#there was supposed to be a background and stuff but like. i gave up i go t tired (Lol!)(sory) so this is *kind of* unfinished

[randomly--accessed--memories]

@storm-ismyusername

Okay, so, the "Vox's kids die as children AU." I came up with the image of Vox keeping his kids in a fish tank first, but upon further reflection, I've realized that it doesn't really line up with the timeline I've established.

Vox's children were 7 and 10 when he died (1957)

Vox worked under an overlord for 3 years after his death until he broke free, started his own business, and met Alastor (1960)

He and Alastor were friends for 6 years until they fell out (1966)

Vox gained official overlord status 2 years later (1968). By the time Vox had the resources for the fish tank plan, his kids would've been 18 and 21.

The only window of time where Thomas and Sarah can die and still be children is 1957-1961, so it would have to happen when Vox was still in the employ of his overlord. I actually think the idea of struggling single dad Vox is really charming, so let's go with that.

With that background, I'm not sure if Vox would feel the need to do the fish tank thing since they went a decade without anything going wrong. Maybe it exists, but Sarah and Thomas aren't confined to it 24/7. Everyone already knows they exist, so they're allowed to move around the tower as they please (they are absolutely not allowed to go outside, though).

Okay, with that out of the way, onto the responses. Gonna answer this in parts: this one is the pre-canon stuff, the next will be the canon stuff, and the third will be RAM stuff.

Ondine & Fineas where they die as kids: How does child Sarah and Thomas react to: 1-Dying 2-Going to Hell 3-Reuniting with your dead Dad (who now has a TV for a head) Would any of their Sinner features be different? Is it weird I can see Vox being more fatherly to Sarah and Thomas than he was in his human life? So when Sarah & Thomas die as kids does Vox find them before or after his big fight with Alastor? If before, what would Alastor make of the situation?  How long does Sarah and Thomas fend for themselves in Hell? A few days, a few weeks, a month, a year?  Did someone find the first? Did Vox only learn his kids were in Hell when someone was using them as blackmail against him? Did Sarah and Thomas watch as their father brutally murder their kidnapper in front of them?  Maybe another Overlord (like Carmilla, Zestial, or Rosie) found them and gave them to Vox because they felt threatening children was beneath them and drew the line at hurting kids. Wait what if Alastor found them first? What would he do with them if he did?

Okay, so Sarah and Thomas die somewhere between 1958 and 1959. They still drowned, maintaining their aquatic theming, but I'm not sure how exactly– could've been from their mother driving under the influence and crashing the car through a bridge's guardrails, could've been just regular drowning at the beach or something. Their mother survives, so they land in Hell alone (I have no idea what an 8~9 and 11~12-year-old could've done to get sent to Hell, but let's just move on).

Not sure how Vox finds them. In the main AU, they found him by recognizing his voice in an advertisement and seeking him out, but at this point, Vox is just some random nobody. Let's just assume he got extremely lucky and happened to come across them 1-30 days after they first arrived but before anyone else thought to scoop them up. Vox is horrified that they're dead and in Hell and privately swears to permakill his wife for letting this happen if he ever sees her again. He brings them back to his shitty little apartment and starts trying to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to care for children in Hell.

Despite the circumstances, Vox is actually a better father in Hell than he was on Earth. He has nothing to his name other than a shitty errand boy job, a tiny apartment, and his two small children, who he thought he'd never see again. While the stress of having to provide for them is a beast, losing everything sort of forced him to get his priorities in order. They become far more tight-knit than when they were alive, as Vox is forced to spend more time with them and get creative when it comes to meeting their needs.

It's all quite the adjustment for Thomas and Sarah. Dying and trying to survive on the streets was as traumatizing as you'd expect. Reuniting with your dead dad and having to adjust to living in poverty is also a lot to take in. Every day, they're stuck in a one-room apartment with gunshots constantly going off outside and explicit instructions from their father to be as quiet as possible and not open the door for anyone– very different from the upper-middle-class suburbanite life they were used to. Eventually, their dad will come home with cheap food, they'll spend some time together, and then all curl up in their one bed and try to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. It's not a comfortable life, but it's definitely more intimate than how things used to be. Thomas starts letting go of some of his resentment of Vox since he can tell he's actually trying now, and Sarah's view of him as A Good Dad, Actually solidifies.

Eventually, Vox secretly kills his overlord, starts his first business, and is taken under Alastor's wing. Things become more comfortable for the three of them, and Alastor becomes something akin to a weird but fun uncle to the kids. Things are looking up for the family as Vox starts to build power and wealth. It's horrifying for the kids when Vox comes home one night without a head and swears vengeance on Alastor, but that incident only adds to Vox's upward momentum. After ten years of struggling in Hell, Thomas and Sarah (or rather, Fineas and Ondine) find themselves back in the lap of luxury as their father claims the title of the Overlord of Television.

[ghostmaide]

maid cafe (fredy faber)

[melon-dot-com]

bonking my head against desk.mp4

I wasted time on something unimportant and that I didn't even care about again!!!!! I'm gonna Lose It!!!!

[tsuvvy]

Damian would never admit it but he actually loves coloring with little sister reader 😚 It’s such a nice stress reliever for him after a chaotic day as a teenage vigilante. Would love to see you write this!!

Color Therapy

Pairing: Damian Wayne x youngest sibling reader

Summary: Damian couldn't deny you were sweeter than you put yourself off to be. And, coloring was more therapeutic than he was expecting.

Warnings: Mentions of you living on Gotham streets and being homeless, mention of robberies, nothing really bad in this though

Word Count: 1.2k

You were an odd kid, that's for sure. You were younger than Damian, about a year or two, so he had expected someone more.. Childlike.

But you were an indifferent kid. You obviously came from a rough background, having grown up on the streets of Gotham. But still. His point stands when he was expecting someone more childlike.

You never reacted to the glares or scowls you received from him. You only returned his mean, annoyed gazes with a calm, unconcerned one of your own. Slowly, Damian had stopped giving you these scowls and glares.

And slowly, his school and vigilante work started to take up most of his time. He'd started visiting the library more often to study for his exams and finish his homework. And with that, he noticed something. He'd noticed it was common for him to find you within the library with a sheet of paper and just some highlighters. Usually, he'd just ignore your presence and sit elsewhere in the library.

He doesn't know why, but. He just started sitting with you. Neither of you would say a word. You would just sit in the comfortable silence filled with your coloring of highlighters on paper, and Damian’s typing of keys on his computer and turning of book pages.

“Y/n,” he finally spoke your name after a few days. You looked up at him. “Why do you only have highlighters?”

You looked down at your piece of paper for a second before saying, “They were all I could find.” You looked back up at him. Damian and you left that conversation there.

But the next time he came to the library, he dropped a pack of nice colored pencils in front of you.

You stared at the pencils for a moment before looking up at him. He caught your gaze.

“What?” He asked, looking back down at the book he had for his homework.

“Wanna color with me?” You asked abruptly. It made Damian pause in his tracks. He looked up at you, his gaze flitting to your paper, the highlighters, and the colored pencils he'd just given you.

“No.” He said, looking back at his book. But something kept him from reading. “Thank you, though..” His voice was quieter.

Nights like this tired Damian out. It was a stressful night. It was just supposed to be a patrol. But there were a string of robberies out of seemingly nowhere. He was exhausted.

And now he was slugging throughout the halls. He yawned just as he passed an agape door. He glanced through the crack. And what he saw made him stop in his tracks.

You were laying on the floor of your room coloring with the pencils he had given you. He didn't know why he stepped forward to your door. And he didn't know why he pushed it open.

You looked up at him. And he looked back at you. You seem to understand what even Damian couldn't.

“Wanna color?” You asked again like you had earlier.

Damian glanced down the hall to his room before looking back at you and your coloring stuff.

“Fine..” He gave in, stepping into your room and sitting on the floor across from you. He took the paper you handed him and grabbed a few colored pencils from the box you had moved closer to him.

It took him a moment to decide what he wanted to draw. But when he began to draw, it was weird.

His head was empty and it just seemed so.. Simple? He was calm..

“Can I use the red?” You asked, your hand was out awaiting for the red pencil.

“Yeah,” He put the red colored pencil in your hand.

Damian sighed as he put a textbook he had acquired from math on the library table.

Damian glanced at you from across the table, you were coloring like always. Then he looked down at his homework. He didn't want to do this. He never did. Homework was annoying. And you seemed to read his mind, because without even looking at him, you passed him a sheet of paper and moved the box closer to him.

Damian closed his computer and stood up from his seat. He moved to one next to you so you could both share the pencils better.

Damian could practically feel his stress and annoyance slowly wash off of him.

“Purple please,” You asked him.

“Mhm,” He hummed, finishing the area he needed to with the purple before he placed it into your hand.

“Damian,” you called his name within the halls of school.

“What?” He looked down at you when you took up pace with him.

“All the colored pencils in the box you gave me are short and hard to use now,” You told him, looking up at him.

“Alright,” He looked ahead, “I’ll get some more, then.”

“Could you get a bigger box with more variety in colors?” You asked.

“Yeah, I can.” He nodded.

“Thank you!” You said, hugging his arm abruptly before running off to class, joining a few kids you had made at the very least acquaintances with.

The way you hugged his arm startled him, he hadn’t expected it. He watched you run off, his heart feeling like it’s blooming like a flower.

Damian dropped the box in front of you where you sat on the floor of your room. He took a seat across from you much like he had the first time he joined you for coloring.

You looked at the back where the names of all the colors were, and sure enough, there was more of a variety like you had requested.

You passed him a piece of paper and put the box in between you two so you both could reach it.

“Why do you color so much?” Damian asked you.

“My head is quiet when I do.” You replied.

Damian paused in his coloring, looking up at you. “What do you think about when you don’t?”

You were quiet for a moment. “What I saw growing up on the streets of Gotham.” He didn’t need you to go into detail to know what that short sentence implied.

He looked backed down at his sheet of paper. He put the pencil he had down.

“Are you using the light green?” He asked. You shook your head and handed him the light green pencil.

You two were quiet for awhile. Silently coloring in a comfortable silence.

“You know you’re safe here, right?” He looked at you, and you finally looked back at him. “You’re here for good, you aren’t going anywhere.”

You stayed quiet.

“You’re safe here.”

You stayed quiet.

“Say something.”

“Thank you.”

Damian looked back down at his sheet of paper at your words, taking it as your understanding of his words.

Damian usually thinks of his own traumas when nothing occupies his brain. Or he’s doing homework. Or he’s fighting crime.

He doesn’t often give himself moments of peace.

But when he’s coloring with you in a comfortable silence like he is now. It’s like for once, a moment of peace washes over him.

He hated to admit it. But you and your dumb coloring were nice. It was nice for him to finally have a quiet moment.

Damian hates being vulnerable, and he feels almost vulnerable.

But he couldn’t deny it anymore. These moments were therapeutic.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

About the "kwamis as mentors" angle: Interesting to read and analyse, yet I can't help but feel they were not necessarily meant to be seen as mentors. At least to me, they seemed to be kind of whacky mascot characters who are tied to the lore, who have a personality to crack a joke or point something out or cause a little situation or be cute, but nothing more.

They are rather naive magical entities chained to jewelry (a fact they don't seem to mind that much or think about at all except for Plagg) and all that talk about "being around for 5000 years" and having seen many holders before is just there to make them seem more wise than they actually act like. From what I've seen on the show I would even assume there's a threshold to how much they can even mature emotionally and understand humans. Sometimes Tikki and Plagg even come off as indifferent and egoistical towards their holders (like an example you gave with Tikki, or Plagg's fixation on cheese over Adrien at times).

So...sorry if I missed it, but why do you view them as mentor characters? You made an interesting post about rom-com vs magical girl and the magical girl part is exactly why I always viewed them just as critters to appeal to kids, but nothing more. I can see that the show's writing is so inconsistent that sometimes they are portrayed as wise but more often then not they are just background noise to get a little interaction on screen so that the characters are not talking to themselves about miraculous stuff or to point something out for the audience.

The show's writing is pretty weird, so there are elements that are hard to get a clear read on. The Kwamis are one such element. When they're one-on-one with their chosen, they often feel like mentors to me. When they're all together, they almost always read like "critters to appeal to kids" (mostly because there are too many of them to let them have individual personalities when they're all together). So while I think that they're supposed to be mentors, it's not like that's the only canon-accurate read.

To dig into what I mean by the one-on-one writing, let's look at this exchange from Feast:

Master Fu: See, Wayzz? If Marinette had kept her Miraculous, the sentimonster would have swallowed her right up. Wayzz: Or she would have transformed into Ladybug and fought it. Master Fu: Sometimes fighting is futile, Wayzz.

And then later on we get this:

Wayzz: Master, look! Ladybug and Cat Noir, despite their ridiculous costumes, they haven't let you down! Wang Fu: That's impossible! They don't have their Miraculous! Wayzz: Master, it's obvious it's them—who else would do something so crazy? Cat Noir (Adrien): Hey, have a taste of this! Some exploding banana split from Bananoir! Ladybug (Marinette): Much tastier than any Miraculous! Wayzz: Look, Master, there's no use in running! Your disciples never give up the fight, no matter what! With or without their Miraculous, they are Ladybug and Cat Noir!

That's some pretty active mentoring right there.

Wayzz is probably the character that feels the most like a mentor to me. When he's with Fu, he feels like Fu's partner or adviser, which is why I think that the Kwami's aren't supposed to just be cute critters. They're regular ol' Jimmy Crickets meant to act as a conscience that the characters can talk to since this is visual media and you want a way for the characters to talk through their thoughts instead of having them do it all internally.

I also present this exchange from Desperada as evidence:

Adrien: Plagg, Ladybug needs me. She needs "Adrien"! Plagg: If you asked me, this whole idea is worse than cheese in a can. Adrien: She thinks I'm the perfect guy for this mission. Plagg: You can't be Cat Noir and another superhero at the same time! Which means that you're not the perfect guy for this mission. Adrien: The Lucky Charm told her I am. Plagg: That's not how it works. Why am I bothering? You're not even listening.

We then get Plagg reiterating that this is a bad idea through multiple loops, ending with this:

Plagg: Ah! At last, you've come to your senses. Adrien: I'm not sure Ladybug will have very fond memories of her experience with "Adrien Agreste". Plagg: Then make up for it as Cat Noir.

See? I told you Plagg can be a good mentor when he wants to! Tikki, take notes!

I'd even call this bit from Sapitos some quality subtle mentoring from Trixx:

Alya: Oh please, Ladybug! We'd make a great team! I could help Cat Noir and you every day! Ladybug:(her earrings ring) I'm about to transform back! Hurry! Alya: Please? Ladybug: I have to go! I'm trusting you! (opens a nearby door and goes inside, so she can detransform) Trixx: You're absolutely right, Alya. I'm sure the three of you would make quite the team! You have all the makings of a true superhero. You're strong, brave; but most of all, you're trustworthy.

Way to both build Alya up and reminder her of her duty, Trixx. Gold star. Quality mentorship!

So are the Kwamis supposed to be mentors? Who knows! I just see them fill the role often enough to feel comfortable judging them through that lens.

Miraculous also isn't the only magical girl team show to make the cute critters into mentors. That's a pretty standard path even though it's also common to see the critters used to sell merch/appeal to kids and nothing more. In terms of classic magical girl team shows, I'd say that the Kwamis are written way more like Luna and Artemis from Sailor Moon than Mini Mew from Tokyo Mew Mew.

[sturniqlo]

Something You Aren't- C.S

summary: Y/n wants something serious with Chris, but Chris only likes the thought of having someone next to him.

cw: angst, cursing, crying, toxic!chris (he gets slapped)

an: based on this ask (i changed a few things tho), very short, honestly it's a blurb :/

masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

"Hey, where's Chris?" Y/n says, as she comes up the stairs from Chris' room. She had arrived about an hour ago, laying in Chris' bed as he gamed in his corner. However, while she was in the bathroom, Chris had left. "I actually don't know." Matt says from his spot on the couch. "Oh, well, I think I'm heading out. It's getting pretty late."

That encounter happened about a month ago. Things between Chris and Y/n only went downhill from there. Chris would leave to who knows where half of the time Y/n went to visit him. They were both messing around with each other for about five months at this point. The girl wanted something serious but, Chris didn't let that happen. He wanted to stay with his things were. So that he'd be able to do the things he was doing behind her back. At the end of the day, he had someone to go back to. He knew she wouldn't leave him, she was in to deep. Or so he thought.

When Chris would leave randomly, she was always embarrassed to walk up the stairs to retrieve her stuff and walk past his brothers. They always gave her a smile of pity. She hated it. But, she never left him. Until, she found out what he was doing.

"Hey, where are you? I thought you were coming over?" She says into her phone. In the background she can hear loud music and people talking. "I got caught up in the meeting." Chris says unbothered. "A meeting? You mean a party." She scoffs. "Do you not believe me?" He defends himself. "Just- nevermind. I'll see you another day." Y/n hangs up the phone and sighs in defeat. Trying to not let her tears fall. She angrily gets up off of her couch and goes straight to her kitchen. She had spent hours making them a dinner and baking treats only for Chris to go to a fucking party.

Grabbing what was supposed to be Chris' plate she goes to the trash and scrapes off the food into the garbage. "Asshole." She mutters. Going to her sink she places the glass plate down gently. She decides to eat dinner later. Y/n changes into some comfy clothes and heads to her bed to scroll for a while. Opening instagram, she sees one of her mutual friends she has with Chris posted something on their story.

It shows their friend and a couple of people taking shots. However, in the corner, she spots a bright light blue hoodie that belongs to Chris. She replays it and sees that he's coming out of a room with a blonde girl fixing her smudged lipstick and fixing her excuse of a skirt and Chris fixes his pants and runs a hand through his hair. It was posted an hour ago.

Y/n begins to sob. How could he? She knew he wasn't ready to commit, the reasons? She didn't know. But now she did. He wanted to be a 'single' man. He wanted to fuck other girls. She now knew that Chris never broke it off with her because he knew that she was too attached to him and wouldn't leave his side.

Suddenly her doorbell rings. Rubbing her tears she goes out and opens it only to reveal Chris in the same hoodie as the video. "Leave." She says, not letting him speak a word. "Hello to you too. Why you cryin'?" He lets himself in closing the door and gently grabs her chin to kiss her. As his lips touch hers she nearly gives in, nearly. "No, stop it! You don't get to kiss me!" She leans away and pushes his face away. "What wrong with you tonight? Thought you wanted to have a date night here." Chris argues. "You don't think I don't notice those hickies on your fucking neck? That lipstick on your mouth? The fact that you reek of cheap perfume? I know you're fucking other bitches behind my back."

Chris' face drops but, he tries to play it off. "What are you talking about?" He suddenly feels a sting on his left cheek. "Fuck you, Chris! We're done! I'm done following you around like a fucking puppy! I'm tired of the lies! If you didn't want to commit to me you should've let me go instead of having sex with god know how many other girls."

"You're being a fucking baby! Childish, even. We're not together, okay? We're fuck buddies." Y/n only grows angrier. "Really?" She pathetically laughs. "Seems like you have many fuck buddies then. I guess losing one won't hurt right? Because I'm done with you. Get out of my house." She tries to stay calm. "Don't be like that, Y/n. I'm sure you've fucked other guys too." Y/n moves behind him and opens her front door. "Leave." She makes eye contact with him and sees he grows furious. He walks out the door and grabs the door knob and slams the door behind him.

All Y/n can do is lock her door and slide her back down burying her head in her knees.

It had been two weeks since they both saw each other. Chris grew antsy at the fact that Y/n wasn't answering her calls or texts. He thought she would eventually break the silence and come running back but, he was wrong. Both Matt and Nick had noticed that Y/n hasn't been over their house in well over two weeks. They questioned Chris about it and all he told them was 'she'll come around.' During his alone time in his room, he missed her. Although he never admitted it out loud, he missed her so much.

Over the two weeks, he had realized that what he did to her was wrong. He betrayed her trust and he hates himself for it. She was someone he's never had in life ever. She's the most kind, loving, and caring person ever. And he took her for granted.

He grew impatient. Tonight, he grabbed his home keys, phone and wallet and walked to her home which was a fifteen minute walk. He had texted her but, like always she didn't answer. Walking to her house, he thought of all of the possibilities that could happen. She could forgive him and they can return to normal again, or she could slap him again and tell him to get out of her life and not want to do anything with him ever again.

Knocking on her door, he waits a few minutes before he hears the door unlocking. "Chris- what are you doing here." Y/n opens the door and sees him. Chris takes in her appearance, her hair is in a messy bun, and she's wearing her lounging clothes. Something she always wore around him. "You've been ignoring me." He says lowly. "Didn't I tell you we're done?" She scoffs, opening the door more so she can stand in the doorway. "Baby, you can't mean that. I'm sorry, ma." Chris says, going to take her hands in his but she moves them behind her back. His heart breaks.

"Chris, I- I can't do this right now. I don't care how sorry you are. I'm sorry you just noticed how you've been towards me. But, I want something serious. And you're not ready for that, maybe you don't even want that. I want someone who loves me for me. Someone who won't go behind my back and sleep with other people, knowing that I'm waiting for them back at their home. I really did like you, Chris. So much. So fucking much. But what you did to me is so unforgivable. Maybe you don't understand where I'm coming from. But, I just can't be with you, if you're going to be like this." Chris can only listen and feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. "Y/n." He whispers.

"I think you should go." She whispers, trying to blink her tears away. "Y/n, please. I- I love you." Her tears escape her eyes. "Chris, no. You don't. You love the idea that I was always there for you no matter what after you came back from who knows where. You love that I would always follow you around, no matter how long it had been since you've spoken a word to me. You love that we would always go back to normal after fighting. But, you don't love me. You don't. You only love the things that benefit you that come from me. And I don't want that." Chris feels a lump forming in his throat after hearing her words. "Just go, please." She pleads, not looking at him.

"Okay, okay, I'll go. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be."

[liliewrites]

Wouldn't mind requests she says.. hm then how about a soft smut for arlecchino ? I do love the way you wrote her and I'm a sucker for her being so in love with her s/o lol. Perhaps she saw you play with the children or help them with something and was overcome with the affection

Other than that I did mean to ask, are you excited for Wuthering Waves ? Some of these characters are kinda... 😳😳😳 Yinlin especially frfr

Oh and do you accept emoji anons ? Might be a bit easier lol, if you do could I have 🔥 ?

Have a lovely day :)

OMGGG HIII MY FIRST EMOJI ANON? HIIII 🔥 ANONN!!!:OO anyway, regarding WuWa, i have seen stuff about it but not really much updated about it since i've been busy but i do know that it's coming out tomorrow? iirc. but yea fear not for i WILL be playing it, BUT YEAAA yinlin omg and baizhi?? ughajshd who knows i might write about them too.. anyw enjoy anon!!!

-warning/s : NSFW, cunnilingus (r! receiving), tooth rotting fluff, super soft arlecchino, not proofread.

(men and minor dni utc!)

imo.. arlecchino is a person who genuinely loves and cares but prefers not to show emotion especially due to her profession and background (childhood too). she does not like being vulnerable at all and has trust issues with everyone, even the kids as they r still capable of betrayal, but she trusts you 100% with her vulnerability and what she sees as her "weaknesses" which is why she is more showy of her love and care towards you, hence why she is a lovesick fool for her s/o in my eyes hwjasdh sorry for yapping anyw here's ur fic that was supposed to be just a thirst.. haha.. this was also rushed and not proof-read so sorry for d mistakes.. HAHAHA (will elaborate about this behavior of hers in future fics..)

"f-father, may i have a moment?"

small hands tug on the harbinger's coat, and her deadpan eyes meet with those that belonged to a nervous toddler-- one of her children, to be specific. "what is it, my child?" she asked, tone devoid of any feeling, making it hard to guess what she was thinking, much to the child's anxiety of getting scolded by her.

"a-a.. a bouquet for you, father!"

frail little hands open up in front of her, a messy bundle of assorted wild flowers tied together with a sloppy ribbon had been presented to the knave. with a hum, the harbinger accepts the bouquet from the toddler's hands, gives her a pat on the head and the little darling scurries off.

her eyes follow the direction of where the child was headed to, the harbinger's curiosity was piqued and she wanted to know what had motivated the child to bring her flowers out of nowhere without any special occasion.

-- but as soon as she sees as to who the child runs to, she immediately has a clear answer to her question. of course, it was you, it was you who encouraged the child to give her flowers. with silent steps, she approached the slightly ajar of the bedroom's door, leaning on the wall next to it to hear your conversations with the child.

"ah, little love, have you given your father the bouquet you made?"

"y-yes mother! she even gave me a headpat.."

"hmm, now you see, my love? father is not scary at all, father can be strict with you, but it is only out of concern.. sharing is caring, little love, i am sure she'll appreciate a few flowers from time to time. now settle down, it is time for bed."

arlecchino stared at the "bouquet" in her hands, suddenly, it had more meaning to her than just a bunch of wild flowers. it was evidence of the child learning to give, and of course you were the one who taught them that. it was evidence of the child learning that they could be safe around her despite her outward appearance, and of course you were the one who assured them that. she was scary to most children, yes, for she had nurtured and raised them under the guise of a strict and unfeeling father just so she could raise them with proper discipline. although recently, even the younger kids, they have started to treat her more.. genuinely. ah, it must have been your doing. you must have been convincing them behind the scenes. she should hate you, for coaxing the kids in indulging with personal emotions that could cause them to have flaws as they grow up, but she doesn't. instead, she is thankful, because you've treated the kids with such gentleness and unconditional love-- she is thankful that you've treated her the same.

"oh! my beloved, have.. you been standing there all this time?"

a surprised gasp brings her back to her senses, the sound of the door closing behind her lover's back echoed through the hallway of the orphanage. "no, darling. i was simply checking up on you and the children, are they asleep?" arlecchino asks, choosing not to reveal to her wife that she had found out about your recent teachings. "yes, all tucked and away to dreamland." you smiled at her, walking up to her and pulling her in for a hug. the knave was not one for affection, that was made clear, but after a busy day- she cannot help but miss you too. "let's go to bed, my love. i wish to cradle you by my side tonight." you whisper to her ear, and arlecchino silently nods, her hand on your lower back.

as soon as you return to your bedroom with arlecchino, dressed in bed time clothes, the harbiner seemed to have other plans however as she immediately starts to pepper you with slow, soft and sensual kisses.

"my love, ah- you're.. strangely affectionate today, not that i don't like it, is there something on your mind?" you ask with that same gentle tone of yours, the same tone that reduces her to a lovesick fool whenever it's just you two, that lets her put down the wall she's built to let you in and show you what's inside her mind.

"nothing, my beloved.." she whispers, looking at you with adoration. it makes your heart skip a beat to see her like this. she leans in to kiss your forehead, a silent thank you for taking care of the kids.

".. i just simply wish to express my feelings. isn't that what you teach within this household?"

she adds, which confuses you a little. you were unsure about what she exactly meant, but you let her regardless. "okay, my beloved. express your feelings then." you mumbled with a silly smile, finding arlecchino's actions a bit adorable- quite similar to the children, even. arlecchino nods, a look of determination paints her face for a moment, then she leans in to kiss your cheek.

a silent thank you for loving her and seeing through her harsh demeanor. you can't help but feel flustered, feeling like a teenage girl and her first love.

she then moves on to kiss your neck in a ticklish manner, making you giggle, and it was music to her ears.

a silent thank you for introducing genuine warmth to the house of hearth. thanks to you, the orphanage burned with compassion and not with competitiveness. "beloved, aha- s-stop it!" you squirm with a chuckle, and arlecchino's face may not show it, but her heart is leaping at the sight of your gorgeous smile.

a kiss to your chest, making you gasp as her lips landed on your nipples. her tongue swirling gently around it, making you feel a subtle warmth from the intimacy of the moment.

a silent thank you for being a source of healing to her. before you, the word "mother" had brought chills up her spine, and she resented the word fiercely but after you? you had shown her what a real mother was like, and it's one of the many qualities you hold that she absolutely adores about you.

"mhm.. my beloved, is it gratitude that you wish to express?"

you asked, followed by a quiet moan as she releases your chest from her mouth with a pop. she was in awe of you, that you were able to read her mind without having to tell you. ".. yes, my beloved. how did you know?" she curiously asked, and you couldn't help but let out another chuckle. oh, this side of arlecchino was endearing, to see her openly express her thoughts. "you like to show your gratitude towards me in the form of kisses, arlecchino." you answered, bringing your hand to her head to pull her closer, then leaning in to kiss her forehead as well. "- but this is certainly the most intimate way you've shown it." you added, and she definitely felt a bit flustered. either way, arlecchino does not say a word, and chooses to continue expressing her emotions through actions.

her kisses go lower, and lower, and the sensitivity that you feel from increases.

silence rings throughout the room, except for your moans off the walls. her gratitude and devotion to you was as clear as day. her hands gently held you down by the hips as she pulled down your panties with her teeth. it was fucking hot, to see her hold you completely still with her strength alone-- and the eye contact that she kept as she stripped your pussy bare.

"my beloved, do i have permission?"

"of course, my love."

arlecchino knows that asking consent, despite it being already established beforehand, was a major turn on for you. she started by light kitten licks to your clit, making you gasp with each time her tongue made contact with the sensitive bud. the quick and light flicks were a tease, and made you tremble in anticipation.

"the mother of my children, what a pretty pussy you have.."

she mumbles in pure adoration, her breath lightly grazing against your exposed slit. you couldn't help but let out a shaky gasp of her name, "a-arlecchino.. please, do something.." you begged. "patience, my beloved." she answers, but dives right in between your legs to give your slit one, long, lick. it drove you crazy, but it felt so good. she slid her hands under your knees, bringing you closer to her, before holding onto your thighs to keep you spread apart.

"mm, you taste so splendid on my tongue, beloved.."

she moans, before finally indulging both you and her with the pleasure of her tongue roaming, exploring and pleasing your pussy. you started to squirm with the increasing intensity of her licks, and soon she was eating you out like a starved madman. thank god for strong hands, as you could barely keep yourself still, if it weren't for her holding you down you would have kept lifting yourself off the bed.

"a-arlecchino- arle-!"

you cried out her name, as her tounge darted inside you. you were close. so close. arlecchino however, was currently drunk on your moans and the taste of your slick, too busy savoring the raw taste of you, her lover. she hadn't noticed the way your cries were getting louder, or how tighter your grip on her head was becoming-- so she was surprised when you suddenly closed your thighs around her head, a bit of your fluids landing on her lips and tongue, accompanied with a loud cry of her name. she spread your legs apart once more and kept it open through the whole duration of your orgasm, wanting to see how your pussy throbbed and dripped, wanting to admire how pretty you were when you came undone because of her actions.

after you've settled down, she immediately joins you for a cuddle, she was not finished for the night- no, but she'd grant you a short moment of respite. she lays her head on your chest, closing her eyes as she listens to your heartbeat. "my love, i am still surprised how you've managed to notice my way of showing gratitude when i haven't realized it myself.", she mentions. you smiled at that, and looked at her. "to be known is to be loved. i love you, peruere."

she opens her mouth to speak, wanting to further inquire what you meant by that, but closes her mouth as she realizes what you meant once you call her peruere, the name that she hid away as it represents her past, her most fragile self, that only you've come to know instead of arlecchino, the name that spreads far and wide, which strikes fear and conquers respect from the hearts of many.

she nods in agreement, wrapping her arm around you tighter. her heart swelling from the feeling of loving and being loved, of knowing and being known. to be recognized. to be appreciated.

"i agree, my beloved. i am thankful that you've come to know me as who i really am, and stayed to love me despite what i've come to be. i love you too."

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse- Husband and Wife

Part 4

PriceXFem!reader

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35. MDNI! This chapter contains light smut towards the end, not necessary to continue the story.

This one is a little rushed I feel. Wanted to write more, but limited on time and didn't want to keep everyone waiting for an update.

Searching your closet for the best outfit you owned was proving difficult. You hardly ever splurged on yourself for anything that you deemed wasn't worthy of your job. Honestly, fresh white long sleeves and black slacks being most of what you owned. Standing there in your towel, tiny water droplets falling to the floor dampened your carpet. Finally, you had found it. An old dress you had for the baby shower for Abel. It was long and white made from cotton lined with blue flowers. Setting it out, to slip on after your hair and makeup are completed.

It was hard for you to even look yourself in the eyes. Nervous about being a married woman at the end of the day, but you were doing it for Abel. John seemed like a man that would hold his word, surely, he would be a good husband… There was no denying there was attraction between the two of you, but would it be enough to make a good marriage?… Shit, should you write vows? What was expected of you here??

After perfectly working yourself up and deciding you had enough makeup on and hair styled, you went out to find Abel eating a bowl of cereal at the counter.

"You all ready for you big day?" Asking him, you started to gather your other items.

"You look pleasantly ready for yours," A familiar voice announced themselves. Looking over you saw John sitting in front of 2 cups of coffee that he had got to go, one for you and one for him.

"John!" you exclaimed startled. He started chuckling, your face full of surprise. You looked back and forth between him and Abel. "Not that I'm upset that you are here… but how did you get in?"

"I let him in," Abel said turning to you looking at your shocked face.

"Abel, what have I said about unlocking the door?"

"He's not a stranger ma," Abel defended himself, making you shake your head and sigh. Oh, the irony.

John who had found the scene amusing chuckled harder, sliding the coffee to you. "I did tell him it was me when he asked who I was, the door was still closed."

"I suppose," you grumbled, giving Abel a side eye while smiling, feigning annoyance still. "He is the only other person you open the door for, ok?"

"After today I would hope you would give him a key." Abel said, quickly proud of his witty response.

"Abel!" Was the only thing that could come out of your mouth while John laughed loudly in the background.

"He's a good kid, like how he thinks." John grinned at you, making you roll your eyes even more. They were going to get stuck in your head today.

"Grab your stuff, let's go," You ushered to Abel like normal in the morning. "Can't have you missing your field trip."

"Absolutely not," he concluded making you laugh.

"Glad to see you're in a good mood today."

"Dinosaurs and you are happy momma, that's why." he said, skipping away like he normally did to the end of the sidewalk. The statement made your head turn to him to look. Had he really noticed what you thought was a subtle difference in you? Were you really that unhappy? It made your heart hurt to see that Abel could tell the difference.

John gave you a longing glance seeing your hurt behavior before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his key fob to his car to unlock it. The lights flashed on a fancy black car parked in front of your house.

"Are we going in that?!" Abel asked where John nodded at him in response.

"Sure are."

"This day just keeps getting better and better!" Abel exclaimed, getting into the backseat.

You then smiled seeing him gleam and shine in the backseat, an extreme flip flop just happened in your emotions. It made your nerves unsettle again as you approached the car preparing to get into the passenger seat.

A large hand stopped you from reaching for the door handle making you look up at John.

"I get the doors." Eyebrows raised at you telling you he would take no arguing about it, making you take a step back so he could clear the door of you.

It made the heat rise from your neck into your cheeks. Trying to hide it, you buckled yourself in turning around to make sure Abel did.

John slid into the driver’s seat starting the car causing all kinds of lights and gauges to light up as the engine came alive. It was different not walking to school and seeing all the other people pass by in a slow blur. Sure, a car would be nice in your life, but other things take priority over other means of getting around. This just feels like a luxury.

John pulled up in front of the school for drop off. Stepping out of the car, you chased Abel up the front steps.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Slow down!" You said waiting for him to stop before giving him a hug. "Got all of your stuff still?" Looking him over just to be sure.

"Yes," he groaned, finding all of this unnecessary. Your final glance over completed, you titled his chin to make him look at you. "I love you; I hope you have a good time. We will be the ones to pick you up tonight since it’s the weekend." With that, you got a brief hug before he turned and ran off in the direction of the front doors. Making sure he got inside; you turned and saw John leaning against his car. You stood still a moment, taking him in. He wore a long white sleeve shirt, a blue tie and blue matching slacks to go with. Truly, he was handsome. But the smile he was giving you was warming your heart, a hand gesturing out to come to him. Answering his plea, you approached where he again opened the door for you to sit down in his car. Smoothing out the dress, the pearl ring catching your eye. You didn't even have a ring for him… A frown on your face.

He must have noticed this as he got in and sat down.

"You alrigh'?"

"Yeah…" you mumbled out, your left hand tucking your fingers down, trying to hide what you really wanted to say.

"Out with it." he firmly but gently, he said turning to better face you.

"Don't have a ring for you, don't have vows for you, don't even have a key made for you-" you blurted out with haste, a hand reaching over to squeeze your hand.

"All of those things will come with time, sweethear', don't stress it. Can pick a ring for cheap at a pawn shop, keys can be made in minutes. We don't have to say vows, the Judge can tell us what to say. It's gonna be alrigh'" his hand reaching over and brushing across your left hand, finger rubbing against the ring.

"Do you not wan' to do this?" He asked as if it was his worst fear, to either make you feel like you were obligated to or perhaps didn't want this.

Taking a few seconds, you shook your head "No, I want this…I think. You seem like a good man, but it’s confusing to me. To have anyone treat me so kindly."

This time it was his turn to frown, the damage and abuse you had withstood from your ex clearly shining through all your cracks right now. And he intended to fix it.

"Everyone deserves to be treated like this by one another. Especially the ones who love their children so much. Who have been through it all and still remain good in this fucked up world… Whatever that man has done to you, ends now. I'm going to show your son how a real man loves and protects his woman.." He said leaning over, an arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you to him. A warm kiss was placed on your temple before he rested his own forehead against it.

"You sure you want this? Are you ready?" he asked again, trying to make sure you were confident in your answer.

"Yes," you nearly whispered out, fighting off the tears not wanting to ruin your make up you hardly ever wore.

Kissing you one more time, he let go, putting the car in drive before heading off in what you assume was the direction of the courthouse.

The paperwork was more than you had expected. Had to present ID and sign through what felt like stacks of sheets of papers and told to sit in the hallway and your names would be called.

"How old are you?" you asked.

"35."

Favorite color?"

"Green."

"Dogs or cats?"

"Dogs. Interrogatin' me now?" A slight laugh to his question.

Meekly you answered, "Just realize I know nothing about you.... besides your food order."

"I will tell you all you wanna know then."

Spending a half hour you learned a lot about John. He joined the military right out of school, it being no doubt where he wanted to go with his life. No siblings, his mother and father both passed leaving him without immediate family. He traveled a lot for his job, gone for periods of time.

Next, he learned about you. Your upbringing. The favorite things you enjoyed in life. The hardest part the details of how your ex had got you drunk before raping you and causing you to get pregnant. Watching the anger flash across his face, and hands squeezing tightly on the wrinkles of his pants.

"As terrible as it was, and as he can be… I don't regret it. Abel is the best thing out of my life even for the circumstances."

John's eyes softened, his hand reaching back over to yours. Thumb stroking the back of your hand.

"I'm sorry it happened to you like that and so young."

Shrugging you tried to brush it off. "It's aright… sometimes I just wish he would disappear." You stated more for yourself. He wanted to say more but was interrupted as your names were called. It now became a thought John would catalog away for now, something he might return to later if the chance arises.

Standing up, he reached for your hand which you gladly took, walking next to him, matching his stride.

You could see the judge's mouth moving, words supposed to be coming out, but it sounded like garble to you. Your heart pounding loudly in your ears, the anxiety rushing through your veins causing what sounded like static.

All of it was simple, but still somehow more extravagant than what you thought you would ever deserve. The moment finally came that you had been stressing about all morning, turning to face John away from the judge seemed to fix that issue. His blue eyes and calming smile soothing you, all fret finally leaving.

His words echoed true.

"I, John take you to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

The words seemed to have rung a bell in you, causing peace to quell within. This was it, it was real, it was happening. Pure Bliss. Mirroring his words you repeated them back to him, holding true.

"Do we have rings to exchange?" The judge asked glancing over to John and a slight shake of his signifying his answer. This was all so fast- the last item on your list but making the top of it now.

"Then you may kiss your bride." The judge stated, smiling, removing his glasses a way to watch the event before him.

John stepped forward leaning down and kissing you sweetly. So much different from what had happened last night on your couch. Standing up on your tippy toes to kiss him fully back before breaking away.

That was it. You're done now. Probably the craziest thing you have ever done in your life besides giving birth. Hand wrapped around yours, John led you back out the court room and waved off those that congratulated you both. Grateful to be back outside you took a deep breath in filling your lungs. Your mind flashing over to think of Abel. You did this for him, you will protect him. John was grinning, the very best smile of his you had seen yet making you match it back.

"How's it feel to be Mrs. Price?" he asked arm wrapping around your waist.

"Like a whole new person," your tone joking.

"Have a whole day planned before we pick up Abel," John said checking his mirrors before pulling out.

"Like what?'

" 's surprise wife," he said reminding you, smiling still.

"No hints whatsoever?"

"None."

He drove out of the city, taking you into the countryside.

"Where are we going?" You asked trying to get anything from him.

"Almos' there." was his answer before pulling down a bumpy lane.

He drove slow not wanting to cause a rough ride, giving you a good glance. Trees surrounded the lane, giving shade over the car, bits and pieces of sun peeking through periodically. The car finally came to a stop pulling into what seemed like a random piece of land. John sighed, parking it and turning over to face you while he popped the trunk.

This whole thing seemed strange, but you were putting faith and trust into John that there were not ropes and trash bags in the back he was going to stuff you in.

"Going to explain now?" You asked with an arched eyebrow.

"I bought this piece of land. Wanna build a house and move us all here. Have you be in charge of it while I'm gone."

You were rendered speechless.

"You what?"

And John calmly repeated himself, knowing it had shocked you. Letting the words bounce off of you, you looked out the windshield eyeing the property.

"One more time…" you repeated. This whole thing had to be a fucking dream, you were in a coma, there is no way you just hit the jackpot in luck with finding a man and him building a house.

And again, he repeated it, a snicker in between words.

"You can't be serious."

"Very serious, wouldn't joke about that."

Tears stung your eyes this time, falling desperately.

"Oh hey, I didn' mean to make ya' cry." Trying to hold you in the car.

"Not sad John, I think these are tears of joy," you answered awkwardly laughing while feeling like a fool. A fit of giggles ensued you both.

"I've never had something as nice as you." you said, looking at him, trying to stop crying.

"Makes any difference, I've never had anything as nice and good as you either…" before leaning forward and kissing you with so much love and passion.

"My husband," you said hand stroking through his beard.

"Hope your ready wife," he said getting out of the car coming over to open yours.

"For what?"

"To be wined and dined." Hand extended to help you out, next grabbing a blanket and basket out of the trunk of car. He had packed an extensive picnic. A bottle of wine, cheeses, crackers and deli meat to make sandwiches. Even stopping to find a small cake to celebrate your wedding day.

Bellies full, he laid down looking up at the blue sky, watching clouds roll by. Slowly you joined him, head laying on his chest joining him. Hand reaching over to lay on his heart, feeling it pound in his chest. Slowly it moved south, settling on his thigh, making him look down and over at you.

"Careful bird, I'll make you sing," he lovingly threatened you.

"Think I want you to make me," you confessed to him. Before you knew fully what was happening, he was braced over the top of you. Knees strong columns over your sides and pinned your wrists above your head.

"Wanted this from you for so long," he had hissed into your ear before biting your pulse point in your neck, just enough to make you moan out. Running his tongue across it, soothing what he had just done to you. "Watching you run around that restaurant," one hand pinning your wrist while the other slipped behind you roughly grabbing your ass. "Look so good while being a good little waitress, the way you flirted with me even though I am an old man compared to you. But you're an even better mother. You gonna give me one?" he asked grinding into you, his clothes causing friction giving you all kinds of sensations.

He was dirty talking you… and you liked it.

"Whatever you want," you admitted, doe eyes looking up at him.

"Yeah? 'Cause I'm your what?" Smirking while he looked down at you, tone smug.

"You're my husband."

"And you're my wife. You want to give me children?"

"Yes." Dutifully answering him, making dry hump into you again, this time your dress fully out of the way feeling more of his hard cock press into you.

"Such a good wife," he said pulling your dress up, and over your head. Leaving you in the lacey set you had picked out.

"Wanted this, huh?"

How could you not?

"Such a gooood little wife," he coed into your hair before slipping into your panties, making you arch.

Gasping, you both continued, him getting his want of you and your fill of him. Lying next to him on the blanket after, feeling his hand stroke up and your side lightly with his fingers.

"Will give you the world, love. Going to make this all right for you."

It was here your heart linked with his, knowing you fully made the right choice.

Previous

Next

Captain John Price Masterlist

Taglist @cutiecusp @angeldemon28 @simplyymee98 @beebeechaos @cadotoast @talooolaaloolla @lhhlver @hon3y-cloud

[iamumbra195]

Random One Piece incorrect quotes cause I'm bored

Some of these are modern au though

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

*Sanji's not there*

Usopp: HELP! I TOLD LUFFY I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!

Zoro, pouring alcohol directly into a cereal bowl:

Zoro: And you thought I could help?

...

Luffy: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Nami : Wasn't Zoro with you?

Zoro: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised

...

Law: I trust Mugiwara-ya.

Penguin: You think he knows what he's doing?

Law: I wouldn't go that far.

...

Sabo: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Ace, confused: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Sabo: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Luffy: edible

...

Nami: We need to get through this locked door. Usopp, give me your credit card.

Usopp: Here.

Nami, pocketing it: Thanks. Luffy, kick down the door.

...

Chopper: You know those things will kill you, right?

Zoro, pouring another glass of whiskey: That’s the point.

Sanji, smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed up the process.

Luffy: *Nods while eating raw cookie dough*

...

Robin: Why is Luffy so sad?

Nami: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Robin: And...?

Nami: He got Buggy

*Zoro cackling in the background

...

Zoro: Self care is actually getting into fights with randos in dark alleys.

Nami: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap!

Kin'emon, trying to be poetic: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!!

Usopp: Lmao self care is taking Luffy's birthday meat cake just so I can eat the frosting.

Luffy: If you touch my meat cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Sanji, losing his mind: WHY IS THERE FROSTING ON MEAT?

...

Franky, about Jinbe: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Robin: Are we stealing them?

Brook: New or used?

Franky, cackling: Wonderful responses, both of you.

...

Smoker: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Sanji: Shit.

Usopp: Wait, three?

Smoker: Yeah?

Nami: OH MY GOD ZORO FELL OFF!!!

...

Kin'emon: Tonight, one of you has betrayed us.

Ashura: Is it me?

Kin'emon: No, it’s not you.

Denjiro: Is it me, Kin?

Kin'emon: It’s not you either.

Kanjuro: Is it me, Kin'emon?

Kin'emon, bleeding from several debilitating injuries:

Kin'emon, mockingly: Is IT mE kiN'eMOn?

...

Usopp: Can I be frank with you guys?

Luffy, confused: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Chopper: Can I still be Chopper?

Franky, snickering: Shh, let Frank speak.

...

Sabo: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Koala: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Sabo: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ROBIN-CHAN WITH ME

Hack, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Law, walking into his submarine: Hello, people who do not belong here.

Zoro: Hey.

Sanji: Hi.

Robin: Hello.

Chopper: Hey!

Law: I gave you my vivre card for emergencies only!

Luffy, grinning: We were out of meat.

...

Sanji: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.

Luffy, drinking meat: Why do you say that?

...

Zoro: Do you take constructive criticism?

Nami: I only take cash or credit.

...

Koala: Why are you on the floor?

Sabo: I'm depressed.

Sabo: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ivankov, please.

...

Robin: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

*everyone looks ay Karasu

Karasu: What? How am I supposed to know?

Lindbergh: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Karasu: *sighs*

Karasu: You wouldn't be trapped

...

Vivi: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Nami: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Vivi: Yes!

Usopp: ... I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

...

Usopp: WHY. why did you give Luffy a KNIFE?!

Zoro, shrugging: He said he felt unsafe.

Usopp: Now I feel unsafe!

Zoro: ... would you like a knife?

...

Dragon: What did you do with the target's body?

Sabo : What didn’t I do with the body?

Dragon:

Sabo: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the corpse respectfully.

...

Luffy, texting Ace: Ace! Help I’m being kidnapped

Ace: Where are you?

Luffy: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help.

Ace: I’ll call Gramps.

Garp, answering their cell: Y’ello?

Ace: Where’s Luffy? He texted me that he was being kidnapped.

Garp: Luffy? Whaddya mean, he's right next to me-

Garp, who shaved his head:

Garp: I’ll call you back. *hangs up*

Garp: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD!

Luffy: WHO ARE YOU?!

...

*Ace, Sabo and Luffy sitting in jail together*

Sabo: So who should we call?

Ace: I’d call Gramps, but I feel safer in jail

...

Roger: Garp, my old arch enemy.

Garp: ... I thought I was your only arch enemy?

Roger: I have a life outside of you, Garp

...

Zoro: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container.

Luffy: The cow???

Zoro: What?

Sanji: *disgusted shudder* LUFFY, W H Y?

...

Usopp: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 billion berry?

Zoro: Nami can stab me, and then when my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house and erase my debt

Luffy: You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 billion.

Zoro: Good thinking.

...

Kin'emon: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.

Denjiro: You were flirting with O'Tsuru.

Kin'emon: So what? She's my wife.

Denjiro: You asked her if she were single.

Kin'emon:

Denjiro: And then you cried when she said she wasn't

...

Marco: What time is it?

Ace: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Ace: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Izou: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Ace, proudly: It’s 2 am

...

Luffy: I can’t believe you live nearby, and you won’t let anyone crash at your place.

Law: You people already know too much about me.

Kidd: I know exactly three facts about you, and one of them is that you won’t let any of us crash at your place.

...

Sabo, an enabler: Tell Ace about the birds and the bees.

Luffy: They're disappearing at an alarming rate.

...

Brook: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.

...

Zoro: With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.

...

Law: When someone points at your black clothes and asks whose funeral it is, having a look around the room and saying 'Haven’t decided yet' is typically a good response.

Bepo: Captain, no.

...

Law: Nothing in life is free.

Chopper: Love is free!

Luffy: Adventure is free!

Robin: Knowledge is free.

Nami: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

...

Usopp: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Luffy will and will not eat.

Franky: Grass? Yes!

Usopp: Moss? Yes!!

Franky: Leaves? Ohh, yes!

Usopp: Shoelaces? Strange but true!

Franky: Worms? Sometimes!

Usopp: Rocks? Usually nah.

Franky: Twigs? Usually!

Usopp: Zoro's cooking? Inconclusive!

Chopper: How did you… test this?

Usopp: You just hand him stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if he eats it, he eats it.

Chopper: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.

Nami: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SHOELACES WENT?

Robin: What about humans? He tried to eat Crocodile once

Everyone: ...

Usopp: I think I might be too afraid to ask

(Someone pls draw this one XD)

...

Betty: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Koala: *turning to Sabo* How tall are you?

...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's it, this took forever to write lol

[vintagegeekculture]

RIP Tracy Tormé, Creator of the "Holodeck Malfunction Episode" and Sliders

Tracy Tormé’s most enduring legacy in popular culture is that, while a writer on TNG’s tempestuous first and second seasons, he created the entire concept of the Holodeck Malfunction Episode.

Yes, even people who suggest you skip TNG’s first couple seasons say that “The Big Goodbye” is one you don’t want to miss. And there was a very nice tribute to Tracy Torme in an episode of Picard, which had him as the author and creator of Dixon Hill… which he is, and deserves credit for this.

I suppose I should mention I had a personal encounter with Tracy Tormé at a convention. The main thing I remember was that he looked absolutely terrified when someone asked him about what happened with “The Royale,” far and away TNG’s worst episode except the clip show, about the crew getting trapped on a hotel they can’t leave from a badly written book. To his great credit, he took responsibility for the episode not working and did not pass on the problems to the production crew.

The most extraordinary thing about Tracy Torme is that he had a Forrest Gump like ability to appear in the background of scifi culture’s greatest moments.

Not only was he inside the TNG writers’ room in 1987-88, he was around during the production of Terminator with James Cameron. Tormé was the one who, hearing about the production of the film, squealed on it to Harlan Ellison, telling Ellison that it was based on his old Outer Limits episodes, with a visual based on his script for “Demon With a Glass Hand.” In other words, he was the Gavrilo Princip who got that entire conflict started, where two of the most proud personalities in scifi butted heads, James Cameron vs. Ellison. Cameron, to this day, insists that the film company gave Ellison money and a credit because it was easier to pay him off than to go through litigation (which rings true, frankly, for risk averse production companies), and to this day Cameron insists, with his absolutely expected big dick swagger, that Ellison is a “parasite” who received money for nothing, and if it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have given him a dime.

It’s also worth mentioning that Torme also created the TV series Sliders.

Has anyone else noticed that Sliders is an incredibly right wing show? Seriously, watch it again if you haven’t seen it in years. If you haven’t watched this show since the 90s and you were a kid and all that went over your head, it’s kind of amazing how Limbaugh/Newt Gingrich era right-wing Sliders actually was. It made 24 look like Doonesbury. The targets of Sliders were 90s New Right satire: health care systems, infuriating hippies, the nanny state disallowing the public smoking of cigars, California weirdness, the drug culture, the USSR. Torme’s right wing views were less John Millius-style “blood alone moves the wheel of history” stuff, but more like that of a slobby regular joe in the 90s, Dennis Leary’s character in Demolition Man for instance, who mostly just wants to smoke cigars, ogle girls, and eat hamburgers without getting scolded by his wife. He was less “Passion of the Christ” and more “Animal House.”

I am not saying this as a negative, but merely a description. Contrary to popular belief, right wingers driven by bizarre sexual pathology and weird grudges produce amazing art, as Millius and John Swartzwelder show. A lot of Steven Universe fans love to say things like “all good art is about empathy and kindness” and I reject that notion. Good art can also be about reflecting things in the human experience like fear, trauma, cruelty, and paranoia.

For that reason, it doesn’t surprise me that Tracy Torme’s best movie script was a horror film about a traumatic experience, Fire in the Sky. An ominous movie about a vanished ranch hand who was the victim of alien abduction, in the earned finale the film’s tension builds toward, our hero remembers the true cause of his missing time: an abduction by aliens, who’s motives are emotionless and incomprehensible, and who subject him to horrific vivisection that we see in excruciating detail. Travis Walton is treated not with sadism or cruelty, but with icy detachment, by alien superintellects that view him as no different than cattle, and are to him as we are to cattle. The most terrifying detail of the film is that the classic “gray alien” look turns out to be spacesuits, revealing a far more frightening appearance underneath.

[wraithdance]

Stray Dogs | GHOAP x Reader

Synopsis: You never had a problem with strays, but you should have been wary of the rabid dogs begging to be leashed.

Pairing: Johnny x Avoidant!reader | eventual Ghoap x Avoidant!reader Note: AFAB!Reader, No physical description but reader has background story, no y/n use or gender terms for reader, Reader is LGBT (Bisexual) Content warning: Mature | brief mentions of childhood trauma, avoidant personality, therapy and allusions to mental health issues, passive thoughts of death

Prologue: Foxy Leaves

You told your new therapist that you like putting things into categories because it was fun.

It was half a lie, minuscule really and not enough to be of consequence. You suppose you could have been honest and said the process of grouping things made the endless dread you lived in just a little bit easier.

But you didn’t really like the pitying look Dr. Sanchez gave you when she went over your intake questionnaire. She’d looked down her glasses while you numbly repeated the same spiel about ‘what brings you to cognitive therapy’ that you’d been giving for the last decade. 

You’d google her practice on your lunch break scrolling through the reviews and stuffing the last of your sandwich in your cheeks. In your car before the first session you silently prayed to the empty space that this time you could stick with her long enough to fix you.

You doubt it though because her bob bounces as she nods to your explanation of ‘The Chasm’ and how it came to be. The way that it bounces as she hums, being sure to signify her active listening. It really pisses you off. 

The familiar sense of despair boils hot when you realize that even though this is an unfamiliar office half way across from town, she’s giving you the look. The one of interest, like she wants to crack open your skull and observe your chaotic wiring in hopes to understand what your fucking problem is.

It’s the same one every other therapist has given you since you were old enough to inevitably stop showing up to mandatory sessions without consequence. 

It’s so habitually intolerable that you have a 'Therapist breakup’ text in your notes draft on your phone. It's simple, clinical, contains something vague about not thinking you were compatible as a client. It’s usually enough to keep them from doing a wellness check (or worse a call to your emergency contact.) 

When you’re done talking, Dr. Sanchez reaches for your hand in some gratuitous act of extending comfort. Her cold fingers and the sensation of her half rubbed in hand cream, makes you want to vomit. It must not show on your face because she keeps talking and squeezing your hand.

“I think that it’s brave of you to come in and I think we can work on some of your goals.” She pauses accessing you before she says the thing that signs the death of your therapeutic relationship.

“Do you also want to work on mending the relationship with your parents?”

You ignore the receptionist when she asks if you want to make a follow up appointment. You’re combing through your drafts to find the breakup text when you think that you’re glad you lied about the category thing. Your control issues are yours, precious and responsible for your ability to focus on anything but the heavy weight of being. So fuck her and her stupid fucking bob.

Her contact gets blocked as soon as the message reads delivered.

When you were anxious the familiarity of nature documentaries, specifically the ones about apex predators, were a comfort. Duckie, your best friend of nine years, had been squeamish the first time she watched one of your favorites with you.

It was about big cats in the wilds. The man with the Aussie accent narrated with excitement that belied the violence of seeing a lioness take down a gazelle. From behind the safety of your throw pillow Duckie asked why you like watching stuff like that. You shrugged like you didn’t have an answer.

You did though.

It’s because predators in the wild didn’t hide what they were. They didn’t need to pretend to be anything but carnivorous and survival driven. Would never think to explain to the gazelle that they were sorry for hurting you, but they couldn’t help themself.

It would be even more insulting than being eaten alive. 

You’re relieved when the lioness finishes the gazelle off, letting out a small sigh of 'finally' that earns you a wide eyed look from Duckie. The death was quick and even if the gazelle didn’t realize it, she was lucky. You’ve been on the end of an explanation for harm and wished you’d have the mercy of death instead.

But you couldn’t tell Duckie that. So instead you tease her about being a big baby.

For a few years now you’ve gotten into the habit of assigning everyone you meet an animal that reminds you of them. It satisfied both of your interests and it was fun. It’s how Duckie got her nickname. She’d crowed over the cuteness and tried to hug you before you threatened to bite her if she touched you.

It didn't matter the amount of time you'd known a person you grouped them. The scrawny teenager at the local Tesco was Giraffe kid, The high pitched woman next door with the ugly dog, Chihuahua.

You’re looking at your girlfriend of 3 months, Foxy, thinking how the name works for her better than Taylor does. 

She’s beautiful even while spitting vitriol as she packs her Telfar bag to the brim with stray items she left behind at your apartment. 

When she flicks her hair over a tanned shoulder you’re distracted, remembering how it felt when you gripped the long strands that morning, holding her still and demanding to be kissed. Instead of the soft look she wore then, she’s openly glaring at you now. You know your face is doing the blank thing she hates because she searches it for something. You suppose she doesn’t find whatever that something is because she’s yelling again.

“You make it so FUCKING hard to love you and I can’t do this anymore.”

You're frozen, caught off guard with the remote to the television still in hand as the nature documentary drones on. The ‘what?’ you blurt out is one of genuine confusion, you'd both been cuddled on the couch talking before whatever this was came to be. You wrack your mind trying to remember what the last thing you said was and come up blank. To your embarrassment, you'd been on autopilot the whole morning, so there is a gap in your memories.

Taylor, upon your continued silence makes a sound that can only be described as a screech.

“You always have an excuse why I can’t meet your parents!” She cries exasperatedly, “If you’re ashamed of me I’d rather you just say that over leading me on for God’s sake!”

Your body flinches only slightly when she throws her hands up. You’re still defensive when you bite out a sharp rebuttal that makes her frown and drop your spare key on the coffee table. You don't admit to yourself that you can't remember exactly what you say over the cotton in your ears and the dark corners that sink into your neck at the first display of conflict.

It still stings when she leaves though. You spend the next day crying under your blankets, the pillow she slept on still smells like her perfume. The scent clean and floral, one you'd gotten used to seeking out when you did the laundry.

Fuck, you really did like Foxy. But you suppose you’re going to have to call her Taylor now that she's your ex-girlfriend.  

Duckie laughs at Taylor’s comment when you tell her over brunch. Your effervescent friend’s giggle tumbles out of her uncontrollably, whilst her mimosa in hand, threatens to spill in her lap. She slaps a hand over her mouth when a loud snort escapes against her will. She shoots an apologetic smile to the couple at the table adjacent to yours when they ask her to keep it down. 

You glare until they turn back to their lunch.

Duckie straightens when she takes in your stiff form, having finally realized she’d stepped on a landmine and right into your ire.

“Darling, you certainly don't make it easy to be close to you, you're a bit…” 

She pauses in thought, shifting her glasses on her nose and placing the glass flute down on the table. Today her spectacles are fire engine red with rhinestones on the brim. You’d asked her if she was nearsighted or farsighted once and she’d told you the lenses weren’t prescription. She only wore them to seem a bit older and worldlier when out and about.

 You don't like how long it takes for her to search for an adjective and say so when she still doesn’t finish her sentence after several moments. 

“I just mean that you're purposely closed off,” She makes a panic flapping movement with her hands when your eyes narrow even more “Oh come on! You like it that way!”

“Duckie, what are you talking about?” You grit between your teeth. 

You're pushing your half eaten club sandwich out of the way to lean across the table, waiting to hear her explanation. You’d lost your appetite.

Duckie shirks from your unblinking leer and sniffs indignantly. 

“It took me nearly a year to get you to call me your friend and I swear I still feel like I don’t know you.” she gives you a pointed look, “If it weren't for the fact that you’re like that to everyone, I’d think you hated me sometimes, so I really do have to empathize with Taylor in this one.” 

She’s waiting for you to say something, you can tell by the way she brings her shoulders up to her ears as if gearing for some great big reaction.

But, that wasn’t your style, never had been. So you still don’t know what’s expected of you. To negate her statement? 

You suppose you could tell her that's absurd, she was your best friend in every way. Had been since the day she’d laughed at one of your more tasteless jokes during an intro to Psychology class in undergrad. You were softer for Duckie, more than you were- well really anyone. 

Your own mother only knew enough about you to identify you on a morgue table if it ever came down to it. But you don’t tell her that.

Instead you do what you do best. You leave.

You’re pushing up from the table gathering your purse and throwing back the last of your mimosa like a tequila shot, before you can think twice about it.

Duckie tries to reach out to you but you flinch from her touch. 

“Wait Darling, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, please don't go!”

“I’m just going to the ladies.” you mumble flatly over your shoulder. At least that's what you hope comes out because your throat is closing up with the effort to hold back the stupid tears in your eyes. 

You slam into the restroom startling the barista applying lipstick in the mirror. Her owlish eyes take one look at your dark expression and she pops the top back on her lipstick, skirting past you. You check to make sure the bathroom was truly empty before locking yourself in the biggest stall.

As soon as the lock clicks the dam breaks and it makes you so angry it hurts. The level of intensity of your crying is absolutely repulsive. Your jaw aches with the efforts to muffle the sobs that thrum through your body like a struck chord.

You’re pacing the small enclosure with tears running down your face, feeling like the lioness in the nature documentary after it’d been captured. You feel the gut punch of self loathing as soon as the thought comes up. It's insulting to compare yourself to the deadly beast when you’re trying not to get snot on your dress sleeves. 

Duckie comes to the restroom after a while tapping on the stall door, begging you to open up.

You feel only half guilty when you tell her to fuck off. She’s quiet for a while and you know she stands with only the thin door between you, you can see her colorful converses from beneath the gap in the door. 

You want to let her in. Figuratively. Literally. 

What a relief it would be to just let her crawl into the hole you’ve made at rock bottom and let her be there with you. 

You want to laugh imagining her taking the time to do that rocking thing she does when she's trying to get comfortable in the decorative chair in your office. You always remind her it was meant for aesthetics, not comfort when she huffs out the same grouchy complaint about the hardness. She scoffs in mock offense anyways. 

“Really Darling, you make enough money to get rid of this thing. Ooh let me send you the link to the bean bag I saw on Wayfair, one sec!”

You’re still crying when you consider that she's really the only person who makes the effort to visit you at the office.

Or anywhere really. 

You'd gotten accustomed to only hearing from your family when there was a crisis or need for quick cash to keep them afloat. 

If you weren’t stuffing tissues into your running nose you’d scoff at the thought of your parents caring, much less visiting. They were still content to be fuck ups well into their retirement age. You’d long stopped bothering to call to make sure they were still alive after the first year of college. 

Maybe if you told Taylor that she would have stayed.

The emotional despair rot you call ‘The Chasm’ deepens and you question if you’d ever really gotten used to the loneliness of having no parent to turn to. The years of casual disdain and dismissal. The resentment for being half a child and reluctant third parent to children that weren’t yours. Their desire for all of you and none of you and back again in an endless loop. 

Ceaseless demands of a gluttonous beast you could never please, even when you’ve flayed yourself bare. 

It stings, the reminder that you’d been living on scraps and toughness disguised as love long before you met Duckie. Long before Foxy- Taylor- or even the parade of friends and disappointed exes, who’d simply had enough of whatever caustic matter made you, you. 

Yet, Duckie is the only one who keeps coming back. Time again she comes back to your side with a smile, like she likes to be with you. Like watching nature shows with you on the couch, eating whatever snacks she brings because she knows you forget to eat, acting like it’s the highlight of her day. Never an inconvenience to care for you the way others had said it was. It makes you cry harder until you can’t breathe because you’re trying not to let her hear you.

Duckie in all her color and too big glasses, has always acted as if she can see that weak part of you peeking out from behind the thorns and quick rebuttals bordering on mean. She still stands waiting for you even now, even when you told her to fuck off in public restroom at your favorite brunch cafe. 

It’s staring at the graffiti-ed dick on the stall door when you think you can honestly say you love her and it hurts your feelings that she doesn't know that. 

You think you can be honest and tell her that it’s not about Foxy or even Duckie’s laugh at your expense. It’s about the revolving door of disappointment that still keeps you up at night. That landed you under the microscope on a a faceless therapist's couch for emergency sessions and the mementos of non-slip socks in your dresser drawers.

The half guilt turns into full fledged self loathing just thinking about how you really needed to get a cushion for your office and let her in. After a beat you think you’re in control of your crying enough to reach for the lock inside the stall. Of course, as always the universe is having a laugh at your expense. 

“Darling, I'm going to go back to the table now okay?” 

You know she's making that nervous face scrunch she does when she’s anxious, waiting for you to reply. You can’t, you’re frozen in place as always. 

“Don't want them to think we skipped the tab, so just come back when you feel a bit better, yeah?”  

She says something about her getting the bill and you can talk when you come back. You don’t hear her really because ‘The Chasm’ calls to you first. You keep it together long enough until the scuffling sounds of her shoes quiet before allowing the tide to take you under again. 

Eventually, when you’ve stuffed the feelings back into the pit, you’re able to leave the stall. You never go back to the table. Texting Duckie a simple ‘sorry’ along with a money transfer for your portion of brunch. You leave the restaurant for the safety of your home, wondering if this will be enough for her to leave you too. 

You half hope it is because it was exhausting loving someone else.

An hour later there's a timid knock on your apartment door. It’s opening to peer down at a shuffling Duckie on your steps, with flowers and the expensive bottle of wine you like, that you know that it’s not. Enough to keep her from coming back that is. 

She follows you inside like a chick behind its mother and toes off her sneakers in the hall next to your rows of shoes. She takes your general wave her way as a sign of ‘go ahead’ when she asks if she can put the flowers in water. 

You’re sitting on the couch with your knees to your chest, staring listlessly at the nature channel. You know Duckie is taking in your bare face and faux casualness. You know you look pathetic in your too big hoodie and headscarf. You at least hope you've gotten enough of your makeup off to not look like a drowned raccoon.

'Pathetic', The Chasm says.

Duckie carefully tiptoes over your outstretched legs to scrunch herself small on the other end of the couch. After a few episodes of the documentary, this one about penguins, she slowly makes her way to your side and cautiously gives you a half hug and a tearful apology.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch, I shouldn’t have laughed.” She doesn’t turn from the t.v's glow. You’re secretly thankful she doesn’t look at you because you’re embarrassed for crying again. 

With gentle prodding she asks you to tell her how you really feel about Taylor leaving. You tell her. You also tell her about your parents and why it was such a big deal introducing Taylor to them. It’s more than you’ve admitted to any therapist and she has the foresight to not make it a thing.

Duckie just hums quietly, listening. As she sleeps on your shoulder, drool wetting your sleeve, you think you can carve her a spot beside you in rock bottom. Maybe another inside the space where your heart should be, just big enough for one. It’ll just be you and Duckie for as long as she wants it that way. You’re satisfied with the thought, drinking the last of the wine.

As always nothing you ever want matters for very long.

Because Soap doesn’t give you a choice when he barrages into your life and demands you make additional space for him and his stray dog.

Masterlist | Next >>

[loverofpiggies]

IT’S POWER, EVERYONE!!!

Check out my etsy shop

If you want to see how I made this piece, check out the extended stuff below!

Okay, the story behind this piece is nuts, but. I’ve known I’ve needed to work on improving my art for a while, so as you can tell from all the newest pieces, I’ve been trying to push myself. It started like this:

This was actually the fourth sketch I made. I knew I wanted Power to be looking down at us (you know, what she does with everyone), and I wanted to have her swinging a blood scythe in one way or another. I set up composition lines, but the more I looked at the sketch, the more frustrated I got. I finally just had to accept my anatomy and my 3d understanding of the body is very much lacking, and If I wanted to improve I had to work on something.

I watched a bunch of tutorial videos, and decided to try out the 3D model in Clip Studio paint. It didn’t take too long to learn how to manipulate the model, and I came up with this:

From here, I decided to do my quick sketch with Power

While I was experimenting with Clip studio’s art stuff, I decided to try playing around with their new “Shade Assist”. I figured it could give me some more ideas to make my shadows feel more ‘real’ or have me look at my art in a different way. Once I finished the lineart, got the color in there, and drew in Meowy, this is what I tried.

I really loved how the ‘evening’ mode of shade assist looked, even after playing around with my own colors, but I liked how it gave her a slightly more ‘yellow’ tone, and how the shadows were actually just lavender and light pink. So I took those colors, and worked on the shadows.

From there, I made the background layer. I used one of the Clip Studio gradient pre-sets, the ‘evening’ one, and painted a texture on top of it to have it match more with the textured painting style I went with. I added blood splatters, and ‘rectangles’ in the background, just to have more things visually going on.

On top of all of that, I added another layer on top of Power herself, with a very slight tone color of the gradient behind her, to make her and the background feel like they’re supposed to be together. And that’s it!!

I’m really happy with this so I wanted to explain my process. Looking around at tutorials on youtube, talking to artist friends who- tbh, are WAY more knowledgeable then me, helped a ton. And using the 3d model helped visualize the body, and different angles, WAY better then anything else I could find.

So uhhh thank you, and enjoy!

[c1oud999]

hi

i just wanted to come on here and talk about my experience with spirituality. warning: longggg post ahead.

basically ive been in the spiritual community for YEARS now. ive had existential crisis since the age of 11 and ive gone through many phases of many different spiritual trends. from law of attraction, to witchcraft, to religious devotion, to law of assumption and now finally non dualism. i read books, meditated for hours and hours, talked to spiritual ppl from all walks of life and watched all the episodes of ganga upanishad (a show i still highly recommend, you can watch on youtube). all this childhood trauma and mental illness made me crave for sweet relief. but nothing really made sense until law of assumption. i thought that that would be it yk. i thought i was done searching but i think that was when i was searching for things the most. i do know i have it in my 4d, when will i see it? i thought i would get all my desires but did not meet success. and then the non dualism trend began and i hopped onto it like pretty much everyone else. i was bewildered at the stuff teachers kept saying. what do you mean everything's an illusion? there's no way that's true. my very real surroundings are causing me VERY real pain and suffering. oh no no there must be a deeper meaning behind all this. and so i read all the books in 4dbarbies drive, but nothing clicked. yes it made sense intellectually, but i didnt want to believe it bc where is the materialisation satisfaction here? also i felt none of the euphoria that was supposed to come with self realisation. which means i must not be a realised being. and then i cried and cried and cried, isolated myself, literally stopped going to school and just lay in bed all day. but ofc, i continued to read the tumblr posts like i had been doing for the past several years. and yesterday i read 4dkelly's post about giving up. it made sense. by the time i had finished reading the post i had truly given up on everything. on wanting, hoping, fearing, striving etc etc. i was SO tired. so i gave up. fell asleep. i woke up really late as usual and missed the school bus. i ate breakfast in silence, switched the tv on and lied down on the couch like always. and like always out of compulsion and force of habit i reached for my phone and looked up non dualism on twitter. and then i came across a tweet that said a simple sentence only- "nothing is ever actually happening." woah. that kinda drove me to the edge of the cliff i desperately wanted to jump off. i turned on some dnb background music and turned the shower on. i stood under the boiling hot water like some dramatic bitch and started piecing together the "puzzle". it all made so much sense now. i got out of the shower and left the house for the first time in months with a cute outfit and makeup on and everything. i went to the mall, bought candles, stickers, eye masks, coffee, and a doughnut with absolutely no social anxiety at all. i sat by window, read some poetry on my e-reader, cried, peered down at the floor below me and cried some more at the sight of little kids sitting on santa's lap and taking pictures and marveled at all the christmas decorations around me. it was insane. i decided i was going to be neutral towards everything but im in love. maddeningly so. in love with this dream that i thought did not love me back. but love is all there is. I AM ALL THERE IS. and i need you to take this literally. there is nothing happening. there is nothing here except you. nothing to fear, nothing to desire. ik a lot of people are going to dismiss this post because it's not a "materialisation success story" but i honestly dont think i can ever want anything physically bc in all its true essence, what is there to materialise? i am already whole and complete. i am lying on this cold hard floor, but i have never felt warmer. also ik there may be a lot of things ive written you might not agree with but again, this is NOT REAL. I AM. i hope this post helps you.

thank you to all the blogs ive come across and all the pointers they have shared: @se1f @realisophie @itgomyway @4dkellysworld @4dbarbie-backup @infiniteko @iamthat-iam and many more i cannot thank enough.

lots and lots of love (more than you can ever imagine), and good luck.

[msgexymunson]

Hey!

If your requests are open, may I ask for

Face sitting in the back of eddies van. 😏

Warnings: fem!oral receiving, obviously, slight fluff to smut, best friends to something

A/n: so I got this ages ago, then Rumour took my attention so I do apologise! But here it is, supposed to be a drabble but turned into 2k words Haha. Not as proof read as I would like!

Masterlist

Smoke hangs in the air; a hazy cloud seeps through and around the small space, stinging your eyes. You slouch languidly, back propped up on a worn out cushion, sitting cross legged on the floor of Eddie's van with a multitude of musty blankets beneath you. A miasma of weed clung to the pair of you.

Eddie's laying on his back with his head in your lap, one leg up and bent at the knee swaying back and forth. Ever the fidget, he always had to be moving.

There's a comfortable calm in the air, one that encompasses you both each time you smoke like this. It's as if the world outside doesn't exist; it's just you and your best friend Eddie.

Humming along to the metal playing in the background, you run your hand through Eddie's hair. You can tell he's enjoying it, closing his eyes at the feeling of your soft fingers.

"Sweetheart you have to stop that, I'm gonna fall asleep."

"Fine," you smile mischievously, and thread your hand into his hair, giving it a sharp tug instead. He jumps up in shock.

"Holy shit don't do that princess!"

"Sorry did it hurt?"

Eddie blushes pink. "Actually it felt kinda nice." He chuckles, running his hand to the back of his neck.

"You're such a perv."

"Well, you're the one getting all handsy sweetheart, I never asked to have my hair pulled." He winks at you, throwing you one of those disarming grins that turns your stomach into a fluttering mess of butterflies.

"I know, we should play a game!"

You roll your eyes "if you suggest I Spy I swear to God Eds-"

"I was actually gonna say Never Have I Ever."

"Eddie I'm not playing that, it doesn't work with two people! And you just want to find out freaky sex stuff."

Eddie looks shocked, dramatically holding his hand to his mouth. "Well I never! I wouldn't possibly do something like that!"

You laugh at him, hitting him playfully on the arm. "You're such a weirdo."

He opens his arms, gesturing at himself "uh, what gave me away?" You shake your head at him, but you cant help the smile that creeps across your face.

"How about Truth or Dare?"

"What possible dares can we do in the van Eddie?"

He raises his eyebrows at you. "Well, I can think of one or two..." Smug smirk spreading across his face.

You know that look, you'd seen it before. There was the time at Gareth's party when you had both gotten wasted and made out in the closet. Then there was the time at Jeff's house when you were so stoned you needed to be touched and had basically forced Eddie's hands onto your tits, not that he needed much encouragement.

This seems different though. You had been smoking, sure, but not excessively so. The atmosphere had changed. It felt charged, like a storm was brewing out of sight and you were waiting for the rain to start.

"Don't look at me like that Eds." You deflect, looking away, eyes settling on the tobacco and papers laying haphazardly on the floor. Grabbing them you start to roll, grateful to have something to distract you from those wide brown eyes of his.

"I'm just looking at you!" He shrugs his shoulders; you see the movement out of the corner of your eye. He shuffles closer, crossed legged in front of you so your knees are nearly touching. Blood rushes to your cheeks and reaches the tips of your ears, trying desperately to focus on rolling.

"I just, I had a question."

You look up, sparking the joint, and take a few drags before you finally return his eye contact.

"If you wanna ask something just ask Eds, we don't have to play a game."

You steel yourself for whatever the hell is about to come out of his mouth.

"Have you ever sat on a guy's face?" 

But you certainly weren't prepared for that.

Coughing in shock, smoke trickles out your nose in a burning puff. Your eyes water, trying to clear your sinuses from the sudden onslaught.

"Eddie what the fuck."

"You said just ask! I just, I never had anyone do that to me before, I was curious."

Blushing crimson, you manage to say quietly "I've never, had a guy, do that. Ever."

"You've never had a guy go down on you?!" He looks shocked, eyebrows raised so high they disappear into his fringe.

"Guys aren't exactly keen to do that Eds, they usually only want one thing." 

"Well I am, I mean, I could." Honest soft eyes gaze into your own.

"Are you seriously offering to-"

"Eat you out? Yeah."

"Fuck Eddie so poetic." You can't help but laugh at his crude language.

"It's just, I'll do you a favour, you do me a favour, you know?"

Of all the things you thought would happen tonight, this certainly wasn't one of them. Suddenly feeling far too sober, you take a couple more drags and pass the smoke to Eddie.

"Eddie, that's more than a favour, like seriously."

"Well, then you can pay me back sometime." He laughs, biting his bottom lip. You feel your pulse travel down to your pussy at his words.

"Eds, I don't want this to, get weird."

"News flash princess, we are weird. I see the way you look at me. Plus remember that time you flashed me in the park?" Shit forgot about that one.

"Fair point. But this is like, the point of no return." 

He throws his head back with laughter, "shit princess you don't have to be so fucking dramatic, it's just head." He wipes moisture out the corner of his eye.

"That did sound like a movie poster line." You smile, glad that he can put you at ease so simply.

"So, is that a yes or a no? If you don't want to you can pretend that this conversation never happened." He reaches to you, hand stroking your knee.

"I suppose we could try it." He beams at you.

"Is that a yes then? I don't want an 'I suppose'"

"Yes Eddie. I will sit on your face."

He chuckles and reaches out to touch your face. "Can I- can I kiss you?"

You nod, breath catching in your throat.

Hesitantly he touches your chin, leaning slowly forward, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, giving you every opportunity to back out. You move closer to him, hand coming to rest on his waist.

Lips crush against yours, chapped but soft, slight brush of stubble against your skin. His tongue pushes into your mouth and you grip at his shirt, amazed at how strongly he's making you feel just from a simple kiss.

He reaches for your hips, pulling you towards him. Straddling his lap its evident that you're not the only one getting turned on; his hard length is practically straining to pop out of his jeans.

"Excited are we?" You roll your hips against him and he groans loudly.

"Fuck off, I've had a hard on since you pulled my hair." You laugh, but it transforms into a moan when Eddie starts mouthing at your neck, setting loose zings of pleasure.

"Fuck, Eds."

"Yeah? That good princess?" He sucks a bruise into your skin, pulling a gasp from you, feeling the blood collect and blossom.

"Can I take these off?" His hands reaching to your jeans, fingers dipping in the waistband.

You clamber off him in an ungainly manner, stripping off your bottom half, pulling your pants down in the process. Eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth at the sight of you naked from the waist down.

"Fuck, princess, ok so this is really happening, ok ok-"

You place a hand on his chest "Eds you're rambling."

"Sorry, I didn't think you were really gonna let me" he chuckles and lays down, grabbing your cushion to put under his head. "Whenever you're ready princess."

Taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm your jangling nerves, you straddle him, hovering over the top of his chest, knees either side of his head.

"Fuck me, sweetheart you smell really good."

"Eddie you're such a perv!"

"Its true!" You laugh, hiding your face in your hands, heart racing.

"Come on, sit." You inch closer to him, afraid to put your weight down, when he grows impatient and grabs your hips, forcing you down.

Eddie immediately pushes his tongue into you, wiggling muscle diving straight into your clenching hole. Your reaction is immediate, grinding against him with a broken moan flying out of your mouth. You can feel him groaning, the vibrations sending jolts through your cunt, electric pleasure grounding into your core.

His nose is pushing into your clit, flicking against you with each movement of his head. He licks a wide belt up your pussy, the flat of his tongue pressing against your collection of nerves.

"Oh my God, Eddie!" You screech into the van, entirely taken with the way he's making you feel, the world outside a hazy memory.

Struggling to keep yourself upright, you lean one hand against the side of the van, the other makes it's way into Eddie's hair, pulling softly, nails scratching at his scalp.

This only serves to compel Eddie, doubling his efforts, fingers pushing into the dough of your hips, massaging into you firmly. The noise of him slurping and sucking echoes; it's so loud it nearly drowns out your cries.

You're grinding against him freely now, unable to restrain the burning arousal collecting deep within you.

"Oh Eddie, fuck you're gonna make me cum."

He moves his head away briefly, just enough to speak.

"Please, please come for me. Come on my face." And he's pressing his plush lips to your clit, sucking on it, while his hand reaches to your heat, pushing his thick thumb inside you.

You weren't expecting the thunderbolt of fervour rushing through you when his digit breached your cunt. You buck into it, feeling every movement of his thumb, lips, tongue, hands; a wave crashing down through you.

You cry out his name almost silently, mouth hanging open in a wordless gape. Your release rushes out, ripping out of you, stripping away everything, all doubt, all pain, leaving just pleasure, and Eddie. The shock of it wrenches your muscles, forces you to fall to the side, legs trembling with revelation. Never had an orgasm felt like this. Never had you been left a shaking, whimpering mess.

You try to remember to breathe, but it comes out in ragged pants. Part of your brain is trying to tell you to cover up but your body does not care. You lie there, a shell, empty of purpose and thought, staring mindlessly at the ceiling of the van.

A face comes into view above you, shining with your slick, curtained with soft brown curls. You've never seen such a smug grin in all your life.

"That good, princess?"

You open your mouth to make a snarky comment, but it dies on your tongue. The noise you make is soft, and nonsensical.

Eddie laughs and wipes his mouth before kissing you on the forehead. He lights the half a joint that was left over from earlier, takes a couple of drags and hands it to you. You clutch it with trembling fingers, taking a shaky hit, then another.

Eventually you sit up, pulling a blanket over your legs.

"So, you ok princess?" 

"Yeah just about. Fucking hell."

He chuckles, bringing you into his arms for a cuddle. "Fucking hell good?"

"Fucking hell we are doing other stuff."

He bursts out laughing, kissing your cheek.

"Whatever you say princess."

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

One Shot For Pondhue Rick Sanchez x Reader Fluff

I hope this doesn't format weird, but I've been doing one shot fanfic for art trades, this is my first finished one! If you're interested go ahead and dm me but I've got lots to tackle.

I love @pondhue's art, be sure to check them out, this is what they requested, enjoy :)

“Summer!” Morty yelled up the stairs in an exasperated voice. Both his hands are clenched on the straps of his backpack. “I-I’m gonna be late for math, Mom said we have to walk together this time.”

You were cross legged on the recliner as you watched her bound down the stairs with a pink zippered pouch in hand. 

“Don’t act like you give a shit about your education Morty, it’s not a good look for you.” She rolls her eyes in his direction and hands you the pouch. “You can use anything but Funny Bunny and the glitters. See you tonight!”  She was out the door before you could even say thank you. 

“She’s fuckin’ killing me, y/n.” Morty gave a frustrated huff. The door slams shut and you stifle a laugh.

You almost slide off of the recliner in favor of the floor, then go through Summer’s nail stuff. The polish bottles all clink against one another gently. 

It was empty and quiet. The Beths and Jerry had said something about a galactic honeymoon before being cut off by disgusted groans from Rick and the kids. It was an easy job to take.

You turn on the TV for some background noise, and decide to pick your favorite color.  

House sitting seemed unnecessary for the Smiths, but it would be nice to be around Rick more in light of your recent “exclusivity.” Rick’s chosen word, not yours. It was kinda sweet, you supposed.

You start with your left hand, laying it flat on the coffee table. It was fun, and soothing. 

Exclusive was a nice term, you think. Not too distant, or too territorial. He respected you.

You were starting another finger when you heard the familiar warp of a portal materializing in the kitchen. 

God, Rick was noisy. Every box and bottle in the fridge resounded as if he were taking inventory, he hacked and coughed every few seconds. Was he aware that you were here? Was he trying to make a point, like you had to acknowledge his presence first?

You continue without a word. Maybe you could do your toes too? Should you match, or pick another color?

Your mouth twitched as you saw him from the corner of your eye. He plopped himself down on the couch, adjacent to your spot on the floor, with a drink in his hand. He burps and changes the channel. 

There was a comfortable silence, only the noise of different shows and commercials, human looking humans, nothing you’d usually see on interdimensional cable with him. 

Rick drapes his arm on the back of the couch. “Y-you gonna join me?”

“In a little bit, I’m almost done,” you said.

He grunts in reply.

Why was he being so quiet, almost shy?

You finished your last finger, waving them around a little to dry. You look back up at the TV, and literal shit is being spread on a bagel. 

“Jesus,” you automatically cringe and turn to Rick, “Why?”

“Poop deli,” he shrugs and takes a big swig of beer.

“That.. Is not–romantic,” you said.

He snorts but changes the channel anyway. “I didn’t realize you needed wooing right now, sweetheart.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Who said I needed it?” You say incredulously, flapping your hands to dry your nails faster. You know you looked silly and laughed a little as soon as you started.

“‘S a good color on you,” Rick almost mumbles, vaguely gesturing to the little set up of polish and remover, and all the other contents of Summer’s pouch on the coffee table. 

“Thank you.” You slide the nail stuff across the table and sit on the carpet next to Rick’s foot. “Maybe you could join me?”

“On the floor?” Rick’s voice almost reflected your own earlier regarding ‘poop deli.’

“It won’t kill you,” you said. “I was hoping I could do your nails too?” You almost didn’t ask, but you were curious. Sure, Rick usually gave most things shit, but you’d like to think you were his soft spot. 

“And what are you thinking, exactly?” He squints at you almost mockingly. He lowers himself smoothly onto the floor next to you.

“How about…” Your hand hovers over a few different bottles in Summers collection. “Lincoln Park After Park,” you said and handed him the bottle. 

“I’m—eughhh–’m not wearing purple.” He said flatly. He places it on the table and takes another swig of beer. 

“It’s basically black,” you scoffed. “I think it’s pretty. You’re lucky I don’t want to do the whole damn nail routine on you. I’m sure your cuticles are atrocious.”

Rick exhaled sharply through his nose, and rolled his eyes dramatically and splayed his large, bony hands out on the coffee table. “Before I change my mind.” 

You smile with satisfaction and scoot closer to him, going from sitting to kneeling. Tall bastard. You almost get poked by his knee as he crouches in an almost frog-like position, you laugh at the look on his face as you untwist the bottle. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek right before he starts complaining.

“That is a purple tinge,” he insists, emphasizing the color. 

“It’s black,” you set the bottle on the table and grab his hand. You start on his pinky finger, feeling the rough skin of his palm. “It’s not permanent, don’t be a child.”

“I’m aware of the properties of Earth nail polish,” he uses his free hand to take a swig of his beer, which almost spilled all over the carpet. “Forgive me for being a little more s–eughh-selective.”

“Earth nail polish?” You laugh. “So there’s alien versions, you mean?”

“Obviously. More durable and vibrant iterations of this shit. Think of that blackest black bullshit, but better. And it doesn’t stink. Just an obvious superiority of the wonders of the galaxy over puny mundane humanity.” His lab coat collar was wonky and he didn’t sound too serious about the last part.

“Mhm,” you said as you spaced his pinky away and moved onto his ring finger, careful not to smudge your own. “And how’d you get so familiar with galactic cosmetics?” He shrugged. “Old band days. I’ve told you about this before,” his eyebrow furrowed.

You could see a little bit of the purple tint as you finished another nail. 

“Drunken rants barely count as telling me,” you said. “The Flesh Curtains,” you said with a flourishing stroke.

“Th-this, it’s the first time since then I’ve gotten my nails painted,” he said, a little surprised at himself. “Bit of bird DMT and common sense is m-euguhghh-more than enough to overcome, fuckin gender societal bullshit.” He was watching your hands, one painting, the other keeping his still. “If you paint it all over the fingertip it’ll come off in the shower. Don’t exactly shower much at Birding Man, though.”

“That’s where you guys met, right?” You asked.

“Mhm,” Rick said. “Thirty somethin’ and didn’t give much of a fuck to do shit else. Just shows and drugs and all the usual rockstar bullshit. I was young. BP gave me a guitar and we were too shitfaced to stop ourselves.”

“Bird Person doesn’t seem the musical type,” you say as you take his other hand and dip the brush into the bottle of polish. “That’s pretty cool.”

“He’s a fuckin’ genius.” He waves his free hand. “Bird planet stuff gave him a natural advantage, I think. Heavy into classical. Would’ve been a w–eughhh–waste, -i-if he never did anything with it.”

“So what kind of music did you make?” You asked, smiling. You were trying not to seem too enthusiastic. You didn’t think he’d be so willing to open up. 

“Eughh–it was the eighties, I think, don’t fuckin’ remember too much. Rock, nu metal. For a bit we used an invention of mine with an algorithm that c-cal-calibrated the data from other successful rock acts across the known universe to write songs for us, bullshit like that. Didn’t work out. BP almost got us to do new-wave, n-eughh-not my cup of tea.” He takes his flask from his lab coat pocket. 

“Squanchy didn’t want that either. Too hyperactive. We found him squanchin’ backstage by the drumkit when we wanted to crash the festival, so that role for him happened naturally. I don’t think you’ve met him. When we were on the road I’d have to sing him to sleep while I drove cuz BP would just pass out. If Squanchy didn’t get a goddamn lullaby he’d have to squanch to go to bed, and that was when I actually gave a shit if my ship was clean..”

“I advise you to restrain your speed. Breaking Blimmyjink highway laws will further delay our performance,” Bird Person said in his monotone voice.

“I swear to fucking god, I’ll eject you into the vast emptiness of space if you spill that goddamn beer!” Rick yelled over his shoulder while keeping his eyes on the road. He coughed and hacked before narrowly swerving around another vehicle. 

They worked real hard to get a gig at the Celestes, and he wasn’t going to let shit ruin it. Rick growled a little as he forced himself to ease up on the gas pedal. 

“I didn’t spill squanch!” Squanchy whined.

“Should’ve brought my damn portal gun, you stupid fucks,” he barked at the other members in the car. “U—eughh-unbelievable.”  Rick had thought that a road trip-esque approach to a few of their gigs would create some type of positive relationship without too many drugs involved.

The galactic highway had too much traffic for a Thursday night, they had a shit time slot. He weaved in and out of lines of other ships and cars, speeding to get to the venue. His glass beer bottle nearly tipped over in the cup holder, before his bandmate caught it with a feathered hand.

“You’re in distress,” BP observed. 

“You deserve a medal,” Rick muttered.

“What seems to be the issue?” Bird Person persisted. 

“We need time t-to set up. No fuckin’ brainer. Even with the damn Band in a Box mechanism every .5 seconds counts in this GODDAMN TRAFFIC!” Rick yelled and honked his horn. 

The driver in front of him extended a tentacle out of their window.

“Is he flipping me off?” Rick asked, glancing at his cat-like drummer in the back seat. 

“Nah, he’s just giving you the squanch. Could be way worse, Rick.” Squanchy replied before chugging the rest of his drink, his feet kicked up on the drivers seat.

“Paws down asshole, you’ll sing yourself to sleep tonight,” Rick said through gritted teeth.

“Your voice is slightly hoarser than usual.” Bird Person said. “Perhaps your agitated state is creating strain on your physical health.”

“Only by 20.8%, which literally d-eughh-doesn’t matter,” Rick quipped. “This is a really important show, you know that.”

BP rifled through his satchel made of leaves and other stupid shit Rick didn’t see the point in before. He pulled out an unusually large acorn. 

“It is infused with healing syrups and herbs from my home planet. I insist.” He handed it to him when they slowed to a stop at a light. “It may soothe you.”

“What-am-am I supposed to eat this like an apple?” Rick's eyebrow arched before glancing back at the road.

“If by apple you imply a hand sized, edible food source–”

“Whatever,” Rick grumbled and took the acorn begrudgingly.

“Thank you for giving me your trust,” his bandmate replied.

The show at the Celestes had been a hit. It helped them book other gigs–turns out there were some good connections to make on a random Thursday night. Rick wasn’t on vocals that show, but he felt a lot better. He got so drunk that he crowd surfed and shit his pants in a broom closet. 

“We ended up having a p-pretty decent sized fan base on Blimmyjink even after we disbanded. Pers didn’t neutralize any of the tannins in that acorn, though,” Rick said with a laugh. “Tasted like shit.”

You were almost done with his second hand, almost wishing you could stall so he wouldn’t stop talking.

It was really nice of him to speak more about his past, considering Rick wasn’t very comfortable with his backstory, or a lot of what happened before he and Morty moved to this dimension. You could tell he was really trying. 

“That seems really fun. It would be nice to meet Squanchy sometime.” You put away the polish and rubbed his shoulder. “I didn’t realize you and BP had been so close. He doesn’t seem like the type to paint his nails.”

Rick scoffs. “Yeah, no thanks to me. They wanted to be lame and go onstage as they were, like f-fuckin’ Weezer or something. It was fun styling everyone. I had pierced ears back then too, we were so fuckin’ drunk–shit was lopsided.” 

He rolled his eyes and pressed a button on his watch, careful not to smudge his nail. 

A little holo projection appeared of an old picture you’d seen before. Rick, Bird Person, and Squanchy on stage. Fire effects erupting by the drumset, Bird Person with his wings displayed powerfully behind him, Rick lost in thought as his face contorted while striking the strings of his instrument. 

“Wow, yeah. You guys look amazing,” you try not to giggle a little at Rick’s get up. You hadn’t seen it in detail like this before— spiked leather bracelets, a skull on his belt buckle, the loosest, skinniest tank top that was as far away from his chest as possible, and a choker around his neck. Jesus Christ. What a choice, what a man.

“Clearly I was the o-eughh-only one that actually looked good,” Rick said with a wink. “But it was some good shit. We never made any money doing it. But we had some good memories.”

Rick's hands were both free as the nails dried, so he used them more as he talked. “That time in my life w-was a goddamn free for all. I trusted BP for no good reason when I’d been bitter and angry for years. We all almost wrote a whole album that night, after Birding Man, but Squanchy drunk pissed all over my equipment and we lost the files.”

“And drunk Rick didn’t waterproof his stuff back then?” You ask dubiously. 

“I–eughh–I think I can say I was a lesser man back then.” He said with a shrug.

“Do you miss it?” You ask.

“Loose shirts, shittier tech, different mindset back then. I don’t regret it, but I was...just running from a lot of shit. It was escapism. Every musician is disturbed, art is mental illness, whatever bullshit you wanna . I-I think I needed it.” He said fondly. “I’m a little less likely to do donuts in a Blimmyjink parking lot these days.”

The TV hums quietly in the background and you take in the natural pause. 

You take his hand cautiously, admiring the fit of yours with his, the new polish on your nails. “Thank you for giving me your trust.”

He brings his palm to your cheek and kisses your forehead.

[mr-bas00nist]

Hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request TF 141 x male reader, reader is supposed to be nobody, there was nothing on his file (in less his file is fake?) Reader was given a choice death row or military it's not like reader had anything to lose so he joined. For a newbie reader's skills are above average as if by design, even his file says he has never killed but he's to cold and ruthless to not have.

Reader never used to be like this but he just learned earlier life can be cruel and if you want live you have to fight (if it's okay can reader have PTSD & depression from things like abuse/SA??)

Maybe reader is asked to do secret solo missions as favors holding the I gave you your freedom back card over his head?

How would the team react to reader and the lack of information? Would they confront him? How would the react to reader not knowing what true kindness is growing up in the a world where he was taught kindness doesn't come free?

Sorry this took so long btw! I chose headcannons though and what the boys are like to you.

Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap and Alejandro

141 and male! Reader

Simon

•When you first came to the task force Simon was threatened by you in a different way

•You we’re scary

•You had nothing on your files and you looked like you had just come out to the deepest pits of hell

•He thinks you’ve probably massacred millions

•He does not trust you

•Something about your vibes and vagueness of everything about you

•Ghost is honestly an asshole just not outright

•He definitely keeps his distance and ignores you

•Until Price recognized his cold behavior towards you

•In a team everyone needs to trust each other

•Price knew that Simon had to get over his bullshit and at least talk to you

•One day in the barracks you were sitting on your bed reading

•Simon looked at your form

•You always looked tense and angry

•He sighed as he finally walked over to you

•You stared at him confused

•This was the first time he even acknowledged your existence

•He began to talk to you, about random stuff

•Than the conversation began to get deeper and deeper

•He talked about his rough childhood as you talked about yours

•As you two began to talk he realized how similar you both were

•By the time he was done talking with you he understood completely

•After that day you guys became friends

Gaz:

•Gaz found you scary when you first came in

•When he heard rumors that you had no files that terrified him even more

•But he never judged you for it

•He began to talk to you

•he was curious about your background

•When you finally told him he was very understanding

•He doesn’t treat you any differently

•He’s that one friend you can always lean on

•And laugh too

•Ver nice boy 💪

Soap:

•He honestly does not care

•It interests him for a little bit but he doesn’t press you about it

•He just talks to you

•He likes to see people’s personalities in person not on paper

•So when he begins to talk you he immediately likes you

•Your very serious and mature but your also very nice

•He’s used to Simon’s shit so he’s used to you

•When you finally tell him your story he doesn’t really say anything

•He just listens to you

•He wants to make sure you know he cares

•Well he kind of has to confront you

•Your being assigned to his team and your a blank fucking slate

•He’ll be respectful but he has to question you

•Where you came from, your values, personality, troubles and all

•When he finally did some deep diving on you he honestly wanted you out

•You we’re practically a lunatic

•Price decided to ask you personally though

•He wanted to know where you came from and how your early life was

•You can’t see it that well but his demeanor softens a lot

•His eyes aren’t as hard and his muscles aren’t tightened

•He sighed after you told him

•He sent you on all the stealthy mission due to your skill for a newbie and everything

•He does his best to make sure the boys are being nice to you too

•Don’t expect him to pamper you though

•Alejandro’s a weird case to be fair

•He won’t engage that much with you

•He heard about your documents and files and he didn’t really trust you

•He just keeps his distance but if you talk to him he won’t ignore you like Ghost

•He saw your skills before and was incredibly impressed and understood finally

•You 100% have definitely been through something

•So one day he confronted you

•You two hit it off and you began talking

•You two talked for hours

•He felt a little bit bad for judging you but you didn’t take offense

•It’s the military, not a playground

•But don’t worry, Alejandro’s got your back

•He’s got everyone back no matter where they came from