#no idea what is going on with the weapon either. don't ask

[cal-writes]

some superpower/superhero au musings. that ideas been floating around my brain for a while. dont know where its going you know how my plot bunnies are but enjoy this sampler

-

"Have you figured it out yet, Surgeon?" Robin smiles serenly. She sits on the stairs, knees knocking together, her elbows resting on them and her chin propped up on both her palms.

He scowls at her, eyes narrowed. Law knows what she means but he won't admit it because it would reveal himself to be knowable. "What do you mean?" He juts out his chin.

She doesn't buy his feigned obliviousness but she humors him. "Zoro's abilities. You have been trying to discern their nature, have you not?"

He exhales through his nose and looks off to the side.

"He would tell you if you asked." Robin continues and Law glances at her from the corner of his eyes.

"I know." He says. Zoro has said as much. But Law isn't going to ask, at least not yet. It's a matter of personal pride and spite. Law doesn't owe people favors, they owe him favors. He demands answers, he doesn't ask for them. (Bepo would be telling him how unhealthy that is right about now if he were here.)

Robin considers him, head leaning to the side. She hums. Out of all the Strawhats, Robin is the person Law would consider his equal in temperament which is to say, out of all of them he is the most cautious around her. From what redacted history of hers that he has managed to unearth, he knows they've had a similar development. She is calculating. Always listening, even without sprouting ears everywhere. He needs to consider his words carefully.

"You are a curious man." She tells him, chuckling good-naturedly.

Law looks at her from above. "In more ways than one." His lips pull into a sharp smirk.

"Indeed." Robin says easily. "Have you made headway in your discoveries?"

Law squints at her, trying to gauge her angle. She might be simply curious - which Law believes to be the least likely. It could be a test, trying to see if he lives up to his reputation - possible, thought Robin seems largely desinterested in people she doesn't consider to be a threat (an insulting prospect in its own right, that Law is no longer considered dangerous to her, but he did work hard to earn their trust so he supposes it is to be expected). Maybe it's caution - there is a reason Zoro's abilities aren't public. Many people with abilities don't bother hiding the intricacies if they even can. But Zoro does. Whether that is for his own safety or someone else's is yet to be determined. 

"Some, I'd say." Law admits, trying to sound casual. Whatever Zoro's talents are they are subtle. He can rule out a healing factor definitively - even if it weren't a passive ability but one Zoro had to use consciously, Chopper is too concerned for him every time he is injured for there to be an easy fix. He has considered some form of super strength but ultimately ruled it out. Zoro was strong, occasionally supernaturally so but it was inconsistent. Law's leading theory on that front was some sort of adrenaline manipulation that would grant Zoro the ability of hysterical strength on command. He has yet to confirm that theory. The easiest would be to ask for blood samples but even with everything, Law knows they aren't quite there yet.

Other possibilies are some sort of enhancement, be that in reflexes or speed or general aptitute. Zoro is - as his alias suggests -  a demon with a weapon and almost impossible to beat one on one. He is fast but Law wouldn't say unhumanly so. A common public theory is that - as his name suggests - Zoro was either posssessed by or possessing someone and the otherworldly entity of whichever nature granted him his abilities.

Law had dismissed that one easily. Possession would indicate different personalities and quirks but Zoro's body language and fighting style are consistent - even when using something other than a sword. If he was possessed it was permanent.

He had considered the possibility that Zoro was normal. Well, as normal as any of them. Many of his talents could be chalked up to rigerous training and experience. Perhaps he had started young, had the natural talent and dedication to keep up to speed with other super powered individuals. From knowing the man, Law can entertain the idea. But there are too many things that trip him up. Too many things that don't make sense if Zoro truly had no other abilities.

Law has been staying with the Strawhats for a few weeks now and there are some things he has taken note off. Pieces of the puzzle he is sorting into piles before he knows where they connect.

Zoro trains, a lot. Both with weapons and without to the point that Law is quite sure that whatever ability he has is unrelated to his weapons. He's just as dangerous with his swords as he would be with Nami's staff. It's not a surprise. Zoro takes a lot of pride in his body and his prowress.

More confusing are Zoro's other eccentricities.

Zoro doesn't touch things. Law is almost mad it took him so long to take note of it. Obviously there are times when Zoro does. Out in the battlefield, doorknobs, light switches. Technically, literally, he does touch things. But at home, in the space he feels safe, Zoro goes out of his way to avoid touching things. Law would believe him to be a germophobe of some sort if he hadn't seen the man lick blood of his sword. So, no. It's probably not about germs. He just doesn't touch things in a casual way. He doesn't read books or magazines, doesn't use a phone, at most he will make himself tea or pour himself a glass of something to drink. He doesn't cook, nor does he do the dishes. For all Zoro and Sanji bicker constantly, Sanji always prepares his meals, even small snacks and doesn't nag him for not cleaning up after himself.

It might be a trauma response. Maybe he is sensitive to textures for unrelated reasons. Law can't quite define what to make of it yet.

Another thing is that none of Zoro's clothes are store bought. It seems innocuous but once Law noticed it, he could not let go of it. The Strawhats were vigilanties so money could be tight on occasion but he knows they aren't above stealing if they need or want to. None of the others seem to have a similar clothing style. Nami in particular wears fancy brands and designer clothing constantly. So it's not a matter of supply. Zoro isn't so vain he would be particular about it either. Law has seen him wear all number of things, especially if a battle dragged on long enough to destroy his wardrobe. He isn't opposed to wearing regular manufactured clothes. He just doesn't if he has the choice not to.

Perhaps it ties into the texture thing. Law will have to pay close attention to it.

Robin is still looking at him, unpreturbed by his long pause. "If you need a hint, do let me know," He scowls and it makes her chuckle. "It's quite entertaining." She says.

"Glad to be of service." He grits out.

"I am just wondering why go through the trouble. It must be thrilling to you to try and unravel the mystery." Robin tells him and Law's breath stalls in his throat. Something in her tone makes him feel warm.

He swallows hard. "Hardly a mystery. An annoyance, more like." He says, dismissively. Robin makes an inquiring sound. "I need to know what you all are capable of to make plans. Keeping it a secret needlessly complicates things."

"But it's not a secret." Robin says, bemused and Law feels himself bristle.

"It's not exactly common knowledge either." He throws back.

Robin hums again. "I suppose not but if you are expecting a grand reveal, I am afraid you will be disappointed."

"Zoro already said it's not what I'd expect." Law says. Zoro technically said 'it's not a big deal' which hadn't been helpful at all. If it wasn't a big deal, why make a thing out of it?

"That is apt. I remember being quite surprised when I was told." She says and now Law knows she's teasing him. This whole conversation is pointless.

He huffs. "I'll find out, won't I?"

Robin smiles. "Will you?"

#op #superhero au #superpower au #idk how to call it

[tohkaphobia]

arcade doodles that I don't want to admit how long ago were started

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #arcade gannon #doodles #my art #the other patch isn't there because. uhjm becasgv. erytr #no idea what is going on with the weapon either. don't ask #anyway this is my grand return art post you're welcome!!sorry it's so lamelol

[ghoulbrain]

Saddle Up, Sweetheart

18+ 3k ghoul x f!reader. cunnilingus/face sitting, overstim, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie. gif credit. prompt list. written for this ask. thank you! 🖤

The Ghoul—Cooper, as you know him now—does not make himself an easy man to get to know. He was harsh with you from the start, one of the crankiest old bastards you’ve ever met. An accomplishment, given your life in the slums. He’s dismissive, angry that you even want to know him, and downright mean most days.

And yet you became fascinated with him.

It was ages before you were able to hold decent conversations, and longer than that before you had a name for him. Still, you keep digging. He intrigues you more than anyone else ever has, and despite his sour attitude, he keeps coming back. 

"You won't like what y'find," he told you one day. You knew then you were wearing him down with your persistence.

"What scares you more: the idea that I won't, or the possibility that I will?" You'd asked. 

He laughed. "Y'don't scare me, sugar."

You smiled. "Maybe I should."

Cooper started to look at you differently from then on. There had been a sense before that he was observing you as something ephemeral, a flower bud he was waiting to see bloom and die away as quickly as you'd appeared. 

Once you made it clear you weren't going anywhere, the invisible walls between you began to fall away. You feel his gaze lingering on you when he thinks you aren't paying attention. You watch him in turn, holding his gaze whenever he catches you.

"Eye contact like that'll get'cha killed someday. Predators take it as a challenge," he tells you, adjusting the holster on his thigh.

"Is that what you are?" You ask from where you’re leaning against the wall, arms crossed. You raise your brow, inured to his broody one-liners. "A predator?"

To your surprise, he's the one who closes the distance this time. His footfalls are heavy, his swagger loose. He looms over you, bracing his forearm on the wall behind you. Your heart skips a beat. He rarely ever gets so close.

"I'm the worst kind there is," he says gravely, but you clock his tone for what it is. He's toying with you.

Undeterred, you square your shoulders. "And what kind is that?"

He leans in closer, smelling of oil and gunpowder. "A hungry one," he says, the heat of his breath ghosting your cheek.

Pushing you away hasn't turned you against him. Cornering you won't either. Despite his insistence to the contrary, you're no prey animal. "Well then... I s'pose you ought to have something to eat."

His radiation scarred lips spread slowly into a wicked smile. "Y'offering, sweetcheeks?" He asks, his yellowed teeth parted, poised to take a bite.

You swallow dryly, so keenly aware of the thundering of your own heart, you wonder if he can hear it, too. You tip your head back, jutting your chin out and bringing your lips closer to his.

"You don't scare me, Coop," you whisper, wielding his name like a secret weapon.

He hums, head tilting slowly while his gaze moves down your body in a leisurely calculating sweep. "Well..." He drawls, voice a low rumble from his chest. "Maybe I should."

You're ready for him to do as he's always done and leave you like that, to rile you up and then act as though it was all in your head. You've accepted that Cooper is a man on the run, and he hasn't seen anything in you worth stopping for.

The press of his lips against yours shocks you to your core.

Your arms uncross, hands fumbling to catch hold of his jacket, grabbing him before he can vanish. He responds in kind, cupping your face in the soft worn down leather of his gloves. Your pulse is all the way up in your throat, so wild you’re sure he can taste it when he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

His touch isn’t a gradual thing. He’s upon you all at once, forcing your thighs apart with his knee and slotting his thigh between yours, pressing into you until you start to sing for him, those breathy little noises muffled by his devouring kiss. At your hip, you feel the press of his cock gradually filling out beneath the layers of clothing between you.

After so long without meaningful touch, the onslaught is dizzying. You roll your hips, grinding down on his thigh until you feel your underwear clinging wetly to your skin, an exquisite shiver trilling up and down your spine. His lips feel textured and hardened by his condition, but his tongue is hot and smooth, persistently licking into your mouth, determined to feel, to taste.

That hunger drives him from your lips to your jaw, your throat, peppering rough kisses that are as much lips as they are teeth along your neck. “S’your last chance, darlin’. Point of no return,” he tells you, voice coarse. His hand slips between your bodies and starts working your pants open. “Won’t be no comin’ back from this. I’ll ruin you.”

That he would have the audacity to warn you away from the door like this after you’ve been knocking and knocking and knocking is almost laughable. You would laugh if you had enough air in your lungs, but he’s kissed it out of you.

“So ruin me,” you tell him breathlessly. He grazes his teeth over your pulse-point in a way that makes your voice hitch. “I want you.”

The rim of his hat brushes your cheek as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, making a raw noise against your skin. “God damn it,” he says, yanking you from the wall so sharply you gasp. He whirls you around, hands fisted in your shirt, kissing you hard while he walks you backwards, towards the noisy heap of springs and fabric you call a bed.

“Y’outta your fuckin’ mind for that,” he grouses, shoving your pants down off your hips. You don’t disagree, You know how terrifying he should be, what his affliction does to him, to his hunger, but you don’t care. Not when he’s kissing life back into your dull dusty life at the end of the world.

You’re naked by the time he pushes you down onto the bed, standing above you, sunken eyes black with fervor. He unclips the bullet belt strapped across his chest and shrugs out of his coat, tosses his hat up somewhere high on the bed. You start to crawl backwards, but he snatches your ankle and drags you right back to the very edge of the bed.

“Unbuckle me,” he orders, the words all throaty feverish heat that makes your clit throb. You do, eyes flipping back and forth from him to his belt. He watches you all the while, pulling off his gloves with his teeth, dropping them to the ground. You unbutton his pants next, hands so eager they fumble briefly before you make it to his zipper, the hiss of it coming undone drowned out by the thunder of your pulse in your own ears.

Before you get any further, Cooper catches your wrists and hauls you up to your feet, spinning you around and pulling you down over top of him on the bed. He keeps you steady while you straddle his waist, moving his hands from your wrists to your hips. You start to move back, but he cups your ass and pulls you in the opposite direction.

“Saddle up, sweetheart,” he says, licking his lips. “Y’said for me to have somethin’ t’eat. I intend to.”

Oh fuck.

Nodding hazily, you follow his lead until your knees are on either side of his head, your hands braced on the wall behind your bed.

“C’mon now, relax,” he coaxes, urging you down with his grip on your thighs. You settle most of the way down before he yanks you the rest of it, startling a noise out of you that transitions into a low moan at the molten wet slide of his tongue dragging from the bottom of your pussy to your clit, upon which his lips close down and suck.

The sensation is leagues beyond the amateurish grinding, but that session still left you sensitized. The heat of his mouth is so intense it almost burns. His tongue feels just as unreal, thick and dexterous in the way it works you, swirling repetitive patterns on your clit. He drinks from you like you’re an oasis in the desert, swallowing greedy gulps before sinking his tongue into you, fucking it in and out, coaxing more and more thirst quenching wetness from you.

“Ffffuck, oh my God,” you moan, your hands curling into fists on the wall, sliding until your forearms are braced against it instead, your head hanging between them. You wish you had something to grip, something to dig your nails into as his devil’s tongue builds hot pressure inside of you, swelling sensation toward an inevitable explosion.

Cooper is shameless beneath you, devouring without care for mess or noise. Every so often you feel the graze of his teeth and you buck away from him, but you’re no match for his strength and he keeps you held firmly down, wholly at his mercy despite your positions. 

Once he’s satisfied that you’re not going to try and escape anymore, he relinquishes his hold on your hip and brings his fingers between your thighs, teasing where you’re wettest with the tip of his finger. With the way he’s sucking your clit you barely notice the initial touch, but he quickly wrings a gasp out of you by sinking his finger in all the way to the knuckle, crooking it wickedly while he rocks it in and out.

It’s simultaneously too much and not enough. He walks you on the knife’s edge of your climax, deftly toeing the line with every slow stroke of his finger and swipe of his tongue. Your stomach clenches up with it, breath catching. He pushes in a second finger, and by the time you feel the third working you open, your legs are shaking uncontrollably. He is feasting on you, humming appreciative little noises between the wet sounds of him eating you out.

A sudden jarring slap to your ass makes your quivering thighs tense up and startles a loud moan out of you. He most definitely smiles against you, fucking you steadily with his fingers.

“You son of a bitch,” you manage to choke out, tears prickling at your eyes from the sheer overwhelm of it all, your breaths growing sharper, more shallow. “I should smother you,” you say, the threat dulled by the thinness of your voice.

He smacks your ass again, harder this time. You decide that’s encouragement to do just that and grind down against his mouth, eagerly meeting every thrust of his fingers until one last good slap tips you over the edge, your orgasm striking you like a bolt of lightning. Your whole body goes tense, and Cooper ruthlessly fucks and licks you through it, sucking on your clit as it pulses and pulses and pulses through what feels like the longest climax of your life.

“Enough,” you moan weakly, pushing yourself from the wall on trembling arms. His fingers have slipped free, but he’s still drinking you down, holding your thighs in a vice grip. You can’t stop shaking, the burn of pleasure beginning to feel like the most exquisite pain. “C-Coop, enough, I can’t–you fucker,” you gasp, jolting in his grip when he nips at your clit.

He finally lets you up, easing you down with two hands firmly on your ass. You slide back until you’re straddling his waist, hands braced on his chest while you catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time, knocking you down into his lap as he sits up. He takes your face in his hands and kisses your own taste into your mouth, giving a throaty little rumble.

“I decide when you’ve had enough,” he says, dropping one hand to work his cock free from his undone pants. “And you’ll remember that you asked for it.”

Each word feels like a spark of electricity. You lift yourself on trembling knees, hands on his shoulders, and he puts his arm around you, drawing you in while you sink down until you feel the thick head of his cock–wet with his own precum–nudging against your spit-soaked pussy.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me how good you can take me.” You can hear the restraint in his voice, feel it in the thrum of his touch. You hold his gaze while his cock forces you open in one smooth, frictionless slide, the stretch a dull ache that rapidly ascends into pleasure. He lets you adjust a moment or so before he begins to move, holding your hips steady while he rocks his own, reclining down onto his back.

“Don’t you hold out on me,” you tell him through a shuddered breath, hands behind you, braced on his thighs. “You promised me ruin.”

As sharply as he’d slapped your ass, Cooper gives a hard thrust up, his dull nails biting crescents into your skin, his grip all that keeps you from losing your balance. “One taste and y’already damn spoiled,” he says, planting his boots on your bed–you’ll give him shit for that later–and picking up a brutal pace almost immediately. “C’mon then, sweetheart. Ride me.”

You have no choice but to comply, grabbing hold of what you can of his shirt while he bucks hard under you. Every thrust sparks inside you like the strike of a match, your cunt still sensitive. You can already feel yourself climbing towards another peak. You arch your back, watching him through the haze of your own pleasure. His eyes are dark, his teeth bared. He looks like something wild, like something ready to bite.

“Goddamn, that’s it, y’squeezin’ me fuckin’ good now,” he groans, tipping his head back, watching you bounce on his cock through heavily lidded eyes. “Give it up for me, pretty girl. Show me this is really what you want,” he rambles, his accent growing thicker the closer he gets. You nod along, panting wordlessly, his thrusts knocking sweet little keening noises from your throat. “Go on now, that’s it. Show me how it feels when I make you cum.”

The world around you goes black just before an eruption of white explodes behind your eyelids like stars, your whole body stilling to endure the overwhelming crash of your release, the shock of it rolling out in waves throughout your entire body. You don’t speak, you don’t even breathe, too struck by the magnitude of it. 

Cooper fucks you through every second of it, slurring a litany of feverish nonsense–your name sprinkled within it–until he breaks off into a choked off noise, and in the middle of your euphoria you feel a the rush of his release spilling deep inside you, his body finally stilling under yours.

You sink down onto his chest, panting against the collar of his shirt. He moves his hand along your back, and a distant part of you is caught off guard by how tenderly he sweeps his fingers up the back of your neck. You answer in kind by slipping your fingers just under his collar, fingertips brushing bare skin that’s as gnarled as the rest of him.

The two of you sit in silence for a long while, neither of you willing to break the spell of your afterglow. The entire world feels softer in it, the dull sepia of it tinged with hints of gold. The dust particles floating around you almost seem to sparkle. In any other moment, you’d scold yourself for romanticizing the rotten remains of a dead world that has been so cruel to you, but for just this moment, you let yourself believe that things can be beautiful, too.

You lose yourself to the warmth of his body beneath yours, and the gentle way he traces the slopes of your body with his fingertips. Eventually, Cooper cleans his throat. You ignore it, reluctant to acknowledge him. You know once you do, the moment will be over.

“Y’might wanna get situated with a pack of Radaway soon,” he murmurs, the twang of his voice still heavier than usual. 

Tucked into the crook of his neck, you smile while he still can’t see you, endeared. “I’ve had worse exposures.”

“I find that hard t’believe,” he says, cupping the back of your neck in his palm. His thumb strokes absently back and forth. You can almost believe he’s dragging out these last few moments together, too.

Lifting yourself, you brace your forearms on his chest, staring down at him. His expression is difficult to parse–while there is most definitely a sense of ease you don’t normally associate with him, there’s also a profound sadness.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he moves his hand from your neck to your cheek, swiping his thumb along the ridge of it. You lean into his touch, ready to ask again, when he makes a grab for his hat and places it firmly on your head, obscuring your vision.

“That was some fine ridin’, sweetheart,” he says, voice as coarse and sweet as raw sugar.

You push the brim up until you can see him again, failing to bite back a smile. “Guess I’m the sheriff ‘round these parts now.”

“I ain’t a sheriff," he says flatly, though the slight tic at the corner of his mouth gives away his amusement.

“That’s right, y’ain’t. ‘Cause I am,” you say in your best impression of him, tipping his hat at him.

He blows out a breath and tugs the rim back down over your eyes. “Whatever you say, sweetcheeks,” he says, and though you can’t see him, you’re certain you can hear the smile in his voice.

Today may never happen again. The world could end tomorrow–again–or Cooper could walk off into the Wastes for the very last time. If you’ve learned anything in this world, it’s that nothing lasts forever. So, you drop your head back down and listen to the beat of his heart, using it to count the moments as they pass.

If they’re gonna be the best you get, you’d like to know how many of them you have.

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #fallout fanfic #fallout #x reader #x reader smut #my writing #smut

[lowkeyremi]

JJK CHARACTERS AND THEIR ICKS

basically things they do that make you upset. this is a joke so please do not attack me. y'all already know i never miss a chance to slander gojo!!! credit to my sweet mutual lene (@satorisoup) for giving me this idea!!! GO READ HER'S (if you're into haikyuu)

Gojo

PLEASE. He 100% leaves his clothes on the floor and it really grates your nerve when the hamper is RIGHT THERE!!! and he just leaves them right in front of it. It's so embarrassing when you have guests over and they just pull a dirty sock from between the couch cushions.

Yuji

I love him but I just KNOW he leaves toothpaste in the sink. It's like he doesn't understand the concept of rinsing the sink out after you brush your teeth. You'll finally be making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and there's dried spit and toothpaste in the sink.

Megumi

Always. talks. back. It does not matter he always has something to say. "Well you could have just taken out the trash like I asked you to." and he'll say something snarky like, "Maybe if you weren't so soft spoken I would have heard you." BOY SHUT UP BEFORE YOU GET SLAPPED.

Geto

He is a HUGE gossip. "Mimiko was telling me about xyz yesterday." He just doesn't know when to shut up. People think Geto is a very quiet and kept to himself kind of person but when he knows you he will not stop talking shit.

Toji

There are so many things I could say but the worst of them all is the fact that he will wear the same pair of underwear more than twice. "Toji... are those the same fucking boxers you had on Thursday?" You can see the hem line of his boxers and it looks like the same pair from Thursday. He sets down his cup, "Uh, probably. What's today?" ... "IT'S SUNDAY. JUST WASH YOUR CLOTHES!"

Nanami

He's overbearing with tasks. He forgets that you know how to do things and will bug you until he knows you've done them. "Don't forget to take your car to get an oil change soon." You nod.

A few hours later when he returns home, "Have you gone down to get the oil ch-"

"Kento! The love of my life. I know. I'm going tomorrow." ... "Oh, okay. I'm sorry."

Nobara

Leaves her plate/bowl/etc on the table. You've reminded her on multiple occasions that she needs to do it but she just forgets. "Food was great!" She yells with a smile. In no time she's up from the table sprinting to the living room. "Nobara.. your plate." She freezes, "Oh shit right. I'll get it!"

Maki

She snores. It's not the cute kind either, it's the loud obnoxious kind that prevents you from sleeping. You've tried to get her to change her sleeping posture and find other ways to help but it does. not. matter. By the end of the night she will be holding you close. Your back pressed against her front and loud snores ringing in your ear.

Inumaki

Never gives you any kind of warning when he's going to fart he just does it. HE KNOWS they're a lethal weapon but finds it funny whenever you're screaming at him and gasping for air. God forbid he ever farts while you two are in bed because a dutch oven from him is probably enough to kill you.

Shoko

She laughs whenever you trip or get hurt in any kind of way. She doesn't even mean it she just does it. Like say she sees that the pavement is uneven she doesn't say anything and watches you trip, just to laugh about it. "Okay okay okay, I'm so *giggle* sorry. I should have said something, let me help you up."

Sukuna

Thinks because he's lived for a long time he knows everything and then he gets mad when, "This stupid little talking box won't work." (his phone) "This shit is broken again." He complains throwing it to you. "Dude.. it's powered off. 'Mr. I Know Everything.'" He rolls his eyes at you, "I do know everything you shit for brains." You scoff, "See if I ever help you turn on your 'talking box' again."

Choso

He's always second guessing you. He doesn't even realize it either. The two of you will be driving and he's like, "Are you sure you know where we're going? Should I pull up GPS." YOU KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING CHILL. He's just really cautious though which is why he asks a million times.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #yuji x reader #megumi x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #nobara x reader #maki zenin x reader #shoko x reader #sukuna x reader #choso x reader

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[leisureflame]

"I CANT THINK"

If you write, I assure you you have thought that.

Fear no more child, for I have found a solution.

it's called Rapid writing

something we learned when I was in 9th grade drama class and I cannot emphasize enough just how effective it is. Its actually what gave me the idea for my first book.

Stop what you are doing and do what I tell you

go grab either a pencil and paper (or open an empty document)

set a timer for 2 minutes

ask a friend to give you a random sentence. I have a few examples that I myself rapid wrote to: a) I looked around and saw b) the old lady hung from the ceiling and laughed c) purple paint dripped from her long purple fingernails d) there is a hole in my ceiling. e) when I am sad I... f) When you close the door, I... g) there is a wooden door with a gold doorknob

Now the most important thing is not to think of this sentence before you start writing. as soon as you decide which one if you are choosing from my examples (or as soon as you hear it if you are getting if from a friend), start the timer.

start writing the sentence and without hesitating just keep writing. the #1 rule here is to not stop or hesitate for a single second until the 2 minutes are over. you can write nonsense if you want and if you REALLY can't continue then write some random words for a couple of seconds then continue AS LONG AS YOU ARE STILL WRITING.

another rule is that you are not allowed to delete. even if its a spelling error, just ignore it.

after the timer is done, I promise you will have something to work with. now copy the paragraph you wrote and paste it below, here you can start fixing spelling errors and adding things at your own pace because now the creative side of your brain has opened.

don't think about the way you are writing or the words you use, think about the story you are telling. the idea.

Sometimes you will get something beautiful and deep like I did here:

When I am sad I go to my blanket, not many people know about it, all they think is happening is that a child likes to cuddle in a blanket, but no. my blanket has a special thing about it, it is a magical blanket, well, not the blanket itself but the embroidery on the blanket, it simply takes my sadness away but it adds the story of my emotions to the embroidery, my blanket is a very pretty one, it is a pastel blue color and it has so much silk embroideries that you just think its patterns, but it isn't, if you look deeper you will find stories every one of those stories came from someones tears... my tears. whenever i cry, i wipe my tears with my blanket and my pain goes but my story stays.

or

there is a wooden door with a gold doorknob on the door there is a painting of you, and there are many locks on the door from top to bottom, when you open the door, there is a mirror. this door is the door to self discovery, from the outside there is a painting of how people think you look like but when you open the door, you get to see what you really are in detail and look at yourself they way you want to, you can smile or cry and the refection on the mirror will change but on the painting, it doesn't show ur emotions, just how people see you usually.

or you can get something so stupid like i did here:

there is a hole in the ceiling in my classroom. everyday a dinosaur would a pear and eat my lunch and i keep coming home hungry but my mom dsays she packed me enough food. so she didn't feed me. i told her a dinasour was eating my lunch but she said that disasours only live in Norway! so i went into the school vents looking for that idino and revenge my food, we met at last, held our weapons, i was holding a subway sandwich and the dino was holding a bana na MY BANANA  i lost it, so i attacked him one hit on the head and the whole species were extinct , people thousand of years from now said dinos got extinct because of a meteorite but i know better, also i am still alive because whoever kills a dino becomes immortal, also i killed my mom for not believing me and let her starve in her grave just like she let made me starve. and then i killed everyone who was a flat earther because i hate them and now i can kill anyone once i tap them with my super subway sandwich 

(by the way, ignore the horrible spelling, the examples i gave were from the unedited version.)

THE POINT IS ITS ACTUALLY SO HELPFUL. you can use it for a new story idea (i used the blanket one as an element in one of my WIPs and it helped the story a lot) or if you get something stupid like the dino one I wrote THATS GOOD THATS FINE because now you have your creativity going.

I challenge you to actually try this and PLEASE share it with me I LOVE reading other peoples rapid writings. have fun <3

tagging @cosmosandcapybaras24 @ajsbookshelf @gloryofdawn, @chaoticharmony93 @deception-united and anyone else who's interested to try this out and share with me!

#writing #creative writing #writing tips #creativity #writers block #creative block #writer stuff #writeblr

[milswrites]

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Five

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: You make the most unlikely of friends.

Warnings: Angst.

“I think you should talk to Elain.”

You scoffed as you looked up from the pages of your book, brows raised and eyes rolling as you turned your once focused gaze to the anticipatory stare of your friend, “Good morning to you too, Az. I’m swell, thank you for asking.”

Hazel eyes narrowing at your remark, a sound of disbelief fell from Azriel’s lips as your attention returned to the book between your hands. Disgruntled by his piercing gaze, you stubbornly moved the object to block him from your view. Your action drawing a groan of contention from the shadowsinger as he argued, “Oh come on sweetheart, I just got ahead of myself. I’m sorry, alright?”

Azriel sighed lowly as he realized you weren’t going to budge, lips downturned as his hands came to rest on either arm of the chair you were curled up in. “Angel?” he asked tentatively, leaning forwards until the tip of his nose brushed against the spine of your book, a teasing finger coming to push the novel down until his amused gaze met your own formidable glare. The heated breath of his mirthful chuckle kissing your cheeks as he smirked, “How’s my best friend doing on this lovely day?”

You snorted at his question, eyes unforgiving as you answered flatly, “I’m telling Cassian that you called me your best friend.”

The shadowsinger chuckled at your words, shrugging his shoulders in dismissal as he added, "Come on angel. If you don't tell me how your day is, I guess I'm just going to have to tell Rhys that it was you who knocked over the entire shelf of his expensive wines last solstice."

You slammed your book shut, glaring daggers at the male as you seethed, "You wouldn't dare! You swore you would never tell!"

"You're right, and I always make good on my promises. But it's nice to see your beautiful face again." Azriel grinned devilishly, sliding the book from your lap before you could utilize it as a weapon, "Now, how's my angel doing today?"

You huffed, unable to stop the small smile from pulling at your lips at the male's antics, "Slightly annoyed that I still fall for your same tricks after five hundred years of friendship."

"But you still love me all the same," Azriel grinned. Your eyes shied from his playful gaze as he spoke, cheeks turning pale as you wondered if Azriel knew just how truthful his statement was. Yet the male failed to notice your change in demeanor, rather, he proceeded once more with tentatively approaching the topic of his arrival, "So much so that you'd talk to Elain for me?"

You slumped into your chair, resisting the urge to groan in frustration at your friend's proposal, "Az, I have never once spoken to Elain. Don't you think she'd be suspicious if I started trying to be her friend out of the blue?"

"But isn't that what wingmen -" Azriel shrank under your unimpressed stare, nervously laughing as he corrected himself, " - sorry - wingwomen do?"

Your mouth parted wordlessly, mind searching for any possible excuse as to why you talking to Elain for him would be a bad idea. But it was too late, Azriel had sensed your reluctance. His hand coming to meet your own as he pleaded his case, "There is not a single person in Prythian you could talk to who wouldn't fall for your charm. Look . . . It'll be easy. I just think I may have more of a chance with her if you shared some things about me that you think she may like to hear."

"What, like the fact that you still sleep with the stuffed bat I gave you centuries ago?" you teased as payback for his earlier comment, taking pleasure in the way Azriel's smile dropped in horror. The male's eyes blowing wide in alarm as he stammered a pitiful response, "How did you -? . . . I- I don't sleep with him anymore!"

"Him?" you laughed at Azriel’s pitiful attempt of a burning glare, throwing your head back in glee at the sight. Proud that you were possibly the only person alive who could be on the receiving end of one of the shadowsinger's threatening stares and live to tell the tale.

"You're hilarious, truly" Azriel replied flatly, “It’s nice to see how much you care about my love life”. The shadowsinger, unamused by your incessant giggling, permissed a grave expression to cross his face as he continued to press the matter, "Please. I really need her to like me, and if that means that I need to ask my guardian angel to work her magic . . ."

Your heart clenched at his words, the laughter dying in your throat as your eyes fell from his own pleading ones to the hands at your lap. Stare cold and broken as you realized Rhysand had been wrong the other day. You could never say no. Not to Azriel.

You were a victim of your own heart's desire, cursed with the unfortunate luck of only ever being able to answer the male with words he so longed to hear. Azriel the commander and executioner of your love as your reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about stopping yourself, "Of course I'll speak to her, Az. That's what friends do, right?"

"And what a great friend you are" he grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing at your acceptance, "I'll pay you back for this, I promise. We'll go to that restaurant you like, the one down by the Rainbow."

"Yeah. . .” Azriel was gone before you could even finish your sentence, his shadows lingering for a moment before they ultimately decided on following their master, “That sounds nice. . ."

You quietly sigh, vacant eyes never straying from your lap as you move your shaky hands to cling onto the arms of the chair, gripping the velvet upholstery in an effort to stop your uncontrollable trembling.

Terrified at the prospect of facing the female who was in every way your superior, you exhaled deeply. Rubbing at the growing ache in your temples as you readied yourself to look into the eyes of the cauldron-blessed fae who had stolen Azriel’s heart.

It didn't take long to find her.

The majority of Elain’s days were typically spent within the walls of her garden, the timid female preferring to pass her time with the company of flowers rather than that of other fae.

Perhaps you could tell yourself that was why the two of you had never spoken. That her quiet, reserved nature was the reason for the silence between you. That it had absolutely nothing to do with the shadowsinger who had managed to capture both of your affections.

If that were the case, perhaps you would have allowed yourself to have visited her garden sooner. Sparing the time to come and admire the beautifully blooming flowers, taking the opportunity to bask in the soothing tranquility of your surroundings. You had to admit it was impressive, the radiant life that Elain had managed to bring to the garden that the workers have otherwise been unable to do so.

But you also had to admit that you have been selfish, and unfairly so. Unable to help but wonder if your reason for visiting Elain today was a punishment from the gods, a penalty for having not been more welcoming to the female upon her arrival to the Night Court.

It didn't take long for Elain to notice your presence in her garden, the sound of your approaching footsteps being enough to pull the female's attention from the flowers she was tending to. Her brow creased in confusion as she saw exactly who it was walking towards her.

"Uh, hello Elain," you awkwardly began, smile tight as you mentally cursed yourself for your uncomfortable demeanor, "I saw you through the window and I um . . . I thought you may appreciate a tea."

Elain's eyes dropped to the cup held between your shaky hands, mouth slightly parting in question at your unusually kind gesture, "Oh . . . "

Sighing, you closed the distance between you, placing the cup on the ground before opting to sit beside the female. "It was Azriel's idea" you confessed, tentatively glancing in Elain's direction, noting how her ears pricked at the mention of your friend's name, "He thought it might be a nice idea for you to have someone to talk to. . . The tea was all me though."

"That's nice of him" Elain allowed a soft smile to grace her lips, moving to pick up the cup before she nervously added, "and you, thank you for the tea."

"Yeah, he's always watching out for the people he cares about" you winced at your words, eyes closing in shame as you were aware of just how terribly this conversation was going. Moving your hand to pick at the hem of your dress as you resisted the urge to flee in embarrassment.

But if Elain were bothered by your uneasy company she didn't show, moving to pick up her trowel once more as she resumed her gardening, her words light as she replied, "I know I'm considerably younger than all you fae, but that doesn't make me stupid. I know why you're here."

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing as you found yourself unable to stop the rising wave of panic which had begun to wash over you, nervous eyes flickering over the poised female as you breathlessly asked, "What?"

"I know love when I see it" Elain answered, briefly turning from her task so her brown eyes could meet your own, "That's why Azriel sent you to talk to me wasn't it? Because he thinks he loves me."

"You know?" you asked at a higher octave than deemed normal, unable to help the surprised laugh which escaped your lips, leaning back onto your hands as you allowed the information to soak in. Mouth dropped in disbelief as you gathered your thoughts, "You'd certainly make for a better spymaster than him."

"It doesn't exactly take a spymaster to see it" Elain smirked slightly, seemingly pleased by your astonished reaction. Gesturing to a spare trowel she continued, "Come on, if we're going to talk you may as well be helping me."

A feeling of satisfied contentment washed over you as the two of you worked in a comfortable silence. It wasn't hard to understand why Elain loved to spend all of her time here, the quiet calm of the garden was a suitable place to sieve through the questions which had risen at her revelation.

Wondering exactly where it was you were supposed to begin, you tentatively asked, "So why haven't you told him that you know?" Your face immediately turning pale as your tumultuous thoughts had already answered for her, heart racing as you voiced the glaring question on your mind, "Unless you don't love him back?"

It had always been a possibility that Elain didn't share the same feelings for Azriel as he did for her. You would be lying if you said you hadn't hoped for it. Having already pondered the possibility that if the shadowsinger were to be rejected, his lovesick eyes may then turn to you. You almost scoffed at how pathetic the idea was.

And yet, inexplicably, a sinking feeling had risen in your chest. Heart already breaking at the mere thought of how Azriel would react to the terrible news that Elain didn't like him back.

It took several moments for the female to reply, mind lost to her own thoughts as she searched for an appropriate answer. "Love him?" Elain pondered, gaze distant as she stared at a budding flower before her, "No. But I could grow to."

The soft sigh which escaped from Elain's lips told you she had more to say, her eyes thinly veiled by a white mist as she began to explain her reasoning, “I was engaged once - if you'd believe it - but then the war happened, and Hybern, and then by some cruel trick of fate the cauldron turned me into the one thing that my fiancé had always been taught to hate."

You failed to find an answer worthy of speaking, sympathy brewing in your chest at the female's admission that her transition has been more than difficult. Guilty, that between your bitterness and jealousy, you hadn't stopped to think about exactly what it was Elain was going through. 

"I never got a choice, not when I got shoved into the cauldron and not when I got brought here. . . So I don't really know what it is I want with my life anymore. I'm not even sure I know who I am. But I do know Azriel makes me happy," Elain's words drew you from your spiraling shame, a wistful smile on the young fae's face as she spoke about the male, "When I'm with him I don't have to be who I used to be. . . He gives me the room to figure out who I am in this new life I have been given."

"You make him happy too, Elain" you answered with a sad smile, swallowing your pain as you tried to blink away your rising tears, "He really does think the world of you."

It didn’t take long for you to realize you had allowed your emotions to get the better of you, your face blanching as shock crossed Elain's features. Her eyes full of sorrow as she turned her gaze to you, "You love him?" 

"And he loves you."

You did your best to shrug away the females sympathetic stare as you moved to continue gardening, yet Elain's pitiful eyes remained on you, lips downturned as she queried, "How long?"

You laughed at the answer to her question, too embarrassed to reveal to Elain that you had wasted centuries pining after a male who would never love you back, "Let's just say it's been long enough for me to know it's time to move on." 

Elain hummed in quiet understanding, taking a moment to think before her head tilted in question, "And have you?”

"Have I what?"

"Moved on?" 

There was no malice in Elain Acheron's voice, not as each question she asked was delivered with such empathy. Rather, you found yourself blushing at her curious nature, a shy smile gracing your features as you found yourself revealing, "I'm getting there, one day at a time. . . I may have met someone the other day."

Elain squealed in excitement, dropping her trowel as she moved her body to face yours, eagerly outstretching her hands to meet your own as she laced them together and begged, "Tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell" you reply honestly, ears burning at the thought of the male you had met the other day, "We've only met once, at the bakery in Velaris. He spilt his coffee all over me and then we just got talking. I don't know. . . It just felt so natural, for once in my life I didn't find myself thinking of . . . well . . . Az. He asked to meet me again but -"

"Oh you have to!" Elain cried, an encouraging grin crossing her face as she urged you to take the step. Her searching eyes not failing to miss the hesitance in your own;, hands squeezing yours as she offered her advice, “Moving on isn’t meant to be easy. But the regret you’ll feel if you miss this chance will hurt more. . . Besides you never know, this male might surprise you, it already sounds like he’s swept you off your feet.”

You smiled at Elain, the thought of males far from your mind as you found yourself unable to think of anything other than how utterly and completely wrong you had been about her. Brows knitted together in regret, you expressed this to the female, “You know, you’re not quite the person I expected you to be Elain Archeron.”

The fae's eyes twinkled in response, a matching smile upon her lips as she replied, “No, neither are you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Sorry for the wait for this part 🥲 my uni kind of killed me off for a moment. And thank you to @sarawritestories who helped me iron this part out because my brain is fried at the moment.

Taglist:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @lady-of-tearshed @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @Jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel series #azriel oneshot #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel imagine

[dr3c0mix]

Hello, I'm the person who requested the yandere orc and I just wanted to say I loved it! At the end of that request I said I would ask for minotaur if you didn't do orc. But I still want to request yandere minotaur because I am a big fan of how you write yandere stuff. So can you please write yandere minotaur x reader.

(I would like it if the minotaur was just a hunk of muscle that no one would dare mess with, but becomes putty for reader. If you have another idea, use it!)

Flowers For My Cleric

Yandere! Minotaur x GN Reader

Edit!! Nsfw content removed! Replaced with some extra fluff!!

🌾 Ashvan was a part of a clan of warriors, ones that are feared and respected for their strength and brutality throughout the land.

🌾 He's seen fighters of all kinds from the biggest orcs and golitaths to the smallest goblins and kobalts. He's seen almost everything and everyone on the battlefield.

🌾 But nothing prepared him for you.

🌾 You looked so small and soft compared to everyone else. So out of place from the rough and tough warriors with bodies decorated in scars and tattoos.

🌾 It was during a welcoming feast that he first met you. You were the newest member of the clan and everyone welcomed you warmly.

🌾 He asked one of his close friends what your deal was and he learned that you were supposed to be their healer.

🌾 Vibrant music played in the tavern, but all he could see and hear was you and your adorable little laugh.

🌾 Your smile shined like the sun and your movements were so graceful and soft.

🌾 You went around meeting everyone, occasionally healing a fresh wound or two until he came face to face with you in all your glory.

🌾 "H-hi.."

🌾 "Hi!.."

🌾 He's almost crumbling at the sight of you. It's the first time he's ever been nervous.

🌾 Never before has he felt such a feeling, not even when he was facing the deadliest foes. How is a big and tough minotaur like himself shaking at the feet of such a gentle creature?

🌾 You start to laugh awkwardly the more he just kept staring at you. You pat his arm comfortingly before moving on to greet the rest of the clan.

🌾 It felt as if he was touched with the finest silk!

🌾 You'd run into him quite often while in the clan. You'd see him laughing with his friends with confidence and pride in his walk, but the moment you say hello, he'd be reduced to a stuttering babbling mess trying to say hi back. His friends would have to bring him away from you so he won't embarrass himself further.

🌾 "O-oh! Hello cleric! W-we were just uh..going to spar, you can join us if you want..b-but you don't have to! I mean you're probably busy but I would love to have you there..n-not to spar though! I mean you can..but you can watch..I-I'm not calling you weak or anything! You probably can take care of yourself pretty well, b-but if you ever need anyone to protect you, you know..o-only if you want to-"

🌾 He follows you around sometimes, pretending to be doing something else like carrying around some supplies or sharpening his weapon. When you turn away, he would have a lovesick smile on his face.

🌾 If you catch him staring, he'd panic and try to hide behind a barrel or crate, doesn't really help that he's a large minotaur. You'd giggle at the sight of a tall and fearsome creature hiding from you as best as he could with his tail and horns peeking through the crate.

🌾 "M-me? Hiding? Noooo! I-I don't need to hide! I-I'm a warrior!..heheh.."

🌾 His friends would try to help him out, telling him advice that may or may not work. I don't think gifting your crush the head of your enemies is pretty romantic though...

🌾 You would be fixing up your medical supplies when you feel a tap on your shoulder, you turn around and Ashvan would be towering above you, shakily offering you a small, sort of roughed up bouquet of wild flowers in his large cloven hand.

🌾 Some of the stems look a bit bent and most of their petals have fallen off, but it's cute either way.

🌾 "C-Cleric! I uhm...found these uhm..flowers and uh..thought of you!..Well they're small and cute..n-not saying you're small! I-I mean you are because I'm bigger and stuff and uhm...j-just take them.."

🌾 You giggle and thank him, taking the flowers from him. He huffs out from his snout as your hands touch. As you take the flowers from him, he grunts, nodding as he awkwardly walks away.

🌾 As soon as he's out of sight, he's giggling like a little schoolgirl at the thought of you liking his gift, he's going off to get more flowers for you if you don't mind.

🌾 He might confuse normal plants he finds cute as flowers, so you now have a vase full of yellow wheat he got from a field one day.

🌾 The first time he was sent to be healed by you was like being in heaven. He watched you closely as you gently healed the gash on his chest as if it was a seam on a fabric.

🌾 He took the time to study your face, how you stuck your tongue out or pursed your lips when you concentrate, or the way you ghost your delicate fingers over his rough skin, it took a lot not to swoon as you touched his chest.

🌾 "You're uhm...very good with your hands! hahah.."

🌾 Yes he steals your clothes, and its ok because you have more anyway that he'll also eventually steal...

🌾 He would get hurt on purpose to see you again and be touched by you, going to bed that night and fantasizing about you coddling and cooing over him. Hey! Even a big burly minotaur wants to be treated right!!

🌾 But for now, he's just a shy and nervous bull man who adores you from far away <3

#yandere x gn reader #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #oc yandere #yandere male #yandere oc #tw yandere #x reader #yandere x you #terat0philliac #terato #monsterfucker #monster lover #monster x human #monster smut #teratophillia #minotaur #minotaur x reader #minotaur boyfriend #minotaur smut #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #monster fluff #yandere fluff

[signedkoko]

OK since requests are open I thought I might as well do another ask with once again Lucifer and Lilith soooo

I ask for Lucifer x Lilith x a human reader, and uhm, maybe when Lucifer and Lilith are out for some reason. Reader gets attacked at the castle? Smthn like that but im mainly asking for maybe some type of one-shot or hcs idk with a human reader that gets hurt badly when lucifer and lilith aren't there and their reaction to such ig.

Otherwise, if you wish to not write this please tell me

And yes, Luci icon twins^^

- 𝐋.𝐁 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Lucifer X Reader X Lilith [Romantic]

In which they aren't there to protect you from bountyhunters, and you end up greatly injured. Reader is genderneutral.

Not many attacks are made on their residence for a reason

You need to be crazy powerful to survive Lucifer, let alone Lilith and the many well-trained servants in the estate

Whoever tried either died gruesomely or was never seen again, huge powerhouses of hell wiped out in an instant

Or two, if Lilith felt like teasing them

Today was not like any other because it was baby Charlie's tenth birthday!

A decade of life was worth a large celebration, and Charlie wanted many of the servants she grew up around to be there

Of course, you were going too! Charlie had always accepted you like a parent, which you were beyond grateful for, and you'd even gotten her something special

Only halfway out the door did you realize you'd forgotten it upstairs, so you excused yourself and told Lilith to go ahead

" I don't want anyone to see! Besides, I'll bring the cool car, and Charlie can ride back in it with me! "

You also enjoyed the idea of letting the birthday girl be with her birth parents for a bit

Only, as you grabbed the present and made your way back downstairs, you heard something shatter

There were still a few guards around the palace, but still, this was nothing good if they knew to attack while the Morningstars were out

Before you could call Lucifer, a shot rang out, your phone falling to the floor as you stared at your bleeding palm

Fuck, fuck, fuck that hurt-

Clutching the present, your attempt to duck was futile as another shot rang, hitting your opposite shoulder and sending you to the floor

The pain was severe, and you knew why—this was no normal gun; it had to have been an angel weapon

" It's just a stupid servant; stop wastin' bullets. "

" But look! They're holding somethin' real nice; it looks like a crown! "

Upon hearing them talk about the gift you got for Charlie, you began crawling away

Bang!

Another shot in the knee; your vision was starting to blur with tears

Before you could get away any further, you felt a kick to your side, which sent you into the wall

" Just grab it and go. Stupid royals are probably on their way already. "

One more kick, straight to your head, and you were out

...

...

. . .

" ...ke up! Wake up! "

Your head felt fucking terrible, and when you cracked open your eyes even a bit, the light was blinding

As you adjusted, you could hear Lucifer cheering and clapping, and you could make out Lilith on the side of the bed, hushing him with one hand over yours

You could tell you were in their bed, judging by the familiar scent and room, but you had no recollection of what was happening

" Before you ask, the bountyhunters have been dealt with, dear. They hurt you. "

Lilith's voice was calming as always, and she held up your hand to caress it between both of hers, hoping to soothe you

" Bountyhunters...? "

" Thats right, I sure showed them! I wasn't sure which one did it, so Lily and I gave them all special treatment! "

Lucifer seemed proud as he held up his arms as if flexing, but his grin was a little wobbly, and you could tell he was putting up a front

Things started to puzzle together, and that was when you lifted yourself up, holding your head

" Fuck. Poor Charlie, it was her birthday! "

" I'm sure she understands. We didn't want her to worry, so we let her stay at the party while we handled things. She's most worried about you. "

Lilith reached back and propped up the pillows so you could stay seated, making sure you were most comfortable while Lucifer paced

Looking down at the hand she caressed, you noticed it was entirely wrapped in bandages

" They weren't normal guns. "

" Yes, I'm afraid it won't heal very well. But we will make certain you get the best care. "

Standing up, Lilith grabbed Lucifer by the arm and pulled him towards the door

They wanted to make sure you could rest, and a servant entered quickly with a tray of food and a warm beverage

" Oh yes! I can't wait to finish them off. "

" Wait, they're alive? "

" Not for much longer, dear. Lucifer thought we should save the rest for after you woke up. "

" Well, make it extra rough for me. "

You won't have to worry about those who hurt you ever, ever again

Author's Note - I feel so iconic having the lucifer icon pre-episode release, we are a power duo!

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lilith #lilith x reader

[gremlingottoosilly]

Oh my god, asks are open! Hey how are you?? And what are your favourite König AUs' counterparts??

Asks are still closed, actually, I just used the opportunity to promote my Instagram. But...for my top Konig AUs, I have these ones! 1) Mafia Konig. Oh how I love this man. I honestly don't know much about Austrian criminal life, but I just know that this man is the perfect jaded ex-soldier who came out of service, saw how the system treats its veterans, and decided to seize power for himself. He is cool, strong - his awkwardness and inability to socialize casually is almost going unnoticed as he seeks retired soldiers to make up his crime group, getting control over drug and weapons market. With his connections in all of Central Europe and slowly creeping onto the Eastern part and illegal gun and oil deals, the only thing he is lacking is a pretty girl on his lap, making him feel good. He doesn't like escorts, often leaving bad taste in his mouth - but he sees you, a pretty girl working in a cafe that he owns, in a flower shop that is just a front for his business, in some shabby tourist establishment made to get tourists on cheaply produced drugs...you're innocent, you have no idea about the dangers around you - but don't worry, he is cynical for both of you. 2) Loser!Konig Seeing this big guy with a big title and money and even a house being a complete loser for you is...something. He is dangerous, of course, always getting borderline or straight-up obsessive, so down and for you it's horrible - but the again, he is the only guy to ever love you like this...so, why not give him a chance? Yes, he will hunt you down and out you on his basement by the end of the week because he has no idea what the hell courting is but, then again, he would also give you some interesting lecture about lego and war history.

3) Monster!Konig Obviously, having this giant eldritch horror dude so down bad for you is exciting to write! This version of Konig is mainly a tsundere type, he is acting cold because monsters value power and he doesn't want to seem too soft with his little pet wife - but don't worry, he is soft and warm behind the closed doors, always allowing you to have something nice for yourself. This version of him tights with oviposition, obviously. He is using your fertile, lush body to carry his eggs - so be prepared for all the exciting thing about pregnancy, but over and over again, with Konig cooing over you as he finally mates you for hours on end... 4) Dilf!Konig This bastard uses his kid to maintain contact with you, and he is not even ashamed! It's honestly horrible( he doesn't like to talk to his kid, so he took you in as either willing or a kidnapped nanny, and then proceeded to breed another child into you just because this guy has a major breeding kink, but can't take care of children( He will pay for everything, at least, even hiring some help to make everything a bit easier for you - but god, he starts to like his kids only when you're playing with them...

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #monster!konig #mafia!konig

[eufezco]

A SEASHORE CONFESSION — FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!TRIBUTE!READER

SYNOPSIS ― Finnick opens up about his feelings for the first time in the arena of the Quarter Quell.

It was relaxing to watch him play with the spike on the seashore. He used his hands to move the weapon with such a delicacy and fluidity. His gaze was lost, what would he be thinking about? The waves crashed against his feet like they did back home. Would he be thinking of that? On how he missed home? You missed District 4 as well, living in the victor's village, going for walks to the beach, and lying on the sand watching the sun disappear into the sea. Just like you were doing now, the difference was that that same day you were almost killed by the toxic gas and devoured by monkeys. That felt nothing like home except for Finnick.

You were sitting on the sand, separated from the group and admiring him. He had always been your friend, you had always admired Finnick from the distance. You were hugging your knees against your chest when he turned his face to look at you and you looked away ashamed that he had caught. Finnick smiled and walked towards you. He sat next to you, leaving his spike at his side and his arms holding his knees against his chest.

You were still looking away.

―How are you feeling? ―He asked. The idea of returning to the arena had not pleased you and he knew about it.

―Finnick. ―You ran to him, hiding your face in his chest. ―I can't do this, I can't do it again.

―Yes you can. It's okay, you're gonna be okay I promise you. ―He held your head against his chest. His own heart was beating so fast, the news had also shocked him. He liked the life he had with you, he did not want this either. ―Look at me, look at me. I'm not letting anything happen to you. You'll be fine.

―I'm okay I guess. Too much has happened today. The monkeys were pretty scary. —You draw shapes on the sand. Still not daring to make eye contact with him.

—I agree with that.

You both remained silent for a moment. Finnick was admiring the sunset and you were busy finishing your drawing in the sand. You could hear Katniss and Peeta talking in the distance.

—I saw you looking at me.

—I know you did.

—I look at you the same way when you don't notice.

You turned your head to look at him and Finnick pressed his lips together and smiled. Now it was him who looked away, embarrased.

—I'm sure it is not in the same way, Finnick.

You moved closer to him so you could rest your head on his shoulder. When you did, Finnick planted a soft kiss on your forehead. You never asked him for anything more because you didn't think it'd be fair for him. A better life awaited him in the Capitol. He was destined for much more than walking on the beach in District 4 with you.

Finnick used one of his hands to pinch your chin and lift your head from his shoulder. With his fingers still holding you and with a look of wonder on your face, he kissed you. His lips only connected with yours for a few seconds until he broke the kiss to see your reaction. The voices of your allies also went silent, waiting to see what your reaction would be.

—Are you doing this because they're watching? —You mumbled soft enough to know that no camera could hear you.

Finnick shook his head, his eyes moving to your from your lips.— Why would I do that? They already have Katniss and Peeta.

You remained silent. Your gaze moved between his lips and his eyes, trying to analyze his face but by this time there was nothing about him that you hadn't spent hours admiring. His mouth did not lie to you, much less his bright green eyes that were still waiting for a sign of approval from you.

—Why here, Finnick?

—Because I'm afraid of losing you I guess. —Finnick focused on your lips, opening up like that, and looking directly into your eyes felt too intimate. Back home you were safe but now anything at any moment could take you away from him. Perhaps Finnick had underestimated his feelings for you. Maybe taking you for granted had made him not appreciate enough how he truly felt.

—You guess? —You were not afraid of the intimacy that Finnick refused. You had been craving for it for a long time but you knew how the Capitol had screwed up the way he interacted romantically with other people, so you never wanted to put pressure on him.

His lower lip trembled and his voice sounded weak as he said it. His eyes looked at you, filled with tears. —Because I'm afraid of losing you.

You flashed him a little smile and cupped one of his cheeks. With that gesture, you thanked him for opening up and felt guilty for not having let him do it sooner. Before you were put into the arena it had all been about you and the fear you had of going through the same thing that you went through less than three years ago. You did not stop to ask him how he felt and Finnick didn't consider his feelings, not when you had panic attacks every night before you were thrown into the arena.

—Can I kiss you again? Please?

—Now you're asking?

You made him laugh, but immediately after, his lips were on yours again. It was a soft and delicate kiss yet Finnick's lips were moving intensely, almost in desperation, as if he wanted to get everything that he had not dared to claim in District 4, as if to make up for lost time in the few minutes you would be sitting on the sand.

my requests are open for the hunger games 📥

#finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair angst #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games imagine #thg #thg finnick #thg fluff #thg angst #finnick #tbosas #sam claflin #catching fire #finnick odair fanfic

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey, I love your work so much! Would it be possible to do a "living weapon" in recovery, possibly taken to a rebel base and one of the rebels being nice to the weapon and giving them affection, but the weapon has no idea how to act?

"Hey. You need anything?"

The weapon's head snapped up, sharp gaze fixing on them. They otherwise sat perfectly still where the rebel leader had left them. Lou had watched them, on and off, for the past hour.

"I brought you some tea. If you'd like it. I always find tea soothing when I'm in new, strange places." Lou offered a small smile as he held up the drink, stepping further into the room. "What's your name?"

"Name?"

"Yeah. What do you like to be called?"

"I'm the weapon."

"You like being called that?"

The weapon's head tilted the smallest fraction. "It is what I am called. It's what I've always been called."

Lou didn't let their smile slip, despite the sorrow-horror that notched through their heart at that. Now was hardly the time to push. "Okay," they said. "Well. Tea? I wanted to check in if you need anything?"

The weapon stared at them. It was the sort of stare that stripped a person to their component parts.

Lou cleared their throat. They crossed the room to set the tea mug down on a side table. "You hungry? Thirsty? Tired? You want - I don't know. A book or something? You don't have to just sit there."

"I was told you to stay here."

"Well, yes, but..." They didn't know how to explain that the difference been stay there, okay? and an actual command that had to be 100% followed. Lou took another step closer to the weapon. "You can stay there if you want to, but you're not our prisoner. You can wander around the base, you know? Go to the bathroom or...whatever. Get some sleep."

"You should stay back."

Lou stopped. "Sorry," they said. They held their hand up. "Not trying to scare you or anything. If-"

"-You do not scare me."

"Oh. Well, that's good!"

"I am dangerous."

Lou's brow furrowed slightly, because of course they knew that. They just weren't entirely sure what the weapon meant by the words. They didn't say it like a threat.

"You are kind," the weapon said. "I do not want to hurt you."

"Oh." Heat flooded Lou's face. "Well, then you probably won't, right?"

The weapon blinked.

"I mean," Lou said, after a beat, "you can control your abilities, right?"

"...yes." The weapon still seemed a little confused. "Of course."

"So you won't hurt me."

This seemed to be a new concept, judging by the look on the weapon's face. "I...won't hurt you."

"Yeah," Lou said. "You can choose not to."

"I can choose."

"Uhuh. But, hey. Even if you do hurt me, it's not the end of the world? Accidents happen."

"I can choose," the weapon said to themselves again, quietly. "I don't have to hurt people."

"And no one here is going to make you."

"You need weapons. You are losing."

"Yeah, but that's not why we helped you."

The weapon swallowed, hard. It was the most obviously human reaction that Lou had seen from them so far. As if all of the normal reactions, all of the emotions and pleasures and weaknesses of being human were something they had been forcibly trained out of having. They probably had.

"I don't have to hurt people," the weapon said, as if that idea had never occurred to them before. As if nobody had ever told them that before. They looked down at their hands, curling them in their lap. "Thank you."

"Oh, sure. Any time!" It didn't seem like enough to offer, after everything that the weapon had been through. "And if you need - if you want - anything else, just ask. Okay?"

The weapon stared at them once more. After a long moment, they gave a small nod.

"Would you like me to stay and sit with you for a while?" Lou asked, as gently as they could. "Or would you like me to leave you alone? Either one is fine."

"Stay." It was barely audible. Hoarse.

"Cool. Do you want the tea?"

"I am...very thirsty."

Lou brought the tea over, then took a seat next to the weapon.

The weapon cradled the mug in their hands like they were afraid it would shatter. They swallowed again. Their hands shook the smallest, barely perceptible fraction.

"Careful," Lou said. "It's-" The weapon's gaze snapped to them once more. "It's hot," Lou finished. "I don't want you to get hurt. Scald your tongue."

The weapon took the most careful sip. Then they relaxed, the smallest fraction, at Lou's side. "It's nice." They hesitated, then smiled themselves. Tentative, fragile. "You're nice."

"Well, I certainly try to be," Lou said, with a weak laugh. They rubbed a hand over the back of their head. "We should all try to be."

The weapon drank their tea in silence, watching. Listening, as Lou filled the space with idle chatter about the base and the people there and their favourite kind of tea that their grandma always used to make.

The weapon quietly followed them everywhere around base after that.

#living weapon #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #writing #story #fiction #creative writing #writing snippet #story snippet

[five-rivers]

Welcome Back Home

Phic Phight Fic for Avi!

Danny may have been a superhero.  He may have been annoying.  He may even have been ‘practically an adult.’  He was still Jazz’s little brother.  The one who had once begged her for play time and increasingly baffling milkshake combinations.  The one who helped her fight reanimated turkeys every Christmas.  The one who painstakingly researched what books to give her for her birthday.

So, it wasn't so much a choice to throw herself between him and her parents’ newest and most worrying weapon as it was a reflex.  If any thought crossed her mind while she dashed across the parking lot and into the path of the beam, it was either this is going to hurt or I hope I'm fast enough.

Well, it didn't hurt. It did drop her in the Ghost Zone. Immediately, She whirled, trying to find the portal.

Way back, when she and Danny had come clean about their respective secrets, Danny had sat her down for what he called his ‘Ghost Zone Survival Guide.’

“Okay,” he'd said, spinning in his spinny chair, “Ghost Zone survival, part one.  Don't go there.”

Tucker had snorted.  Jazz, who had taken out a fresh notebook and her special note-taking gel pens, glared at him.  

“I'm serious,” Danny had defended himself.  “The Zone isn't a good place for humans.”

“Why?”

“Do you want some reason other than it operating under different laws of physics and being full of super-powered people who don't care if they kill you by mistake?  The radiation, maybe?”

“Never mind.  Go ahead.”

“That's what I thought.  Anyway, if you wind up going through an unstable or temporary portal, the first thing you need to do is go back through that portal.  Like, forget about anything else that's going on.  Fights, escapes, your car, other people, get yourself back through.”

“That seems a bit callous,” Jazz had said.  

“Well, maybe.  But the Ghost Zone is huge, and natural portals and temporary portals aren't just unstable in space, they're unstable in time.”

“They could spit you out in my first life, the middle ages, a thousand years in the future, you name it,” Tucker had helpfully added.  

“First life?”

“Don't worry about it,” Danny had said.  

“Pharaonic Egypt,” Tucker had answered.  

“The point is,” Danny had continued loudly, “you don't want to take a chance with portals unless you know they're stable or have the Infi-Map.”

“Or time grandpa has your back.”

“Stop calling him that.”

“Who is–”

“It doesn't matter.  He doesn't have your back.  He doesn't have anyone's back.”

Tucker had made a noise of negation.  “He has your back.”

Danny had responded by beaning his friend with a pillow.  

Somehow, despite being genuinely informative, Jazz had come away from the ‘lesson’ With more questions than answers.  None of which were pertinent to her present situation.  

She turned on the spot again, surveying her surroundings in more detail.  It didn't help.  No matter which direction she turned in, there was no portal.  

So.  Step one: failed.  

Onto step two.  

“What if I can't get back through the portal though?” Jazz had asked.  

“Well, if you aren't being actively attacked–”

“You should definitely take care of that first if you are.”

“If you aren't under attack, see if you can spot any landmarks.  If you can see one, you'll at least have a general idea of where you are.  Mostly.”

“We're making a map,” Tucker had said, “but it sucks.”

“That's not a comment on our self-confidence or whatever,” Danny had said before Jazz could interject.  “Stuff moves in the Ghost Zone.  It's kind of like trying to make a map of the solar system.  If you're sitting on Jupiter, you know where the sun is, and you've got a pretty good idea about the inner planets, but unless you have a model you can put the time into, you're not going to have any idea where Pluto is.”

“And you wouldn't know the right time, either,” Jazz had said, contemplatively.  

“Exactly.  But landmarks are still good.  They'll give you your general area, at least.  And maybe what else is around, too.”  He'd given her a photo album full of Ghost Zone landmarks, then, and they'd spent the next half hour going through them.

Jazz was on a floating island.  It was medium-sized, perhaps a dozen or so acres square on this side, full of softly rolling hills covered with purple grass and pale green flowers.  As far as Jazz could tell, there wasn't anything else on it, although that didn't mean there wasn't.  It didn’t look like any place she'd seen or heard of.  

Offshore, the Zone was a moderately-familiar green-on-green.  Foggy ectoplasm and the lack of anything like a horizon made it difficult to judge distances.  

There were a few other islands Jazz could see.  Something like a mountain range, a floating sphere, and, just on the edge of her vision, a slightly more regular conglomeration of shapes that could have been a town.  

Bingo.  

“If you don't recognize anything, do your best to head towards civilization.”

Jazz had raised an eyebrow at that.  “Despite the super-powered people who don't care if I die?”

“She’s got you there, Danny my man.”

“Ugh, why couldn't Sam have been here?”

“Gasp, don't tell me you forgot the mega-ultra-turbo grounding already?  How could you?”

Danny had thrown another pillow at Tucker.  “You're so unhelpful.  Anyway, people are dangerous, but they're also the only place you're going to get directions.”

“And if I see something, how do I get there?  Considering everything is a flying island.”

“That’s a bit tricky.”

Jazz bounced on her the balls of her feet, staring down the green void between herself and her destination.  She’d never done this before, and despite Danny and Tucker’s attempts at an explanation, or even Sam’s later on…  Well, she felt like she should’ve convinced them to bring her to the Ghost Zone to practice.  

There was nothing she could do but try.  She closed her eyes and jumped into the air, believing she could fly with all her might.  Her feet hit the ground again.  Damn.  

One, two, three, she tried again, and again, and again, and then, finally, when she got mad, when she got frustrated, her feet left the ground and stayed off the ground.  She was flying, like only a human in the Ghost Zone could fly.  

She opened her eyes and looked over to the distant probably-town.  It was just as distant as before.  And now she was exhausted from jumping.  Both the jumping right now, and the jumping into the line of fire she’d done earlier.  

Well, no time like the present to get going.  She took off.  

The little details of Danny’s advice hadn’t stuck with her - he’d really waxed poetic - but she was still able to move forward.  She also spent a lot of time moving down whenever her concentration slipped.  Of course, she knew it wasn’t really down, thanks to those same conversations with Danny.  It was just the direction she perceived as down, or something like that.  

Danny liked flying like this.  Danny liked every method of flying to ever exist.  Jazz, personally, hated it.  A lot.  Every minute that passed, every time she slipped, she was terrified that she would go plunging into the murky depths of the Zone, never to be seen again.  

Danny hadn’t been wrong about the Ghost Zone not being good for humans.  

Thank goodness the town really was a town.  She wasn’t sure what she would have done if it wasn’t.  

“If I do get to civilization–”

“--or what passes for it–” Tucker had said.  

“--what do I do then?  Be polite, I assume, but what’s polite for ghosts?  What are the cultural touchstones?  The social norms?”

“Dunno,” Danny had said.  “It’s not like ghosts are just one big group that’s all the same.  But if you get to a group of ghosts, like, I don’t know a village or something, they’ll all probably be fairly tolerant.  To live together without fighting, you know?  Normal politeness will be fine.  Probably.  Assuming they can speak English.”

She managed a landing at the edge of the town.  She hit too hard, and her knees buckled.  A few ghosts stopped what they were doing - she didn’t know what, couldn’t spare the attention while flying - to stare at her.  With an effort she smiled at them.  Closed lips.  Many cultures considered smiles with teeth to be aggressive or rude.  

“Hi,” she said.  “I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Kio?  Kio ŝi diris?”

“Mi ne scias, mi ne parolas la francan.”

Ah.  She should’ve taken up Tucker’s offer to teach her some basic Esperanto.  Danny was never going to let her live this down.  

“Okay, so, what do I do if they don’t speak English?” she’d asked.  

“Get good at charades?  You probably won’t be able to get good directions without speaking the language - I have no idea how you’d do the portal in charades - but you can trade stuff.  Bargain, barter, whatever you want to call it.”

“For food?  Supplies?”

“Eh, not food, actually.  Ghost Zone food is mostly ectoplasm.  Not good for humans.”

“Then what?  Well, you’ll think it’s crazy, but…”

Somehow or another, she got the idea of marketplace and trade across to the ghosts.  Apparently the Esperanto word was related to the English.  Cousins.  Brothers.  Whatever, it didn’t matter.  

What did matter was what she was going to trade to the ghosts.  All she had was her purse, and for a teenage girl, she traveled light.  She had her wallet, parking change, a small handful of coupons, number two pencils, a pencil sharpener, a pen, various hygiene products, lipstick, laser, lipstick laser, sunscreen, the universal pocket psychology guide, granola bars, a screwdriver, a couple of bolts from the Peeler - if only she kept that in her purse - spiked bracelet from Spike, phone, and, okay, she didn’t pack that light.  There should be something in all this that the ghosts here would probably like.

The ghosts who had seen her less-than-stellar landing ushered her to a colorful, cloth-covered stall, the contents of which looked like the detritus of a million flea markets.  The ghost… manning it?  Ghosting it?  Haunting it?  What was the terminology in this case?  Whatever.  The ghost at the stall was pale green and nondescript except for the swathes of polka-dotted cloth wrapped around their body.  

They stared at her with wide eyes.  “Ĉu tio estas homo?  Viva homo?”

She smiled, forcefully.  That didn’t sound like a hello, but she’d take it.  “Hello,” she said.  “Do you have any boxes?”  She made the shape of a box with her hands.  

“The Box Ghost?  You’re saying that if I can’t get directions, my next step is to try to summon the Box Ghost?”

“Hey, believe it or not I’ve got an agreement with a lot of the regulars.  If they bring back lost humans, they get, um.  A nonlethal free day.  In Amity Park.  I can get you a list.  And even if you end up in a weird time, like, before I made the deal or something, the Box Ghost is pretty easy.  Worst case scenario, you can even let Walker catch you.  He always sends humans back.”

Jazz sat on the edge of the town, a cardboard box in hand, purse lighter by a novelty pencil sharpener and the spare screws and bolts.  “Oh, great and powerful and completely terrifying Box Ghost,” she said, feeling ridiculous.  “I have an offering for your awful, terribleness.  It’s cubical and cardboard-ical.  Cardboard.  Whatever.”  She sighed.  “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

“DID SOMEONE CALL UPON THE FRIGHTENING AND FRIGHTFUL BOX GHOST, MASTER OF RECTANGULAR CARDBOARD PACKAGES?”

Jazz shrieked and almost fell off the island.  

The Box Ghost blinked down at her.  “Beware?” he said.

“Hi,” said Jazz.  “A gift?”  She held up the box.  

“THE CARDBOARD IS MINE!”  He leaped on the box and held it to his chest like a baby.  “What do you want from the HORRIFYING BOX GHOST?”

“So, uh, I know you have a deal with my brother?”

“WHOMST?”

“My brother,” repeated Jazz.  “Danny.  Phantom?”

The Box Ghost stared at her blankly.  

“To get humans back to Amity Park?”

“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT KNOW THE REALM OF WHICH YOU SPEAK?”

That wasn’t good.  The opposite, really.  If the Box Ghost didn’t recognize Danny’s name…

“What if I am in the past?” Jazz had asked.

“Get back to Earth anyway, and survive.  Find a way to get a message to the present.  Between the Infi-Map and, um, other contacts I have–”

“Time grandpa,” Tucker interjected.  

“I should be able to go get you if I know where and when you are.  But I need to know when and where you are.”

Then, Jazz had asked why he couldn't just pick her up at the exact moment she'd arrived, if he was going to time travel anyway, and that had spurred a migrane-inducing argument about paradoxes.  Jazz had gotten the impression that the real reason was more along the lines of ‘Danny isn’t allowed to have any more paradoxes’ than ‘the universe won't let paradoxes exist.’

Jazz smiled thinly.  “Can you get me to Earth?” she asked.  “Please?  It’ll be worth your while.”

“Worth the while of the GREAT BOX GHOST?”

“Yep.  It might take a while, but you’ll get more of those.”  She nodded towards the box in the ghost’s arms.  “Consider it an investment in future, um, fear.”

“FEAR?”

“Yes.  As in, um, fear me?”

“No, you shall FEAR ME!”

“Exactly,” said Jazz.  “Just like that.  Can you do it?  Or… is it beyond the powers of even the Box Ghost?”

“NOTHING IS BEYOND THE BOX GHOST!  I AM EXTREME IN EVERY WAY!  THE BOX GHOST WILL SHOW THE STRANGE GIRL WITH GIFTS THE WAY TO HIS SECRET PORTAL!”

At least something was going right.  “Thanks,” Jazz said.  “That sounds great.  I really appreciate it.  Where is it?”

“FOLLOW ME!”  The Box Ghost paused.  “AND FEAR ME!”

He flew off, and Jazz struggled to keep up.  Luckily, the Box Ghost was courteous enough to stop for her every once in a while.  The flight seemed to go on forever, but, eventually, they came to a stop in front of a twisting, spluttering portal.  

“Does this really lead to the Earth?” Jazz asked.  

“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT LIE!”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that.  It’s just… is it always so sparky?”

“IT IS UNSTABLE!  ONLY THE BOX GHOST IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO USE IT!”

Which meant that it could spit her out anywhere, at any time.  But at least she’d be on Earth, AKA somewhere she could eat the food and drink the water.  

“It doesn’t come out above an ocean, does it?”

“THERE ARE NO BOXES IN THE OCEAN.  THE BOX GHOST HAS NO USE FOR IT.”

“What about crab pots?” asked Jazz.

“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT INTERFERE WITH THE COUNCILS OF CRABS.”

Jazz… wasn’t going to examine that too closely.  She braced herself and flew into the portal.  The transition this time wasn’t the smooth, blink-and-you’re-in-another-dimension it had been with her parents’ weapon.  It had turbulence, and lots of it.  It was like being in a washing machine.  Or a blender.  A really fast blender.  One that pulsed and shook and sang a song while it was at it.  

It spit her out ten feet above ground.  It wouldn’t have been a problem for a ghost, but for a human…  Well, at least she didn’t break any bones.  Instead, she laid, winded, on the ground.  Tall grass framed her vision on all sides.  The sun was hot overhead.  Which was… less than ideal.  It had been Autumn this morning.  However long from now that was.  

Jazz rubbed her temples.  All she had to do was send a message, satisfy Danny’s no-paradox rule, and then she’d be home.  Until then, she would survive.  She refused to saddle Danny with the guilt associated with her disappearing.  

She got up.  Looked around.  There was a dirt road.  She staggered over to it and flipped a coin to decide whether to go left or right.  Left it was.  

She grew steadier as she walked, but the heat was punishing.  She took off her sweater and was tempted to take her shirt off, too.  She was wearing a sports bra underneath.  It wasn’t like it’d be indecent.  

Unless she’d been dropped into the eighteen hundreds.  Best not to risk it.  

The dirt road became gravel, became poorly-paved asphalt, merged onto another, bigger road… A road with a recognizable name.  Jazz wasn’t that far away from Amity Park.  She could probably even call… home…

“I’m stupid,” she said out loud.  She pulled out her phone.  No service.  Typical.  She kept walking.  And walking.  And walking.  

And then she saw the smoke.  Right where Amity Park should be.  She ran, then.  

She crested the hill, passed the Welcome to Amity Park sign - something was off about it, but she didn’t stop to try and see what it was.  She hit the top of the next hill and stopped.  

That– That wasn’t Amity Park.  At least, it wasn’t her Amity Park.  The buildings were bigger.  Shinier.  Whiter, even.  The logo for the GIW sat proudly on one of the tallest ones.

And so many of them were smashed.  Burning.  Green blurs swirled and fought with white ones.  She sat down.

“And what if I wind up in the future instead?”

“I don't know, hope the rest of us don't cause the apocalypse before you get back?”

There was one more explosion, and then a high-pitched wail, a ghostly wail, threw all of the shapes back and away.  The white ones didn’t come back.  

Jazz… wasn’t sure what to do.  She watched.  She waited.  

And then a familiar shape appeared out of the air in front of her.  It was Danny, but… not.  He was thinner.  Sharper.  There was silver and ice in his hair, and blood and ectoplasm on his face.  “Hi, Jazz,” he said, smiling sheepishly despite the dark gleam in his eyes.  “Well… it isn’t the apocalypse, so…”  He spread his hands to either side, and the GIW building behind him fell over.  “Welcome home?”

#phic phight 2024 #phic phight #danny phantom #fic #jazz fenton

[inkskinned]

one of the things about having an unstable parent is that it can so easily ruin your future. you want to get out, but getting out takes having agency. it takes the resume and the grades and the stellar community service history.

but you have to choose your battles. you know if you sign up for an after-school activity, it'll be okay for a while, so long as the activity is parent-approved and god-fearing. over time, like all things, it will become an argument (i can't keep carting your ass to these things) or a weapon (talk to me like that again, see if you get to go to practice). sometimes, if you love the thing, it's worth it. but you also know better than to love something: that's how they get you. if you ever actually want something, it will always be the center of their attention. they will never stop threatening you with it. telling you of course i'm a good parent, i came to all of those stupid events.

you learn to balance yourself perfectly. you can either have a social life or you can have hobbies. both of these things will be under constant scrutiny. you spend too much time with her, you should be at home with family is equally paired with you're acting like this because you're addicted to what's on that goddamn screen. you cannot ever actually win, so everything falls within a barter system that you calculate before entering: do you want to learn how to drive? if so, you'll need to give up asking for a new laptop, even though yours died. maybe you can work on a computer at the library. of course, that would mean you'd be allowed to go to the library, which would mean something else has to bleed. nothing ever actually comes free.

and that bitter, horrible irony: you could be literally following their orders and it still isn't pretty. they tell you to get a job; they hate that your job keeps you late and gives you access to actual money. they tell you to do better in school; they say no child of mine needs a tutor. they want you to stop being so morose, don't you know there are people who are really suffering - but they revile the idea you might actually need therapy.

you didn't survive that fall the way other people would. you've seen other people scramble and get their way out, however they could. maybe you were made too-soft: the answer didn't come to you easily. it wasn't quick. it was brutal and nasty. some people even asked you why didn't you just work hard and escape during school? and you felt your head spinning. why didn't you? (they control your financial aid. they control your loan status. they love having that kind of thing). maybe in another life you got diagnosed sooner and got the meds you needed to actually focus and got attention from the right teachers who helped you clear hurdles to get up out of here - but for now? here?

the effort of trying. the effort of not-dying. that kind of effort was absolutely agonizing.

#writeblr #btw i got out #even though i felt this way #i was undiagnosed and was in a particularly fucked up situation #(it's complicated lol) #i had no money and no way out #no car no license . i still had a curfew at 22 years old #and still. i got out. #you can get out too. #i wasn't allowed to literally do anything after school we were pretty much only allowed 1 hobby #and STILL i got out. #it wasn't bc i was particularly smart or capable or clever. it's that 1. i got lucky & 2. #i knew there had to be The Rest of The World #and I wanted to at least VAGUELY get to the Rest of the World before i gave up trying #sometimes it's the spite that gets u thru it. that sense - fuck u #FUCK YOU ACTUALLY. #im gonna make my own life u stupid bitch. since u seem so convinced i could never REALLY do it. #whenever ppl are like <3 just cut out ur parents <3 im like <3 have u never been poor lol <3 #<3 i needed them to sign my loans <3 #<3 bestie not every person who is struggling is going to be able to make the grades and hero status to get a free ride. #and guess what baby!! we still deserve to get out and have a good life.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: "So! How DID talking with Carmilla go?"

Vaggie: "Uhh..."

Charlie: (laughs) HA! Yeah- the giant weapons delivery kinda gives me an idea it went preeeetty good, but was it nice? Did you have fun? Did you find out how angels die? Did you two have TEA??"

Vaggie: "It was nice I had fun I know how angels die and no there wasn't any tea."

Charlie: "None? Phooey."

Vaggie: "Did you have any uh, tea in... Cannibal Town?"

Charlie: "None! No finger foods either! They were only a snack for the eyes- you can kiss me and double check, if you want to~"

Vaggie: "Tempting." (chuckles) "And distracting. Let's cover the angel killing stuff first, okay babe?"

Charlie: (sigh) "If we HAVE to..."

Vaggie: "I'll make it quick. You know Carmine's fancy dance slippers?"

Charlie: "Shiny!"

Vaggie: "Made from heavenly steel, turns out."

Charlie: "Oooooh!"

Vaggie: "She used them to kick the head off an Exorcist, last extermination day."

Charlie: "Oh wow. NOT the scenario I was expecting."

Vaggie: "Yeah, she told me about it while kicking me in the face with them-"

Charlie: "SHE WHAT"

Vaggie: "-and even when she explained the whole 'trying to protect her daughters' thing, internally I was still like, dancing someone to death is one of least practical ways of killing-"

Charlie: "She kicked you in the head with her angel killing slippers?!?"

Vaggie: "-long fight scene cut short, she makes it work. But I'm still sticking with my spear for the battle."

Charlie: "VAGGIE!!!"

Vaggie: "I don't care what Carmine or anyone else says. Spears are-"

Charlie: "SHE COULD'VE KILLED YOU!"

Vaggie: "...I know? That's why you asked me to talk with her?"

Charlie: "......."

Charlie: "I think. I'm gonna be sick."

Vaggie: "Aw babe." (brushed back charlie's bangs) "Cannibal Town finger foods finally catching up with you?"

Charlie: "No. Yes. They're not helping but it's more of a 'if my girlfriend had gotten killed, where would the finger of blame be pointed at' kinda thing."

Vaggie: "Sweetie no..."

Charlie: "Sweetie YES. I sent you there."

Vaggie: "And if Carmine had gotten my head, it would've been my fault for being so out of practice and shit at fighting."

Charlie: "UGH."

Vaggie: "Thanks for that, by the way."

Charlie: "What? For WHAT? Saying 'oh hey Vaggie guess what you can die!' and sending you to the Overlord who can kill you????"

Vaggie: "For keeping me out of practice at fighting."

Vaggie: (smooches gf)

Vaggie: "I like kissing you way better, honestly."

Charlie: "... well... well maybe you could still use some practice."

Vaggie: "With the kissing?"

Charlie: "Both. Kissing and fighting. I want you alive at the end of the battle so we can do more smooching afterwards. Okay?"

Vaggie: "Okay."

Charlie: "You'll get better at the fighting again- no more getting hit in the head with heavenly steel?"

Vaggie: "I'll do some more sparring with Carmine. No more heavenly steel headshots."

Charlie: "You promise?"

Vaggie: (smiling) "I promise."

-after the battle-

Charlie: "Mm. Hmm?" (pausing mid kiss) "I think one of your teeth are loose?" (glowering) "Vaggie. Did you get hit."

Vaggie: (groaning) "Table. Head slam. Lute."

Charlie: "Fuck that bitch."

Vaggie: "If you mean fuck her up, then yeah, I tried."

Charlie: "Heheh. I saw her afterwards. I'd say you did pretty good." (kiss again) "Dang it, yep- It's your upper right incisor." (pouts) "Boo. I liked that one a lot."

Vaggie: "If it falls out you can have it."

Charlie: "Really!?"

Vaggie: "If it falls out while we're kissing, please don't swallow it."

Charlie: "I guess we COULD just stop kissing for a sec to actually check on the whole loose tooth situation."

Chaggie: "....."

Vaggie: "Or, you could kiss-"

Charlie: "OR I COULD KISS IT BETTER!!!"

Chaggie: (smooching resumes)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #incorrect quotes #silly nonsense #vaggie has nice little fangs #i think charlie would be very sad if lute knocked one out- even just temporarily #not her gf's cute little fangs...

[nothorses]

Do you think that trans men experience internalized misogyny?

From my initial understanding I believed that internalized misogyny was the misogynistic beliefs you had weaponized against yourself. Although apparently this includes the way you externalize it as well if you’re affected? Though, when people talk about trans men, they just call them misogynistic, as opposed to cis women who tend to be given the benefit of the doubt more and are told they have internalized misogyny.

Now I don’t doubt that trans men experience misogyny, and will continue to be affected by it even if they pass (though I’m sure how can shift). But it always feels as though some people believe trans men’s misogyny is more harmful than other demographics affected?

Tbh, I think "internalized misogyny" is more useful when it's defined in a more narrow and specific way than, like, any misogyny that is expressed by any woman.

This feels like a really solid "defining factor" for me, personally:

(From the Wikipedia page for "Inernalized Oppression")

I like the phrasing here of "against their own best interest" a lot. While it could be argued that any form of oppression is inherently against everyone's best interests, including the so-called "privileged" group-- and I would absolutely agree with that idea-- I think it's fairly easy to understand the difference between oppression that is perpetuated for (perceived) self-gain, vs. oppression that is perpetuated because one earnestly buys into the idea that they are inherently less valuable in some way.

I think this also avoids the tendency to define oppression as "internalized" or not based on the amount of harm caused, or to excuse certain people's bigotry because it also harms them personally.

Internalized misogyny really isn't inherently less harmful when women are the ones perpetuating it, and that framing isn't helping anyone! There are certain situations in which (cis) women have less power to perpetuate misogynistic violence or oppression than (cis) men do, absolutely. But that is a question of power to act in the first place, not the actual impact of those actions.

If anything, I would argue that I personally have suffered far more, and more severe, misogynistic violence at the hands of cis women than I have ever suffered from cis men. It genuinely doesn't matter to me whether those women were acting out of "internalized misogyny" or not.

It can be really helpful to understand the cause of someone's misogyny; why someone is motivated to perpetuate those ideas is going to inform the best approach to changing their beliefs and behavior. But that's a different question than "how harmful is this", or "should we excuse this person's bigotry".

So yes, transmascs can experience internalized misogyny. So much misogyny runs counter to our best interests. The same goes for transfems, and trans folks who don't fit into either category. I'd argue that anyone can experience internalized misogyny; including cis men, because, again, oppression ultimately runs counter to everyone's best interests.

More importantly, though, I think we need to be asking ourselves why we want to know whether someone's misogyny is "internalized" or not. What are we going to do with that information? Is it an excuse for the person perpetuating it, or do we need to answer that question in order to strategize, and push for growth and change?

#transandrophobia #trans #transgender #feminism