend some time together as a couple since you both were busy.  Your workload and a full-time job were making you mostly unavailable for a date night or a late-night hang out with Druig, just as Druig running his pub kept him away for several hours on end.  

But finally, you had time to hang out with Druig after closing time, you were able to catch up with your mutual friends Makkari and Kingo.  The pub was pretty busy, Druig being a hands-on owner, and was all over the place.  You loved watching him at work, seeing him reload new kegs when they were out, checking in on his wait staff when they looked swamped, and even waiting on dirty tables You knew he was a devoted owner of the pub ever since he inherited it from his old boss and mother figure Ajak, doubling the profits and popularity in no time.  He moved into the apartment that was on the second floor, right on top of the pub with a massive view of the city below.  It was the best setup for him, and for you when he asked you to stay over for the night or for the weekend. 

He asked you to stay after hours when he locked the doors and lowered the blinds, and before you knew it, with a few glasses of wine and using some of his weed, the night led you two to this predicament.  

“Jesus, you look amazin’, sprawled on his table for me,” Druig growled as he thrust hard, you moaning loudly and reached for his spare hand for him to lace together near your head.  His other hand was cradling your neck, his body hunched over yours as he had you along the edge of the pool table.  It started with making out, Druig perching you on top of the Pool Table with ease as his kisses along your lips were making you dizzy.  

Something about Druig and his way to draw you in, to make you feel so loved and safe, you would fall under his spell every time.  He loved you and cared for you, showed you respect to the tenth degree, setting the bar far too high for any other guy to come around.  

After shotgunning the smoke from his parted lips and feeling his tongue dance against yours, you were falling for him all over again.  His hands were all over your body, pushing up the summer dress you were wearing to be bunched around your hips, and his thumbs then hooking along your panties to let them drop to the floor.  Before you knew what was happening, he was kneeling between your legs and making you shake in pleasure with both his lips and fingers inside your aching pussy.

It was almost like liquid fire along your skin, your fingers digging in his brown hair as your other hand was holding hard to the wood of the pool table.  It was almost like an erotic scene to be certain, to hear and feel Druig moan against your cunt as he was picking along your folds before flicking his tongue right up against your clit to make you scream. You were feeling the adrenaline from both the wine and the weed, but both were nothing compared to the pure lust that was in your veins as you were trying to stifle your moans by biting your lower lip.  

Druig must have heard it, pausing his movement and looking up at you as you were shaking from the insane pleasure.  You watched with glossed-over eyes, Druig on his knees with his eyes on yours whilst his head was still perched between your quivering thighs.  You saw the moisture painted on his lips and chin, you mewling from the sight as Druig sunk two fingers into your pussy as he smiled wide.

“Don’t be quiet on me darlin’.  I want ya nice and loud for me,” He commanded, his fingers curling as you fell back in a heap.  

After cumming from his tongue and fingers, Druig then had you bent over the side of the pool table, chest against the green material as he sunk his cock in from behind and took you then and there.  It would have sounded almost guttural from anyone else passing by, even that late in the night since the only sounds that were heard were the balls rolling around on top of the table and the slapping of skin.  Druig kept his hands everywhere on your skin, your sundress still on but barely as he was kneeling your breasts under the dress and sinking his fingers into your hair while his hips were constantly rolling over and over.  

You felt that tightness all over again, from this new angle and how his cock was so snug within your inner walls and hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you.  Druig always knew the best way to make you feel all the pleasure in the world when you two were in bed together, especially the first time he sunk into you.  Something in the way he fucked you, both in intensity and yet with gentleness as he watched you come undone under him.  He was entranced by the sight of you orgasming on his cock, calling out his name in such a way it was almost like a religious experience.  

This night was no different as he reached around to flick his finger against your clit, rotating it twice before you came so hard you were dragging your nails along the green cloth.  He hunched over you, holding you close while you experienced the aftershocks from your climax before he gave you a filthy kiss along your neck.

“How close are ya?  Tell me, sweetheart,” Druig commanded with a grunt as he was fucking you a bit faster now, seeing you shaking and biting your lip as sure signs of you about to reach the peak.  You look up at him, smiling in lust and bliss at the sight of Druig above you.  His eyes drilling into yours as his brown hair was plastered to his face, the open blue shirt he wore that night for work still on but now stuck against his chest and back from the sweat, he looked gorgeous to you.  With his muscles along his arm and chest and the distinct v-line from his hips, you were under his spell with no sign of snapping out of it as he was staring at you like you were prey that he wanted to devour.  

You must have looked like a mess, your summer dress now on the floor and being bare naked on top of one of his pool tables.  He loved seeing this side of you, not wound up tight like you usually were because of your job.  Druig always made it his mission to make your walls come down when he was with you, whether it was with back massages or sending you to the spa that his friend Sersi ran, seeing you relaxed and at ease made his heart happy.

But his favorite way of releasing your tension was fucking your brains out.

“F-Fuck, I…I’m so c-close!” You moaned as Druig kept thrusting, going a bit harder now while he watched your eyes roll back in ecstasy while the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot deep inside of you.  He leaned down, the new angle made you both moan sinfully as he wrapped his hand behind your neck to have you sit up.  You were so close to falling over in a blissful orgasm that you knew would shake up your world, you just needed a bit more of a push as Druig pulled you to be chest to chest with him.  You clung to his back, pressing your head into his as he bottomed out completely into yours.  At this point he was now grinding into you, the sheer force of his strength behind every push into you almost made the pool table shift and squeak, yet neither of you cared.

“Cum on baby…cum on my cock.  I wanna feel it, every single ounce of it as you cum and drench my cock,” He growled against your neck as he was grinding over and over.  You tried to speak, but all you could do was moan as the peak was so close, literally on the tip top of your spine and about to crash over your head.  Druig felt it too, how your pussy fluttered around his cock that was throbbing and aching to unload deep inside of you.  He just needed to tip you over the edge and knew precisely how to do it.  Your neck was so sensitive and so responsive, that he placed his lips over your neck right where your pulse point was.

He bit down very lightly, you screaming as you finally orgasmed and clung onto him.

It triggered his own orgasm too, emptying himself inside of you like a heartbeat and not slowing down or stopping.  You both were plastered to one another, coming down from your highs as the loud moaning was turning into whimpers and hums.  Druig kissed your skin wherever he could, still holding you tight as his hips were slightly moving again and again and still emptying himself inside of you until he felt himself spent.  Even Druig was shaking while his heart was beating rapidly against his chest, pulled away slightly to stare at you, and smiled in bliss.

There you were, coming down from your orgasm and yet still looking beautiful and almost heavenly in his arms as you were open and bare to him.  He loved the way you looked and felt beautiful in your own skin, for as long as he knew and loved you Druig loved the confidence you had and he wished he had it himself.  And you were sagged against him, Druig was rubbing his hands along your skin and kissing your cheeks as you lazily smiled, both in satisfaction and in exhaustion.

“Jesus Druig, I can’t even…I can’t walk,” You hummed, out of breath as Druig duly chuckled.  You looked over your shoulder at the scratch marks you made on the green cloth, grimacing a bit, “I’m sorry about your table.”

“You kiddin’ me?  It’s sexy as hell!” Druig reassured you, making you laugh as he kissed you sweetly and pulled out of your carefully.  You shook from the feeling of being empty, though Druig never released you from his arms as he spoke again against your jaw, “I’ve hated this pool table anyways.  I can call to get a new one tomorrow.  Come on, I wanna take care of ya in the shower,”

You squealed and laughed as he lifted you in his arms bridal style, both of you still naked with no shame as he strolled over to the backdoor that led to a pair of stairs that then led to his small and cramped apartment.  

The End.

Fic based on this masterpiece of a photo :

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[pricescancerstickk]

Platonic! Simon Ghost Riley x Young! Child reader

(Took a tiny break, this idea is a bit tw) *edited*

**[TW AND WARNINGS : MENTIONS OF CHILD SEXUAL ASSAULT, ABUSE, PHYSICAL AND VERBAL ABUSE, READER IS 7 YEARS OLD]

Your parents were never available or present ever since you were as young as a baby, it was very cruel and unfair and you were forced to grow up too fast for someone your size, Screaming yelling, bottles breaking and things falling over piercing and deafening your ears, the shouts from your father when you didn’t bring beer fast enough. The sound of the slap and your moms hand connecting to your little cheek after you didn’t clean the dishes. It was a dark world and you knew it all. It didn’t matter where you went Via school or home there was never a safe place for you except for Your Neighbors Home. Simon knew your parents as the three were childhood friends. Seperating in high school, Your dad was simons best friend. Your father was a hunter when he was in his youth and it was why he had a shotgun on display in his home, Simon was a lieutenant. Serving in military. A remarkable soldier of the SAS. Why was simons home a possible safe home? Sure he had only seen you once when you were 3 years old. A delicate cute baby. He missed rubbing your chubby red cheeks, he missed you secretly. Still having those pictures of you and him. Simon holding you in his arms, a Polaroid picture.

But when going back to the thought of school and your parents was unfair. They never bought you toys, never provided any comfort whatsoever and doing as much as looking or acknowledging you in their presence. Looking at you like a bystander examining a bug. The way they beat you after you made one little mistake…Awful. Your other relatives weren’t any better. You tried telling any staff or calling the police on how you got harassed and groped even by your older relatives. Nobody believe a word from you? Why? They just assumed you were spoiled or lying to get something that you wanted..You really weren’t, but alas. They couldn’t see that. Despite your little body all battered and bruised, coming into school in a weak state and all bandaged. Nobody batted one singular eye!

Eyes fluttering open as the alarm clock rang. Waking you out of your dazed and sleepy state, you rubbed your eyes and slipped your feet into the slippers. Walking to the bathroom, Grumbling softly. “I don’t wanna go to school today…” your hand rested atop the sink. Turning on the water. Washing your face, spreading toothpaste onto the tooth brush before brushing your teeth. Tilting your head making sure to clean thoroughly. Spitting out afterwards and washing up. You changed into your clothes and brushed your hair. Taking the pink flowery school bag with you. It was cheap. Small. But enough for you and it fit your school books and all that was necessary and important for you to bring to school. You tried to ignore your parents arguing, as always. Both drunk and hung over. Sparing you a glare as you walked to the school.

(A little of the pictures I found to describe what it’s like for little reader to be playing alone)

You opened up your locker and set some of your stuff inside. Taking a book but a foot connected to your back and you fell to the floor wincing. But catching a flash of your reflection on the metal handle of the lockers. Red puffy eyes, you’d been crying the entire night, forced to suck it up and bear with it while you can. You couldn’t understand why life was so cruel. You were only in the first grade. You heard laughing. But didn’t realize it’d been going on for a while as you zoned out. They chanted cry baby as witnessing the sight of those round eyes filling up the brim like a river with all those big round clear, Tears. “It’s not funny! Stop it!” They kept kicking you over and over as you cried. They couldn’t get anymore childish than hanging that ‘kick me’ sign onto your back. Snagging it off and grunting. Crying softly wanting the day to end already but hearing the bell ring after so many hours your eyes widened in relief. You left the class as fast as you could. Snatching the bag onto your back and rushing outside. Shaking in fear knowing coming back home wouldn’t be good either..What could you really do though? You couldn’t run away. You didn’t know where to go.

“Sweetheart?’ A voice called out shaking you and snapping you back to reality, turning around and seeing it was Simon. What was he doing here? “Daddy will be mad at me I-if he saw you with me si” you gently spoke up, voice shaky. Eyes about to tear up, His blue eyes filled with concern. His hair blonde and short. He gently took a knee. Kneeling infront of you and taking that flowery bag of your back and hoisting it over his shoulder. Taking you into his arm. Careful not to trigger anything, “How do you carry that bag darling? It’s a bit heavy ain’t it” Gently he murmured as you clung onto him like your entire life depend solely on Simon. “Can we go to your home?..” whispering caught him off guard but he recently found out what had been happening at home, he loved you too much to let it happen longer. He nodded along and his long legs moved around the floor. Walking you to his home. Hand in hand, seeing your outfit. It was childlike and innocent, matching your personality exactly, Blue hoodie with those pink like suspender pants it seemed, (idk how to describe but it’s gonna be similar to the picture idk???)

Setting you down gently on his couch as he sat beside you and wrapped you in a warm blanket easing all of your worries. Slowly wrapping you in a blanket burrito before putting you on his lap. Watching your eyes look into his pale-like ones, They softened further he looked at you. Long finger tracing your cheek, touching the scar on it with a gentle touch like a baby’s caress. A light graze “they’re monsters. You’re never going back to them, your staying with me. Sweetie” he reassured as you couldn’t hold back tears anymore and your tears stained his shirt. Hands clutching on the dark shirt. Eyes wide and sad. “T-thank you” crying sweetly and heart easing as his hand went to the back of your small head. Pushing it into his broad chest and stroking your hair back. Pushing the bangs away from your eyes. The height difference was massive. You couldn’t grow up fast. Never eating well and being starved and at the age of 7 you were really short, about 4 foot something. But Simon was one of those blokes. His British accent gruff. Phlegmy like but soft and stern. He was on the phone as he ordered the pizza later after letting you decide what you wanted to eat. He took it and set the box on the table. Offering a slice to you, you took it and gently stuffed it to your mouth. His finger wiping off the cheese that sprinkled onto your face. A light giggle emitting from you. “It tickles..” you murmured softly and ate. As you watched the cartoons on tv in pure bliss it wouldn’t be long before those shitty parents came to haunt you

Ring

Simon placed down the slice of pizza. Standing up and pulling his phone out his pocket. Seeing it was your dad calling and his heart sank tiny his stomach as he answered it he argued with your father on the phone violently. There was no way in hell Simon was giving you to those so-called ‘parents’. He hung up and sat next to you again, seeing you already finished eating surprised him. You were sitting there a second ago. You must’ve been really hungry. He panicked, as he didn’t see you? “Y/N sweetheart? Where did you go?” His voice raised lightly, startling you,

“I’m over here si!” You answered back softly. But he found you on the floor next to the table with the colorful plates and toy kitchen. Sitting on the floor. Eyes looking into his, and that he forgot to mention he bought you toys before you came here. He had thought this through and planned thsi without knowing. He kneeled next to you on the floor “Don’t scare me like that again Y/N” he ruffled your hair a bit, Simon’s blue eyes were sincere. His face was chiseled and you always called the jawline ‘lines on his face’ because you didn’t know the word ‘chiseled’, you yawned soflty after a while of playing, tired. He was on his phone checking the time, he looked up and saw you laying on your side. Asleep, throughout the day after he picked you up from school. “Will mommy be mad at me?” Those words echoed in his head. Reading him of mid day when he gave you a little bubble bath to wash the wounds and dirt off your body. You were really skinny and he took note to feed you more than you need to at times. In a good, healthy way. He hated how you shied away from his touch, how your eyes filled with fear if he almost walked to you too fast. He didn’t want to hurt you in any way. He’d feel like a monster. The way you flinched or shied away broke his heart and shattered it like no other. Despite his entire family dead and haunting Simon, he could cope with you. He had a terrible past aswell. And you were a ball of sunshine in his life. The ray of light and the little angel that saved him after his heart was too dark to let anyone in to love. He shed tears for you. A sign how much he cared for you. Your tiny peck on his cheek and your hands wiping away the tears and your compliments to him were sweet gestures showed how you were comfortable and safe with him melted his heart like no other. He was a giant teddy bear to you,

Not a while after you fell asleep in his arms. His chin resting atop your head and listening to the soft snores and head buried in his chest. Wrapped in the blanket. On his lap. Resting like a baby, finding the empty pizza box you both ate together laying on the floor. The tv playing cartoons you were watching earlier. He carried you to his bed. Laying you next to him, snuggling you and planting a kiss on your head before shutting his eyes. Falling asleep with you, making sure you were safe before he slept next to you, both nuzzled up.

[circeyoru]

His Killer = Requested

[Alastor x Male Hunter!Reader] - No romance or platonic element

The Request

“My good sir, may I have some of your time?” 

You paused in your walk with an old friend, seeing her shiver under the threatening gaze of the Radio Demon. You sent her off to meet you somewhere else before turning to the red themed demon. Your beedy glowing white eyes pierced through the eyeholes of your deer skull mask. “Alastor, what do you want?”

Alastor played his his staff as he hummed a tune, his eyes darting to the sides to where lower ranked demons were roaming around. “A bit of your time and an ear to listen, my fellow. It’s a talk I’ve dying to get across or clear up, as you can understand.”

You checked your phone, noting the time before nodding in agreement. At your consent, Alastor brought the two of you to a restaurant. The demons inside all scrambled to move away from your table, some even jumping out the window at the two Overlords that came in leisurely. It was a common sight. If there was merely one, demons would be wary, but two. Oh, everyone has to be careful or they can steer clear of the area to avoid a painful ‘death’.

The two of you took your seats, the waiter coming to take your orders and leave a glass of water before leaving, stating that the food will be ready in a moment. It’ll take a while since they’d want to ensure perfection to avoid the wrath of not one but two Overlords.

“I’ll get straight to the point. Dear friend.” Alastor started when a silence moment between you two pass. His eyes stared at you as he observed an sudden movements to catch you off guard. “You are my killer.” You merely sipped your water and let him continue. “I’m sure it was an accident, it was the dead of night and deer season! Oh, the accidents that happened from misfires and wrongful shots. Sadly, it led to my death at your hands! Haha!”

Alastor was digging a hole in the forest. Using the cloak of darkness and his familiarity of the forest to his advantage for his nighty activities. But he was also taking a risk. It was now deer hunting period, many hunters would be out and about to hunt deers at night. There could be potential witness or body finders. Though he was confident that no one would be able to point the blame at his direction. 

His head snapped up at the sound of a gunshot so close it grazed his arm as pain came that made him drop his shovel. He looked over to the direction where he heard the cocking of a shotgun, he also heard the sniffing of dogs. He looked to the dead body then back in that same direction. He couldn’t let the dogs or the hunter know there was a body. So he ran in another direction to lead them away from the crime scene. 

As quick as he took to running, he regretted it. He made him look like a prey fearful of being hunted. He heard the sharp whistle before the howlings of the hunting dogs and the sound of them running at him. He twisted and weaved through the tree, but he knew it was not enough to out manuever the pack of dogs and their keen senses. If he lead them to a clearing, then he could appeal to the hunter to stop the ‘hunt for a deer’ and call it a misunderstanding.

“Ahh!” Alastor heard another shot before he felt the pain at his shoulders. He slowed down, the dogs caught up. Rows of sharp canine teeth biting into his chest. “Wait, I’m not—!” Another came at his back, knocking him down on his stomach. He tried to shake them off or pushing them away from him, but the more he moved the more the bite force in his fresh. Like he was a piece of meat. “Retched beast!”

The last thing he remembered hearing was the outfit of the owner of the hunting dogs and the hunter of this chase. A gun pointed at him. The shadows clouded the hunter’s judgment, he could tell, the tree branches made it seem like anthers of a deer and it was the season to hunt such weak prey. He was down, tagged to the ground by the dogs.

One last attempt, “Wa—!”

Bang!

“Quite the chase, I’ve long forgotten the feeling of fear, you see. I should have been acting more quick on my feet and talk instead of taken off running!” Alastor spoke again, recalling that fateful night so long ago. He looked over to you, seeing you as calm and collected as always. “I hold no grudge against you, merely wanting to confirm with you as you are a fellow Overlord! Haha.”

“It was no accident.” Your words cut through the carefree atmosphere Alastor had established. 

There was an uncomfortable aura around your tables while the servers quickly placed the correct and perfect orders down on your table before bowing and leaving like the wind.

You pulled your plate nearer to your side, cutting into the piece of meat and watched dully as the blood oozed out. You cut a smaller piece and chewed on it, glancing over to see Alastor frozen a bit but then laughed. “Oh, you jester, you.”

“I am not jesting.” You stated firmly once more. You watched as Alastor’s eyes blacked and hi shadows twisting. But you continued. “It was suicidal for me to point you as the active serial killer in town, you have so much bodies piled up, I don’t think you remember killing a lovely child that was mine. I’ll admit, you were charming, but your effect is only advantageous to you if your target isn’t aware of your true nature.”

You followed Alastor into the woods, bringing your trained dogs into the forest as well. You waited a while until he stopped moving to do the unthinkable act. Your hands clutched your shotgun till your knuckles were white. Which poor soul was his victim this time, you wondered. You’ll put an end to it tonight. No more victims. The devil of New Orleans is returning back to the burning hell tonight.

When the opportunity came, you fired at his arm as a warning shot for him to run. As expected he ran away from the body. You whistled and commanded your hounds to track Alastor down while you approached the body, matching down the location with a bright red ribbon before you followed after the running devil. You’d stop at a safe distance to fire another shot, this time at his shoulder. You watched as your hounds tackled Alastor to the ground.

Stepping forward, you revealed yourself. No doubt Alastor and you would meet in Hell. You wouldn’t even want him to have the satisfaction of trying to manipulate the hunter that killed the devil. So you fired again. Right in the middle of his forehead without hearing him out.

“My, my, what did I do to deserve your hatred?” Alastor questioned, his eyes curious but also controlled as he pushed down the urge to lash out. If you weren’t an Overlord, he’d tear you limb from limb and broadcast your screams for every wretched pest in Hell to hear. 

But you were feared for your own reason. Unlike him, you built your reputation on the creatures you summoned to do your bidding he’d bet it was those hounds you so loved and had mulled him to death before your killing shot came. Your powers were pecuilar and strong, even without counting the contracted souls, you had an army ready to call out and capable of wiping out an entire district. You were that powerful and dangerous.

You ignored the questioned and spoke your thoughts or recounting your memories. 

“I brought your killings to light. Showed the people what their famous beloved radio host did behind closed doors. The town was livid with the truth, you see. They burnt down your home, destroyed your workplace.” You paused a bit, eying him with your half-lid eyes, not that he could tell. “They tried to destroy your mother’s tomb.”

Bang! Cling! Clang!

Your eyes followed yours and his meal and all the other items on the table falling to the ground from Alastor’s actions. With a blink, your eyes were back to the deer demon in front of you. 

Alastor’s black antlers grew as his form enlarged, appearing more threatening as he growled at you. Static accompanied his rage, “What. Did. You. Just. Say?”

“I thought it was disrespectful to the dead. She wouldn’t like my actions and I thought it was the best I could somewhat atone. I protected your mother’s gravesite and directed them to your father’s. I’m sure you don’t mind.”

Alastor froze. He was still enraged by the audacity those people had. His mother was nice and kind, if she knew of his killings, she’s persuade him to stop. All because she was a gentle soul. Why else did he remove the arrogant father of his for the two of them. He took his seat and relaxed, clearing his throat as he stated. “I supposed I owe you some form of gratitude. However, none of it would have happened if you didn’t purposefully kill me. If what you imply was that it was an intentional murder.”

You wiped your mouth, discarding the napkin to the side without a care. You uncrossed your legs and got up, coldly stated as your hounds appeared behind you to bear their fangs at the demon in red. “None of it would have happened if you didn’t kill my daughter.”

Note: Let me know if you guys like this story format as well!

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[moongreenlight]

ok ok so about this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/moongreenlight/729759450340130816/headcanons-for-captain-john-price-and-his-very

i was reading it while listening to mozart’s requiem: confutatis maledictus

https://youtu.be/hN7DZhGNCxY?si=knTn38X98KovFvzL

and i was thinking what if the age gap is the same BUT reader was also military?

like this sweet little thing who dresses in pretty, dark red cherry print skirts used to have the same dark red splotches of blood on their uniform in the field. reader who’s a bit deranged, who plays the strings on her violin until the deep indents on her fingertips threaten to cut and bleed. a bit strange reader who immediately snaps her head to the slightest out of place sound on her private garden, face dropping from her stepford smile into a focused scowl. loose screwed reader who demands the cook to cook the same dish 4 times on a random thursday because it didn’t taste like the same as when he prepared it 4 months ago. bit rabid reader who keeps her staff dogs on a tight leash, including her husband, demanding things to be done on her standards. pretty show cat reader who hisses and scratches when john doesn’t greet her with the same amount of joy at the door when he has a bad day at work.

this cat, no matter how pampered and spoiled, never fully became domesticated to be a house cat, still feral under her shiny new coat. her new appearance however, is truly just a guise over her rabid tendencies. god forbid john ever pushes readers buttons because his things will get destroyed, his ego deflated, his paperweights cracked, his uniforms ripped at the seams, sturdy until needed, his pens lacking any more ink, fountain pen nibs bent ever so slightly, furniture moved every so slightly, hair and facial appointments cut in half and only being once a week.

i just LIVE for deranged!reader. i love love love it when reader is the crazy one too who feeds and takes ideals from her husband 😼😼😼

Katz I am almost certain you read my rough draft for these Headcanons because I swear to you I almost wrote reader like this. Your mind. You also know I’m a sucker for an animal comparison you literally forced me to write this. :’(

I am a crazy bitch SYMPATHIZER. She is me I am her. It takes a lot of me not to write every reader as a little off their fucking rocker but I’m glad you’re endorsing this.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

He probably takes a liking to you shortly after you start training. Catches you tearing into one of your bunk mates viciously for leaving one (1) sock on the ground next to their hamper. Doesn’t bother to break it up, just immediately goes back to his office and figures out who your training officer was and how quickly he could get you switched into his group.

He pulls rank on Soap to get him to agree to let you switch over. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he huffs and agrees to take a significantly less advanced rookie in exchange for you. Completely unfair trade, but Price is over the moon about it.

He doesn’t come off too strong at first because you’re young. Just turned twenty and joined the military to get loans for uni. He knows he’s much too old for you.

But still, he lets his hands linger on your waist when he’s correcting your posture, kicks your feet apart and plants his leg between yours when he’s teaching you how to properly handle a shotgun. Hears his other rookies complaining about you being favored by him because you’re the only one he’ll compliment during sessions.

Doesn’t even bother saying anything about the rumors spreading because you beat him to the punch- sometimes literally. Like he’s fairly certain you shot the worst offender in the foot on purpose during a mission to shut them up.

A few months go by with no real progress and no real payout until one day after training he wanders back to his office and finds you already sitting there waiting for him. You say something about how you’re hoping to advance pretty quickly after training, you wonder if he sees any potential in you. Lean over his desk and bat your lashes and ask what he thinks about giving you some private lessons, only if he has time of course. He nearly passes out.

And then a year later you’re married. He doesn’t have time to dick around, nor does he want to, and he now knows you well enough to know that you’ll throw a proper tantrum if things aren’t done exactly to your liking, so sure, it was a quick turnaround, but you really did love each other.

I think he asks a few times if you’ll leave the service, and you shut him down immediately. Scowling and pulling a face at the suggestion. Saying no just to say no. And then you go spent like $600 at the shops with his card. So he learns to keep his mouth shut and just supplement you with the life he wants you to have until you come to your own decision to be discharged.

And while you’ve grown accustomed to your new plush life, you never quite lose your fire. Truly, you’re a feral little thing turned prized show cat. You let him dote on you and provide you with all the finer things in life. Let him preen you and dress you up and play his perfect little wife. Oftentimes gives people the impression he’s got you tucked under his thumb when the reality of the situation is quite the opposite.

You let him play captain when you visit him at work or when he brings the boys over for drinks. Smile and stay relatively quiet tucked in by his side when you’re hosting dinner. Put on a nice outfit and a big smile when he introduces you to his chain of command during holiday parties and outings. You’ve gotten quite good at playing domestic.

But you like things exactly how you like them. Very particular about your life and your house and the people in it. You make it abundantly clear that it’s your way or no way at all.

Lounging out by the pool in the back while the landscapers work and noticing as they’re trying to slip out the gate that they didn’t properly trim the grass around the perimeter of the fence, so you storm out after them and hiss and yowl your complaint until they fix their mistake. Making a spectacle in your tiny bikini in front of the whole neighborhood until they finally correct the issue. Then you shake off any irritation and flash them a bright smile and offer your thanks like nothing had happened.

Hovering around the cook in the kitchen irritatingly close after you’ve asked them to prepare a dish that your mother used to make when you were a child. Peeking over their shoulder and punctuating their work with comments and corrections that are presented like suggestions, but everyone understands they’re demands. Going so far as to dump their progress in the trash when they’re not following your instruction well enough.

Sending John to work for two weeks straight with an empty bag that was supposed to hold his lunch because you’d asked him to please stop kicking off his mucked up work boots directly in front of the front door when he got home and he didn’t. Not even bothering to make up an excuse as to why you wouldn’t be coming to base when he called to ask if you’d bring him food. Simply saying no and ending the call no matter how many times he apologized.

Spilling his mug of tea over paperwork if you felt like he wasn’t paying you enough attention. Even if you were sat on his lap and obstructing his view of his desk.

Growing agitated with his working late so you go up to base when you know he’s out training and locking all of the drawers and cabinets in his office. Wearing the key on a dainty chain around your neck and telling him he can only have it back once you feel like he’s gotten his priorities straight. Calling in the aid of a handyman to bolt the mail slot on his door shut so he had no excuse to be doing any excess work.

Pulling a duchess from Wolf of Wall Street and wearing tiny little dresses with no underwear. Intentionally bending at the waist in front of him and leaning over his desk with your elbows pushed together in front of you when he’s done something to piss you off. Batting his hand away when he tries to grope you.

Or what felt like the worst punishment of all to him- making a point of being in the shower when he came home. Not giving him the pleasure of giving you the lush bubble baths he loved so much. Sometimes just sitting in the bathroom with the water running until you heard the front door swing shut and turning it off. Coming out wrapped in a towel that barely covered you. water beading on your shoulders. Sauntering away from him with your tail flicking back and forth when he tried to voice his protest.

He’s infinitely patient with you. Mostly because he is absolutely infatuated, but also because he knew what he was getting into when he married you. He’ll correct you when you go too far for his liking. Maybe pull you over his knee and make you apologize for how you acted until he feels like you mean it. Giving you a mean swat to the ass every time you’re snarky or flat out refuse. Sometimes gets fed up with your smart mouth and shoves his cock down your throat for a few hours to remind you that speaking is a privilege and not a right. Or he’ll parade you around the house fully nude. Maybe forcing you to crawl around on all fours like the feral cat you are in front of all the staff (or the task force boys) just to remind you of your place. Has you curl up on the sofa next to him, even though the whole time you’re pouting like you didn’t do anything wrong. Looks at you over his newspaper with a mock-sympathetic smile but says nothing until you decide to get over your anger and settle in his lap. Purring while he smooths a hand over your hair.

[gavamont]

A Wizard where the staff is used like a shotgun and they have a bandolier of shotgun shells that are filled with spell components. Rambomancer

[rev-was-here]

How about the Dealer from Buckshot Roulette as the owner of that entire establishment interacting with a reader who's staff from the club (first 3 floors) that occasionally comes up to the table to clean/run deliveries/run tech support/stuff like that?

omg are you reading my mind i was just thinking about that too!!! Also disclaimer to everyone who decides to tune in, i suck at writing head canons. i make good one shots tho so feel free to request those too! ANYWAYS HERE YA GO

-he greatly appreciates you whenever you enter the room. Lets just be honest.

-he could be in the middle of a round with someone. As serious as ever, and you walk in to deliver more item boxes. He looks at you, and nods his head before uttering a small “Thank you” as you leave him and the player alone again.

-He may act stoic, but he genuinely is thankful for your help whenever he’s in a game.

ONTO THE HEADCANONS NOW….

-as one of the staff members, it’s your responsibility to greet all the people in the club, more so, to lead those who want to participate in a game of roulette, straight to the dealer.

-Once you’ve led that person into the room, The dealer makes himself known. 

-sometimes, he allows you to stay in the room to spectate the game totally not because he wants you there. He has you decide the stakes.

-“Name. Be a dear and load the shotgun for us will ya.”

-He trusts you to load up however many bullets you see fit, but you chose to start off small. I Guess the player is lucky you were the one loading the gun, huh.

[compacflt]

Rumors from Pearl Harbor.

When Admiral Kazansky first comes to Pearl, he brings with him about half of his previous staff, all exceptionally-hardworking people hand-picked over years—advisors, flag aides, secretaries, ranks all over the board. But his new hires, upon getting acquainted with the old guard, are shocked to discover that his previous staff still hardly knows him at all.

“He keeps to himself, mostly,” Lieutenant Commander Hartford explains over a pint. “I made the mistake of asking him once what he did for fun. You know, like, hobbies and stuff. He blinked at me for a second, and then said, ‘I read.’ That’s it! I read! My advice to you newcomers would be, don’t ask him questions about his personal life, because it tends to be pretty boring.”

“It sounds to me like he’s a walking, talking Wikipedia page,” says Captain Calvert, who worked for the previous two Pacific Fleet Commanders and thinks she knows how to deal with them by now. “We owe it to ourselves to figure him out. It’ll make our lives easier, anyway. So, let’s put our heads together: what do we know about him?”

What they know are his habits, which they’ll come to learn intimately over the next few years, and which are admittedly pretty boring. Admiral Kazansky is one of the first to show up to work in the morning and one of the last to leave in the evening. He often answers e-mails past 2300 hours, but never later than midnight. Jokes never catch him off-guard; he rarely smiles, and when he does, it has an ulterior motive. When he’s not working, he’s scheming and making plans to go back home to San Diego, and his requests for leave are always granted, because he works like a pack mule from home anyway. He signs off every e-mail with “Sincerely,”…

“Is he sincere, though?” asks Chief Warrant Officer Kent halfway through Admiral Kazansky’s first year. (Admiral Kazansky is surely unaware that his staff now spends the second Friday of every month chit-chatting about him over drinks in downtown Honolulu.) “I can’t ever tell. And he lives in Hawaii. San Diego’s nice, I know, but what’s so different about the beaches there that he can’t get here?”

“I genuinely don’t think he’s human,” confesses Commander Stoddard. “People warned me about that when I came here, and I laughed it off, but… he keeps his desk biologically sterile. Not one fingerprint, but I’ve never seen anyone wipe it down. I’ve looked through his drawers. Don’t judge me, I got curious. Everything squared away, like he’s goddamn Einstein or something. Have any of you ever seen him in his civvies?” No one has. “God damn it, where does he shop for groceries? No one’s seen him at a grocery store? Does he even own a pair of jeans? Does he wear his uniform to bed, too?”

“He probably goes grocery shopping on the whole other side of the island to avoid all the enlisted kids,” laughs Captain Calvert. “Come to think of it…you know how he always eats lunch in the office? It’s always a salad. And always the same kind of salad. This guy survives on one cup of coffee and one spinach salad a day. Maybe he really isn’t human.”

They build out their wealth of knowledge and come to learn that Admiral Kazansky is defined by his extremes, by what he always does and what he never does. Admiral Kazansky gets his uniforms dry-cleaned every week, though he never spills anything on them. No one has ever seen Admiral Kazansky stumble over his words while giving a speech, or trip over a sidewalk curb, or push a “pull” door. He is always polite and never friendly. Sometimes he is cold, and sometimes he is cruel in his patience with you when you’ve fucked up, like a cat toying with a hemorrhaging mouse. But he never raises his voice. He is always immaculately put-together, well-groomed, constructed every day like a product on an assembly line. Nothing is ever out of place. Allegedly his umbrella once turned inside-out during a rainstorm; he disdainfully shook it once, as a hunter might pump a loaded shotgun, and it flipped itself right-side-in again. The laws of physics do not seem to apply to him. Nor do the natural embarrassments that come with being human. Admiral Kazansky is never flustered, never harried, and never falls apart.

“I found this old picture of him shaking hands with another pilot on the Internet,” says Chief Warrant Officer Kent in Admiral Kazansky’s second year. “Smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Never seen him smile like that in all my years working with him. And he had frosted tips, too. Like Guy Fieri on a diet and steroids. It was the eighties, sure, but it’s like he knew how to have fun, once upon a time. Wonder what happened to him.”

“I feel lonely for him sometimes,” says Commander Stoddard. “Strict guy like that, no family, no friends, no wife, nothing to live for but the Navy? He’s like a workhorse with blinders on. Nowhere to go but forward. That’s a lonely existence.”

“Not if you’re a robot,” says Lieutenant Commander Hartford. “I swear, sometimes he breathes and it makes me jump, ‘cause I forgot he was alive!” —What else doesn’t Admiral Kazansky do?

That’s when they realize that none of them, not the old guard nor the new, has ever, not once, ever seen or heard Admiral Kazansky sneeze.

And they all finally give up the game and quit arguing and agree that, no, he really isn’t human after all. He must be some cyborg from the future sent to whip the Pacific Fleet into shape, and you can’t ask for too much humanity from someone who’s doing a pretty damn good job of it.

The rumors start soon after that. Jokes that could get them all tossed out of the Navy, but probably won’t. Jokes that accidentally spread like wildfire.

Yes, Admiral Kazansky could be a cyborg, but he also could be a Mormon fundamentalist, or a Scientologist, or a really weird Catholic. Maybe he goes home to San Diego so often because in his spare time he’s really a mule ferrying cocaine across the Mexi-Cali border. That’s what he does for fun. He eats spinach salads because he’s a reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man, and he needs all the super-strength he can get to deal with the Navy’s modern-day bullshit.

“I don’t know if that story makes sense,” laughs Captain Calvert on the phone with her husband in Washington, “but it makes more sense than the real Admiral Kazansky does!”

So the rumors get spread around.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Maverick comments, watching Ice make their bed from the relative comfort of the bedroom doorway, “or if I should tell you this, because you might crack down on it, which would be a shame, ‘cause it’s funny. But every time you send a mass e-mail to the Pacific Fleet commissioned officer corps, you become the main topic of conversation between all of us officers for a solid day and a half.”

“Oh?” says Ice with a smile, struggling to fit the last corner of the fitted sheet to the mattress. He sighs, tugs on the strings of his old ratty-ass hooded sweatshirt, and looks at Maverick balefully through his glasses. “Help me out over here, would you? —What are people saying? All good things, I hope.”

“Not really,” Maverick says, stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase as he stares out the window into the San Diego sunshine. “Some pretty crazy shit, actually. Hard as hell for me to keep a straight face. I heard this one—you know, people are saying you eat nothing but salads?”

“Oh,” laughs Ice, hospital-cornering the free sheet. “Yeah, that one’s kind of true. I bring salads in to the office sometimes.”

“You hate salads.”

“I know, it’s torture! Move over.” He bumps Maverick out of the way to tuck in the last corner. “But, I figure, if a man torments himself with spinach-and-arugula salads three times a week, you ought to respect his commitment. It’s all an act. You get to a certain Defense Department paygrade, it all starts being storytelling and stagecraft.”

“Or trickery and deception, depending on how you look at it.”

“Sure. But you could say that about everything. —Besides, I’d rather the Navy discuss my salads than discuss… well, this.” He gestures to Maverick, then down to the bed. They start tugging the comforter over it together. “How much slack you got over there?”

“‘Bout a foot.”

Ice pulls his side down a couple more inches to match, then flips the top up. “Is that it? That’s all people are saying about me?”

Maverick grins and bends down to pick up a pillow. “They’re also saying that you’re the reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man. I yam what I yam and that’s all what I yam, and all that. Think fast.”

Ice doesn’t think fast, and the pillow hits him square in the face, and he laughs again as he catches it in his arms. “Shit, that’s good,” he says; “I was just about to call Slider, think I’ll tell him that one. That’ll make him laugh. Popeye Iceman.” He tosses the pillow onto the made-up bed and pulls out his cell phone, but—then he frowns, grimaces, mutters “Ah, no,” and turns away to sneeze.

[rayshippouuchiha]

will always love and respect a character in an RPG where everyone else is using swords and staffs and bows who rolls up like "y'all are fucking weird" and just racks up a shotgun