#he's entertaining but better in certain doses

[barblaz-arts]

Fellow Chaggie shipper, here and I wanted to ask you a question. Could you please do an analysis post on the Chaggie argument from Hello Rosie. I know this will sound weird but I can't get over the level of icy anger Charlie had towards Vaggie or how despite everything going on, Charlie is more hurt from Vaggie not being honest with her. Just angst all around.

Oh yeah sure I'd love to!

I'm not sure there's a lot I can say about that argument that isn't already super obvious, so I wanna talk about Charlie's anger because of something my brother said as we watched episode 7. He loved that episode apparently because "When they're separated, it's even more obvious that Charlie is the one who's more quick to lose her cool." Which, looking back, is actually true!(To an extent)

Vaggie and Charlie are both quite quick to anger. Charlie is just better at hiding it because she's a chronic people pleaser. Although Charlie wouldn't immediately show her anger at a person being a jerk to her specifically, she's immediately summoning fire and brimstone over anyone who hurts/insults her friends or the cause she's fighting for.

Love this lil bit in "You Didn't Know". How Vaggie is the one telling Charlie to calm down, as if she knows what's about to happen. She knows that if she doesn't at least try to reel in her girl Charlie would be spitting literal fire at a goddamn seraphim.

It would seem like such a surprising role reversal, but if you look at all the times Charlie would lose it whenever Vaggie's not there to tell her "babe, chill", then it makes sense.

But then when their fallout happens, Charlie's short temper is even more apparent. She calls Alastor an asshole to his face even though she considered choosing his support over her father's. She openly glares and rolls her eyes at Rosie when she jokes that her and Alastor look like an item even though she still kept things cordial with Valentino after he licked her arm. She flips the bird at some old lady even though she didn't take visible offense at all the demons that inserted their crude and rude selves in "Happy Day in Hell." While she was cold and subdued even when upset with Vaggie, she was explosive and in ur face when she was pissed at everyone else.

Vaggie reigned in both the girl in Charlie who dreams a little too big and the demon who's waiting to lash out in flames. It really makes me wonder if there's a difference in the kind of person Charlie used to be before Vaggie. Before she had friends to be angry on behalf of and a person to calm her down. And then, in the wake of their argument, Charlie is left with a lot of anger that is easy to ignite.

But I love love love that despite all that anger, Charlie can't bring herself to deny that she loves Vaggie with all of her hurt heart.

This little moment is one of my favorite parts in the series. My brother mentioned that this episode and episode three were his favorites because he liked the beats the dialogues followed. So he looked back--

(the man literally paused the episode to check the opening credits of ep 7 and 3. I was a little annoyed because I just wanted my Chaggie dammit! We'd make terrible youtube reactors with all the pausing and discussing mid-episode that we do...)

--and was satisfied to see that it was written by the same person, Ariel Ladensohn. Apparently she's in a sapphic relationship too and projected her own experiences whenever she wrote Vaggie and Charlie, and it must have paid off because the moments she wrote with them felt so real.

Charlie expressing her fear that even Vaggie's support and love could also be part of the lies she told was understandable considering the betrayal she felt. But immediately following that she goes "Oh that's a horrible to thing to think!" which I love even more. Even when she's understandably mad she thinks about how Vaggie would feel over Charlie thinking that of her. Because although Vaggie lied about who she is, Vaggie was always sincere about how she felt for Charlie. Vaggie's past may have been a lie, but the things she did for, to, and on behalf of Charlie were very real and held dear in Charlie's heart.

I dont have anything smart to say to conclude this. Sorry, I'm not even sure where I went here. Let's all just appreciate the smile Charlie has on her face when she thinks about Vaggie even when she's under a lot of stress I guess.

#asks #hazbin hotel #chaggie #truly love charlie as a character #i dont agree with people who say that charlie didn't feel like the main character of the show #she is still very much the heart and star of the story #if they felt more drawn to the male characters that isn't fully the show's fault #Alastor didn't even have as much screentime as i thought he would have #which is good! #he's entertaining but better in certain doses

[dreamcatcheresss]

My interpretation of Buddha’s character in Record of Ragnarok

We don’t know what the real Buddha was like, but we have a certain idea: kind, compassionate, intelligent, generous, resolute, open, endlessly loving and he abandoned hatred, jealousy, lust, pride, greed, violence and ignorance. In my opinion Buddha in Record of Ragnarok isn’t so different from how we imagine the historical Buddha to be. Let me explain, but keep in mind that it’s just my own interpretation of this fictional character.

I want to talk about the most shocking things: hatred against the gods, violence and malicious joy over their suffering.

Does he really hate them and enjoys their suffering like we could understand the meaning of these words he says himself? No! It’s easy to get that idea, when you just look at him without any sense of interpretation. The base for this character is the real Buddha and sure, the creators have made him their own character in a way. But if we look closely, the real Buddha constantly shines through. It’s all about interpretation – really.

It looks like he hates the gods and is happy about their suffering. He says that. Why? Because that’s what they believe in… and what they want to believe in. It’s not his task to change other’s opinion about him. He leaves it all to them. It’s more like he is giving them a lesson without giving a lesson. Your thoughts create your reality – that’s what the real Buddha said. It’s not Buddha’s style to teach someone, who doesn’t want to learn. But this way he can make a statement. Basically he chooses to mirror their behavior to show how pointless it is and he can still be himself doing so.

The gods are basically like humans, but they behave like they are better beings and have the right to be cruel – a typical human behavior. They are too proud to admit their weakness and to learn – also very human. They have the chance to change and be better, but they choose being unhappy and arrogant and harm themselves and others – VERY HUMAN! And still they thing they are better. Of course, you can’t teach them. Buddha knows that. Maybe he can talk like from soul to soul with a human or demigod, but not with the prideful gods. THIS must be very entertaining to him. The great gods are just poor creatures and they don’t want to see it.

The interesting thing is Buddha’s behavior towards them, the way he looks at them, the way he talks to them. He is always calm, confident, peaceful, but also mocking and no one is allowed to push him around. He shows openly his disapproval for their behavior, not for them as beings in the first place. He doesn’t make a difference between creatures AND THIS IS WHAT THE GODS INTERPRET AS DISRESPECT AND HATRED TOWARDS THEM. They feel attacked and hurt in their pride that his former human MADE HIMSELF A GOD, COMES TO HEAVEN LIKE IT’S HIS PLACE AND DOESN’T CARE ABOUT AUTHORITY.

The gods say: “He has to respect for us as higher beings and he teaches humans that they don’t need gods… He hates us so we hate him, too. We’ll humble him!”

Buddha says: “You know what I’m teaching and you choose to interpret it this way. Fine. Your thought will become your reality. You know where you can find me, when you actually want to learn. You have no power over me.”

So the Gods are the ones being humbled. That must hurt.

But look at Buddha! Where is the hatred? It doesn’t come from him. It’s just his disapproval and going a personal and peaceful way in front of triggered creatures. His eyes aren’t burning with hatred and his speech isn’t toxic and hateful. This “malicious joy” over the gods’ suffering isn’t malicious or hateful. It’s more like enjoying the fact that someone is getting a lesson and still doesn’t get it. Like watching a fly hitting the window trying to get out, but the fly is calling itself a god. Of course, the gods want to see the hatred in it, but Buddha’s actions just say: “You still don’t get it.” He’s still calm, understanding, observing and lovingly neutral with a huge dose of mocking and teasing humor (if you get what I mean).

The same with violence – there is no hatred in it. The only point it that you can call it very controversial for someone like Buddha, but all the violence is a reflection of the attacking person. When words don’t work, dodging isn’t enough and he wants to protect himself or others, he must defend himself. That’s what he does. His intention is to make clear that it’s no use to try this on him. Killing is not the intention, but… if there is no other way, he is ready to do it to protect. That’s what we see in his fight. Buddha says that he is ready to kill any god who will get in his way, but it doesn’t mean that he wants to do it when there’s another way. It’s not the result of hatred. It’s the result of a limitless love towards ALL.

Even the awakening hatred or anger in him during the fight isn’t a toxic one. He takes, understands and overcomes it and this makes him even stronger. It becomes a tool. Here is nothing left of hatred after the fight. Maybe it’s not even there anymore during his win.

Our Buddha doesn’t force anyone into his heart, but he also doesn’t close it. He leaves it open to everyone who wants to come in. It doesn’t matter who you are and what you have done. You are just a soul like everyone else in the first place, even as a god or demon – you are welcome to come in. Just look at his body language and listen to him. He isn’t only relaxed, he is OPEN. The gods are not excluded, but they want to be. It’s much easier than overcome pride and prejudge.

Maybe you can interpret it this way, if you have an idea about the real Buddha and his wisdom and lessons. Even though this character is a fictional creation, you can’t deny that the essence of the real Buddha is very visible, if you just look closer. The authors change everything more or less or interpret differently, but they still capture what’s important and special. I don’t think that we should ignore the real Buddha, if we want to understand Buddha in Record of Ragnarok – especially when a character has so much space for interpretation and such a strong, meaningful and beautiful base (the real Buddha). It’s important to see all the little parts separately and also everything as s whole – his words, not mine.

By the way, not only the gods think that Buddha hates them… The same misunderstanding was with Adam. He didn’t fight because he hated the gods. It was out of love for his children, for humanity. Others simply thought it was out of hatred and learned the truth later.

Anyway, it’s very refreshing to see a cheeky and mocking Buddha, who enjoys candy, has a great style, makes fun of the gods and treats everything with humor and love. I’m also sure that it wasn’t needed to trick him into helping humanity. He’d do it himself. Not because he hates the gods, but because he loves all beings and humanity needs protection. A great chance to humble the gods more and more. This is also love. Love isn’t always about being soft and sweet. Sometimes you must be strict and hard.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok buddha #buddha record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie buddha #buddha shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror buddha #buddha ror #snv buddha #buddha snv #record of ragnarok theory #shuumatsu no valkyrie theory #loki record of ragnarok interpretation #shuumatsu no valkyrie interpretation

[coff33notforme]

Gabriel/ satan headcannons? And maybe some general ones for their universe too, like about the transformation and what gets left behind etc?

A/n: Thanks for the request Anon, I absolutely love characterization and world building so this was a fun request, sorry if I ended up rambling at the end I got carried away

Gabriel is a tall lanky man, I imagine he’s more top heavy with a slender lanky waist 

His skin is a sickly pale with light pink tint to it, his knuckles are pretty bony, and his hands always seem to be cold to the touch 

He’s scarily tall, like 6’5 and he kind of has this looming presence he won’t speak much just stands, so the fact he’s tall makes him somewhat intimidating 

His hair is a silky blonde, with some curls here and there. And his eyes are an icy blue with a harsh teal tint to them

When he’s angered or upset his human features will melt into that creepy shaken smile and his pale complexion will grow into a dark gray 

He seems at first like a charming, well mannered, gentlemen at first but he puts this facade to deceive humans, it's more of a mind game for him to play around with them like that, he finds it entertaining 

Hes capable of changing his human appearance but settled on what he did because he thought it looked the best and honestly fed his ego by how many humans fawned over his looks

He finds humans entertaining though he doesn't find himself going out much, but occasionally goes out just to attract attention to himself 

He loves getting attention, but not actually interacting with the people, he just loves getting praised 

He’s a wolf in sheep's clothing, what can I say

He doesn't wear his tunic during the rare occasions he does go out, he prefers more formal attire, like button ups, slacks, and so on

He can fold his wings into his body to hide them from people, it’s almost like a magic trick, once their there then he folds them and there gone

He’s interested in human culture to an extent, it's more of something he finds amusing to him than anything else, he finds renaissances paintings and sculptures the most interesting to look at 

He is very charmed by people in general, he considers himself the true god of this world, their savior, so seeing something like humans trying to make something of this blank piece of dirt that they clung to humored him, especially when he could destroy everything in a matter of seconds

He's a sadist to say the least

Gabriel dose have the power to heal but uses it very rarely 

For the alternates I mostly consider them doppelgangers, copies of the original person. So they are separate entities 

But they believe themselves to be the original version of whatever person they are impersonating 

Except in a few rare cases there are alternates who are more self aware and have a better grasp on what they are, and have a few memorize from the original person they are impersonating, but these memorize are haisy 

The memorization can be a variety of different things, people, moments, places, etc..

It depends entirely on what grasp the alternate has on it’s identity 

Depending on how much of the alternate has been consumed by the transformation contradicts on whether they are able to completely disguise themselves like a person, like Gabriel's ability but not as powerful

Like a part of the alternate can still be identified depending their disguise

Certain things can show, I feel like it could change certain features of the person can be covered or morphed 

The alternates are Gabriel’s creations, but they were made with the soul intent to cause destruction, he wants to become the God of this world yet he’s sure of his intentions to cause chaos are justified in being that he’s this world's savior 

#the mandela catalogue #the mandela catalogue x reader #mark heathcliff #cesar torres #alternate gabriel #alternate cesar #jonah marshall #adam murray #sus gabriel #analog horror #writers #headcanons #mandela catalouge x reader #mandela catalouge gabriel #mandela catalogue #mandela catalouge jonah #mandela catalouge intruder #gabriel x reader

[monstersinthecosmos]

kacy it's friday and i'm here for my weekly dose of unethical marius headcanons 🥹🙏🏼

yknow literally I saw a post this morning about how Hannibal works on a sliding scale except the scale is HOW WEIRD ARE YOU and I was like, damn that's so good, it's real, Dr. Marius does that shit as well.

but I'm thinking like, he specializes in CPT which is usually sort of structured and meant to be done in a specific time frame, and while he has this skill and is amazing at it with patients who need it, he also kinda keeps the timeline to himself when he gets interesting people that he enjoys talking to.

We've discussed if Armand is here for court ordered reasons, so even with that he might have to simply attend a certain number of sessions or for a certain period of time, but Marius enjoys him, and Armand is finding that it's really helping, so Marius doesn't end the treatment and Armand continues to show up.

Marius is also kinda bougie and he makes so much money on his regular patients that he allows himself a few pro bono cases because he can afford to and because it's entertaining, so Armand never even sees a bill for any of this--if he was ordered here or even if he had insurance, perhaps even the insurance would've capped how many sessions he could go to, but Marius simply doesn't bill him once it expires.

He's also experimenting with LSD treatment on Daniel!!!!!!

Anyway CPT sometimes involves repeating stories and working on stuck points and so when they start getting into private stuff like Armand's sexual hangups, that's when the hands-on approach starts coming into play. Perhaps Armand has trouble orgasming in front of other people because he's too self conscious or feels too guilty, and he's gotta practice in front of Marius. Perhaps one day Marius gets Armand in his lap, facing a mirror, watching himself as Marius milks it out of him, so that he can stop worrying if his mannerisms are undesirable, or if his face does something stupid. And even when he gets better and it gets easier, they keep trying over and over, "for maintenance" lol.

#unethical marius

[sergeifyodorov]

matty tkachuk 4 character ask >:]

i learned of our dear mr daddyissuesrat from DRAICHUK PRIMERS of all things there were flamesposters determined to get us into it. crazey

IMPRESSION NOW

he is a far more complex character than some of u may think… actually im not gonna go that far there are too many machuk scholars on this goddamned web site. for the sake of gamegrowing i won’t lament too much more on that but anyway i think he’s really a testament to the power of charisma; if u are a dnd type of guy and u make a dnd character of machuk that is his number 1 stat. yes above strength. he understands more than i would say. Any hockey player out there. the power in knowing that the nhl is a show for people’s entertainment… the glory and gore of it all. he can dance the dance more than the rest of them can. it’s in his nature to play to the audience, love or hate. Very edmund kinglear. 

also watching him skate badly is entertaining as hell

FAV MOMENT

i think theres something really to be said about his failed smythe run… how his dad called the cats soft and then allegedly started the brady’s better chant (brady is better and it’s crucial mattylore that u know that) but he refused to listen and then the cats snuck in. and how after sniping that ot gamewinner he looked at his teammates and told them we will be back here for game seven, and he was right, and they won that too. and also his devastating amount of up-fucking during the carolina series and then the dramatic fall from grace when he broke his sternum in the cup final. war god…

IDEA FOR STORY

with his current status as the nhl’s protagonist what couldn’t u write w matthew in it… personally i think he’s too genre aware for something weird and bendy and full au-type so you’d have to go abt as mundane with it as u could. keep him in the real world let the people confuse him as opposed to the universe. i think a healthy dose of family drama would do him well. not that he’s not already experiencing that but we know so little about the REAL internal machinations of the tkachuk’s web you could make it go however you like

UNPOPULAR OPINION

he literally does not care about leon draisaitl at all (nor vice versa). it was kayfabe he was pushing a narrative…

FAV RELATIONSHIP

that being said. He DOES care about a certain soft-spoken finnish captain of his… he and sasha . sasha and matthew. tkacharkov. Marriage 4 the ages get ready because they have 7 more years together to get neASTY in the state of florida… 

FAV HEADCANON

now i dont know if u scrape the gossip blogs like i do when i need a little entertainment… i dont believe any of what they say naturally but when a pattern comes up that suits my needs i become intrigued. the gossip blogeurs are saying that matty’s girlfriend is a setup fake relationship for pr purposes and that brady and taryn (or at least brady) hateeee her. because it is not only funny but furthers my queer agenda i am compelled to believe it

#asks #matthew tkachuk

[swissmissficrecs]

My favorite fics of 2022

I didn’t get as much reading in this year, so the list is shorter than in past years but no less sweet. In order of length:

Indefinite Lines by ArwaMachine (298K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock and John find themselves faced with a series of seemingly disparate cases that are growing increasingly connected, increasingly personal. They must unravel the mystery laid before them by a particularly ruthless set of criminals before the danger is upon them, or else run the risk of being cleaved apart forever, lines scattered to the wind.

Slipstream by khorazir (290K, M, Johnlock) It’s going to be the last Tour de France for professional cyclist John Watson. Despite the hardships of cycling more than 3000 kilometres in three weeks, in blistering heat and torrential rain, over dangerous cobblestones in northern France and the mountains of the Alps and the Pyrenees, battling thirst, hunger, injury and exhaustion, not to mention bitchy rivals, doping allegations, and the ever scoop-hungry press, he is going to enjoy the ride, damn it. That’s what John keeps telling himself – until he meets his new teammate, Sherlock Holmes, who adds a whole new list of problems as well as an extra dose of excitement to John’s life.

The Last Envoy by Calais_Reno (127K, M, Johnlock) April 1938. Sherlock is a very human alien who comes to Earth with a mission he doesn't completely understand and quickly falls in love-- with the planet, the people, and a certain army doctor. There will be angst: war begins and he is caught up in events he cannot control, while still trying to fulfill his purpose in being here.

Matchmaking for Solitary Animals by ArwaMachine (71K, E, Johnlock) Upon moving back to Baker Street following Sherlock’s return from the dead, John finds that Sherlock is a bit more keen on entertaining gentlemen callers than he once was, a fact that seems to make John irrationally angry. Intent on proving that he’s not a total dick, John decides to make it his mission to find Sherlock a boyfriend. This, as it turns out, is the worst idea John has ever had.

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (68K, M, Johnlock) After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only consists of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

Whirlwind by DiscordantWords (50K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) New job, new truck, new fiancée... John Watson, former storm chaser, has settled into a comfortable new life. There's only one problem: John's already married. And the the divorce papers he's been sending to his former partner, Sherlock Holmes, keep going missing. So with his fiancée Mary by his side, John reluctantly makes a trip to see him in the hopes of finalizing their divorce once and for all. But John arrives in the midst of a very active storm season, and Sherlock very clearly hasn’t let go of the past. Against his better judgement, John finds himself talked into riding along after one last storm.

Accidental Magic by Calais_Reno (39K, M, Johnlock) Soon after his return (TEH), Sherlock takes the case of a woman seeking stolen books hidden in her late husband’s library. He invites John to come with him. Working together after so much time apart, they begin to discover more than stolen books.This isn’t really a story about magic, except for the ordinary kind of magic that happens when people realise they’re in love and it’s time to do something about it. That kind of magic is the best kind.

Blue Plaques by JRow (36K, M, Johnlock) John’s engagement is off, and he is back at the place he feels most at home — 221B Baker Street. It’s been a bit of an adjustment (he does miss the regular hugs and snuggles) but John is happy, and it seems like Sherlock is too. John certainly loves working on a good case with his mad flatmate, so he’s thrilled when Greg asks for their help in figuring out how Colin Mahon is continuing to run his drugs operation while out on bail and under constant surveillance. It must have something to do with Mahon’s daily travels (on foot) to a slew of seemingly boring London sights. But in the process of solving this little mystery, will John accidentally reveal a secret of his own?

A Scandal at Paladia by disfictional (34K, E, Johnlock) An ill-fated visit to Uncle Rudy's drag bar unlocks a memory of John's past- a memory that wreaks havoc on their sex life. John has a secret, and Sherlock is determined to solve the case.

Jam by JRow (34K, M, Johnlock) John needs some time to recharge after the physically and emotionally draining case in Dartmoor. On a whim, he books a couple of days in Falmouth and (somehow) convinces Sherlock to join him. During the impromptu minibreak, the nature of John and Sherlock’s relationship begins to shift. Things get even better upon their return home to London. But are the two men on the same page about what they’ve become?

What Happens to the Heart by Susan (31K, M, Johnlock) Someone wants John Watson dead and is willing to pay a lot of money to make it happen. Hitmen, old grudges, new grudges and lots of kissing.

Cupid's Venom by SilentAuror (29K, E, Johnlock) Over drinks one night, Mike Stamford reveals to Sherlock that he always wished he could have taken credit for being Sherlock and John's Cupid. Unfamiliar with the reference, Sherlock plunges into studies of toxins and Greek mythology...

The Best Seats in The House by J_Baillier (22K, T, Johnlock) Nature photographer John Watson is trying to do the same as the locals: getting the hell of the way when the killer queen of Indonesian's volcanoes starts a drumbeat towards eruption. Little does he know that soon, he'll be headed straight into the danger zone.

Both Sides Now by Silvergirl (14K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock, undercover on the Norfolk coast, texts that he needs help; John is still seething after Sherlock’s gambit in the train car, and he refuses. When Sherlock goes missing, Mycroft sends John in to pose as Sherlock’s bit on the side.

Plus these bonus fics from 2021 that I read after posting my 2021 list and deserve a spot:

Know You All Over Again by PoppyAlexander (53K, M, Johnlock) After five good years, one difficult one, and six months that were hell, John and Sherlock live apart but still share custody of seven-year-old Rosie. With therapy, supportive friends, and those inevitable dance recitals and open school days forcing them into each other's paths again and again, anger and bitterness fade, leaving space for a new view of each other across the divide.

The Oak Tree and the Cypress by FinAmour (43K, E, Johnlock) Things Sherlock didn't expect to happen at midnight on a Thursday: for John to be kissing him. For John's lips to be so delicious. For his own mouth, stung by the sweetness, to kiss John back—or for his hands to raise to John's cheeks in order to lengthen it. He didn't expect his heart to be bursting with pure joy and relief, or for their night to end with John in a hospital bed. And he certainly did not expect to turn them into fake husbands.

Previous favorites lists: 2010 / 2011 / 2012 / 2013 / 2014 / 2015 / 2016 / 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2020 / 2021

#best #rec list

[another-corpo-rat]

This was…originally very different, and fit the ‘Delicate’ prompt much better than a mere line but aw well this version flows much better. did you know the two counter-intel agents in the show had first names? Because I didn’t

Prompt: Delicate Adam Smasher/OC Warnings for mentions of blood, Spoilers for the end of edgerunners Summary: Smasher is unwinding after a dose of violence, Victoria is wound up because of the work it dropped on her lap.

.

The AV Hangar is quieter than it usually is. Most of the mechanics and cleaning staff done for the night – all except one, an intern stuck well after hours, trying not to shit himself as he fills a bucket of soapy water next to where Adam Smasher sits.

Adam doesn’t snarl at the boy to move faster; last time he did that the fuck had dropped the bucket and what was supposed to be a quick wash became a whole thing. Helped that he felt calmer than he usually did, at ease only in the way a bit of fun could conjure.

And he didn’t even have to break a joytoy or two for it to settle over him this time. He was almost grateful for that counter-intel cunt dragging him into her mess, it’s been a while since some gonk was brave enough to stand up to him. The sight of the kid donning the cyber-skeleton alone was worth it. Like a toddler wearing his father’s boots and thinking it made him a big boy. Fucking adorable.

He made sure to save it from his black-box, was in the process of uploading it to the shared folders he had with Victoria, certain his little netrunner would adore the carnage as much as he did, when he heard the elevator ding.

The intern tenses at the sound. No one else was supposed to be up here, but by the familiar click of heels he’d guess the boy would have a hard time enforcing that.

“Leave.” Victoria says sharply, her voice cutting through the empty hangar and startling the intern enough that he drops the sponge into the bucket. A few suds splash up, white froth stark against his black chrome and the kid looks about ready to shit himself at that. As if his entire purpose here wasn’t to get cleaned.

His mouth is opening and closing, a fish on a hook. “Did I stutter?” And she’s as effective a club as any to beat him against the head.

She looks like she’s about to. Adam makes sure to keep the building rumble in his chest quiet, fans close to ticking up at the building heat. She was in a mood.

“N-no ma’am, but I- I’m supposed to—” He looks to Adam, desperate. As if he was going to help.

“Listen to your superiors, yes. Which you are not doing.” Her expression eases into that dangerously kind thing, the slight little smile that’s too pointed not to hide teeth. “Why is that?”

“I- I’m not supposed to leave until-”

“Do you need a fucking escort?” The intern’s neck almost breaks with how quickly he turns to face Adam, and he’s sure the boy rattles his brain with how violently he shakes his head.  Their reactions never fail to tickle him, the sudden paling and wide eyes. Heartbeat spiking to dangerous levels of fast. It was almost as entertaining as Victoria’s annoyed little huff when the boy finally leaves. Darting across the hangar like there was something nipping at his heels.

She closes the feet of space between them, shrugging off her suit-jacket and tossing it to the floor. Definitely in a mood then. He knew the drill; let her distract herself however she chooses and she’ll calm the fuck down eventually. This was one of her newer methods of distraction. One he wasn’t going to question, not when it meant she was the one scrubbing him down instead of some shaky intern. He leans back instead of hunching over himself, watching as she rolls up her sleeves before she kneels between his legs, grabbing the sponge.

She was more thorough than they tended to be anyways, not afraid of getting rough when she scoured his finer mechanisms. He groans softly, optics dimming and head tilting back as she dislodges something that got caught in his ankle. It was like a massage, they were just missing the scented candles and oils. Maybe the weird chiming music the one that Michiko dragged him to decades ago had.

Huh. He should take Victoria there sometime. If it was still around. She’d probably enjoy the shit they do with the hot stones.

“That netrunner,” He rumbles in the deliberate pause of her sentence, as good a response as any, “did she manage to cut through your ICE?” What kind of stupid ass-

It was like she didn’t know him.

“She wasn’t even close to cracking it.” He onlines his optics as a thought hits him, lifting his head again to look at the woman between his legs, scrubbing away at the blood on his chrome with that damn little furrow to her brow.

He nudges her with his knee, waiting until she looks up to ask: “Is that what’s got you so wound up? You worried about some gutter-scum frying my circuits?” It would be touching, if it wasn’t a fucking laughable idea. She of all people should know that much. She scoffs.

“Hardly.” A bite of a word. There’s more force than necessary when she twists the sponge, red-hued water spilling back into the bucket. She slaps it back against his thigh, meeting the warning of a growl with a look before her shoulders ease with a sigh and she gets back to it. “The girl was an Arasaka asset, under our noses this entire fucking time. And she got away. Again.”

Ah, not quite gutter-scum then. But still.

“Don’t see how that’s your problem.”

“It shouldn’t be, but Mayes has decided it is.” Her next exhale is a heavy thing, her head resting against the plate of his now-clean thigh. No doubt raking through her collection of blackmail, trying to find something hard enough to slap her wannabe superior with. He knows she’ll come up empty. She wouldn’t be moping around him otherwise.

It’d be a shame to leave her so sour when he was in such a good mood.

“Well then,” he hums, reaching to tangle his fingers in her hair. The blonde locks flow easily between his fingers, soft. He’s learned how to do it so it doesn’t get caught in his joints. “It’s a good thing I have something that can make your day so much better, isn’t it?”

“I swear to God, Adam. If you pull out your cock—”

“Tempting, but not quite.”

She raises an eyebrow, but any questions she might have quieten as he sends her a recording from his black-box. Of one Kate Mayes, and the hand she had in tonight’s mess.

“Oh,” she croons, the slight knit that remained on her brow easing as her expression sharpened, golden eyes alight and lips curling into a wolfish grin. “Now that is interesting.” She’s looking more like herself now, sounding more like it too. He chuckles fondly as she rocks up and forward, climbing onto his lap and pressing her lips against his mandible. His hand settles on her ass, for support. Of course.

“So, are you gonna give this cunt hell or are you handling this ‘delicately?’” He puts too much emphasis on the word, hissing it out. They’ve had arguments – more loud disagreements, really – about how to handle blackmail. He was no better than a roid-rage manic in a china shop, according to her.

And she took her sweet ass time to do anything with it. Always waiting, calling for patience that ran out a month ago. There were instances he was close to wringing her neck in the interim.

“Oh hell no.” She says now, teeth bared in that grin he’s come to adore, “I’m burying the bitch.”

“That’s my girl.” He pats her ass. “Make sure she knows who handed you the shovel.”

#cyberhanami23 #cyberpunk 2077 #Adam Smasher #cyberpunk oc #corpo v #Victoria Crane #fic tag #my writing #Ship: Gilded Chrome

[ducknotinarow]

He's curled up by the outside of his door after a particular rough night. Legs are pulled up to his chest & he's hugging himself tightly. He's sporting another black eye, his phone shoved to the far end of the hallway.

Angel doesn't even hear Husk's voice calling out to him. He flinches before they even get near. "Don't touch me!" Does he realize he's shouting? Probably not.

"I'm warning you right fucking now. Don't." ( uwu I HAD TO. AngelHusk )

| muse interaction

Husk, may not have wanted to get the bartender role but he also had no say in it. He had his own puppet stings after all and Alastor more enjoyed using Husk was a form of entertainment like some clown than anything else really. In some ways he guess it could be worse but that didn't make the situation any better or bearable. Least the gig meant he could drink all he wished and wanted so there was that. Though working as a bartender meant he was basically a live in therapist on top of it. Be on the other side of the bar top he knew get enough to drink and suddenly you are tell the bartender all about your problems hoping the bottle of the bottle will show you the way out.

And a certain someone seemed to hold that thought the strongest at the hotel. As if on que when they happened across Husk's thoughts by chance Angel near about rushed through the doors at full speed. Even Husk couldn't ignore an entrance like that. They were slowly getting on to better terms so blame his wondering on that. "Angel!" He called out but they didn't seem to hear him as foot steps carried them up to the top of the flight of stairs. Husk let his wings flap a little in annoyance. But he felt like he owed it to them to least check in.

Not a pretty sight, shocked they the spider demon hadn't even made it to his room before they wound up nothing more than a ball trying to curl up on it's self in the moment. His eyes found their phone, and stopped to grab it pocketing the device before he started to make his way to Angel. Hand stretched out to gain their attention a moment. "Hey, what the-"

"Don't touch me!"

Husk stood a bit shocked by the tone, but even more at Angel himself clearly shaken and it seemed to take a lot to let Angel even show that something could shake him.

"I'm warning you right fucking now. Don't.

Husk held his hands up so if Angel looked he would see he wasn't aiming to touch them slowly moving to rest on a knee, taking a moment to look them over. He could just about see their face and worse the blacking bruise around one of Angel's eyes. His tail flickered over that but he kept his sights on Angel first. "Okay I won't touch you" He tries to assure "But what happened? never see ya pass up a second to hit up the bar. Either for a drink or to annoy me." He knows damn well something happened. The approach wasn't because he could tell. Husk was just gambling here. Hoping if he didn't bring attention to it and kept things normal and clam than maybe Angel would shake out of their own current state.

Husk dose though, let his wings spread out using them to block out Angel from sight. On the off chance anyone happens to pass by. Angel wasn't being exactly quite and his shouting might draw attention of the princess at least.

#muse| husk #questionablemuses #[ your a loser baby just like me -questionablemuses] #(yes i referenced the song xD) #muse interaction #ic reply #tw: abuse mention #tw: alchohol mention

[k-s-morgan]

How do you think Tom feels about amortentia in WHGTB? He seemed surprised and pleasantly dazed when he learned about it in Hogwarts.

Would he entertain the idea of using it on Harry? Seeing as he used Imperius on Harry, it doesnt look like consent is a factor in his plans during that time. In my mind, I feel that he would be tempted by the option but he held back due to publicity- An openly infatuated teacher wouldn't be a good look for anybody, that's why he used Imperius in private. Following that thought, if Harry wasn't a teacher and he stayed home that year, would Tom create a plan to dose Harry with a potion? Maybe even create his own version with extra quirks, since he's so experimental in that field. Or would he be against it?

I always found Amortentia plots to be really interesting if done right, so it's fun to think about with the potential in that chapter.

Much love to you and your stories :)

Thank you for such an interesting question and for your words! I like Amortentia plots as well, though I don't think I've read many that I loved. And Tomarry fandom in particular has so many unfinished stories, this always breaks my heart :(  

For WHGTB: back in Hogwarts, with Amortentia, Tom was mostly dazed because he hadn't been entirely certain that what he feels for Harry is romantic love. Discovering not only that but also that his potion smells like Harry and Harry alone shocked and thrilled him: he was happy to finally put a label on his feelings, but he was also somewhat intimidated and lost. He needed time to think and plan around this new revelation.    

In the context of using love potions on Harry, I think Tom would try it if he felt his situation was hopeless, like if Harry rejected him fiercely. But in the long run, he wouldn’t be satisfied with it. One of the reasons why Tom is so focused on Harry is that Harry was the first person to love him in such a strong, unconditional way. He craves Harry’s genuine love and admiration - he would quickly grow frustrated and hollow if he had to force this love. To use Imperio on him to get some of the physical closeness he longs for, treat himself & then erase Harry's memory? Yeah, he’d be up to that. But to twist Harry's personality into fake devotion would not be enough. He would always yearn for sincerity and true reciprocity.

In the last chapter, Tom is broken, though, so I can see him trying something like this because even forced love is better than nothing at all in his eyes. 

#my fics #tomarry

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Strip au ficlet!!!!

(Authors note, demons and angels still exist in this au)

Au! Barbatos x reader

You were flustered about returning to the strip club, but you were curious about this ‘special’ performance was, you wanted to see it. So you showed up with Solomon, you two just chatted away while waiting.

You both had started drinking at this point, you knew it would be a while so at least have fun, right? Well now everything is a little fuzzy, but you don’t mind, it’s fun!

Then the lights sim and the stage gets brighter, that’s when Barbatos walks onto stage, barely wearing anything at all.

“Welcome to the Devil’s lounge! Tonight is a special, as you all might have guessed, it’s the 5 year anniversary of when this establishment was created. So I am hear you make your night special.” He spoke with such confidence and grace that your certain he rehearsed this. He eyed the crowd, smiling and giving a general greeting, but then his eyes landed on you.

He paused and stared at you from up on the stage. His grace felt heavy and like you were weighed by him just looking at you. His eyes seemed to light up before he turns his attention back to the crowd.

He goes up the center of stage, the music starts up again and he quickly strips down to just his undergarments. His body was very fit, the light shining nicely, hiding any flaws he might have.

He drops down to his knees, doing a teasing bow to those in front of him, his rump up in the air, Solomon laughed to you saying he looks like he’s ready to get fucked.

Barbatos dose look semi excited, he’s smiling, showing off for the crowd, letting some guest get close to feeling him up. It’s cute seeing him splayed out.

Solomon laughed with you, it was entertaining to say the least, the dance is beautiful, though you pain see how pain stakingly rehearsed it is. He knows every move, it’s like second nature to preform.

You end up having your head down on the table, talking to Solomon about the cute little bartender across the room when some one tapped your shoulder.

You turned around and froze when you saw Barbatos, he didn’t make a sound, he managed to sneak up on you, that’s…alarming.

“Would you kindly come on stage with me?” He spoke, clear enough to understand, but not make his voice sound strained.

You let him guide you to the stage, you started getting flustered realizing everyone was quite and watching you get on stage with him.

Barbatos let his hands slide down to your him, he gently nudged you to kneel, then he climbed into your lap, leaning down enough to grind against your thigh.

You’re blushing, the reality of the situation sinking in, you can feel his dick through his undergarments, you experimentally tense up you thigh, earning a heavenly moan from Barbatos.

You can feel him getting hard against your thigh, his motions becoming more desperate. He presses you against you, you feel something bump into your side and you glance down, seeing his tail, it wrapped around your waist as he suddenly pulled you back with him.

That left you, knelt ontop of Barbatos, who was on his back with you between his leg, which were spread, giving you a clear view of the tent his arousal had made.

He arches his back, giving a playful moan before grabbing your hand and bringing it to his chest, letting you feel him. He gently guided your head lower, down past his stomach, only stopping once you got to the hem of his garments.

He let go of your hand and smiled at you. “Your choice, Love.” He purrs out, leaning back, watching you expectantly. You look down and give his undergarments a slight tug, realizing he’s willing to let you take them off.

You’re flustered, you definitely want to see his dick but…this was just a performance right? He clearly was acting, right.

You pulled his undergarments down, stopping once you got a little more than the tip of his dick exposed, he’s grinning, waiting for your next move.

You pull the fabric up a bit, noticing guest shift around to try to get a better few, you pulled it as far as you could without him showing any signs of discomfort.

And then you let go of it.

Grinning as it snaps back and hits his dick.

He jerks for a second, clear shock and confusion on his face as you reach for it again, he’s more tense this time but you don’t give him time to dwell on it before you pull them all the way down, exposing him to everyone at the club.

He’s so hard, his cock stood proudly erect, he gave a light moan as it throbbed against his stomach.

He slid a hand down, stopping just before he got to his cock. “Master, permission to touch myself?” He purred, you silently nodded, his hand slipping lower to grip his cock and start pumping it. “Thank you, master.” He purred out, his hand moving at what must be a teasing speed, his movements mainly showing off.

He rolled his hips into his hand, exaggerating his moans and movements. His other hand slid down to help pleasure himself, gently cradling his balls and giving them light squeezes, his eyes staying on you the entire time.

His moans get louder as he starts to speed up. “Ooooh, Master! Please, please may I cum?” Barbatos purred out, earning excited shouts that came from the crowd.

You glance down at him, seeing his tail thumbing against the ground as he tried to hold out. You grin. “No.” You say firmily. You heard little laughs from the crowd as Barbatos’ hand stilled.

He whimpered a little, waiting for his next order, your hand slid down, lightly pushing his hands out of the way so you could stroke his cock. “Oooh, Master, thank you!” He groaned out as your hand massaged him.

He was struggling to keep his eyes open, but he still was watching your movements through half lit eyes. “Good boy, hold it.” You pure, hand quickly speeding up.

He nodded, tail wrapping around your leg as you give experimental squeezes to his length. “Yes Master, anything for you!” He rolls his hips, giving a sweet moan.

You felt him throbbing in your grip and knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer, so you have him a kiss before whispering. “You can cum now.”

Barbatos thanked you blissfully, head falling back as he got closer to the edge, but then right as he came, you let go of his cock, keeping his legs apart so everyone could see his cock throb uselessly as it drips bits of precum onto his stomach.

Barbatos whimpers, hips twitching as he desperately wanted to reach down and stroke himself.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the clear distress on his face. “Oh, you almost had a proper orgasm there, what went wrong?”

He whined, you didn’t even give him a chance to defend himself before you got up and walked off stage, leaving him covered in his own cum on stage.

#obey me #omomtrta #barbatos #barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #nsft #obey me barbatos #strip au #ficlet #high brain #random thoughts #malice’s ramblings #obey me one master to rule them all #headcannons #sub obey me #sub barbatos #voyerurism #one shot #ruined og #obey me strip au

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #reid series #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid slow burn #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer x reader #professor spencer reid #prof spencer reid #professor reid #prof reid #tbatb #dr spencer reid #dr reid

[thenigotthisfamily]

have you ever written anything about nat secretly loving to sing? if not, may we have yelena catching her singing while doing chores or something and teasing her about it by telling the others (even if she secretly loves it)?

Thanks for this request! I haven't explicitly written anything about Nat liking to sing but I definitely believe Yelena catches her all the time singing. I've gotten a few different requests for various fluffy stories like this so decided to string them all together into one sort of general story about these two just having fun and messing with each other. Here's the first part!

Word Count: 1,546

Yelena sighs deeply as she walks into her apartment at the compound. She had just gone on a run with Fanny and was ready to just relax with her older sister the rest of the day. The blonde grins as she hears familiar singing coming from her bedroom, immediately recognizing the song as one of a certain redhead’s favorites.

“Still haven’t found what you’re looking for poser?” Yelena hums as she rests her chin on Natasha’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her sister’s waist.

The spy smiles as she continues to fold their laundry. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Hmm you said you related to that song though.”

“I did. I do.” Natasha finishes putting the laundry away and turns to face her sister with a soft smile. “And I guess I didn’t find what I was looking for.”

“Oh?” Yelena mumbles against Natasha’s neck tiredly.

“No, I found something better.” Natasha pulls Yelena back to press their foreheads together so she can smile down at her little sister.

Yelena hums as she pushes her nose against Natasha’s, feeling love flow through her. She knows exactly what the redhead means, but pretends to act oblivious.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

The redhead rolls her eyes, bending down to pet Fanny who had wandered up to them. “Fanny, obviously.”

The blonde scoffs, “You’ll pay for that one poser.”

“Hmm, sure I will.” Natasha climbs on the bed and looks back at where her sister is pouting slightly. She tilts her head, “Oh I see, you’re just not going to snuggle with me now, is that it?”

Yelena pouts more at that, watching as her sister climbs under the covers, the spot next to Natasha looking more and more enticing by the second.

“That’s not fair.” Yelena grumbles, climbing on the bed nevertheless and immediately burying herself fin Natasha’s side. The redhead just hums in response, kissing her sister’s forehead.

“I will get you back though,” Yelena mumbles as she already is dosing off to sleep. Natasha just chuckles and pulls her sister closer.

———————————

The next day Yelena finds herself sitting in an early morning meeting, barely staying awake as Bruce Banner drones on about his latest scientific findings. Natasha slips her hand under the table to grasp Yelena’s, sensing the younger girl’s impatience.

The blonde notes that the rest of the room looks just as bored. Clint has already fallen asleep multiple times and Kate has had to poke him to wake up. Peter was trying to focus on Bruce but was secretly just watching Tony out of the corner of his eye as the billionaire fidgeted with his new gadgets. Steve of course was focusing completely on Bruce, but it was clear from his blank expression that he didn’t understand a word the scientist was saying. Natasha was the only one that was looking like she was actually paying attention and understanding what Bruce was saying, much to Yelena’s annoyance. Why did her sister have to be so responsible all the time?

Bruce pauses for a second to go to the next part of his presentation when Tony cuts in. “As riveting as I’m sure everyone finds this Banner, I think we could use a break. Like, for the rest of eternity.”

Bruce frowns and Steve quickly interjects, “Maybe just for like 10 minutes okay Banner?” Bruce nods as Tony rolls his eyes.

“In the meantime, does anyone have anything to entertain us? You know, liven up this crowd?” Stark asks, twirling his new gadget in his hands.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “Isn’t that your job Stark?”

Tony puts his hand on his heart, “I’m so glad you consider me the life of the party Romanoff. But it’s a bit exhausting having to be this great all the time.”

Peter grins at his mentor while everyone else scoffs and rolls their eyes. Natasha mutters under her breath in Russian and Yelena raises her eyebrows in surprise. The redhead usually didn’t let Tony’s antics get to her, but Yelena realizes that Natasha was just as bored and anxious to leave as everyone else.

“What was that Romanoff?” Stark looks pointedly at the spy.

Yelena smirks as she sees her opening, “Oh poser here was just saying how she could entertain us by singing.” The blonde smirks smugly at her sister who is glaring daggers at Yelena.

The rest of the group just stares in bewildered interest at Natasha. Only Clint and Steve even knew that Natasha could sing, but even they had never really heard her sing except for the occasional humming.

“Oh, this is great.” Tony grins, “What are you going to sing for us widow? Sinatra? Franklin? Pugacheva?”

“Sia.” Yelena grins.

The room erupts in surprised chatter and laughter, everyone smirking and asking Natasha to sing. But the redhead ignores them in favor of glaring at her sister with a stern look of warning. The blonde isn’t deterred though, smugly noting Natasha’s cheeks are slightly rosy, indicating that the unflappable black widow was embarrassed.

“Come on Nat, we’re waiting!” Clint grins, now suddenly looking fully awake.

“Yeah let’s go Romanoff.” Tony smirks, “Do you need some background music? Friday, play some Sia.” Natasha rolls her eyes as she hears Cheap Thrills blasted over the speakers.

“You heard me listening to that one time!” The spy growls at Yelena.

The blonde smirks, “You chose to listen to it!”

“It was just randomly on the radio, I didn’t choose it!”

“No one here believes that poser.”

Natasha frowns as she looks around the room, noting that Yelena was right, everyone was just looking at her in amusement, or in Clint and Tony’s case, pure mischief. The black widow gives them all hard glares but only Kate and Peter cower, the rest of the Avengers knowing Natasha wouldn’t really do anything.

“Hasn’t it been 10 minutes Steve?” Nat asks, trying to get the attention off herself.

The soldier shifts, “I don’t know…I think we have a little more time for some entertainment. Wouldn’t you agree Bruce?”

Bruce looks back and forth between Steve and Natasha sheepishly before nodding his head. He wanted to hear Natasha sing too.

Yelena laughs in delight, seeing that everyone in the room was in agreement with her.

The spy glowers at the two men. “I’m the only one here that at least pretends to listen to you both at these meetings and this is how you repay me.”

That effectively gets Steve and Bruce to frown, looking sufficiently chastised. “You were only pretending?” Bruce asks, slight embarrassment in his voice.

Nat rolls her eyes, not answering as she continues to glare at everyone else still watching her. “I’m not singing.”

“But poser, you love it! And your voice is so pretty!”

“Yelena.” Natasha says it with a slight hint of actual warning.

“Fine, fine.” Yelena quickly relents, sensing her sister was getting more annoyed and uncomfortable. “It has been 10 minutes anyway so let’s just get on with this meeting so we can go.”

“Party poopers.” Tony points at the two sisters. But Yelena gives him a firm glare as Steve clears his throat.

“Alright, continue Bruce.”

The poor scientist hesitates, seeing that no one really wanted to listen to his presentation anymore, but feeling that it would be weird to just stop it in the middle. He decides to just speed through the rest of the presentation, much to everyone’s relief.

When the sisters get back to their apartment after the meeting, Yelena hesitates, hoping she hadn’t made her sister too uncomfortable earlier. “Natashka?”

The redhead turns with a raised eyebrow, “Yes little one?”

“I…didn’t mean to make you unconformable.”

“Hmm, you sure about that?’

Yelena blushes, “Well, I did. But not too much.”

The redhead smirks, “I know little one.” She presses a kiss to the side of Yelena’s head and the blonde immediately relaxes. “I just prefer to keep my singing to myself.”

“I know, but you’re so good Tasha! The world deserves to hear your voice!”

Natasha raises an eyebrow again, “You’re one to talk Rooskaya. I’ve heard you sing. It’s the most beautiful sound on earth.”

Yelena blushes, “That’s nothing.”

“Uh huh.”

The blonde pouts, “We aren’t talking about me, I’m saying that the world would love to hear you sing!”

Natasha rolls her eyes, “So what, do you want me to go on tour or something?”

Yelena smirks, "Ha! The Black Widow tour. Imagine the ticket sales."

The redhead shakes her head, looking unimpressed. “Lena, I already sing for everyone in my world.” She looks pointedly at her sister.

The blonde softens at that. “Fine. I guess I do like being the only one who gets to hear it.”

The redhead scoffs, “Please, you love it.”

Yelena rolls her eyes but snuggles up to her sister on the couch, not denying the statement.

“I’m going to get you back though Lena.”

“Bah, you can’t embarrass me.”

“Oh?” Natasha looks at her sister skeptically.

“I am embarrassment proof! People love me and I don’t care what they think!” Yelena states proudly and defiantly.

Natasha chuckles, “People do love you Lena. But I will still get you back.”

“Try me.” Yelena says it without really thinking.

The spy just smirks.

Challenge Accepted.

#yelena and natasha #natasha and yelena #yelena belova #natasha romanoff #black widow fanfiction #widow sisters #sisters #avengers fanfiction #the avengers

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! 👋🏽 Could I request the Savanaclaw trio with a bubbly & childish S/O that tries their best to be “mature” or “tough” as a way to impress them? Or maybe show that they can be strong too. Thank you!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Leona’s a mixture of relieved and amused. There are times when your bubbliness grates on him, so this is finally his break—plus, it comes with free entertainment. What’s there not to like? Besides, he’s way too lazy to protest.

... Well, Leona’s about to do the biggest backpedaling of his life. To begin with, you decide that in order to be mature, you need to help Leona be mature, too! That means being his human alarm clock to rouse him from sleep every day, making sure he gets to class on time, and getting him to pay attention in class and do his homework (which he’s not happy about). You also have him eat his veggies (which is he very not happy about).

Leona doesn’t just sit there and take it; he puts up a fight and makes a fuss, purposefully trying to get a reaction, to break that your facade. His methods range from verbal teasing to prodding and blowing in your ear at random. You’d normally tease him right back, but you bite your tongue and hold your ground instead, which just annoys him. It’s not as fun to toy with you if you take things so seriously.

You ask to join in on Magift Club practice despite concerns that you’ll get roughed up. You’re one of ‘the boys’, you insist! You’re grown up enough, you can handle it!! ... Before you inevitably get bashed and bruised from the collisions, and Leona has to drag you to the infirmary to get patched up.

His patience wears thin, and he confronts you. “Oi. How much longer are you going to keep this up for? It’s starting to piss me off. This isn’t you.” Upon hearing your reasoning, he scoffs. “You aren’t impressing anyone. Putting on airs to get in another’s good graces... Hmph. You aren’t some uppity royal. The only expectations you need to meet are your own. No one else’s.”

You bicker back and forth for a while on the topic—and by the time you realize that Leona’s smirk has been growing this entire time, it’s too late...! You’ve dropped your act and gone right back to your juvenile arguments with him. “There’s my herbivore,” Leona grins, mussing your hair with an aggressive hand. “A healthy dose of defiance is all the toughness you need.”

Ruggie just goes with the flow and has a healthy snicker or two watching you try to be the opposite of your usual self. He thinks it’s actually be beneficial for you to mature and toughen up a bit. You need to adapt to survive in this world, so sometimes putting up a front or a brave face is necessary.

Being mature means being smart about your schedule and your spendings. You find yourself sitting down and planning your days with Ruggie, down to the last second and madol—trying to make every last bit count!

Sometimes your efforts to be mature clash with Ruggie’s own interests. You might want him to keep his hands to himself, but maybe he’s more interested in pickpocketing or snatching some food in the moment. He takes your complaints in stride, never getting upset—only laughing at your sternness.

Ruggie pitches in to show you how to be street smart and pass off as tougher than you actually are. It’s best to keep to yourself, but still walk with a confident stride—and if trouble arrives, you need to be nimble on your feet to escape, or have clever enough bluffs to get out of it!

He thinks you trying to pull off that “tough” vibe is the most hilarious thing ever. (Challenging Ruggie to thumb wrestling isn’t exactly the pinnacle of ruggedness.) It’s hard for him to hide his smile or to keep his sides from splitting from laughing so hard. That pouty face you make afterwards isn’t very tough either, but Ruggie finds it adorable!

Ruggie reminds you have a giggle every now and again! It’s all well and good to take care of yourself, but you gotta remember to have fun, too! “Yup, I think I like you best when you’re smiling!” Ruggie chirps, using his fingers to guide your lips upward. “Even if you’re adulting more or toughening up, it’s nice to stop and blow the dandelions on the side of the road. C’mon, (Y/N), laugh with me!”

Jack finds it a bit odd that your personality did a 180 overnight (which he does point out to you), but he encourages certain efforts to be more “mature”, like being responsible with your work, showing humility in your abilities... and filing taxes. Better to get started developing those skills now rather than later.

He’s not as taken with your attempts to come across as “tough”. Jack just can’t take you seriously when you roll up your sleeve to flex your tiny biceps, or proclaim your strength to him. Perhaps your silliest approach was slapping bandaids (with cute, colorful patterns on them) on your body and claiming you got them from a fight.

He invites you to exercise with him to improve your muscles, but more often than not, you end up out of breath and wheezing early on. You insist you can keep going (since you’re sooo tough), only to get scolded by Jack.

“No good will come out of that. You’re just asking for a strained muscle,” he grunts, pressing a cold water bottle to your forehead to soothe you. “It’s fine to admit when you can’t do something.” (Well, that only makes you double down on your efforts.)

At some point, you pick a fight with a mob student, and get shoved to the ground—only for Jack to intervene, sending the mob scurrying off with a single glare. He draws the line at you purposefully putting yourself in danger to prove a point. Jack addresses your hypocrisy in a blunt tone. “Not understanding your limits, bragging about things you don’t have, trying to be something you’re not... That’s childish. And that’s okay.”

He reassures you that you don’t need to put on an act to impress him; he’s rather that you be happy as you are (and that you stay safe)! “You don’t need to be in a rush to grow up,” Jack reminds you, squeezing your hand in his. “I’ll mature with you—and I won’t be going anywhere.”

#twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #Ruggie Bucchi #Ruggie Bucchi x Reader #Jack Howl #Jack Howl x Reader #curiouser and curiouser #Reader #self insert #twisted wonderland requests #disney twisted wonderland #Savanaclaw

[pricescigar]

Tending to one's wounds

More Kuzvira for @chrystallenex

(PHOTO BELONGS TO ME)

Summary: Stitch helps his beloved Elvira Wolff, after she got injured in one of their failed missions

"Ow! What the hell, that hurts... Fuck." Elvira cursed hissing in pain turning her head away, taking a few deep breaths to calm the pain.

After a mission that had gone wrong Elvira ensured a lot of wounds in the most part, by  protecting her team mates and fellow Comrades. A few bullets were still trapped in certain parts of her body, not to mention the sprained ankle she had received in the process. They did a number on her, Stitch nevertheless came to the recuse. And immediately tended to her wounds quickly as he could, the moment they got back to the safehouse. Before the wounds would get progressively worse, then she would need to be sent over to the Hospital. And Stitch didn't want that for her.

"Stop moving Elvira... The wounds are bad enough as it is. I'm trying to help, please lie down for me...?" Stitch looked over to her, even underneath thst mask of his concern was written all over his face. It was shown most in his eyes, and how he looked at her.

"Fine... Fine, I'll stop moving but it hurts..." Elvira whined, and Stitch gently took her hand gently in reassurance. Letting her have a breather or two, before he would continue tending to her wounds.

Stitch made sure Elvira was dosed up with morphine, to ease any pain and he began to take the remaining bullets out. Along with cleaning the wounds to prevent infections, patching them up too. However with her ankle, she severely sprained it. But wrapping it up and a ice against the swelling. Evenrually, it'll be good as new.

"Ok Elvira. I'm going to put an ice pack on your ankle, in order to help with the swelling that you have. I know it'll hurt a lot ... But it'll help, best to keep it levitated too.  Stitch said soon arriving back into Elvira's room approaching over to her, sitting himself down near her bed.  He made sure her left ankle was levitated with an extra pillow, before he would place the Ice Pack down onto her ankle.

"Fucking hell!" Elvira almost screamed out, before calming herself down. Which did make Stitch chuckled a little: Despite many backing in cowardice by Elvira's anger, Stitch always found it cute. He loved it even more when her German accent would get thicker.

"Aww my poor sweetheart, would you like your little Smokey to comfort you, to make the pain go away?" Stitch teased gesturing to her bear Smokey; Who was up on a shelf, simply it looked like he was just watching them. Funnily enough it was what Perseus suggested to her at a young age, when she grew less attached to him. The bear would watch her, no matter what happens to her. Quite touching really.

"Nein it's alright Stitch, Smokey is ok up there for now... He can stay there, like he always have done. I have you at the end of the day!" Elvira laughed softly, looking over to Stitch. "My Russian bear." She teased.

"Da I am your Russian bear, I protect you, warm you and love you for whatever you need." Stitch replied to Elvira sweetly, taking her hand gently and placing a hiss onto of her hand.

"Much better than a Knight in shining armour." Elvira snickered, and held onto his hand smiling softly. The moprhine seemed to be helping, with the Ice Pack and Stitch by her side. She didn't need to worry.

"I can be whoever you want me to be my love." Stitch assured making sure she was comfortable, now he would do anything for her; Well he always had, but for now he would get to do it. And get away with it, without her interfering at all costs of course.

"Now you listen to me Rybka, you really do have to rest Elvira. To heal that ankle of yours, you don't want to end up in a cast now." Stitch said to her, he made sure she was tucked in. A glass of water by her side, maybe he should also get her some snacks? More books? More notebooks to draw in? Anything to keep her entertained.

"I will Stitch don't worry, otherwise I'll hear all about it till the day I die." Elvira teased to him finally relaxing in her bed, she couldn't move too much. So she slowly closed her eyes, knowing he wouldn't go anywhere. It felt pure bliss to jer.

"Rest well my love, I am here for you ... Till the end of time itself." Stitch leaned close tocher and kissed her cheek, keeping hold of one hand. Just so she knows, he still remained by her side.

#call of duty #cod #black ops cold war #cod cold war #black ops #call of duty cold war #stitch cold war #vikhor stitch kuzmin #vikhor kuzmin #cod stitch #elvira wolff #kuzvira

[nevertheless-moving]

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27 Part Two - Suicidal Misunderstanding AU

Continuation of this 

By the time the hovercar finally pulled into the temple, Obi-Wan’s tremors had mostly quieted. Cody awkwardly manhandled him out the vehicle door. Obi-Wan didn’t resist; he mostly seemed to be dealing with the overwhelming situation by refusing to open his eyes. 

“Master?” Cody absently noticed that Anakin’s robe was tied modestly, with no other layers peaking out underneath; wherever he was before Cody called, he had left half-dressed and in a hurry.

Obi-Wan started shaking again, burying his face into Cody’s pauldron.

“Yeesh- you’re really a wreck,” Anakin observed bluntly but not without sympathy. “Honestly, you’re taking all the fun out of the situation. What’s the point of getting drunk if you act so pathetic that your smug padawan can’t even mock you afterwards?” Anakin hesitantly laid a hand on his master’s shoulder.

It was uncertain whether it was the words or the touch that succeeding in garnering a positive response, but finally Kenobi seemed to pull himself together. With a deep breath, the high general straightened up, opening his eyes to look Skywalker square in the face. He continued to hold eye-contact, expression gradually shifting from steely resolve to open faced delight.

“ANAKIN!” Obi-Wan flung himself at his former padawan with obvious joy. “OH ANAKIN! IT’S YOU! IT’S REALLY YOU!” They staggered with the force of Obi-Wan’s enthusiastic bear hug.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Anakin managed to get out, shocked by his Master’s uncharacteristically loud and emotional greeting, as well as slightly breathless from the intense grip. Obi-Wan didn’t answer; he just held Anakin tighter. 

“Man, what did you drink?” he tried to ask instead, deciding to return the hug fully and deal with any later consequences later.

Obi-Wan shifted back enough to make eye-contact again. His brow furrowed in thought. “Just some Jawa beer to wash down the spice doses.”

“SPICE DOSES?!?” Cody and Anakin both shouted in alarm. Anakin grabbed at Obi-Wan’s face, examining the man’s pupils before pulling back his lip to look at his gums. “You don’t look like you’re dosed up. And the only thing you smell like is middling quality alcohol.” he concluded doubtfully. “Are you sure that’s what you took?”

Obi-Wan stopped to think again “The Jawas that sold it seemed pretty confident. I would be more likely to entertain the possibility that I was ripped off were you not standing here with me.”

“I- Wwhere- When would you have even bought spice from Jawas?” Anakin asked, exchanging bewildered looks with Commander Cody. 

“They seem to like stopping by my hut, even when I don’t have anything to steal or buy. I suppose there’s not many opportunities for sentient contact out on in the wastes,” He mused.

Anakin only looked more confused, reasonably confident that he would have known if Obi-Wan owed a home on Tatooine. 

“Heart rate was slightly elevated to normal on the ride over, sir.” Cody added dutifully. “Well within average human normal, and not consistent with spice use or alcohol poisoning.”

“His presence in the force is... strange,” Anakin said while patting Obi-Wan soothingly on the back. “I’d have to take him to the healers to confirm, but my best guess is he's having a bad reaction to something he drank. There are certain alcohols that can cause side-effects and unexpected reactions in force-sensitives. Though I can’t believe that after all the lectures he’s given me, he would be stupid enough to drink one.”

“He...did have an unknown mixed drink a bartender gave him on the house,” Cody said with a sinking sense of failure. “Could this have been a targeted attack?”

Skywalker clearly looked pissed at the idea “If it was, then that bartender committed an act of treason.” Only the fact that he was still supporting Ob-Wan’s weight (in what was rapidly approaching the second-longest hug they had ever shared) kept him from taking command of the troopers to interrogate a bartender. 

“Sir, do you want me to accompany you to medical and make a report?” Cody asked.

Anakin hesitated, thinking while Obi-Wan rested his chin on his former padawan’s shoulder. As amusing as the idea was in theory, he didn’t really want to humiliate a vulnerable, emotional Obi-Wan by dragging him through the heart of the temple to be gawked at and judged.

“No.” He finally decided, “Even if he somehow managed to miss the fact that he was being poisoned in a civilian bar, he’s more than capable of processing toxins on his own, and I’m more than capable of monitoring him overnight. We’ve got a full field med-kit in our quarters- I can take a blood sample tonight, and ask him what he wants to do with it once he sobers up in the morning.”

Obi-Wan readjusted slightly as Anakin shrugged, “It’s also possible that he just, you know, overdid it drinking, which isn’t anyone’s business but his own. I mean, he hasn’t exactly had the opportunity to cut loose when he’s a High General all the time; his tolerance might not have been where he was expecting.”

Cody saluted in acknowledgement of the command decision. He ruthlessly quashed any doubts, reminding himself that General Kenobi had, in fact, asked for General Skywalker by name, and Skywalker was likely to better informed on Jedi responses to alcohol. 

“Master, let’s get you to our quarters so you can sleep this off,” Anakin reluctantly pulled back from was now officially the longest hug Obi-Wan had ever given him. “Can you walk by yourself, or do you want me to help?”

The unusually peaceful smile Obi-Wan was wearing started to slide away. “Our quarters? Our quarters were destroyed. There’s nothing to find there now but ash,” he stated, as if gently reminding Anakin of a known tragedy.

Cody, still standing by, sucked in a breath.

“Besides,” he continued mater of factly, “You were barely ever in them at this point anyway. Even for a dream, it would be a lot more realistic for me to go to my quarters and sit in the dark trying to memorize casualty lists, while you’re out somewhere unknown, carousing with Padme presumably.”

“Carousing with Padme?! I - why would you- Master!” Anakin fumbled out, addressing the last point first before processing the rest.

“And is that seriously what you do when you have time off? Just sit and memorize the names of everyone who died during the war? That’s - that’s seriously sad Obi-Wan, we are talking about that when you sober up.” Not giving Obi-Wan the chance to defend his extremely sad hobby, Anakin plowed on. 

“And our quarters are fine, I know that- uh- I know I haven’t been around a lot, but I was just in there earlier today, they look practically the same as they did when I was a padawan. Whatever you saw, here and now - I promise you - here and now the temple is fine. We’ll talk about your vision or your hallucination once you sober up, I promise.” Anakin ended emphatically, gripping Obi-Wans shoulders and staring directly into his eyes.

The miniature rant seemed to work. 

“That sounds nice,” Obi-Wan said smiling, “I would love to see our old rooms- I know it didn’t really matter either way to you, but I always took comfort in the fact that you never bothered with requesting a new room after you were knighted. I know, I know that between how rarely we were temple based and Padme, it probably just didn’t cross your mind, but it was nice to have some tangible reminder of our connection, even as the war and the growing darkness stole everything else.”

Anakin truly didn’t know how to respond, the raw emotional honesty somehow even more painful than the crushing hug. Obi-Wan reached up to smooth back his hair like he was still a child. He then walked a few steps to face the extremely out-of-depth Commander Cody.

Not hesitating, Obi-Wan pulled Cody into a tender hug which he couldn’t help but lean into. The commander brought his arms up and around but hesitated to actually make contact, instead ghosting his hands along the general’s back.

“I always wanted to do that,” Obi-Wan whispers into Cody’s ear. “I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done; I never would have gotten through the war without you. I wish...I wish I could tell you that I consider you one of the best of men, and one of the best of friends. But... I can’t. Even if I abandoned my last mission to search you out, even if I succeeded in finding you, you would never allow me close enough to do this.”

Cody’s heart is racing, trying to decode the General’s words over the ringing white noise in his ears. He stops breathing entirely as Obi-Wan shifts to press their foreheads together, allowing him to focus entirely on the feel of the general’s breath, the sight of tears trickling again from red-rimmed eyes. “Goodbye, Cody.” he finally exhales.

And with that he turned and walked away, not looking back.

Next (Part Three)

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #commander cody #how should i format trigger warnings is there a guide somewhere #nothing in this post but at some point in this au its literally the premise #time travel au #shoutout to #@wonderingrealist #for commenting and whatnot #i've been lurking on tumblr for a while but actually logging in and engaging is new so thank you #fanfiction #star wars au #sw

[nickfoo]

You know what for the heck of it and because I’m very curious what are your headcanons you have for Bege, Chiffon, Pez and the rest of the fire tanker crew. If your interested in sharing that is?

Welcome back!

And as for my head canons….whew you might want to strap in because I have quite a few. I’ll try to list what I can think of at the moment.

( I’ll put a read more because this might be long )

Bege:

- Grew up ultimately orphaned in the crime ridden West Blue. Left the home for boys he was at when he was a young age after punching a nun teacher and joined gangs and lived off the street.

- While his childhood certainly wasn’t pleasant, it’s not the reason why even as a young boy, Bege was a trouble child. Most likely had CD- symptoms including aggressive behavior, delinquent behavior, deceitful behavior, destructive behavior and lack of empathy. This also accounts for the whole cutting off animals heads thing he use to do.

- Was a natural during his time in the mob. He quickly excelled in the ranks and got closer to the bosses. There he saw the finer lives and decorum the bosses could afford, along with their reach of influence in the West Blue underworld. This made him break off into his own family, and the rest is history from there.

- When he first met Chiffon it was love at first sight. Despite the fact that he would have said that such a thing was completely and utter bullshit. It was a very confusing time for him, as he didn’t expect to have any feelings for the woman Big Mom would have chosen for him to marry - Bege rarely had any feelings for anything or anyone else at all. Part of Beges attraction to Chiffon is her strength and that she challenges him on his own nature.

- While after the 2 yrs of marrying Chiffon and having Pez has managed to teach him empathy 101, he is very self aware he is not a good person. This causes him occasional internal conflict as he honestly feels he doesn’t deserve a woman as kind as Chiffon. Part of his not denying his poor moral standing is he is a very ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of person concerning himself. He won’t hide or feel ashamed for what he is or what he’s done.

- While he has improved, Bege still has mental disorders that border on psychopathic and sociopathic behavior. ( both tend to be umbrellaed terms ) These disorders are life long, often stem from CD and don’t just go away. He tries to keep himself in check and when he can’t, his crew and family help him ground himself again.

- Bege reads to Pez every night before he sleeps. Bege gave up harder swears ( fuck, bitch ect. ) to clean up his example of speaking for Pez. Despite Pez being far too young, he tries to teach him about chess.

- Other tidbits- Bege dose not like being touched by others unless he knows them very well. He is very particular on certain matters of presentability, order and cleanliness. He isn’t so good at talking about more personal matters. Bad at feelings lol. Absolutely hates being bored.

Chiffon:

- When she first met Bege she was off put about him being older and shorter than her. She had also heard the rumors Big Mom was giving her away to a cold blooded, violent man and feared for her own life.

- She fell for Bege because in the end, he treated her with the love and care she had never received from her own family ( besides Lola ) in her life. Despite being royalty, she was only treated as such by Bege and his men.

- Chiffon was initially more quiet and timid until she married Bege and began to spend more time among him and his crew. It allowed her to really become herself.

- In their relationship, it is surely Chiffon who takes the lead. However on certain circumstances, Bege and Chiffon have a silent agreement that it is best for Bege to step in and take command. She often gets her way and Bege is happy to give it to her. ( this also stems to their -AHEM- more intimate relationship )

- Found Bege’s devil fruit to be one of the more unique types she’s seen. She can tell the small differences from when Bege is manifested inside his castle rather than using his real body outside. She once touched the purple smoke-like stuff he uses to manifest and it felt similar to the fog that comes out from dry ice machines.

- The strongest metal in the world could bend around the patience she has for her husband.

- Chiffon selects the books for Bege to read to Pez. She makes sure they’re appropriate for a child Pez age

- She is the head chef of the Fire Tank kitchen

Vito:

- Was chosen as Bege’s advisor due to his genuinely less cold demeanor and way of thinking. Bege wanted someone who would give him an opinion different than his own on matters

- Has suggested anger management techniques and grounding techniques to his captain

- He designed the Fire Tank logo with the fused T and F that he has tattooed on himself. He is very proud of it.

- paints his nails ( as they are black in the manga and the anime is a coward for not following suit )

- is the one of the better chess players in the crew and Bege is trying to teach him to be a better opponent at the game

Gotti and the Fire Tank Crew:

- They take being uncles to young Pez very seriously. Pez is loved by them all.

- The crew sometimes spy or over hear Bege and Chiffon flirting or being sweet to one another. It’s more like soap opera entertainment for them, plus they like to know their Boss is still very much in love with the Ma’dam. They think she’s good for him.

- Loyal to a fault. Particularly after Bege started treating them well, they certainly love him more than fear him now. ( Still fear him tho lol )

( that’s all I can think of for now. )

#jj-inc20xx #long ask #foo talks #one piece #capone bege #chiffon #vito #gotti #fire tank pirates #Ask foo