#the formatting fucked up when i copy pasted sorry

[touyasdoll]

Day 26 Bonus: Stuckage

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: stuckage kink, reader gets stuck in a window & it has nothing to do with weight or size or whatever and everything to do with Kats being unable to help himself when you find yourself trapped, praise kink, mild degradation, light teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism sorta, daddy kink, nicknames used: princess, baby, & sweetheart, uhh if I missed any lemme know politely pls <3

notes: so..yeah. here’s another Kinktober post. even though it’s August lmao. maybe I’ll finish these by November ajdhdhs I’m sorry. these are all literally sitting in my drafts fully formatted, so I'm not changing them 😂

“Hey, babe?” You call in your sweetest voice to Katsuki, who is not-so-patiently waiting for you to retrieve the set of keys that you were so sure were right here in your bag.

“Yes, baby?” His tone borders on mocking as he stands there with his arms crossed, leaning against the car that he was hoping would’ve been open by now.

“What would you say if—hypothetically—the keys weren’t in my bag aaand I already locked the door on the way outta the house?”

“I would say that’d probably make you look like a pretty big asshole, considering that you swore they were in your bag. Hypothetically,” he adds with a shrug. 

“Yeah..s’pose it would, huh?” You frown and stick your bottom lip out in a pout to answer the heavy sigh that falls from your lover’s lips. 

“You’re not allowed to be in charge of the keys anymore,” he grumbles while strolling back over towards the door to lift up the plant where your spare key should be, but it isn’t there. 

“We, uh..took that in to make an extra copy to give to your parents,” you gently remind him, physically feeling the frustration radiating off of Katsuki. 

He closes his eyes and splays his hand over his face to pinch his temples, dragging his digits together as he rubs them over his eyes. 

“And both of those keys are still sitting on my fuckin’ desk where I left ‘em.” He heaves a sigh and looks at you, shrugging against as his hands settle on his hips. “Whaddya wanna do? Should we call a locksmith?”

“Is this all it takes to put you in full blown dad mode?” You giggle, unable to help yourself as you take in his stance and all too serious demeanor, not that your boyfriend was much of the carefree type anyway. He narrows his eyes, rolling them while his mouth moves in a mocking gesture. 

“It’s daddy to you, princess,” he teases, not-so-lightly swatting your behind and making you yelp as he strolls past you and starts walking around to the side of the house. 

“Hey, wait! Where ya goin’?” You call after him as you scurry along. 

“M’gonna check the back door. Maybe we left it open,” he explains with a shrug. It was doubtful, but worth a shot. 

“Fuck,” he curses, trying the obviously locked back door one more time like it might make a difference. It doesn’t. He tousles his hair and goes to head back to the front of the house. “Locksmith it is, I guess.”

“Wait!” You bounce a little on your feet and he turns around to hear your bright idea. “What about a window? I bet the one in the kitchen is still unlocked. I can climb through it.”

“That could work.” He nods and pivots to head further into the backyard, making his way over to the aforementioned window with you on his heels. 

He grabs the bottom and lifts up and, much to his relief, you were right about it being unlocked. He pushes the window up plenty high enough for you to crawl through and onto the counter that sits below it inside. 

“Alright, c’mere, baby.” He curls his fingers, gesturing for you to come closer before he bends his knee and taps the outside of his thigh. “Grab the sill and step on my leg. I’ll help boost you up.”

You nod and step in front of the window, placing both hands on the windowsill and putting your foot up on his knee to help propel yourself up and through the window. Everything’s going according to plan. Until you lose your footing on his leg trying to give yourself enough of a push to crawl through. That awful feeling of falling washes over you for half a second before his strong hands find your hips, keeping you from falling backwards onto your ass when your feet touch the ground again. 

“Motherfucker,” you sigh, closing your eyes as you take a moment and a breath to collect yourself. “Okay, let—ahh!” 

You’re cut off by the sound of the window closing. Again, thanks to his heroic reflexes and reaction time, you’re spared from injury as he catches the window before it hits you. You breathe a massive sigh of relief, practically wilting in the window, which now you can no longer simply slip back out of. 

“Babe, can you lift it back up, please?” 

“I’m trying,” he mutters. 

“What?”

“I said I’m trying,” he repeats, sounding frustrated, though you know it isn’t aimed at you. It’s aimed at the window that suddenly won’t budge an inch. “Damn thing’s fuckin’ jammed,” he gripes, heaving a sigh before his hands are on you, soothingly rubbing your back. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reassure him. “I’m fine I just,” you sigh. “Don’t know what to do now. Who the hell do we call for this? I’m not letting the fire department find me this way,” you state as you shake your head and briefly imagine what an interesting interaction that might make for. 

“I’m not either,” he scoffs, his eyes being drawn to your backside, which he had to admit looked especially great with you in this position. 

“Try opening it again. Maybe you loosened it,” you suggest, turning your head to try and look over your shoulder at him, but the angle is rather awkward with how you’re trapped. 

He tilts his head thoughtfully. It couldn’t hurt to try, but it certainly felt pretty well stuck. He leans over you and places his hands beneath the window again, trying in vain to lift it while his crotch presses right up against your backside.

“Are you really getting hard right now?” You can’t help but giggle, wiggling your ass against the bulge that you can feel growing in his pants. 

“You’re bent over in front of me,” he mutters, grunting as he attempts again to shove the window upwards. “And looking pretty vulnerable, I might point out,” he adds with a smirk as he relents his attempts and instead runs his hands along your sides. “How the fuck am I not s’posed to be hard right now?”

His hands seize your hips, bringing you flush against him while he grinds his hips forward, You close your eyes and let out a quiet groan, feeling a pulse between your thighs.

“You wouldn’t take advantage of me in a position like this, would you?” You ask in a sultry tone, no doubt implying that you sincerely hoped that he just might. 

“I wouldn’t say that, princess. You know how much I like seizing opportunities and this one seems too good to pass up.”

“Katsuki,” you whine his name, knowing full well that it makes all the blood in his body redirect to his dick. 

“Fuck, baby,” he gruffs, already feeling his breathing shallow from the pure sense of need that you can still feel pressing into your backside. “You want it that bad, huh? Want me to take you just like this, where any of our nosy fuckin’ neighbors could peek over and see me drillin’ ya?”

“Yes, baby. Don’t just want it. I need it, daddy. Please,” you insist, writhing as much as you can in your compromised position. 

“Shit,” he huffs the curse as he bunches your dress up over your hips, only pulling his hips away from your to appreciate the view. 

He hooks a finger underneath the waistband of your panties and tugs, letting it snap back against your skin while his other palm takes a greedy handful of your ass. 

“Still can’t fuckin’ believe someone as hot as you puts up with me,” he snorts, delivering a swift smack to your cheek before he soothes the ache with his palm. 

“I could say the same,” you reply, shaking your ass and grinning when you hear him groan at the sight, but you’re growing impatient, so you poke at him a little. “Have you even got your dick out yet? I want you so bad, baby..”

“Patience, princess. M’gonna take care of ya. Lemme just look at’cha for a second, yeah?” Both of his hands grope your behind before he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulls them aside. “Wanna appreciate all this before I ruin ya.”

His thumb parts your folds and you shiver, juices gushing onto his digit as he snickers. 

“That worked up already, huh? Guess ya really do need me.”

You don’t need to see him to know he’s wearing his signature smug grin. His thumb finds your clit and he begins drawing it in slow circles, making you clutch to the wall inside the house. 

“I do, I do. Please, daddy,” you whine, rocking your hips to chase the friction he offers you. 

It’s gone a second later, but you hear the jingle of his belt coming undone and clench in anticipation while he frees his leaking cock. 

“All this beggin’ sounds real good, baby. Gimme a little more and then you can have this,” he promises, letting you feel his rock hard erection as the head teases through your lips. 

“Please,” you blurt the plea out, instantly complying in order to get what you need. What you crave. “I’ll do anything, baby. Want you inside me. Need you to fuck me. Want you to ruin me, daddy. Take this pussy. S’all yours. Always all yours.”

“Such an overachiever. S’what I love about you, princess,” he chuckles, giving you no notice before he lines up and bottoms out in a single thrust, stuffing you full with his impressive length. 

“Fuck!” 

You claw at the drywall beneath your fingers, pressing your hands to the surface to hang on as he begins to thrust, showing little mercy to your drooling cunt. 

“Goddamn you feel good. You’re really into this, aren’tcha? Like being stuck and lettin’ me use your pussy like I wanna?”

“Y-yeah. Oh fuck, yeah, daddy. U-use me. Oh my God, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

You’re babbling now, too far gone already with the way his cock moves inside you, deliciously dragging along your walls as the tip finds that special, velvety spot inside you and starts knocking into it over and over and over again. 

“M’not gonna stop, sweetheart. Not ‘til you’re creamin’ on my cock. You ain’t gonna last long, are ya? Fuckin’ squeezing me so tight already. Shit.”

“Mm-mm. N-no. Feels too—haa—s’too good, baby.”

And he’s right, of course. That white hot heat burns in your belly, searing you from the inside out as it builds and spreads, spiraling out of control as he continues to snap his hips, offering you no mercy now as you rocket towards your orgasm. 

It hits you like a freight train, making you scream as you slump over the sill of the window, simply trying to hang onto the structure as your cries echo around the empty kitchen. You don’t even notice the way that the window seems heavier on your spine now. 

“Good girl,” he grunts, breathing labored from his efforts as he keeps it up, sprinting towards his own undoing. “So fuckin’ good. Pussy’s too fuckin’ good, baby.”

He doesn’t even falter when he finds his release. If anything, he moves faster, willfully pummeling your poor, abused cunt as he fills you to the brim until the mixture of your essences begin to seep out as your own name falls from his lips, ringing in your ears through the haze you find yourself floating through. He looks down, entranced by the vision of his cum being pulled from and pushed inside of your again and again.

“Fuck,” he pants, sweat dripping from his brow and landing on your exposed lower back. He watches the bead trail along your heated skin to mingle with the rest of the fluids joined between your bodies. 

A whimper is all that you can manage as he withdraws himself and leans over you, a decisively more gentle touch skimming along your sides before he begins rubbing your back and feathering kisses along your spine. 

“You okay, baby?” His tone is as soft as his touch as he restores your modesty, dipping down to return your panties to their rightful place before he reaches for the hem your dress and pulls it back down. 

“Mhm,’ you hum, blissfully content as you continue coming down from your soaring high. 

“Good.” He continues rubbing your back, working up to your shoulders when his hand nudges the window and he realizes that it’s finally budged. “Well, shit,” he chuckles, reaching over you to lift the window up, freeing you from your entrapment. 

“Hmm?” You feel the pressure lift off of your back and step back from the window, shaking your head as a smile graces your features. “Well, I guess that works out.”

“Think you still have the strength to crawl through?” He grins, a little smug and a lot handsome as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he rubs your arm. 

“Gimme a minute.” You laugh quietly, closing your eyes as you wind your arms around his and rest your head upon his broad chest, nuzzling into the fabric of his shirt to inhale his cologne. 

“Take all the time you need, princess. I’m good right here,” he murmurs into your hair as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

likes, comments, & reblogs especially are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #katsuki x reader #katsuki smut #tw stuckage #tw daddy kink #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers - pt 2

Gif not mine

A/N: Not sure about the formatting, copy and paste didn't quite work out as planned. Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Master list here

You miss your stop.

Not only do you miss your stop, but you end up all the way at the bus depot before the driver notices you passed out in one of the seats. The driver, a kindly older gentleman, offers to give you a lift home since it is the end of his shift anyway. He takes pity on you, perhaps due to your tired and sad appearance. Interestingly, no one seems to notice the red wisps behind his eyes.

You appreciate his kindness, but you are anxious about returning home. A quick look at your phone reveals that it is well past 6 PM and you have missed multiple calls and texts from both of your parents. This is not going to end well. In simple terms, you are fucked. Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to notice your restlessness as your leg bounces nervously as he gets closer to your home.

As you exit the vehicle, you politely thank him and offer to pay for the gas, but the man refuses. His accent changes slightly as he says, "anything to help." You shrug it off, as it is not your concern where people are from. Your focus is on more pressing matters. After closing the door, you square your shoulders and mentally prepare for the absolute shit show awaiting you as soon as you step through the front door.

It shouldn’t surprise you that your father’s booming voice is the first to be heard. “Where were you?”

You start with the truth. “Dad I’m sorry, I was on the bus after my exam, I fell asleep with my headphones-”

”I don’t want your excuses! While you live here under our roof, you will show us some respect, you will follow our rules! You had chores to do today, why didn’t you do them?”

A bead of sweat trails down the back of your neck. You hate being interrupted, and you hate being asked questions when they clearly don’t want the answers. Besides, you are in your twenties, not a child. “As I was saying, I-”

This time your mother interrupts. “Don’t speak to your father like that. He asked you a question, we expect you to answer it!.”

You grit your teeth. “I fell asleep on the bus, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Always with the excuses this one.” Your father laments. “Do you think your future employer is going to care about any of that? No. He’s just going to want to know why you weren’t there.”

It takes every ounce of your sanity to not snap that your answer is the reason WHY you weren’t there, and not simply an excuse. Instead you hold your tongue. They aren’t here to listen, they don’t care. They just want to yell at you, and for you to be sorry.

“I tell you, with behavior like that it’s any wonder at all you’d even be able to keep a job. They would probably fire you on the spot, and then you would be right back on our doorstep, our problem once again to pick up the pieces.”

It’s all hypothetical of course - you’ve never been late to any of your classes, but you have not yet had a job, you weren’t allowed to. You are sure you wouldn’t be late to it though if you were to treat it like your classes. You know you can’t tell your parents this however. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with.

“Yes Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Saying sorry simply doesn't cut it! Sorry doesn’t fix the problem that you caused, so tell me, how are you going to make the problem right?” he demands. A vein throbs in his forehead. Absently you think about how he knows he should watch his blood pressure, but that would require him to watch his temper. Y/D/N could never.

You know what he is looking for, he wants you to do your chores now, but it’s after 8PM and your exam is at 8AM. If you do your chores now, that leaves you little time for last minute studying, eating, bathing, sleeping, and then catching the bus back to the university. Helplessly, you look to your mother for help.

“Don’t look at me, this is your mess you’ve created. If you had just done what you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you had just been good, you could be doing whatever it is you do with your free time right now.”

It had always annoyed you greatly that your parents were unaware of your academic achievements. While it's true that you didn't have the best grades as a child, once you entered university and chose a major, you became a straight-A student, even going so far as to make the President’s list the last three years in a row. However, in their eyes, you would always be the little underachiever they had to take care of.

Tears well up in your eyes. This situation wasn't fair. It was an accident. You had fully intended to come home and do your chores, but you couldn’t have known you would sleep through your alarm on the bus. You had been so incredibly exhausted that you experienced a vivid nightmare whilst awake. You were aware that you needed more sleep, but your degree was your only way out of this miserable place. You couldn't risk losing it all just because you missed a few hours of sleep now and then.

“Please?” You beg. You didn’t have anything else to argue in your defense. “I’ll leave my headphones in my bag this time, I’ll set multiple alarms, I won’t sleep, just please let me go study!”

Your parents look at each other, having silent communication. Seeming to come to an agreement, your mother speaks first. “Y/N we’re sorry it has to be this way, but you have already proven on multiple occasions that we can’t trust you to do the right thing. Tonight, you are going to do your chores even if it takes you all night to do it. Besides, we all know you’re not studying up there. For all we know you’re just up there masturbating in the window or something.”

Being stabbed in the chest would have been less painful. You don't understand why you're caught off guard; it's not like your mother hasn't said off the wall shit like this in the past. It's almost as if she thrives on finding the most hurtful and outrageous statements to throw in your face, as if you deserved them. As if you had ever done any of the things she accused you of. Like you were some sort of deviant, when all you wanted was simply the right to exist.

“What the actual fuck, Mom?!” you scream, having finally had enough. Both of your parents look taken aback. Rare is it for you to raise your voice at them, even more so to curse at them. “I know you’ve been pretty checked out of my life for a while now, but I’ve had a 4.0 GPA for the last three years. I don’t know where you got that… comment… from, but I can assure you that all I want to do is go to my room and study.”

“Now listen here young lady,” begins your father.

"No, YOU listen, Father," your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were right about one thing, and that is I am a gods damned adult. I take my studies seriously, and while it may come as a surprise to you since neither of you have paid any actual attention to my life since I turned 18, though it could be argued you really stopped paying attention earlier except for when I was being an inconvenience, but I am actually a great student. This is my last semester before graduating with honors and again, a 4.0 GPA, and I will have my choice of job opportunities. I will leave this place, and you miserable old bats will have no one to be your punching bag anymore. Then maybe just maybe you can finally take a look at the flaws and fix what's wrong with your own marriage, instead of trying to break ME!”

Your chest heaved. It felt good to speak your truth, but as the silence grew, you began to realize that you might have made a mistake.

Your father has finally gotten out of his chair, looming over you. A resounding slap echoes across the room as your father backhanded you, knocking you to the floor. “You ungrateful, miserable little bitch! I don’t know what lies those ‘professors’ at the university have been filling your head with, but you have no future, and you are lucky your mother and I care enough to let you live under our roof! And so long as you do, you will obey our rules, and show us the respect we deserve!”

Fearful, you scramble back to the wall and attempt to push yourself to your feet. “If that’s the price of living here, then I will happily live in the University’s library. One week, that’s all I need!” You step forward to make your escape from this house, but this time your mother shoves you, and once again you find yourself on your knees.

You raise your hands in self-defense, but your mother sneers, "Do it, Y/N, hit me, and you'll be out on your ass faster than you can blink!" Crying, you lower your hands and prepare to allow her to strike you.

The lights went out all at once, and everyone froze. Has the power gone out? It couldn’t have, you could still hear the hum of the AC unit. So what was wrong with the lights?

The lights turn back on as suddenly as they had gone out, and all three of you look around in confusion. However, despite the lights returning, the room appears darker, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The shadows cast a looming presence over all of you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your home, which you have lived in for around twenty ish years, suddenly feels foreboding, and you wonder if it's too late to flee. It almost resembles one of the nightmares you have been experiencing recently.

Red mist fills the room, a dreadfully sinister voice speaks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

All three of you turn to the source of the sound - the corner of the room, as a red and black leather-clad boot, attached to black leather pants, steps through a portal and into the room. The Scarlet Witch follows, radiating her full glory. She warns, "If you wish to keep your body parts intact, you will never lay a finger on Y/N ever again."

You’re pretty sure your eyebrows have never been closer to meeting your hairline before and yet here we are. You don’t know who this unfamiliar lady is, nor how she seems to know you but God damned if that outfit doesn’t look as if it has been painted onto her. You blush at your sinful thoughts. Now is not the time, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a stroke of some sort. If nothing else, however, you are grateful for the reprieve from your beating.

Meanwhile, your parents had never taken well to being told what to do, by anyone, they certainly weren’t going to now by this costumed stranger. Your mother bristles. “Who is this Y/N? Another one of your little whores?” Completely disregarding the fact that you have never in fact had a partner in your entire life, and you don’t know whether to be pleased that she seems to think you’re capable of having a sex life or affronted that she thinks you’re some type of floozy. Your mother’s words, not yours.

“What? No, I-” You look helplessly from the floor between your parents and this woman you now recognize as the one from your visions, and the same one from your hallucination this morning. Is she here to help, or to hurt you? She has been your savior and aggressor in both; there’s no telling which she has chosen for now. Glancing between them, you are unsure how to de-escalate this situation. There is no way to convince your parents, for their own safety, that this woman is powerful and not to be trifled with. Nothing you could say, they would believe, and you were pretty sure this woman would kill your parents without a second thought if they didn’t tread carefully.

Seeming to sense your struggle, the woman speaks up in your stead. “As I’ve said, you would do well to keep your hands to yourself. I am here to take Y/N with me, and you will not stand in my way. This is your only warning, which I am giving to you out of consideration for Y/N.”

She reaches down for your hand to help you back up. Hesitantly, you take it, ignoring the shock that runs throughout your body, and begin questioning your entire reality. Take you with her? Who even is she? Where exactly is she going to be taking you? You had questions, and you would like some answers, but if you didn’t get your parents to stand down, you were pretty sure she would follow through on her threat. Sure, your parents were trash, but they were all you had. You loved them, and you were certain that, in their own warped way, they loved you, too.

She helps you up and proceeds to give you a thorough once-over, carefully inspecting your injuries. Her intense scrutiny makes you blush. Meanwhile, your parents remain silent, their thinly veiled anger evident as they observe your interaction. How dare this woman speak to them in such a manner? Thankfully, they wisely choose to keep quiet. Perhaps they also sense the dangerous aura emanating from this woman, perceiving her as a true threat. Then again, it could be due to the fact that she just stepped through a literal portal conjured out of thin air moments ago. Maybe they had been paying attention, but even you are unsure of what is real anymore.

Still holding your hand, the Scarlet Witch leads you back towards the portal she arrived through. "Come, Y/N, we have much to discuss." At this point, all you could do was helplessly trail after, hoping you weren't going from bad to worse. At least by leaving, your parents would be out of danger. As for yourself, well... It was clear that the Scarlet Witch wanted something from you. Hopefully, whatever that was would be sufficient to ensure your survival. Perhaps even enough to negotiate with.

At the last possible moment, your mother chooses, whether out of genuine love and concern for your well-being, or fear at the loss of her control over you, to reach out to take you from this bizarre woman. “Mother, no!”

Y/M/N finds herself promptly flung onto the wall behind her, and stuck there, unable to move. You aren’t sure who exactly screamed but you’re pretty sure it was every member of your family. The Scarlet Witch hadn’t even turned to look, the only indication she had even been involved is the raised hand, opposite the one holding yours, with dark, ink-stained fingertips, bent at slightly odd angles.

“Stop, please! Let her go, she won’t do it again, please! I'm sorry, please!”

Unsure of why you are begging for this woman’s life when she has spent the entirety of yours making sure you were miserable. Still, your heart lurched at the thought of anything happening to your mother. You didn’t like her, and if you never saw her again, that was probably for the best, but you certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

The Witch took a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself, before turning to face you.

In the softest voice you had ever heard she whispers “Detka, I-.” She opens and closes her mouth a few times, deciding what to say. To your absolute mortification and delight, she leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, and promises “I will let them live, but I must say my piece.”

You nod, completely dumbstruck at everything happening in this moment. What. The. Fuck.

Y/M/N, still pinned to the wall, whimpers and struggles to move but is clearly unable to. The Scarlet Witch turns from you to face your parents. Another wave of her hand, and your mother slumps to the floor, alarmed, but otherwise unharmed. It is clear whatever the witch did, both she and your father are now restrained.

Footsteps approach the pair, and the lights in the house flickered ominously. Despite your mother being nearly 40 years older than her (or so you assumed, as you had no idea of this woman's age), the power emanating from her exuded confident malevolence. She showed no fear towards them, and for once, although ashamed to admit it, you were glad to see that they were afraid of someone else.

Though she was only about 5'6", the woman knelt before your parents, her voice filled with menacing intent. "I know everything you have ever done, everything you ever could do, and everything you ever will do. I know what you are guilty of. I know what you deserve, and I can assure you that it is not mercy. I will spare your lives and leave you unharmed due to the kindness of your daughter, the daughter you’ve abused for decades." As her head tilts, you can't help but feel that she becomes even more dangerous. "But if you ever try to take her from me again, I will seek retribution on her behalf, and I promise you it will be the most excruciating agony you have ever experienced. Do we understand each other?"

You squirm uncomfortably. This should not be doing things to you, but then again, no one had ever stood up for you. Ever. Gods you needed therapy. It’s fine. Little boxes, and this was for a little box for later.

The witch stood up and once again took your hand, leading you through the portal and leaving your parents behind. Perhaps for good, you weren’t entirely sure, and you suddenly realized you didn’t care. Anywhere was better than here; even if this woman was dangerous, at least for the moment, she seemed to care about you, and that was enough for you to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Again, therapy…

The pair arrive at a massive stone temple, which you would later learn is called Mount Wundagore, the Scarlet Witch's temple. It is built into a massive, rugged mountain with steep cliffs, situated above dense forests and enveloped in mist. The mountain exudes an air of mystique and possesses an eerie atmosphere. Scattered across its walls are depictions of the woman in front of you, accompanied by various runes whose significance you suppose hint at a potentially supernatural importance.

The Scarlet Witch does not make much of an effort for introductions, nor explanations, simply heads towards the entrance to her temple.

“What is this place?” you ask, hints of awe and fear in your voice

“Our home.” 

Your brain stutters. “I’m sorry, what now?” 

“Detka, do not pretend you did not hear me, I don’t enjoy repeating myself. This is our home.” Her accent sounds vaguely Eastern European, and becomes more pronounced the more irritated she is. You wonder when she started trying to hide it.

Your mind balks at the idea of this being your new home, it couldn’t be less foreboding. “Uhhh… this.. is a giant stone temple in BFE nowhere, with ice, snow, and-”

Movement startles you out of your reverie. Beings made entirely out of stone shift from foot to foot, as if adjusting their stance. Their eyes have the same red glow as the woman who leads you now.  

 “Are those rock trolls??” The stone guardians loom threatening, but make no move to engage, they await their Queen’s orders. “Right. Rock trolls. Why is this our home? WHERE is our home? And,” you spin, taking the aesthetic of the temple in, trying not to have an anxiety attack. “What do you mean -our- home? Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

You can’t tell if the faint twitch of the other woman’s lips is in amusement or annoyance at your ramblings, but in your defense, she had let you speak uninterrupted. You were known for getting entire paragraphs out if left unsupervised - it was a talent and a curse. Personally you felt she should be grateful you weren’t jumping down her throat, you didn’t know anyone else who would be taking this half as calmly as you were. Then again, you were still waiting on your Hogwarts acceptance letter at 25. 

“My name is..” she hesitated. “Wanda. I am.. I was an Avenger.”

You looked on blankly, hoping she would elaborate. The fuck was an “Avenger”?

"In my universe," (you filed away the fact that she implied the existence of a multiverse for later, as it was a problem for another time) "the Avengers are superheroes. Well, that's what we called ourselves - Earth's Mightiest Heroes. A bit arrogant, if you ask me. We dealt with threats that the military and ordinary people couldn't handle. We were the last line of defense. We saved the world countless times, but at a great cost of lives. We were vain, thinking we were above it all because we believed we were acting for the greater good. But try explaining that to those who were lost as collateral damage.

I digress. We.. were considered to be heroes. There were several of us, we were a team. A family. We lived together, fought together. Died together. Until we didn’t.”

Wanda explains the dynamics of the Avengers team, including how she and her brother Pietro joined. She mentions Pietro's death in the battle against Ultron, as well as the events leading up to and the battle against Thanos. She also covers the events of the “Blip”, and what happened afterward. However, she conveniently chooses to omit the events of Westview, as she didn't want you to know about that just yet.

“That’s.. wow. Wanda, that's a lot. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen your powers myself, I wouldn’t believe you. But all of that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. You mentioned your universe as being so fantastical, why would you come here? And what do you want with me? If you’re a hero, why are you here in what totally looks like a villain’s lair and not with your other superhero buddies?” You neglect to mention the unease creeping up your spine.

This is fine. Everything is fine. Right? Right. 

A look of utter despair crosses the witches face as she locks eyes with you before glancing away.

“I mentioned my team before, but I didn’t mention you.”

“…” You slow blink. This was not how you thought your day was going to go, and honestly, you were already getting a bit of a headache. Could she be less cryptic because that would be great. More details, fewer questions. Maybe another nap.

"Y/N, where I am from, you were also an Avenger. You had joined the team before Pietro and I, and were one of the few who made us feel welcome. Despite the fact that we had previously been enemies, you didn't treat us as ticking time bombs. Instead, you welcomed us with open arms. Your go-to tactics were kindness and understanding, which made it hard not to want to get to know you. When Pietro died, you were the only one who checked on me and cared. You taught me that grief is just love persevering. You became my closest friend, and over time, I couldn't help when those feelings began growing into something more.”

You swallow uncomfortably. It sounds like Wanda is telling you that in this other universe you both were an item. It’s not that you wouldn’t be honored to be with such an attractive woman, but it feels weird knowing that that was a different version of you. Someone with superpowers, someone likely more confident by the sounds of it. This feels almost as if you are intruding on something you shouldn’t, yet Wanda is the one telling you this; if it weren’t okay for you to know, she surely wouldn’t be sharing. You don’t really know what to make of this; if she has feelings for this other you, why is she here with this version of you?

“In the battle against Thanos, we learned that the source of your powers was an infinity stone embedded in your skull courtesy of H.Y.D.R.A. experiments, which altered your genetic DNA. Thanos had also learned you possessed this Mind Stone and sought to take it from you by force.”

Anguish on her features, the witch turns to you. “You were going to die, Y/N. We tried, I tried, so hard to protect you, to keep you away from him but at every turn he found you. If he had gotten the Mind Stone, he would have been able to enact his plan to rid the universe of half of all life. You told me.” She hiccups.

“Y-you told me it was okay, that you forgive me. That I needed to.. that I needed to destroy the stone to save the universe. I didn’t want to. I would have given anything else but that. But you held my hand and told me you forgave me, that you only felt me. Then Thanos came, and we were out of time. I was the only one with the power to do it because its magic was so similar to my own. I placed my hand to your head and I-.” She is unable to continue, breaking off into sobs.

Oh. So she had to sacrifice you to save the universe. Well. You agree with the alternate you, you didn’t blame her, and you would definitely forgive her. Awkwardly you try to find some way to comfort her. While obviously you were not the same person she had loved and lost, and you knew from your own experiences with loss that sometimes words just couldn’t cut it. Instead, you shuffle forward, making sure you were heard in case she wanted to refuse you, and pullher  in for a hug.

Wanda tenses in your embrace, as if she can’t decide if she wants to sink into it or send you flying. “The worst part,” she continues, “was that it meant nothing.”

If you were a dog your head tilt might have been cute.

“In the end, Thanos was still able to get the Mind Stone, and you were still dead, by MY hand, and it all meant NOTHING!” Wanda wrenches herself from your grasp, looking positively unhinged. You probably should have been scared. You weren’t. Her wrath did… things… to you. Therapy…

“All because Strange saw supposedly every possible future and CHOSE to let you die to save everyone else. As if there was no other possible outcome!”

Oh, that... that makes more sense. The other you was still dead, and Wanda was definitely suffering from PTSD from her involvement in it. Her little stunt with your parents was probably her way of trying to save you or bring you back to life. But in your universe, there weren't any superheroes, magic, or Thanos to protect you from (that you were aware of at any rate). So what was Wanda doing? This wouldn't bring her version of you back to life. You may have looked and sounded alike, and you might have made similar decisions, but you simply weren't the same person. The lack of the same life experiences meant that you had different personalities, despite having a similar genetic build.

“So we saved the world, and I left to live in exile. After the funeral, Clint handed me your belongings, and in them was a letter. A deed to a plot of land you had purchased in our names where we were going to build a house. I think it was supposed to be a surprise after we defeated Thanos. We had never lost before, not since Pietro - I don’t think it occurred to us that we could. So I drove out to see and.. Y/N I was still so new to my powers. They were still mostly subconscious. I was grieving and... it would be easier if I show you. May I?”

“May you.. what?”

A subtle smile appears on the witches' face at your ignorance. You are tempted to mention how beautiful she looks with that smile. Shaking off the thought, you ponder if she can read your mind, as her smile becomes knowing and a slight blush colors her cheeks. Ink-stained fingers reach towards your temple, but she hesitates, waiting for your consent, and your heart fills with warmth. You nod once, despite not really understanding.

Her charcoal-colored fingers, cold to the touch, make contact with your temple. Just as you're about to complain about the lack of warning, you're abruptly transported into a completely different world, surpassing the immersive experience of any 3D movie you've ever seen. You not only hear and see everything in every direction, but you can also feel and smell it all. It feels as if you are truly present in that moment. It takes a few minutes for you to realize that you are witnessing someone else's memories, to be precise, Wanda's memories.

She starts her memory with the unexploded bomb created by Tony Stark, which sat in the middle of the rubble of the Maximoff residence. In that chaotic scene, there were two children, the twins, hiding in fear under a bed. However, before you could offer any comfort, the scene shifted. The twins had been taken to HYDRA, where they were subjected to brutal experiments. Witnessing their suffering broke your heart, and despite your best efforts, you were unable to interact with your surroundings, although you desperately tried. Repeatedly you threw yourself against the walls of the cells in which the twins were held, hoping to free them from their hellish situation. You observed the twins' powers first emergence: Pietro's as he attempted to reach his sister's side, and Wanda's as she tried to defend Pietro from the scientists.

Scene after scene, each one as traumatic, if not more so, than the last, depicting all the events from Ultron and beyond. And then there's you. Except, it's not really you. You've certainly never possessed the power of teleportation, nor have you ever been so self-assured. This must be Wanda's universe's version of you. With bright eyes and a warm demeanor, you appear as a beacon of light in Wanda's otherwise bleak life. You observe as the version of you in this universe warmly welcomes the twins to the team, a stark contrast as to how the rest of the team treats the newcomers ranging from suspicious to openly hostile.

It’s surreal, watching yourself from outside your own body, knowing this version isn’t really you, but still no less real of a person. Wanda’s memories begin focusing less on missions and more on interpersonal relationships. Specifically, the one developing between yourself and Wanda. It’s intimate and you feel like an intruder watching this unfold. Sadly, as you grow closer, Wanda loses the only other connection she has - Pietro is hit by stray bullets while saving children. A true hero, and there was nothing anyone on the team could do to prevent it. You watch in horror both for the loss of Pietro as a friend, as well as knowing the absolute devastation this will cause your beloved Witch.

You can tell at this point that that’s what she was to you. It hasn't been long, but that bond has clearly already been sealed; you can see the signs in both your alternate self and Wanda. You would have to be blind not to. The loss of her brother does terrible things to Wanda and it’s all your other self can do to try to keep her afloat. “What is grief but love persevering?”

The scene shifts again. Time has clearly passed, and Wanda appears to have healed to some extent. She and the team have become much more cohesive, which delights both versions of you. Your relationship has definitely progressed, if the blush currently gracing your face, extending to your ears, is any indication. You feel the remnants of the emotions from your alternate self. They are not yours, but neither are they entirely unfamiliar. It makes for a disconcerting sensation to say the least. You don’t know Wanda like that, even though this version of you does. You wish you could view these memories dispassionately, free from your alternate self’s emotions that are bleeding through, but you suspect that’s not possible. Once again you try to reassure yourself that you are not the same person, no matter the genetic makeup.

Jarring you from your reverie, next you find yourself in another battle, and this one is massive. There are more superheroes here than you have ever seen before, either in Wanda's memories or in films. This must be the fight against Thanos she had told you about. Dread settles in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you contemplate what it will be like to witness your own death.

Traumatizing, for sure, though not for the reasons you had expected. While you are unable to interact with your environment, you are able to freely move about. Instead of looking at the memory entirely from Wanda’s perspective, you move to stand beside yourself. Wanda stands before you, ethereal, magnificent, yet utterly devastated. She knows what she has to do and pleads with you not to make her. It is unjust for a woman so powerful to suffer such loss, and still you implore her to sacrifice your life, her happiness, for the sake of the rest of the universe. It is unfair. It is cruel. You know it, but you ask anyway.

She never could tell you “no.”

You know the moment this universe's version of you had died when you witness the sheer devastation on Wanda's face. Most people would probably look away, but you couldn't. For some unknown reason, you feel compelled to witness this moment in all its horrifying detail, if only to gain a true understanding of the witch and the immense pain she has endured. There were surely few things more intimate than allowing someone to share their own memories, and here Wanda was, granting you unrestricted access to hers. The least you could do was accept this gift she was offering, no matter how painful it might be.

The images that follow blur together, evoking your personal experiences with grief and a sense of detachment from the world. The funeral is somber, one and all everyone dressed in black and grey. Wanda is present only in body, and you can’t blame her. Clint, the archer, hands her your belongings, including the letter she had mentioned. It unnerves you how detached Wanda appears to be at this moment, despite being surrounded by friends and colleagues. You worry about what lies ahead for her. So much loss in such a short time, it didn’t take a psychiatrist to know this would surely take a toll on her. You prayed that her friends came to check on her, but you had a feeling either they didn’t, or in her grief, she refused them entry.

Colors blend into one another and fade out. You find yourself standing on a plot of land in a town called Eastview, crouching next to Wanda as she collapses to her knees. Her body is wracked with anguished sobs as she finally allows herself to grieve. You wish you could interact with this memory, to hold her and alleviate some of her pain, even if only for a moment. Instead, you sit with her, sharing in her pain as she releases it all into the world. Wanda allows herself to experience her grief in its entirety, no longer burying her feelings beneath a veneer of numbness. Colors leech from the world around her, turning it greyscale. You're pretty certain that even at their strongest, the average person's manifestation of grief isn't supposed to do that, but then again, the average person isn't the Scarlet Witch. Briefly, you wonder what consequences this will have on her world. Your head feels fuzzy, and as your vision fades to black, you suppose you are about to find out.

You regain consciousness and find yourself in a world entirely devoid of color. Disoriented, you blink as the details of your surroundings slowly come into focus. In front of you stands... well... yourself. Or rather, an alternate version of you who appears to be from the 1950s, slightly older but still alive. Seated beside 1950’s you is Wanda, also monochrome and dressed in 1950s attire. Blearily, you rub your eyes. It has been a long day, and you are extremely tired, unsure if this is just an incredibly vivid hallucination or if you have actually passed out somewhere.

Alternate you asks Wanda a question, to which you aren’t listening, and she replies with a quip - you still aren’t listening, wondering where you are and why everything is in greyscale. What catches you off-guard though, is the surround sound laugh track that‘s garnered in response. It’s galling to admit but you jump, startled, and look around. There’s no one else in the house besides yourself, the alternate version of you, and Wanda. Where did that come from?

Alternate you replies to Wanda, and again with the laugh track. This time you are not as startled, but no less unsettled. What fresh hell is this? Could this be Wanda’s doing? It doesn’t seem like you can ask her though, as you’re just a passive observer in this strange situation. The last thing you remember, Wanda was grieving in Eastview at the plot of land which alternate you had purchased to start your life together after retiring from being superheroes. Strange grey wiggly woos (as you were starting to refer to her magic) were emanating from the witch, quite different from the familiar scarlet color you had grown accustomed to.

Perhaps this was her doing, if only subconsciously. You tried to recall, didn’t Wanda mention something about her powers being new to her and mostly unintentional? This could be what she had been referring to. Apprehension made a home in your chest as you found yourself dreading whatever was about to unfold before you. Oh no, Wanda, what did you do?

It doesn’t take long after observing the hijinks and mishaps, for you to realize that Wanda's grief had manifested through her powers. She had transformed the town of Eastview into Westview, resembling a 1950s-style sitcom town. Wanda, along with an alternate version of yourself (if you were truly still alive - that part you hadn't figured out yet), and the entire town were trapped. While it may have started unintentionally, Wanda became aware of it and began actively using her powers to maintain her idyllic town, keeping it isolated from the outside world and preventing the townspeople from leaving. In her grief, Wanda was essentially playing house, holding everyone hostage. However, despite her powers growing stronger, it was clear that the people living there were suffering. If you could even consider their existence as living.

There were even two boys - twins, just like Wanda was a twin. Your heart broke, knowing this could not possibly end well. While technically not "real" and not even "yours" at that, watching these boys be born, live, and grow caused you to cultivate a love for them almost as if they were your own. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest; you didn't want to see how this plays out, but you didn't have a choice.

Despite the dysfunction in your parents, you had always wanted a family of your own. An attempt to break the cycle and bring new life - happy and healthy - into this world. You wanted to raise your kids with the love and care you had never experienced yourself.

You understood the motivations of the witch, but that didn't justify her morally questionable choices. Once again, you are condemned to remain on the sidelines, unable to take any action to resolve the situation. You are forced to witness this charade unfold, hoping and praying that it would end well for everyone involved, yet knowing that it would not. How could it possibly?

Despite your bias, after witnessing everything Wanda had endured, you found yourself wishing for the best outcome for her, in particular. Among all the people you could think of, she deserved a break from the misery that had plagued her life until now.

Eventually, it all came to a head when another witch named Agatha Harkness had infiltrated the town with a book called the Darkhold, attempting to convince Wanda to join her and increase their powers. If Wanda refused, the witch planned to take Wanda's powers for herself. Something about a prophecy regarding a Scarlet Witch.

Meanwhile, the alternate version of you had become self-aware of the true nature of Westview. This version of you pleaded with Wanda to prioritize the wellbeing of others over her own happiness, once again. They urged Wanda to defeat Agatha and free the townspeople, even if it meant losing her spouse and children. It was an impossible choice, and you questioned whether you could have mustered the courage to make the same decision in Wanda’s position.

Wanda defeated Agatha, not that you ever doubted her for a moment. She said goodbye to you, again, and then to her boys, and released her spell. The town was free, but her family.. was gone. Wanda was once again on her own.

A startled gasp leaves your lips as you awaken from the memories. It feels like it’s been ages, but from what you can tell, it must only have been minutes since Wanda first began sharing her memories with you. “Oh.”

Cringe. You wish you could have said something, anything more eloquent. Unfortunately, you feel as though you've just been hit by a Mack truck and could nap for a week. It doesn’t help that you were still feeling the effects of lack of sleep for the last couple of weeks. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good, is it okay if I lay down somewhere…?” A quick glance around the temple makes you second guess the question you were about to ask. Stone floors did not make a good bed.

With a tone much softer than she had been using, she replied. "Of course, Detka, you only need to ask." 

An elegant wave of her slender fingers and gone is the stone temple, replaced by a cozy bedroom. At a cursory glance, you can tell it is a sanctuary of comfort and tranquility, featuring a plush, inviting bed. The room is adorned with personal touches, such as framed photographs of you and Wanda, and artwork that is somehow absolutely your aesthetic. Shelves display a carefully chosen selection of your favorite books, each waiting to be explored. These items add character and give the space a feeling that is unique to you, even though you have never set foot in this place before.

“Come,” A glimpse of Wanda and you are surprised to discover instead of her red and black uniform, she is now garbed in an oversized sweater and some cotton sweatpants.

“You have been holding space for others for so long, it is time you took some well-deserved rest. You work much too hard.”

“Uh s-sure.” About to make a comment that perhaps you should also change, but looking down to find that you are wearing your favorite worn Legolas shirt and some pajama shorts.

“Right. Rest.” Part of you wants to ask when you can return to your home so you can finish studying for your exams, but based on previous conversation, context clues tell you that’s the least of your concerns right now, and Wanda probably wouldn’t be too pleased with that topic of discussion right now.

Wanda takes your hand, leading you to the bed and it takes your overworked brain far longer than you care to admit to realize that she means for you both to share it. Your brain short-circuits at all the factors at play here: Knowing that you yourself are touch-starved; this absolute enchantress of a woman dated an alternate universe’s version of you, even going so far as basically playing housewife and mother of your children, and here she was asking you to share a bed. Sure, she wasn’t asking you to sleep with her, but she was still asking you to share a bed next to her and what if you accidentally spooned her in your sleep, and what if-

”You’re thinking too loudly, malysh.”

“What? You can- you’re a mind reader?!” you panic, backpedaling mentally, praying to every deity that existed that you hadn’t had any unsavory thoughts in her presence, and nearly fainting as you recalled that you in fact, had some rather explicit thoughts from the moment you first saw her.. The mortification alone was enough to put you into an early grave. You weren’t sure how you had missed that during everything she had shown you, but you reasoned you were probably more focused on the physical manifestations of her powers. 

"Relax, Y/N. I don't intentionally read minds, at least not anymore. Sometimes, surface thoughts are so loud that I can't help but hear them. Like right now, you're practically yelling them at me," she said, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

Unfortunately, while you were no longer freaking out about having accidentally offended the witch, you were now spiraling down a different path. You were agonizing over the pain you had, and likely were still causing her by thinking so loudly. If you remembered any media involving mind reading, the person with the ability usually suffered greatly at the hands of others unintentionally. Naturally, the average person didn't know how to shield their thoughts, and you were afraid that you might be giving her a migraine. To the woman who had only tried to bring you to a safe place and offer you shelter. 

You began to hyperventilate.

Wanda could see that you were spiraling, even without being a mind reader. It was written clearly on your face. However, being able to hear your thoughts helped her identify the source of your anxiety, and she berated herself for not considering that earlier. This version of you lacked confidence, and it was now Wanda's responsibility to help rebuild it. At least, according to her.

"Your parents really did a number on you, didn't they, detka?"

Cool hands gently held your cheeks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Suddenly, Wanda invades your personal space, and the scent of vanilla fills your nostrils, momentarily distracting you from what was happening.

"We're just going to take a nap, okay Y/N? You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not bothered by any of those thoughts you have." A leering grin unfurls across her face.

“If anything I’m quite flattered by them.” She winks.

Heat flashes across your body, and you can’t tell if you were embarrassed, aroused, or both. Unfortunately, you knew your thoughts were likely betraying you. Gods, if only the floor could just open up right now and swallow you into the abyss. Yes, that would be fantastic.

"However, there is time enough for such things later. It's been years, Y/N, and I've just got you back. Nap with me, please?" The witch's eyes gaze longingly into yours, and well, when she looks at you like that, how could you say "no"?

She leads you to the bed and, with the practiced ease of her time in Westview, pulls you into her embrace as the little spoon. Earlier, you had been worried about accidentally touching her inappropriately or having a dirty dream. Now though, with her arms wrapped so protectively around you, sleep claims you almost instantaneously.

#Wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #dark wanda x reader

[abrcmswrld]

Talk to Strangers

Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?

Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.

You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.

You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."

Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.

━━━━

You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.

But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.

It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.

He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

He finally faces you.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."

His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."

You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."

━━━━

And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.

You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.

"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.

As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.

You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.

━━━━

But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.

It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."

"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."

Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.

'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'

Holy shit.

━━━━

Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.

It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.

"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

━━━━

The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.

'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'

"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.

You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."

It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.

━━━━

Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.

Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"When you're ready."

━━━━

You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.

He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.

"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."

You slam the laptop shut.

Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.

Paralyzed.

It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.

Shh. Shh. Just breathe.

But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.

You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.

━━━━

Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.

But you know it's him.

It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.

He thinks he's smarter than you.

You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.

You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.

You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.

━━━━

The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.

So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.

You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."

He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.

"I think you should go home and get some rest."

And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.

━━━━

So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.

He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.

He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.

"Edward."

It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

He is terrifying.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"

He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.

His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.

But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.

You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.

The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.

He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.

You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.

He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.

"Does this not make you happy?"

Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.

You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"

His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."

That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

His hand grips yours as he looks at you.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.

But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.

When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.

"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."

"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."

"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."

“I would never have expected it to be him.”

"I hope he gets the help he needs."

#edward nashton #dano!riddler #dano riddler #paul dano riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #dano!riddler x reader #paul dano #danonation #the batman #edward nashton smut #edward nashton fluff #edward nashton ily forever -abram #gonna log off for the night to keep my nerves down i think

[yourlocalweirdo-3000]

One Piece Smut Headcanons (🔞—MDI)

Characters: Franky, Brook, Law, Ace, Boa

Established relationships

Written by a generally-cis person, so I write my characters that way too. Let me know if you want any LGBTQ—centered headcanons! I plan on writing some anyways but requesting will get me to do it faster.

(format is weird cause I copy and paste these from the notes app, sorry. I try to make it at least readable. Might be some typos bc I have no proofreader but I tried my best to get all the mistakes.)

Franky

Kinks: praise, toys, crying, service dom, etc. 

Makes his own sex toys.  Dildos, harnesses, anal toys— you name it, he's got it. 

You can bet his dick is customizable too.  The length of it depends on the mood you're in.  

He's had sex before, but never in a serious relationship, so it takes a couple of tries to get you to come undone like he wants.  He gets the hang of it soon. 

Eventually, he gets good enough with your body that he's able to make toys that hit all your spots. It's bliss.  

He's super service-focused, so a service dom all the way. He loves to come, sure, but if you don't come too (or at all) then he doesn't see the point.  And truthfully, nothing gets him going more than seeing you lose yourself in the orgasm that he's giving you. 

That's another thing, he's super proud of himself for his sexual ability.  He actually his a mental tally for how many times he's made you orgasm.  

Very loud in bed!! Lots of "superrr!!!!" and praise, he'll tell you what a super job you're doing. 

Cries when he comes, but he won't admit it.  

Lots of come, too.  It tastes like cola. 

His favorite position is cowgirl, reverse or otherwise, as long as you're riding him. 

Brook

Kinks: panties, voice, publicity, praise, etc. 

This old skeleton gets around, okay.  I'm here to say brook fucks and he does it plenty. 

It's because of you that he started to explore his body's sexual ability.

Let's discuss what he's able to do: he's dick-less, sure, but if he's able to see, hear, eat, cry, and etc, he's able to feel things to a certain extent. 

He can feel when you touch him and you can feel a tongue in his mouth, although you can't see it. Y'know how he can expel his soul? Sorta like that; his desire is so strong that certain things will manifest for him; in this case, his tongue. 

For his dick though, he prefers a strap-on because he can possess it and feel it better, so if he's railing you he prefers to go that route. 

Dude's kinky, too.  He's got a thing for publicity and anything to do with panties. 

Definitely uses toys to get you off. 

He's so sultry with his voice too.  He knows just what to say to get you riled up.  

Good with his fingers and good at oral.  No lips but a "tongue" and fingers do plenty. 

Not very loud in volume but he makes plenty of noise, it's just softer than you'd expect.  He likes to praise and moan, knowing full well what it does to you. 

He's one to be really tender in his love-making.  To him it's not fucking, it's making love.  He'll literally whisper "I love you" and other praises like a mantra.  

Praises you a lot. "You look so beautiful like this, even though I don't have eyes" and etc.  

Law

Kinks: domming, hand kink, teasing, biting, etc.

He doesn't strike me as a sex-crazy guy; his libido is rather low.  He'll satisfy you whenever he's comfortable with it though. 

Prefers being on the receiving end of things.  He wants to get you off, but he's lazy when it comes to sex, so a lot of times he uses his hands rather than his dick.  

Speaking of getting you off with his hands— he's amazing with them.  He can do things with his fingers that push you into ecstasy. 

His fav position is doggy style.  Likes to leave handprints on your ass cheeks.  

A little bit of a harsh dom; nothing too crazy, but he will delay your orgasm as a punishment and he's rough with his teasing.  Likes to pinch your nipples. 

Not loud in bed; growls and grunts if he makes noise at all.  

He's a biter, lol.  He won't draw blood or leave bruises but he will leave marks from his teeth.

Not submissive but likes it when you're rough back. Pull his hair and he thrusts faster. 

Sometimes, after a frustrating day, he wants it tender.  Sex is a vulnerable thing for him, even if he acts like it isn't.  When he's tired like this, you gotta just let him lay back and relax while you take care of him. 

Scenario: sucking his dick (and playing with his balls—)

      Law is a beautiful sight like this.  Pupils blown, eyes lidded, hair ruffled and lips parted, he looks at you with such lust it's enough to make you drool.  He's so attractive with his dick in your hand. 

   You're pumping slowly, spit coating your hand, and when you use the other one to play with his balls he can't help it: his eyes widen and he lets out a moan that sends blood rushing to you groin.  He screws his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed and breath coming out in pants.  

   You pump faster, still teasing his balls, and his voice gets louder.  Even with his orgasm approaching, you never let up.  When he tells you he's gonna cum, you go even faster. 

   He orgasms with a drawn-out groan, his cum spurting out and getting on the both of you.  It dribbles down your hand too, and he watches you lick it off your fingers.  Still panting, he reaches for you and brings you close enough to hold onto a hug.

   After a bit you clean up and lull him to sleep with head scratches <3

Boa

Possible Trigger Warning: mentioning of her sexual trauma bc I think it's relevant but it's only a mention.  Consent is highly emphasized in this one because of it, too.  

Kinks: grinding, praise, voice kink, bondage, face-sitting, etc. 

She has sexual trauma so it's difficult for her to participate in things of that nature. 

So you have to give her time.  You can't pester her for sex and you have to give her plenty of space in that area to come to terms with things. 

However, eventually, after you've proved that you're with her for her heart and not her body, she opens up about it more.  She discloses that she does indeed have sexual thoughts about you, and she wants to act on them, but she's also nervous about it.  You reassure her and let her iniate everything.  

Your understanding and courtesy makes her feel safe, and the normally confident Boa is reduced to a blushing mess around you.  

It starts off slow.  Touching you underneath your clothes, long make out sessions, and grinding is how it begins.  

Once you've gone all the way though, she can't stop! Boa reveals that she's a total horndog <3 

She iniates everything and always has to be in charge, but likes to be taken care of.  Her pleasure is her priority, but that doesn't mean she leaves you completely alone.  

Likes to tie you up.

If you'll let her, she'll explore your body.  She wants to see how it'll react when she does certain things to it.  

Likes to tease you and is addicted to your moans. 

Also likes to be praised and called sweet names during sex.  

Definitely into face sitting and anything else to do with your mouth on her cunt.  

Ace

Kinks: hair-pulling, dumbification, overstimulation, temperature play, name-calling, etc.

Talks tough but gets (pussy/cock/etc)-drunk faster than anything. 

Switch; he prefers being in charge but he also loves it when you tie him up.  

Please pull his hair and call him names; he hates to admit it but his dick gets so hard when you do. 

Fucks you as a way to get out his anger sometimes; he won't hurt you, but he'll pound you kinda rough with an angry look on his face.  Always feels better afterwards and always makes sure to take care of you, especially after those rough sessions. 

Straight-up brat when you're in charge, but he's pretty easy to tame, too. 

Into temperature-play; he'll never use his flames on you, but he will use them to light the candle that drips wax on your bodies.  Doesn't mind ice, either. 

Likes to be tied up and he's into dumbification.

Scenario: 

   Ace, whimpering and groaning, thrusts into you at a reckless pace.  His hands, pushing your legs against your torso, grip you hard enough to bruise.  You yank on his hair, making noise yourself, and he goes even faster.  

   "More, more, more," he mutters like a prayer.  He drops his head into the crook of your neck and moans loudly.  

    His words become incomprehensible as his orgasm approaches.  He cums inside you with a loud cry and a whine of your name.  The rocking of his hips gradually begins to slow, and Ace rests on you, panting.  

Thanks for reading!

©yourlocalweirdo-3000

posted July 1st 2022

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece fanfic #law x reader #boa hancock x reader #ace x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader #soul king brook #cyborg franky #boa hancock #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #portgas d. ace

[purdledooturt]

songs to break your back to (respectfully)

Ignore the title - this is my first attempt at writing smut and I'm just snowballing ideas at the moment for a multi-chapter fic I want to write. There is a bit of context missing to this, but take it as PWP for the time being.

I did write this with old Heisy in mind, but realistically you can probably sub in anyone else - it's not like I go into detail describing him, but he does get mentioned by name every once in a while.

Uh. This is written in second person POV (self-indulgent). There is daddy-kink (which is abandoned midway), and a breeding-kink (which the reader questions themself about). Please practice safe sex, I'm begging you - condoms do prevent more than just pregnancies.

I wrote the entirety of this on my phone, because apparently the Notes app just gets them creative juices flowing. Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors - I tried really hard to keep my tenses straight. Trying to copy and paste from Word to tumblr is a pain - sorry for any formatting mishaps as well.

I hope this is as hot as the stories that inspired it.

❤

You never quite understood ‘backbreaking’ until you met Karl Heisenberg.

Not until you found yourself laying prone on the bed that you swear is the epicentre of a magnitude 7 earthquake, with his delicious weight on your thighs, pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. You can’t match his pace, no matter how hard you tried. You are nothing but a doll made to be used. He has such a firm grip on your hips you swear you’ll be bruised for weeks, and his breath comes out in pants that made you wetter with every sound. At one point he gathered your hair like reins and force you to arch your back, but his ministrations have made your arms weak and unable to hold you up for long. Mercifully, he let you go, but you committed the action to your memory, to ask him to try again later, in a different position.

You can do nothing but lay there as he fucked noises out of you — your knuckles have cramped closed gripping on the sheets like a lifeline but he refused to let up. You’ve tried to hold your head up but could barely manage, as every thrust knocked you back down again.

Simply put, he was a man starved, and you were all too happy to provide.

He leans down on you, slowing to a roll. He grabs at your hair at the nape of your neck and twists your head sideways as he gives the corner of your mouth a breathy lick, and you moan at the intimacy of it. You try to catch his tongue with yours. “You like that?” He asks, tucking his lips close to your ear in a growl, “your cunt just gave me a little squeeze.”

You try to nod, but he keeps your head still, continuing with his slowed assault of your poor, bruised cunt. What he now lacked in speed he made up for with raw force. “Yes,” you gasp out when he hummed.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He moans, leaning his head against the back of your right shoulder blade as he gave you a particularly hard thrust to punctuate the erotic sentence he was writing. “Good girl,” you hear him mutter, as he pulls back upright. You feel him spread your ass cheeks to get a better look at where you’re joined. He massages the flesh as he does so, “look how well you take me.”

You look at him over your shoulder, throwing your hair out of the way. All the other guys you’d been with always loved this angle and Karl was not immune. He slows to a halt, raising an eyebrow at you. You muster up your best innocent smile, batting your lashes at him. “Thank you, daddy,” you say, and he rolls his eyes at you with a shake of his head. He gives your ass a slap. The move didn’t have the effect you wanted but you didn’t mind — you love that he called you out on the cheesiness of it. You laugh.

He gasps, pulling out of you roughly. He is crouched over your legs, breathing heavy and giving you an amused and lopsided smile. “Geez, buttercup — warn a guy, won’t you?”

You roll over quickly — surely he hasn’t…? “What’s wrong?”

“Fucking vice grip,” he mutters as he crawls back over you, retaking his position between your legs. You can feel a slight burn in your thighs as you spread your legs wider than you’re used to in order to accommodate him, but the burn only adds to the excitement of it all. You watch him hook one of your legs up with his, in a move that got your brain short circuiting. “When you giggled.”

“Sorry?”

He takes his cock in hand, giving it slow strokes. “Don’t be,” he says, as he holds the base and slaps the head against your clit. You jump at the motion, and he chuckles. God — the sound of his chuckle, in the situation, is somehow hotter than the grunts and pants and dirty talking. You’ve never had so much fun during sex before, often feeling more like there was a role you were meant to play and you were gunning for best performance. “Was good.”

He rubs the head of his cock up and down against your dripping, slick slit, teasing you with a knowing grin that looked a little sharper than what you’re used to. Occasionally the head catches on your entrance and threatens to slip, but he coaxes it out to continue the slow teasing. He’s using your wetness to lubricate himself. You whine and try to wiggle to catch him but he is far too good at anticipating your moves. 

Finally, when he’s had enough, he keeps his eyes on you as he slides back in, slowly and tantalisingly. You moan as you are filled again, and your walls are stretched around his thick cock. As he bottoms out in you with a low groan, your eyes flutter close and your head tilts back. Your legs jerk — your knees dig as best as they could to his sides, and your ankles try to find each other behind him. Your left hand finds his thigh, nails digging in to the bulk of his muscle, not to push him but to anchor yourself before you float away. “So big,” you gasp out, as your lower back lifts off the bed, and he takes the opportunity to slide his arm underneath to support you, providing you with a lovely, lovely angle. With his other arm, he supports himself, leaning over you.

Given his height, he is bent over you, caging you. The idea excites you, and makes you feel oddly safe. Protected. You’ll unpack what this means later. He presses his forehead against yours. “Only the best for my baby girl.”

Your eyes flutter back open and you giggle once again, and he groans at the action but stays in you. Your right hand finds his cheek, and you cup it with a gentle smile as you give him an Eskimo kiss. You take the moment to catch his lips in a quick, cheeky kiss, which he smiles into, returning the gesture with his own light kiss back. It was a quick, tender moment, like the eye of a storm passing over and enveloping you in a peaceful silence. Slowly, he rolls his hips and the dance begins again, but this time you are more familiar with the steps as you push back. For such a well built man, Karl is so fluid, and you were enamoured with the way he moves, looking down between your bodies and watching him undulate.

Your hands travel to the base of his ribcage, sliding over his wide chest, scratching upwards before you wrap your arms around his neck. Your breaths mingle as you keep your foreheads connected, staring deep into each other’s eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and your eyes flicker between his steely greys. It hardly registers in your head that he is asking you if you’re liking it, and your mind is blank as you agree, your voice disembodied and far away: Yes. Yes. Keep going, please. Harder, please, please, please —

He’s slowly building up to his brutal pace again, and like a roller coaster your core tightens in anticipation of the heights you’re about to be taken to. He slams into you, over and over, until the room is filled with the obscene noises of your slick union and the sound of skin slapping against skin, mingled with your panting and the punctuated gasps he thrusts out of you. He breaks eye contact when he nudges your head to the side to start whispering praises in your ear — oh, how tight you are. How well you take him. How your cunt was made for his cock, and how he was going to absolutely ruin you. You feel the familiar ache in your lower belly — you’re close. So, so close. And you can’t get enough of him, grasping at what you can with clawing hands and desperate legs. Like a mantra you plead, fervently praying to the shrine you built in your mind for this man you met while on this whirlwind holiday.

The angle at which he holds you has you seeing stars soon enough — he continually hits a spot that makes you spasm, and he grins proudly. “That good?” He asks, as you come down from the soundless scream from your climax. He hardly slowed to accomodate you and let you ride out your release.

"Oh, yeah,” you reply mindlessly, voice hoarse, and as revenge for his cockiness you let out a breathless giggle, followed by a kegel.

“Little bitch,” he swears, but there is no venom at all. He sounds so amused, so enamoured. Like he was having so much fun, too.

You poke your tongue out at him, scrunching your nose in the process. You were feeling carefree and playful in his presence. The arm that was supporting your back slides out from under you, and he uses his hand to grasp your face roughly, his thumb on your cheek and the rest of his hand wrapped across your neck and around your jaw, locking you in place. He takes the opportunity to lick your from your chin to your lips. You stick your tongue out again, less playful now and more desperate. He sucks on your tongue to punish you. He pulls away but you remain connected with a thin trail of saliva. His hips never slow. Oh God — everything he does is hot.

He’s made you cum at least four times since the night started and as much as you enjoy the treatment you were hitting your limit. You notice his pace stutter — he was close, and chasing the high he’s put you on four times tonight. He starts roughly pawing and kneading at your tit. You cover his hand with one of you own, squeezing along. Your other hand takes care of what he couldn’t. You try to encourage him.

“Karl—“

“Where do you want me?” He asks, sounding breathless and strained, and in a moment of sheer stupidity and fuckdrunk horniness, you gawk at him.

“Inside. Oh, god — inside.”

He groans, his head buried now in the crook of your neck. The hand that was massaging you is now on the bed, and he has now enveloped you. His lips are at your collarbone, leaving ghost kisses with his breath. He alternates between biting what he can reach and muttering “oh, baby” and “please” over and over.

“Fuck,” he pushes himself up slightly and catches your ear again, licking the shell of it. He growls, the timbre of his voice sending a shock down your spine all the way to your tailbone. “You horny little bitch. I’m going to fucking fill you until you’re dripping. I’m going to fucking breed you.”

You moan. ‘Do I have a breeding kink?’, you wonder. Who fucking knows. Who fucking cares? Your mind is blank, and you damn the consequences, begging senselessly.

He moans and stills to a jittery stop after a final hard push, and you can feel the heat of his release inside you. He pauses, his breathing intense. “Fuck. Holy fuck.”

"Holy shit,” was your reply, and he is catching his breath as he pulls out of you. You shift to lean on your elbows, keeping him in your sight as he gets up. He stands at the foot of the bed, taking deep breaths to fill his lungs not unlike an athlete who has just finished their event, and you do the same, involuntarily trying to match his breathing. You watch as he steps away, disappearing into the ensuite. You can feel his spend start dripping towards your ass, and without the added weight of him on your pelvis you take stock of the state of your body more clearly, and you swear you’ve broken something, somehow. As his figure reappears, you declare, “I’m going to keep you.”

He laughs as he approaches with a small towel. He begins to wipe your thighs with the damp cloth with a gentleness that was the stark opposite of the assault he’d mounted against your body previously. God — he helps with clean up too? Heaven help you. “Are you?” He croons.

“Are you kidding?” You ask, as you sit upright with weak, shaky arms and take the towel from him with a smile and a bright ‘thank you’, taking over the wiping. You watch as he wanders over to the kitchenette, still fully nude, now to grab two glasses of water. You could marry him for this alone. “Where have you been all my fucking life?”

He gulps down his drink. “Romania.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“That good, huh?” He asks, with a wolfish grin, as he passes you a glass of water and he sits at the bed again with his back to you.  He leans with his elbows on his knees.

You shuffle towards him on your knees, making the bed springs complain. He tilts his head towards you. With your free hand, you brush his hair behind one ear, parting the curtain which hid his face from view. You place your chin on his shoulder and beam. “That good. I think you’ve pulverised my pelvis but give me a few hours and I can go again.”

He throws his head back in a rakish laugh, and you find yourself wishing you could bottle the sound. He’s rearranged your insides, surely — you’ve never felt so many butterflies in your stomach before. You wrap your left arm around his waist, sliding over to the edge of the bed to sit to his right. You spill a bit of water as you move.

“God, I could use a smoke right now.”

“I have never once smoked in my life,” you reveal, unsure of why you couldn’t seem to stop your mouth from running, “but I could also use a smoke right now, too.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, and the two of you are oddly tender and soft in the afterglow. You knew of happy drunks — you didn’t realise something similar could apply to this. You were feeling… cuddly. Your cheeks hurt from beaming. “Have I reset your programming? You’re doing wonders to my damn ego, buttercup.”

You take a sip of the water and let silence fall over you. Suddenly the weight of exhaustion bears down on your shoulders, heavy and cloying. You yawn.

“Go wash up,” he says, giving you a slight shove with the arm still wrapped around you. “Don’t want you getting an infection.”

Romantic — not. But very caring. Karl Heisenberg was ticking the boxes swiftly and convincingly, getting closer and closer to your idea of perfection. A voice in your head chastises you for the irrationality of your thoughts, chastises you for hearing wedding bells after three fun-filled days and one passionate night together. Sure, it was out of character, but then again you’d never had anyone fuck your brains out like he just did. “Yes, yes,” you bat his concerns away with a wave of your hand. You try to stand but find your legs stiff and uncooperative. You’re like a newborn foal.

“You sure you only need a few hours to recover?”

You flip him off as you hobble to the ensuite, and he lets out another laugh, flopping on to the bed as he does so. You turn your attention back to your own care, and wash up as you normally do.

You hobble towards your suitcase to look for new underwear. You’ll forgo the sleep shirt tonight, wanting to feel your partner’s skin.

You look up to find him watching you, pillows propped up behind him as he leaned against the headboard. There is something missing in the picture — a cigar. He strikes you as a cigar person. “You need help?”

“No; thank you though,” you say, as you pull your underwear on. You wander back to the bed and take the free spot, sliding into the covers.

“Do you need me to get you anything for the, uh…” he’s at a loss for words for once. Your eyebrows rise as you try to decode what he’s trying to say. “Well, I’m not really keen on little Karls running around, despite what I said.”

“All good,” you say, as you reach to the inside of your left forearm, feeling around for the familiar stick that is your birth control implant. You pinch the ends of it to make it stick out, and he observes it closer. “Birth control.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

You pull the covers up to your chin. You turn to lay on your side to watch him. He brushes your hair back.

“How long is a few hours?” He teases. You slap his hand away, and with an exaggerated huff you turn away from him, and the pettiness of it all makes him laugh. It makes you laugh too, unable to maintain the facade. “Goodnight, doll.”

“Goodnight. Don’t disappear on me or I’ll hunt you down.”

You fall asleep to the sound of his laughter.

#pwp #karl heisenberg x reader #it's about time i tag this filth #it should be hidden enough now uwu #purdle-writes #karl heisenberg

[excelsior9173]

Sleep Oil?

Ok so Sleep Prayer Oil (yes from sleep token)??

-olive oil for the vibes, I usually use grape seed as a carrier, but the vibes of olive oil are what I’m feeling for this.

-Pachouli (sleep aid, and also VERY sensual)

-Mugwort (for astral/dream work)

-Lemon Balm (love, dreamwork, healing)

-Lavender (sleep aid, but intense dreams)

-rosemary (creativity)

-peppermint essential oil (money/prosperity)

-Grapefruit essential oil (mental clarity)

Ok, so here is my list, copy pasted from my notes app so that is why the formatting and wording is all weird lol, of all the herbs and oils I’d include in a sleep prayer oil, and all my reasonings.

But I freaking. Listen, I don’t believe sleep is a real god, but when I was like ‘what would I put in this’ my mind kept going back to rosemary, and I was like ‘why tho?’ And the first thing that popped up when I searched for herbs for creativity was rosemary and I just said ‘ok. Sleep wants that in there’.

I cant make this rn, cause… I am not uhhh ‘practicing’ (my practice is gathering knowledge until I can move out), but I want to 🤣. I wonder if I could get by with substituting lemon oil for lemon balm, cause I have access to essential oils, but not herbs and putting them jars lol. I could honestly say this was a blend for seizures and I wouldn’t even be completely lying….. I’d actually just have to buy the patchouli and mugwort 🤣🤣🤣…. I’m so tempted. I’ll let you know if I do it or not😂 or maybe I just leave out the mugwort and patchouli for right now? I feel like the others have everything covered, but the first two where more like the pa-pow of the oil, idk if this makes since? Like those are the main two and if I was making this for real, I would do only a little bit of the other ingredients, and a lot of the main two, but if I’m not including them I’d do more of the others…. Fuck it I’m gonna end up making this, oops. (But probably with grape seed oil, since this is an essential oil blend… I’ll be back with more notes I’m so sorry).

Edit: this just keeps getting longer longer sorry; went to gather the oils, realized we do indeed have patchouli! But not rosemary… thinking of substituting oregano for rosemary…. And maybe clary sage for mugwort?? Hmmm. Lots of thoughts. Same associations for both things as the list above… ok I have to be done now I’ll come back and tell you if it smells good in a different ask lmao.

Sorry for info dumping to you about a silly little oil, but I was having fun with it.

What would go in your version of it, if you don’t mind me asking👀 I know you said you where doing your own research on it, and I’m curious🥰.

i have sat on this for waaaayyyyy toooo long but university was absolutely kicking my ass for the last… month and a half? idk i was going through it for a hot minute 😅

but! finally getting to tuck into some research now that i’m done school for the term and have a quiet day at work. (this is gonna get hella long cuz i’m having a lot of fun researching and i’m gonna use this as a sounding board a bit as i read)

so! first thing i’m learning is that intention is a huge part of this (i knew the intention part already, part and parcel with working with tarot!)

i think given that sleep is introduced to us as some sort of deity, i would probably make a ritual anointing oil.

the carrier oil itself is another question. i think since sleep feels like a deity not easy to commune with (the intensity and allegory in the music makes me think that, if we were worshipping a true god, conversing with sleep takes a toll on the devotee). with this in mind i think grapeseed oil might make a decent base. it is a good choice for anything used to anoint the body (which i feel would be part of this ritual oils use, if we must dream to encounter sleep then anointing the body makes the most sense to me!) and it is ruled by the moon and water element- making it very fitting for sleep token! grapeseed oil is also useful for blends that intend to boost/strengthen mental abilities (it also helps with fertility magic and given the lyrical content at times- seems somewhat fitting) another useful aspect for a ritual for sleep. i do like the vibes of olive oil as well, and it’s a very versatile ingredient but i don’t think i’d like feeling it on my skin so grapeseed it is! (also my local magick shop has grapeseed oil so easy for me to obtain lol)

now the fun part- the essential oils!

(i’m realizing as i write this that i need to purchase a grimoire so i can start recording my research and recipes…)

so this part has taken me a lot longer to fiddle with, not only finding the right associations but also smells i enjoy, but i think I’ve got it!

- sandalwood (its grounding, promotes inner peace, aphrodisiac) [i went back and forth here between sandalwood and cedar, same associations but i prefer the scent of sandalwood]

- lavender (promotes sleep, reduces stress, pretty straightforward lol)

- patchouli (grounding, sharpens your wit, good for prayer work) [loooove the smell too, i’d do anything to naturally smell like patchouli lol, hippy association be damned]

- mugwort (astral projection, lucid/prophetic dreams, meditation)

- lemon balm (love, healing, astral projection, it also amplifies the effects of other herbs)

- clary sage (vivid dreams, divination)

i keep going back and forth on whether or not to add clove, it’s another aphrodisiac and also good for treating insomnia so i think it would fit? but i’m not 100% sure on it yet lol. my familiarity with essential oils and herbs is very minimal

but yeah! now to get the oils and mix. not sure exactly how the mix will come about, will need some trial and error with it i think! again, sorry this took me so long but here we are! finally i did it!

#exie’s ask box #foxgloveinspace #sleep token #witch talk #thank you for enabling this madness- i had a lot of fun when we originally joked about this and with my research!

[my-castles-crumbling]

Dancer anon advice

Hi all! Someone wrote me about some advice, I'm just copy and pasting it here so I can add a 'read more' line and format it a bit differently than usual so I can keep my thoughts in order!

Italics is their writing

Bold is mine

i noticed ppl were using this blog to ask about stuff, so here goes ig?

(also im sorry this was going to be me asking about gender stuff but now its just kinda my life story 😭 if you dont want to answer this, you can just write a post saying like. dancer anon i dont feel comfortable answering this or whatever)

Ahhhh, you all need to stop apologizing! I never mind helping!

im afab, and i feel like i never really fit in with gender? like, i would always be so jealous of my feminine friends but i didnt feel good when dressing feminine myself

i also take dance classes (i started at around 6/7) and i felt like i had to wear all the skirts and shit because i wanted to be pretty like the other dancers, and i felt really terrible after a few years of that, because i hated how i looked in them and how i looked when i danced

(i also used to have a dance teacher whos hands were always cold and thats all i can remember about him but i really hated dancing with him and would get relieved when classes were over. ive hated dancing with boys/men ever since)

and it got like. really bad. i believe? (my memory is actually terrible. i cant remember anything for the life of me, so it could be my mind overexaggerating, but anyways.)

i would always ask for me and my teacher to just do stretching because i hated how i looked when i danced because i hated the skirts and everything because i hate my legs and how they look when bare. i hated attending dance classes because people would see me and see my legs and see how i looked and i felt terrible all the time (i think i was around 9 or 10 at this age?)

so one day i had a whole crying fit and my dance teacher told me that i dont have to wear skirts or whatever, i can wear pants and shit (i was so fucking relieved. istg. i now wear skirts to dance only like. couple times a year maybe)

and then soon enough covid happened! (also keep in mind that i grew up like. really sheltered. i did not know what gay people/transgender people were until i read fanfiction about warrior cats 😭)

and i was so delighted! because on distance learning, no one would see me and be able to judge me for how i dress or whatever

at around this time, my fear of everyone masculine really grew. its still there. im fucking terrified of all men. i cant help it. like every boy man masculine person. i get so scared. i hate it. i hate it so much

but then covid came to a halt, yk, school started again .-. i felt like shit, honestly. i didnt have ANY clothes i felt comfortable in. my hair felt too long and "feminine" and i wanted to cut it for the longest time. my clothes made me feel terrible. i hated how the leggings would wear on my legs and how my sweaters would show my body shape and how my butt looked (i still really hate how it looks. why is it big. i dont want it to be i hate it so much)

yeah so there i am, feeling dysphoric as shit (i did not know what that was, back then, by the way, but i believe thats what i was feeling)

didnt help that my only friend was a toxic, lying, manipulating bitch who led people on for fun and always expected everyone to worship at her feet

after a while, i discovered different labels! (bisexual was the first label i had for myself. i felt good with it, ig?)

and then i got to the gender situation. i used so many girl alligned terms because i was so scared of being percieved as the very thing i am terrified of (masculine ppl). i went through demigirl, girlflux, genderfae, genderfluid, i beleive, maybe somethign else too, because i wanted to stay connected to being a girl.

Okay so here, I want to ask, what's the reason to wanting to say connected with being a girl? Is it feeling like you are partially a girl? Not wanting to be connected to masculinity? Not wanting to let go of the 'girlhood' that you grew up with? None of these reasons are bad but I think thinking about this more might help you figure out your gender.

around this time i started doing leader steps for dance. the euphoria i felt. please.

ahhhhh wait! I do ballroom, too! I'm a follower, though. what's your favorite? I LOVE tango. Okay, sorry, I got distracted.

found out i was a lesbian, used nonbinary but with she/they pronouns and felt like shit whenever anyone called me she but didnt want to make a big deal about using they

ooo, okay here- asking for your correct pronouns isn't 'making a big deal.' it's asking for what you need and asking for respect.

found out i was aroace because "people actually find video game characters attractive?" 😭

thought i might feel better as a boy? cut my hair. i loved it so much (i still do) (that was may of last year) got baggy clothes. covered up my figure. did leader steps for dance.

over the summer i started using labels such as agender? which i feel like fits me?

anyway, thats the life story part, now for the part about what the fuck am i

i feel like shit whenever im called a girl or refered to with feminine terms. im not sure if it would classify as dysphoria or not, becuase i dont feel /that/ bad about it, but it still ruins my mood and kinda makes me want to cry.

okay so here's the thing. not 'feeling THAT bad' doesn't mean anything. Dysphoria is dysphoria. and this is dysphoria. Just because you're not throwing up in a corner doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid.

if my grandma calles me granddaughter, girl, whatever in russian, it automatically ruins my mood. makes me feel terrible. i hate it.

i dont feel as bad when my sister calls me her sister, though, for some reason.

Okay! So for me, I hate being called a lady, but I don't mind my wife calling me her wife. Again, this is all completely valid <3

when i get called by she/her i hate it so much. i dont want to make a big deal about asking for they/them - sometimes my friends remeber, sometimes they dont.

ive never tried he pronouns, dont think i want to.

they/them pronouns dont give me that much euphoria either, its just like. ok

Okay! Have you tried neopronouns? If you're not interesting in those, it could just be that they/them is what feels best. And that's okay, too!

another thing. my friend has another nonbinary friend. she always genders them correctly, but almost never me. it makes me feel like shit, like she cares more about getting their pronouns than mine, even though i know that thats not a good mindset and shit.

*loud buzzer sound* wrong. Your friend should be gendering everyone correctly, not just some people. Good friends care about making their friends feel comfortable, and this friend is making you uncomfortable. Would you feel comfortable talking to them about it?

also, heres some more on my fear of men because who doesnt love being scared out of their wits irrationally :D

my dance teacher had to leave to go back to where she lives, so they gave me a male teacher (i tend to only have female ones.)

i would be in tears every lesson. i felt like shit. (also i hate the sound of peoples voices and he would always be talking and i hate it so much because his voice, amongst others, is one of the ones that hurts my ears the most.) i even went to my mom to ask her for a change which helped ig? my new teacher is really nice and i love her so,,, yeah

Okay, I want to stop here to say- a lot of this has to do with gender, right? But this particular response seems to be rooted in trauma. Without prying too much, I am wondering if there is something that happened with a man or masculine-presenting person or people? You do NOT have to share with me, but this might be something to explore with a trusted person in your life. I mean, there is a chance it's gender-related, but in the most loving way, there seems to be something deeper going on here.

anyway, you dont have to answer this, i was going to just ask for help with labels and feeling like theres no correct label for me (i use agender now, for simplicity, because i dont feel connected to having a gender at all)

So I guess my question is, how do you feel about the agender label? When I looked up the definition, it seems to be defined as exactly what you described- someone not having a gender at all.

Also, remember that your gender identity and expression are two different things! You can identify as agender (or any of the other things you mentioned) and still choose to dress however feels most comfortable and use whatever pronouns feel most comfortable. There are no set rules except: do what feels most genuine and comfortable!

if you do want to answer this but dont want to use this large of an ask on your blog, just call me dancer anon, i will see and understand 👍

again, sorry for dumping all of this on you

ahhhhhhh don't be sorry, you are a wonderful human!

have a wonderful day

you, too! please message me if you want to talk more! <3

#ask #asks #ask cas

[jade-parcels]

Obv I don't claim the creation of DCKZ, 5wirl, TVT Dream, KNRH, or RCHNS as they're all groups I've seen in the au before but all the rest are mine! (This is quite long I'm sorry)

DCKZ -> Diluc - vocal, Childe - rap, Kaeya - dance (vis), Zhongli - vocal (leader)

5wirl -> Aether - rap (leader), Kazuha - rap (vis), Venti - vocal, Xiao - dance (vis), Heizou - dance

L/YUE -> Ningguang - vocal (leader), Beidou - rap (vis), Keqing - rap/dance, Ganyu - dance

TVT DREAM -> Bennet - rap (leader), Razor - dance, Xingqiu - vocal, Chongyun - dance (vis), Fischl - bestie, manager in training

4vonius -> Jean - vocal/dance (leader), Eula - dancer (vis), Amber - rap, Lisa - vocal (vis), Noelle - excited manager, Sucrose - shy manager in training

KNRH (underground group) -> Kaeya (on the dl)- dance (leader) (vis), Albedo - vocal, Dainsleif - rap (vis)

Red Oni -> Itto - rap (leader) (vis), Thoma - vocal, Gorou - dance (vis), Shinobu - tired manager

3lectro -> Baal - rap (leader), Yae Miko - vocal (vis), Sara - dance

Spl4sh -> Kokomi - dance (leader), Barbara - vocal, Mona - dance (vis), Yelan - rap (vis)

XY² -> Xiangling - dance, Xinyan - rap (vis), Yanfei - vocal, Yoimiya - vocal (leader), Hu Tao - goofy manager

Blackice -> Rosaria - rap/dance, Shenhe - vocal/dance (vis)

Sumosity -> Cyno - rap (vis), Tighnari - vocal, Alhaitham - dance, Collei - number one fan, manager in training

RCHNS (former) (stage names most likely) -> Barbatos - vocal, Morax - vocal (leader), Raiden - rap, Tsaritsa - dance (vis), Rukkhadevata (nahida's mom) - dance, +the other 2 idk enough abt them tho

Eis Zwei -> Kaeya - dance (vis), Rosaria - rap/dance (I think I'm I'm cool and funny for this name I'll explain why if you wanna know)

Solos ->

☆yaka [the star is important] (dance) Ayato - sly manager

Nilou (dance) Candace - stern manager

Yunjin (vocal) Her own damn manager tyvm

-🐝

Bee, my love, I’ve decided to make a long post in addition to this one so I can lay it out the way I want (tumblr mobile is DUMB booooo)

I love the soloist Ayaka with her big bro being her manager so much, to me that’s just so cute cause he’s supporting her dreams…. Brb sobbing;-; I also love how Kaeya’s in like three groups he has commitment issues we know -_-

I have groups in mind as well, I’m gonna shit them out here so I don’t lose them and I’ll make a separate post about them because it got long and again, when I tried to copy and paste into here the formatting was fucked up so expect that later when I can go on my computer instead cause tumblr mobile is so fucking bad ok here!!! ⚪️-gen 1 🔴- gen 2 🔵- gen 3 🟢-gen 4

⚪️ICEE - Tsaritsa, 2 other group mates who retired nameless

⚪️Alice (Soloist)

🔴HARBING3R - Pantalone, Capitano, Dottore

🔴☆YATO - Ayato (soloist)

🔴elec2ro - Yae, Ei

🔴DR.BAi- Baizhu (soloist)

🔴/🔵BLACKICE - Shenhe, Yelan, Rosaria, Candace

🔵DCKZ - Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli

🔵SWORD- Jean, Amber, Eula, Lisa, Noelle

🔵5WIRL - Venti, Heizou, Aether, Scara, Xiao

🔵AlKaZ- Albedo, Kazuha

🔵SPL4SH - Kokomi, Mona, Barbara, Nilou

🔵ATCK- Tighnari, Cyno, Alhaitham, Kaveh

🔵L/YUE- Ning, Ganyu, Keqing, Beidou

🔵Dain (Soloist)

🟢Hot!Hot! - Xinyan, Xiangling, Yanfei, Hu Tao, Yoimiya

🟢☆YAKA - Ayaka (soloist)

🟢Yunjin (soloist fuck yeah)

🟢ADVNTR- Bennett, Chongyun, Xingqiu, Razor

🟢RED HORN- Thoma, Itto, Gorou

Trainees: Collei, Mika

Managers: Sara, Pierro, Shinobu

—-

Underground/sub-groups/additional groups idk

🖤KNRHA - Kaeya, Albedo, Dain

🖤ARCHON- Zhongli, Tsaritsa, Venti, Ei

🖤DELUSION Scara, Pantalone, Capitano, Dottore, Childe

🖤☆ART - Ayaka and Ayato :) <3

#genshin impact #idol au 💕

[jamiesfootball]

11 and/or 41!

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

Research and me have an interesting relationship. Because on the one hand I love research. I'll do tons of research on things that barely matter just so I can sprinkle in little details or act like I know what I'm talking about without sticking my foot in my mouth. But then at the same time I will forget to research the most basic shit you've ever thought of.

OGYGGIYHNBGL, for the record, will read best if like me you temporarily completely forget that calendars exist. (I am in the works for trying to fix this, but calendars in general make it feel like my brain is on fire so. Tempered expectations is maybe the way to go when it comes to examining the accuracy of the football calendar season)

I don't know if neat is the word for it, but when I was researching Nigerian food for Sam's restaurant I learned some interesting things about how fucking impossible it is to find recipes for Nigerian food online:

Google quickly gives up and starts recommending reddit forums and google play links. This, as compared to the pages on pages on pages of recipe blogs you can find for most other foods.

Books are not much easier to find. After searching for a while I was able to get a hold of 5 books, most of which I had to order online and most of which are West or Northern African specific, not specific to Nigeria. One of the books I found is literally some guy's food blog copy/pasted into book format- it's written like a blog, the paragraph spacing varies wildly from page to page, and they've kept in all the parts where he casually mentions a local store he buys ingredients from. Despite all this, the copy of that I bought is in it's Fifth Edition,

No one would mention. Where all the fucking spice was coming from. Every single source would be like 'oh the food is so spicy' and then the recipe would read like a normal grocery store list. I finally figured some things out (like what kind of 'pepper' they were referring to)

41. what is the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.

...I'm drawing a blank, sorry. All the ideas I've had have all been rooted in something, so none of them seem weird to me. Unusual in that I've maybe not seen a similar story before, but not weird.

So I'll say my most 'not seen this before' story idea is the one I have where two friends have to solve a mystery in a museum when one of the two blind. So much of the mystery genre is focused on visual clues that I wanted to explore how someone might piece a mystery together without using sight (or a sight-replacing superpower).

#writers ask game #ask box is always open

[angry-geese]

Blood Ties - Chapter Forty-Eight: For Whom the Bell Tolls

soulmate au Choso x reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of death but not for any major characters. brief mention of suicide. obligatory manga spoilers (kinda??)

Synopsis: Angel's help comes with some prerequesites; ones that are seemingly impossible to complete. The group is seemingly at an impasse until the arrival of new players brings some alarming information

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: the formatting of this one got a little fucked up when i copy pasted it so sorry if it looks just a little wonky

prev - next

masterlist

The heat of early spring, combined with the poor ventilation of this room leads to miserable conditions. Smoke hangs heavy in the air; a byproduct of the fire, incense, and tobacco. Beside her, Sukuna sits on the floor, using a stone to sharpen his spearhead. To his left sits a bottle of oil, and cloth. In the low light of the room, the metal appears black. 

The arrival of spring marks the sorcerer’s third year in Japan, although she finds the passage of time increasingly harder to keep track of. Seasons are the biggest giveaway; with the coming of winter, she will pass her sixtieth. Though outwardly her appearance has changed little, she notices the effects of time more and more. She finds that wounds received in her younger years never really healed, simply lying dormant.

Uraume stops by once, bringing tea, and sits with them for a while. They’re silent for the majority of it, only nodding, or shaking their head when asked a question. She wouldn't consider them a friend; Uraume is more of an acquaintance. What little conversations they do have, are brief, and typically centered around Sukuna. Not that she minds. Both humans keep to themselves, and that suits them fine.

“You’re wearing it wrong.” Sukuna says.

He sets down what he’s holding: a spearhead, and a sharpening stone. “It’s backwards.” He says. “The way you’re wearing it is traditional of a death garment. Unless that was intentional.”

It wasn't.

“This is needlessly complicated.” She says, continuing to fasten her obi. When it provides even more resistance, she ties it off in a knot.

“Come here,” he says, gesturing with his hand, “let me fix it.”

He makes quick work of her mess of knots, tying it so it lays smooth against her back. Having four arms appears to be an advantage in a situation like this. His hand brushes against her back, smoothing out a wrinkle on her yukata. At one point in time, it belonged to Uruame, before it was hemmed to better suit her. The garment had the added bonus of being light enough to wear in Japan’s hot, humid summers.

“What’s the occasion?” He asks.

Even sitting, he is nearly eye level with her. His gaze is intense, but not accusatory. 

“The village down by the river is having a festival,” she says, “it’s a good chance to get off this damn mountain.”

“It’s ill-advised to go alone.” Sukuna says. 

“Are you suggesting you tag along?” She asks, the slightest ghost of a grin appearing on her face. “They’ll wonder why a man like you is with a woman almost four hundred years younger than him…”

The look on his face is unreadable, but it doesn't look like disapproval. Maybe slight annoyance, if that.

“What?” He asks. “Is my company not good enough for you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” She says flatly.

“You are aware that this indicates you’re an unmarried woman, right?” He asks, letting the soft, blue fabric fall through his fingers. 

“Seeing as my husband is dead,” she says, “technically I am.”

From beside him, he retrieves his spearhead, and sharpening stone. Her eyes follow the metal as it’s dragged across the surface of the stone. Repeated, almost meditative motions.

“Why are you still here?” He asks.

Her eyes narrow at the question. It’s not about the festival—yet it’s phrased as if it is. Years ago, she could have left and moved on to a different country. Perhaps she could have moved on to mainland Asia, then Europe. After that? Maybe Africa. Perhaps she will wander until she dies.

In her time here, she’s asked herself that same question. This place never brought a sense of belonging. She wasn't alone in feeling like an outsider here. Her home rests in a land incomprehensibly far away; yet her second one rests beside the King of Curses.

“Haven't we had this conversation before?” She asks. A tone of annoyance is audible within her voice, but it does nothing to deter him. 

Her hands fall loosely at her sides, before clenching into fists. Sukuna’s gaze follows her as she comes to a stop before the fire, tossing another log onto it. Embers spill into the air, pouring smoke further into the room.

“Far to the south, in Mexico, I met a man. A foreigner in those lands, as was I,” she says, “He told me of his homeland—of Japan. He told me tales of these… sorcerers. People with strange abilities. People like me,

“He warned me too. About a being called the King of Curses.”

As she comes to rest on the mat beside him, an arm entangles itself with hers. The blue cloth of her yukata pools around her, bunching around her hips.

“Finding this… being—this ‘King of Curses’ became my purpose.” She says. “If he wasn't willing to help me, then I figured he would at least grant me some answers,

“Everything I heard about you sounded like a warning. People’s eyes filled with fear at the mention of your name yet…

“I find it odd how sorcerers were the first to turn me away—to hurt me—yet you welcomed me in.”

And for the first time in decades, she has found “safety”. 

Sukuna lets out a noise between a scoff and a grunt. Non-committal. While his expression is flat—stern—there’s a flicker of emotion underneath. The light from the fire casts shadows across his face, only serving to disguise his expression even more.

“You don't miss it?” Sukuna asks. “Your home?”

What a curious question coming from him… 

“It’s been decades,” she says, “the world has changed plenty, but I have not.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

The Soulmate Sorcerer turns her attention back to the fire, eyes trained on the coals. She becomes acutely aware of every little noise within this temple; the crackling of the fire, Uruame’s footsteps, plates clattering around in an adjacent room. 

“Of course I do.” She says. “But there is nothing to go back to.”

…

He said he would be “out in a minute” five minutes ago now, but if the others are getting worried, then they show no sign of it. 

James scrubs and scrubs at the blood under his nails, and hopelessly at a stain on his shirt. It’s stress that causes him to be so nauseous; that causes him to pick at his skin until it bleeds. A metallic taste fills his mouth. His tongue prods against the rough flesh. In his sleep, he must have bitten his cheek. Water isn't enough to get out blood; he needs salt, or some peroxide.

When he lifts his head, he makes eye contact with someone in the mirror.

This woman isn't a complete stranger. James has seen her before—perhaps in some distant dream. Her hair—which falls just past her shoulders—is streaked with gray. Wrinkles mark the corners of her eyes. She’s only slightly younger than his mother, he thinks, maybe fifty or so. At her waist, hung on a belt made of braided leather, is a sword, and small knife.

A cold feeling tightens around his chest. James soon registers the feeling as fear. Internally, he curses himself. As if being haunted by a childhood friend wasn't bad enough… He's seeing things—he’s fucking seeing things! 

James ignores her at first. He remains lucid enough to know that this is a vision—that she isn't really there. That is until she steps towards him, pulling him backwards by his shoulder.

“Your ancestors stand before you and frown, James Whitford.” She says. It is her mouth that moves, but it is his voice that speaks. 

“Who—what—are you?” He asks.

“I am you.” She says. Flatly, as if this shouldn't be a surprise to him.

It's her mouth that moves, but it’s his voice that speaks. Hearing it come out of a mouth that isn't his own is almost enough to make his head spin.

“What do you want?” He asks.

And for a moment, when her hands tremble, so do his. Consciousness slips from him, much like a dream. All he feels is a quiet, unyielding anger. She crosses her arms, leaning against the tile wall. James can feel the chill of the tiles at his back.

“You want my opinion?” She asks, motioning to the gun at his belt. “Stick the barrel of this in your mouth and pull the trigger. Let the next soulmate sorcerer take over. Hopefully they’ll be less of a disappointment.”

“How charming,” James says with a scoff. “So… what? You want me gone so you can take over or something? Puppet my body around? Cause you’re not doing a whole lot right now…”

Like gas being thrown onto a fire, the anger within him grows tenfold. It’s her anger, yet he is not lucid enough to do anything about it. 

Worst of it all is the fear. Anger is one thing—it is controllable. But fear threatens to consume him entirely.

“If I wanted your body, I’d take it myself.”

James doesn't process it until after it’s happened: her fist connecting with the side of his head, then him lying face down on the floor. Blood pours from his nose, and a cut above his eyebrow in streams. He grips onto the edge of the sink in an attempt to pull himself up.

“You don't think I could?” She asks. “You don't think it's possible?

“You are me. Everything! Your thoughts, actions, habits, are all remnants of me! I have lived a hundred lives, do you really think you’re any different from them?

“This will repeat until the curse our ancestors set is released. Only then, will the cycle be broken,

“Do you wish for this to continue? For Louis to see you like this?”

The mention of his name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. His hand comes up to wipe at a droplet of blood that’s spilled down his lip.

“It'll… it’ll kill people!” He says, although his concern is unconvincing. “Thousands will die!”

“But that's not why you're afraid,” she says, sighing. “You're afraid it will finally come out that your sibling and the cursed womb were never soulmates in the first place. That once the string of fate is finally broken, they’ll realize what you’ve done. I get it. Really. Family is complicated like that.”

“That's not true!” James says, only to be interrupted.

“It was in their best interest,” she says, in a sudden moment of lucidity, not clouded by anger, “you would have joined their string of fate with Kenjaku if you thought it was going to save them. Didn't matter that you violated your own moral code. That you were a hypocrite. Or toyed with the lives of innocents. Anything to save your dear, little sibling-”

In a sudden bout of strength, and anger, James swings. But she’s not really there. The force of his swing carries his fist into the mirror, shattering it. Blood pours between his fingers, coating his palm, and leaving a red handprint on the edge of the sink.

“Haven't you realized?” She asks. “Unless you die, I will always be with you.���

The woman taps her pointer finger against her temple. His grip on the sink loosens as her foot slams into his back, forcing him to the ground. The little strength that remained in his limbs gives out. From him comes an undignified cry. The noise is finally enough to draw the other’s attention. In comes Angel, and Fushiguro. She helps roll him onto his side. From there, James is able to prop himself up into a sitting position.

“Oh no!” Hana plants her hands on James’ shoulders, steadying him. 

Only a few feet behind Hana stands the woman, her arms crossed in front of her chest. James’ eyes widen in panic. He lifts an arm to point where the woman stands. Hana turns to look, only to see nothing.

“You’re seeing things.” Angel says. Their tone isn't accusatory, or even worried. They speak, plainly, and calmly, despite their host’s terrified look.

“That obvious?” He asks.

The look on her face resembles pity. “At first I suspected it was due to blood loss,” Hana says, “but…” He glances up at her, their eyes meeting for only a moment. In them, James spies a look of fear. “Angel told me about you.” She continues. “About what you are…

“You're like us. Sort of. Within you is a reincarnated sorcerer that co-exists with your body like me, or Itadori. Except… yours works a bit differently than ours,” she continues. "When you suffered an injury that was nearly fatal, that sorcerer took over in a last-ditch attempt to keep your body alive.”

The cold feeling in his chest is replaced with something else. Something akin to concrete hardens in his stomach.

"Isn't that the point, though?" James scoffs. "Taking over seemed like the goal from the start."

"I doubt it's that simple." Hana says. "They're likely bound to some sort of agreement. Something preventing this sorcerer from taking over until you're gone. When your body assumed you were dying, that agreement was fulfilled, allowing them to begin the process of taking over. Since you're still alive, things are progressing slower but..."

It will still happen. Neurons will find new paths. Networks within the brain will rewire as it gets adjusted to its new host. And slowly, ever so slowly, James will cease to be.

“I’m sorry about this,” he says, swallowing hard, “it’s unfortunate you were dragged into this mess. I wish things turned out differently.”

The single eye of Angel glares down at him. His past life must have left quite the sour impression.

“Are you actually saying that to me?” Hana asks. “Or are you saying it because you wish you told that to someone else?”

She watches as his lips press into a thin line. “I’ll be fine,” says James, forcing himself to stand, “we need to deal with those new players.”

It has to be Kenjaku. That’s the only explanation…

In the adjacent room, the others gather around a window. James cranes his neck to look over them. Down on the street below, a cursed spirit stumbles into view. Figuring it nothing of note, he sits down in a nearby chair.

It’s not even noon, and the sky has grown dark. Clouds gathering overhead signal a coming storm. James backs away from the window, flopping down in a chair.

Within this hotel, the group sits in relative safety. Aside from the—albeit low—threat of cursed spirits, or stray players, it's isolated enough to provide cover. Should they need to, they could hole themselves up here for a while.

“Kenjaku may be planning for cursed spirits to conduct a one-sided massacre of non sorcerers.” Angel says. “If the cursed energy of the culling game players isn't enough to fill the colonies, it would provide insurance.”

“But why?” Asks James. “If even 10% of Japan’s population was mutated into sorcerers, that’s still thousands of people! That should be more than enough cursed energy!”

That’s still over 10,000,000 people. Not counting cursed spirits, born sorcerers, and trapped humans. Regular humans only release a small amount of cursed energy upon death, and are worth so few points that most players wouldn't bother killing them.

“What reason do non-sorcerers even have for entering the barrier?” Itadori asks.

“Maybe they weren't given a choice,” James says. “Kenjaku has people on the outside forcing others in—I ran into one a while back. It wouldn't be impossible for him to do that on a larger scale, especially if he deemed it necessary.”

But more than a thousand sorcerers have died here in this colony… that should be more than enough cursed energy! 

“In less than a week, we are going to face a loss of life near unimaginable to mankind,” James says. “In a matter of days, those who refused to participate, or haven't gained any points since the beginning are going to die. All that will remain are people willingly participating in this. When that happens, I have reason to believe that's when he will act next. Or…”

“Or what?” Asks Hana.

“We could release Gojo. Use him as bait. Force things into motion that way.”

The look on her face says she thinks it’s a bad idea. He stands, motioning to the window. “Whatever their reason—it’s probably best we ask them ourselves.”

…

Upon exiting the building, it doesn't take long for them to stumble across one of these new players. 

James senses something is wrong the moment he rounds the block: the presence of a human soul. It’s ripe with fear; sweet and putrid, moving towards them. He’s ducking before his brain fully processes what’s going on. Something metal clatters against the wall before falling to the pavement. He has to squint to get a better look at it: a small, metal syringe. Another clears just to his left. Had he hesitated for even a moment, that dart would be sticking straight into his arm. Rolling it over with his foot reveals a metal needle, and a sickly pink liquid leaking from it.

From behind, his shirt is seized by Itadori, dragging him into cover. That's when he notices the source of the shots: a cafe from across the street. The front window has been shattered, and broken glass is strewn across the sidewalk.

Before he can protest, Megumi makes a break for an alley across the street. Following just a step behind him, is Itadori. The soldier doesn't seem to know which to shoot at: either student, or the divine dogs. The air is buzzing with cursed energy, and a whirlwind of metal darts. 

With one anticlimactic strike, the man is knocked out.

It only lasts a moment. By the time the sorcerers cross the street, he has started to regain consciousness. It's not at all like the movies. If someone is knocked out for more than a few seconds, then they more than likely have experienced major brain damage.

With Itadori holding one arm, and Megumi holding the other, the soldier has no chance of escape. As insurance, Fushiguro’s divine dogs stand guard, ready to chase should he attempt it. But the soldier doesn't, and becomes almost resigned to his fate.

“Just what the hell are you trying to do?” James asks.

The soldier’s uniform bears no distinct markings, although he doesn't appear to be from Japan’s national defense force. The glasses he wears must be similar to Maki’s: meant to help him see curses.

“I don't know the exact details,” he says, sighing, “I’m just one of the grunts. But that cursed energy or whatever it is you guys use? I heard they want to study it as an alternative energy source.”

A cold feeling slithers into James’ chest. The soldier seems almost eager to diverge this information. Aside from a few pauses to think, he’s forthcoming with his words.

Following a moment of silence, Megumi is the first to speak up. “So they're researching how to reach energy self-sufficiency by having citizens produce their own energy? Huh.”

It’s Kenjaku, James thinks, that’s just a cover story. His actual plan is hidden in a web of little lies and people he’s screwed over. Kenjaku is nothing but a social chameleon with a forked tongue.

And James fell right into his web. It was the promise of money that drew him in, but when he looked in his eyes, it was Louis he saw. Perhaps that’s why he stuck with him as long as he did. Why all those sweet lies sank their teeth into him. 

“In the end, jujutsu headquarters holds the reins on power in the country.” Megumi says. Imagine that prideful bunch taking the initiative to popularize cursed energy. No way they’d let that happen,

“So he used that as bait to trick an army of non-sorcerers into the colony.”

“But there were several thousand players within this colony,” James says. “The sorcerers within the game should be enough to power his merge. What good will a couple hundred extra humans do?”

Aside from providing a full-course meal for the cursed spirits.

“How is it even possible to bring in this many people?” Megumi asks. “Did they bring in militaries from multiple countries?”

Is Kenjaku purposely trying to overcomplicate the game, so they aren't focused on the real outcome.

“In Tokyo colonies 1 and 2, a combined 2,500 people have died in combat,” Angel says, “here alone there should be more than enough cursed energy for the merger. It’s pointless.”

Pointless. 

Within a matter of days, if not hours, humanity will witness a loss of life nearly unknown to mankind. Not to something slow, like famine, or war. A painful death. A genocide of sorcerers and humans alike.

“I hate to say it, but they have a point,” James says. “In only a matter of days, we are going to witness a ‘great dying’ of players who refused to participate. Anyone who hasn't gotten points in nineteen days is subject to this. At least hundreds, if not thousands of people are going to die. That’s already more than enough cursed energy for the merger.”

James isn't certain if he’s trying to encourage Itadori, or discourage him. While he finds the action pointless, he needs to buy time. 

“Whether or not you save these soldiers, the outcome will remain the same,” Angel continues, “so don't drag Hana into this. My risks are hers, and I will not fight this pointless battle.”

Itadori scowls, his gaze falling to a crack in the pavement.

“Don't order us around,” Itadori says, although it is unclear if he is speaking to Angel, or Hana, “I’ve never trusted any of you.” 

Within Itadori, Sukuna stirs, perhaps drawn by the conflict. The student stuffs his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowed. He’s seen this look all too well in his younger sibling. In Itadori, it’s out of character. To James, this would be a cause for concern if their other matters weren't so pressing. 

“We weren't allies or anything in the first place,” Itadori continues, “Whitford already agreed to help us—his cursed technique will work. We can do this ourselves.”

As Itadori turns to walk away, the temperature in the air drops. Hana’s arms cross in front of her chest, pulling her sweater tighter around herself. This time, as the air comes alive, it is not with metal darts, but the sweet smell of fear. It’s as if the earth itself knows it has been cursed. A rift has opened that time will not heal.

The merger has begun.

#kshjfdkjh i have once again made more edits to this chapter #so there are some slight differences between this one and the ao3 version #eh eventually ill fix it but for now its good ksdjfhks #blood ties #jjk x reader #choso x reader #i totally forgot how to tag lmao

[quinndae]

A Small Look Into 0xEmpress

Alright so I was a little bit bored so I did a dive into a figure I thought was... interesting, to say the least. If you know the name 0xEmpress, you probably already know what you’re in for, but for those that don’t:

CONTENT WARNING: A LOT OF TRANSPHOBIA/HOMOPHOBIA AND SLURS

OVERVIEW

Alright so recently Hogwarts Legacy was cracked by a pretty infamous figure in video game piracy, 0xEmpress (Empress for short).

Empress is a Russian games cracker (as in they crack video games, I'm not sure if there's a better operative for this, sorry) who accrued attention in the games piracy scene for their specialty; routinely bypassing Denuvo DRM. A feat which no one had been capable of doing until, or since, Empress.

A DRM (Short for Digital Rights Management) is something added to a piece of software to prevent or restrict unauthorized redistribution. This is usually in pieces of code which check digital certificates which, if not present, will prevent the software from operating.

DRM is known for being annoying, even to players who play games legitimately. To pirates, though, it is the major obstacle they need to overcome when cracking a game. And with how often DRMs are updated, this makes the challenge an active battle between the creator and the pirate.

Cracking is simply the act of making the game not limited by this DRM and putting it into a state which allows it to be pirated and distributed.

Empress is known amongst video game pirates specifically for her ability to bypass Denuvo.

Denuvo Anti-Tamper is a DRM developed by Denuvo Software Solutions and is notoriously the toughest DRM to bypass for most pirates. 

This is due to the methods Denuvo used, being “integrated into the games code” and “assigning a unique authentication token to each copy of the game” according to Empress. That, coupled with just how frequent Denuvo updated made any attempt at bypassing the DRM hopeless.

Very few had cracked Denuvo games, and none did so frequently. Until Empress.

Every game she cracks uses Denuvo. Her refusal to share her methods also means she practically owns the market when it comes to cracking those games.

Other than being free copies of otherwise expensive games, Empress’ cracks of Denuvo games have been reported to actually speed up the performance, as the DRM seems to be rather CPU intensive on games it is installed on. 

Her ability to crack impossible DRM quickly and efficiently has given Empress a reputation as a one-of-a-kind legend in video game piracy circles.

So Empress is, in short, incredibly good at cracking games. She's gotten past the worst of the worst when it comes to DRM and publishes her cracks online for the masses.

Except, like many of history's greats, Empress is fucking insane.

NFOS

Within a lot of pirated games are included specific types of files, .nfo files. NFO, short for info, is a type of text file created by a videogame cracker which contains information about the game and the specific pirated copy, such as language changing options.

Like many text-only formats, the users of NFO files have gotten creative, drawing elaborate ascii art within the files as a way to distinguish themselves. Empress is no different.

Empress' NFOs include her name in giant bold letters, held up by pillars which stretch the entire length of the file. Additionally, she includes boxes of text with a distinguishing calling card.

--EXPRESSES--

ALL HATE & INSULTS

--DEPRESSES--

ALL DENUVO SCUM

--IMPRESSES--

ALL PIRATES ACROSS THE SEA

This is followed by a mention of the game's title, the type of DRM the game had/has (For example, Denuvo v10, Steam, Epic, VMProtect), as well as the emulator a game may be using.

Below the info are Empress' donation links to various cryptocurrency wallets, such as BTC, ETH, and Monero. These donations are said to "fund further DRM research and cover living costs."

Donators of $500 or more are able to request any game they want a crack for, so long as it has Denuvo DRM.

Further are contact links, including e-mail (notably protonmail), qTox (a secure instant messaging service), as well as her subreddit link.

The penultimate section of the NFO are the ~Release Notes~ and ~Install Notes~, which detail methods for installing the game onto a machine, as well as what DLC or edition of the game is included.

The final section, however, is the reason her NFOs are special. Aptly titled ~Special Notes~, this section is for any personal messages Empress wishes to send out to readers.

~SPECIAL NOTES~

Empress uses this ~Special Notes~ section to communicate with her audience, wax philosophical, and generally ramble to a non-specific audience. Often, these are related to videogame drama and events.

This section of the NFO is where Empress will break formality, switching to her signature typing style. Her RANDOM capitalization of WORDS she uses for either EMPHASIS or just GENERAL SHOUTING, her fondness of profanity, the creativity in her insults, ending a large amount of her statements with (middle finger), "quotations, both for emphasis and to actually quote general statements."

This typing style truly makes the ~SPECIAL NOTES~ stand out, especially since a lot of her rambles are utter nonsense.

It is comprehensible, yes. It has a point it is trying to make, yes. It is not as if she is being silly for the sake of it. She is unhinged.

Many of the NFOs are, to put it lightly, mean. Within a good amount of her NFOs, she includes messages to the companies who created the games, as well as Denuvo.

For example, the following was included within the Monster Hunter Rise Sunbreak crack.

"Message to capcom:

How dare you charge $430 for 98% worthless DLC

How dare you even charge to make edit to the

main character in the game?

FUCK YOU A THOUSAND TIMES YOU GREEDY FUCEKRS.

It didn't really help paying like little SLUTS

to denuvo to protect your DLCs, did it?...

It also didn't help that you made retarded DRM

of your own on top either, did it?...

Next time, please don't waste more of your

money and don't shame yourselves - focus on the

actual game instead, FAGGOTS.

Message to denuvo:

With this release, I have just proven that I 

CAN and I WILL destroy your pathetic protection 

no matter what you do. And now you can kindly 

go fuck yourselves because your "Anti-Tamper" 

has been TAMPERED with by me once again, and 

is completely destroyed, LOSERS (middle finger)."

You may have noticed how she ended the statement to CAPCOM. Empress seems to hold many of the same opinions as the far-right gamergate crowd (i.e TheQuartering, Rags, etc.), bashing newer games with representation as "gay garbage".

"Games like: 'Gays Gone, Spidershit, Gay of War" get very high scores. Every fucking gay garbage comes out and you all love it..."

Except, seemingly, female representation. In her Dying Light 2 NFO, she states:

"STOP COMPARING 'SR' to 'GTA' you 

DUMB PIECES OF SHIT. And I am 

already aware of the "pre-hate" on 

GTA 6, just cause people learnt it 

will feature a 'female' character. 

What the HELL is WRONG with that, 

you sexist motherfuckers?"

Additionally, within the NFO for Dying Light 2, she praises the Saints Row reboot, stating it "is the BEST saints row game made." Saints Row, of course, being a series known for featuring gay relationships.

Despite this, Empress claims to be "bi-sexual and fully lesbian." The following statement was also included in her NFO for Maneater:

"3-Yes, I think any game without a female protagonist to be either gay or garbage. And YES,

I fucking hate most female characters in games whom are skinny and skeleton figure.

Big 'FUCK YOU' to every developer who thinks a skinny female is beautiful."

From these details, it can be inferred that Empress is a person with complicated and downright bizarre political views.

Though, this does not compare to her stance on trans people. A stance which has garnered her a bit of attention as of late.

FITGIRL

Fitgirl is a Russian-born repacker, responsible for repacking and distributing a large number of pirated games.

Repacking is the act of taking a game's files and compressing them down into something smaller, while still playing as normal. Repacking can be done to legitimate versions of games, however within the pirating community repacking is an essential practice as it reduces file sizes of cracked games for easy internet transfer.

So while repackers are distributors and do work with cracked games, they are not the ones to crack the game. This is a common misconception, many people believing Fitgirl is the one to crack the games. This results in a lot of people thinking Fitgirl is behind the cracks, thanking her specifically for the game.

Empress does not enjoy this fact. At one point during 2021, Empress got into a feud with Fitgirl. She intentionally limited the download rate of her crack to 200kb/s in an attempt to stop Fitgirl and other repackers from accessing it.

This was under the belief that repackers "steal the spotlight" from her work. After this, Fitgirl made a statement saying she would not be repacking any more Empress cracks.

The drama did not end here.

In 2023, the developer build of Atomic Heart was leaked, a developer build which used Denuvo as its DRM. As such, Fitgirl made a statement that, since Empress is the only person who knows how to crack Denuvo, she would not be repacking the build.

In a post on the r/piratedgames subreddit, a user posted a screenshot of Fitgirl's statement and asked why "Fitgirl is butthurt." A comment on this post, notably with more upvotes than the original post, stated:

R-Slur warning:

"FG (Fitgirl) is not ,butthurt'

Empress was the one who got butthurt and went full retard."

Empress, in a move which probably didn't help to clear the "butthurt" label, responded to this comment in a 436 word reddit post on her subreddit r/EMPRESSEVOLUTION. The full post is quite long but contains quite a few accusations against Fitgirl, as well as the typical flavorings of Empress ranting. Notably, Empress does not capitalize the start of her sentences like in her NFOs.

To summarize, Empress claims:

Fitgirl was pretending to have actually cracked the games that Empress herself had done as a way to boost her image.

That Fitgirl is actually a man, along with some transphobic language around that (Sissy and faggot, specifically). (This claim is difficult to prove as no proof was given. Fitgirl uses a picture of a french actress to represent herself online. As I cannot validate the claim, I will stick to she/her pronouns for fitgirl.)

Fitgirl was locking any post about Empress. (I am assuming she meant reddit posts on r/piratedgames, but Fitgirl does not seem to be a moderator so it's unclear if that is what she meant)

Fitgirl was begging for money, including a screenshot of Fitgirl's donation page. (A notably hypocritical statement)

The second point is particularly important because it leads into-

RECENT EVENTS

Her latest crack, Hogwarts Legacy, is a divisive game. To say even that much would be an understatement. It also includes Denuvo DRM, which made Empress the only one with a method of cracking it. Coupled with the fact that it is a popular triple-A release, there was no doubt it would be Empress' next target.

Less than two weeks after the game's official release, Empress announced the game had been cracked. The crack, which was quickly distributed across the internet, contained another one of Empress' rants in its NFO.

This ~SPECIAL MESSAGE~, which is 549 words long, details Empress' support of JK Rowling and virulent hatred of trans/WOKE people, though is surprisingly more legible than most of her other rants. This is not to say that the words she said had any actual weight to them.

The rant contains all the workings of an Empress NFO. Unhinged, half-baked philosophy wrapped with a bow of profanity. The only thing lacking compared to most of her other NFOs is a particular anti-corporate sentiment. Empress even tried her hand at poetry towards the end. It isn't good.

Not long before the Hogwarts Legacy crack was released, Empress made a certain post to Reddit, seemingly trying to “call out” trans people as well as a generalized leftist sentiment. The whole thing is full of logical fallacies and blatant bigotry. Unsurprisingly for Reddit, this had consequences. If you have paused reading this at any point to look up r/EmpressEvolution, you may have noticed a little notice.

"r/EmpressEvolution has been banned from Reddit.

This community was banned for repeatedly violating Reddit's Moderator Code of Conduct."

Her reddit account, unsurprisingly, got the same treatment.

In what I assume was a revised version of the NFO for the latest update of Hogwarts Legacy (And thus the latest crack of the game), she added:

"To reddit admins: hey, keep collecting TRASH and

don't be ashamed whenever you drop yours pants in

a BACKLASH.

To reddit slaves: suck it harder bitches, you are

not doing good ENOUGH. Keep on it and do try to

forget the CUFF."

DENOUEMENT

Honestly, I can't think of a great way to conclude this. It's like stopping a story half-way through, since Empress seems to be going strong, as well as how much I glossed over in just trying to get this much out.

There were a lot of details I could have gone into, such as,

Empress' Dark Souls 2 fever dream which got her into cracking games.

Empress' self-proclaimed cult.

Her weird obsession with calling DRM a "Cancer" (which might relate back to her Dark Souls 2 fever dream)

Whoever the fuck Mr_Goldberg is.

The true extent of Empress' weird philosophy. I glazed over it a lot but she's really into pretending to be a philosopher.

Her hatred for Stray. Like she really fucking hates that game.

Her "cult" having a $10k entry fee (I think it's a bit weird in how she words it)

People think she's actually a guy a lot and that infuriates her.

Empress got arrested at some point??? and she blamed Fitgirl??? This one is pretty hard to verify for a number of reasons.

The Sergiu situation

She might possibly include viruses and mining code in her cracks? Difficult to verify as I only saw it from a single source.

Is Empress real? Is this a persona she puts on to attract a cult of personality so people notice her more? Or is this truly how she is, a one-of-a-kind video game piracy expert with incredibly strange worldviews? Either way, she's become an icon, not just because of her skill, but also due to her controversy and unordinary but enrapturing personality.

I would like to say that, while I did write all 2655 words of this document, I do not in any way support Empress. I mean don't get me wrong, piracy is ballin'. But Empress as a person is just... gross. Her views and ideologies would make even some alt-right pundits look meek. However, I think you can admire a person for being strange and bizarre, as well as captivating, while also acknowledging their many, many flaws.

Links (CONTENT WARNING: SLURS, TRANSPHOBIA, HOMOPHOBIA):

A github of all of Empress' NFOs.

https://model-map.github.io/EmpressNfo/

A timeline on the CrackWatch subreddit of Empress. I actually didn't find this until I finished writing this (and tbh cannot be bothered to verify most of the stuff I've said through it) but if you want to do more reading, here it is.

https://www.reddit.com/r/CrackWatch/comments/lqibnh/empress_there_and_back_again/

Fitgirl's statement about Empress.

https://fitgirl-repacks.site/my-statement-about-empress/

The post/comment of Empress and Fitgirl being called butthurt.

https://www.reddit.com/r/PiratedGames/comments/1171usf/comment/j99oueq/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

Empress' response to being called butthurt.

https://www.unddit.com/r/EmpressEvolution/comments/117e8tz/important_message_to_rpiratedgames_moderators/

The post allegedly by Empress claiming to have been arrested. Again, this is pretty unverifiable.

https://www.reddit.com/r/CrackWatch/comments/lqs91b/finally_caught_by_the_police_goodjob_everyone/

List of a bunch of recently archived Empress activity. https://justpaste.it/8c1w0

Same thing as above. https://pastebin.com/uhF3JiWu

The reddit post she made that got her banned off the site.

https://www.unddit.com/r/EmpressEvolution/comments/117ywff/the_top_tier_contradiction_hypocrisy_of_the_human/ https://archive.vn/856Do

Wiki page for Denuvo, featuring a little mention of our problematic fave.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denuvo

Wired article about Empress.

https://www.wired.com/story/empress-drm-cracking-denuvo-video-game-piracy/

#0xEmpress #Empress #Piracy #PiratedGames #idk what else to tag this anyway yeah this one was wild. #I probably got a good few facts wrong or framed them in a misleading manner #for which I apologize #Honestly I learned most of this while writing this deep dive

[ravendruid]

Be In My Eyes - Chapter 5

You can read Chapters 1-4 here or on AO3. I'm not entirely sure about the format of the phone call. I'll take any suggestions on how to make it look better. Thank you all for reading this. I hope you like it!

The first month of school went the same way all first months go, between the chaos of finding classrooms, gathering all the materials, copying syllabi, and getting to know their class and roommates. 

The weather had started to change as Sydenstar came to a close, and Keyleth had to unwillingly put away her flowery summer dresses and replace them with hand-knit sweaters and jeans. As much as she loved the fall and its beautiful red colors, it always pained her when the days grew shorter.

Due to all the stress of classes, Keyleth barely had time to call her father to let him know how she was adjusting to the big city, so when she returned to the apartment one chilly afternoon, she sighed in relief for the weekend ahead. As she passed Vax and Percy’s bedroom, Keyleth heard the muffled sounds of the twins arguing, so she rushed past the closed door towards the bedroom she shared with Vex and Pike.

“Hello?” Korrin’s voice sounded through Keyleth’s phone. “Dad!” Keyleth’s cheerful voice masked any sign of exhaustion and sadness.  “Hey, sprout. How are you doing?” “Sorry I haven’t called you in a while, dad. I’ve been really busy with school.” Keyleth said, plopping down on the bed. “And I’m good, dad. How are you?” “I’m good, darling. Are you coming home for Harvest’s Fest?” “I don’t think so if that’s okay with you?” Keyleth bit her lower lip in anticipation. She wanted to go home, but the last month had been so chaotic, and she had so much schoolwork to finish. “That’s perfectly fine, honey. Are you going to be alright in Emon by yourself?” Korrin asked, worried. “Oh. The twins are staying, so I won’t be alone.”  “The twins?” Keyleth heard Korrin shift on the other side. “I see. Anyone else?” “Nope, just them. Everyone else is leaving tomorrow.” Korrin hummed at this. “And how are things with the twins?” “Dad… they’re fine. They’re nice.” Keyleth rolled her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Keyleth.” How the fuck? “I’ve known you for eighteen years. I can hear you roll your eyes, young lady.” “Sorry,” Keyleth mumbled. “How have classes been, other than busy?” “Good,” Keyleth replied shortly. “Some are a bit confusing, but I’ll be alright.” “Are you sure? Have you been studying?” “Yes, dad, I have. I’m actually glad that I’m staying. I have a lot of work to do.” Keyleth lied. “Yeah, maybe staying is not so bad after all. I have to go. I have a meeting in five minutes. I’ll talk to you later, alright?” “Okay, dad. Good luck with your meeting.”  “Thank you, sprout. I love you, and I miss you.” The sadness in Korrin’s voice was heart-wrenching. “I love you and miss you too, dad,” Keyleth said as tears fell down her face.

One of the disadvantages of sharing a room with someone else – or in Keyleth’s case, with two other people – was that there was rarely an opportunity to be alone. She had barely hung up the phone when Vex walked in, slamming the door behind her.

“Ugh.” She groaned, sitting on her bed. 

“Everything alright, Vex?” Keyleth asked, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

“No,” Vex rubbed her face with her hands, “my brother is being an absolute ass.” She finally looked at Keyleth, who tried to hide her face behind her hair. “Oh. Are you okay?”

Keyleth nodded with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She really did not feel like talking to anyone. The past week had been horrible, filled with anxiety, and all she wanted all week was to be alone for a while so she could cry and let out her frustrations, but Vex seemed upset, and Keyleth didn’t have the heart to ignore it.

“What did he do?”

“We’re all going out tonight, and Vax is very determined to stay and hide in his room forever and not make any friends. Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keylety lied. “So, you want Vax to go out with everyone?”

Vex nodded and cocked her head at Keyleth, not believing the lie but not pushing either. “I know it sounds stupid,” She admitted with a slump of her shoulders, “but it has been just the two of us for years. Vax is always so worried about me, taking care of me and making sure I’m safe. I just wish he would relax for a night, meet new people, and be a normal college student.”

“I’m sorry, Vex,” Keyleth offered a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine,” Vex got up and started looking for clothes in her wardrobe. “At least you’re coming with us, right?”

Keyleth was startled at the question. She had heard Vex and Pike talk about it all week, even with the boys, but not once had she been asked if she wanted to join them, so she just assumed she wasn’t invited.

“Actually…”

“What? Keyleth!” Vex groaned. 

“I’m sorry, I have plans.” Keyleth lied again.

“We’ve been talking about this all week.” 

“We can go tomorrow night if you want!” Keyleth offered.

“Everyone is leaving tomorrow. Do you really want to go out with just Vax and me?” Vex pulled out a black dress and set it on her bed, looking at Keyleth with an arched eyebrow.

Keyleth didn’t know how to tell her that she didn’t want to go out at all, that crowded bars were not her thing, and that she would much rather get some drinks and stay home, so she just shrugged.

“Whatever. I guess you can stay with my brother and be antisocial together then.” Vex walked to the bathroom and closed the door. Keyleth heard the shower running soon after, and she willed her tears back.

—

It had barely been an hour since his sister and their roommates left for the bar, and Vax was starting to wonder if it had been a good idea to stay home. Not that he didn’t trust Vex’ahlia to be able to take care of herself or that the boys wouldn’t let any harm come to her – especially with Grog around – but sometimes being apart from her made him feel like part of him was gone. Vax decided that just because he didn’t go out, it didn’t mean he couldn’t drink, and he knew their fridge was well stocked with beers – thanks, Scanlan –, besides Keyleth had been studying in the living room for hours, and she probably needed a break.

“Keyleth, do you want a–” As Vax rounded the corner, he saw Keyleth sitting on the rug, between the couch and the coffee table, with her knees up to her chest and her head resting on her knees, shoulders shaking. “Keyleth?” He called softly, pushing deeper into the room.

Keyleth lifted her head slowly in his direction with glossy eyes and a blotchy red face from crying. 

“Hey…” He kneeled next to her, and Keyleth let him pull her into a hug. “It’s okay. Let it out.” Vax whispered reassuringly, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

Vax held Keyleth until her sobs subsided and he felt her pull away with a sniffle. He waited patiently as she grabbed tissues from her bag and blew her nose, and only when she sought eye contact did he offer her a comforting smile as if he was saying I’m here if you need to talk.

“I’m sorry about that.” Keyleth frowned at him.

“Do you want to talk about it over a drink?” Vax asked, getting to his feet. 

“S–sure,”

“So, what happened?” He asked, handing Keyleth a beer and sitting by her side. Their shoulders rubbed against each other, and Vax couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of comfort.

Keyleth sighed and took a long sip before she answered him. “Have you ever questioned a decision you made?”

Vax's arm stopped as he lifted the bottle to his lips and tilted his head thoughtfully. “I have, yes. Have you been having doubts about something?” 

Keyleth sighed and drank again. “I’ve been wondering if I made the right decision in applying to college. Classes have been so exhausting, and I feel like I’m not keeping up, not to mention that I barely even have time to do any of the things that I like.”

Vax hummed in understanding and let his head fall back to the couch. He could see Keyleth’s shoulders sagging a bit as she fumbled with the label of the bottle, her head lowered so that most of her face was hidden by her hair. Though he couldn’t see her, he could hear the sadness and anxiety in her voice.

“You’re not alone, Keyleth. I’ve been asking myself the same thing, and I know that Pike and Vex have also felt like they’re falling behind in classes.”

“Vex and Pike are so smart. They will be able to catch up before exams come. Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed home, learned from my father, and taken over the family business.” Keyleth muttered. 

“You are smart too.” Vax touched her shoulder, and Keyleth looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears again. “Have you talked to your father about how you feel?”

“No…” Keyleth’s voice trembled. “I just talked to him today for the first time since classes started. I’ve been so busy.” Tears started streaming down her face, and Vax’s heart clenched in his chest. 

“Are you going home for the holidays?” Vax knew she had mentioned that she was probably staying behind, but a few days had passed since he heard her talk about it. Keyleth shook her head in denial, letting out a loud sob, and Vax pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her and resting her head on his chest. She smelled like lavender and had a hint of dirt, undoubtedly from any lab work she had done earlier that day.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes until Keyleth pulled away, wiping the tears with the back of her hand and apologizing with a wet chuckle.

“You miss your dad. I understand that,” Vax said reassuringly. “I meant what I said, Keyleth,” He added. “You are really smart. You’ve made it here, and I know you can do this. If you want, we can study together this weekend.”

“T–thank you, Vax.” She smiled softly at him.

“Of course. Now… how do you feel about video games?” Vax asked, turning on the TV and plugging in the console that Pike and Grog had brought. 

They spent the rest of the night chatting, playing games, and drinking. By the time everyone returned home, Keyelth’s mood had drastically improved. She could think about classes and studying later, but for now, she would enjoy a moment of respite.

#critical role #cr fic #vox machina #vaxleth #modern au #college au #vox machina au #vaxleth au #critical role au #be in my eyes #ao3 #mine #A big special thank you to Waltwhitmansbeard for helping me get over stupid writer's block with this chapter.

[belovedblabber]

12. for the sensory prompts?

Thank you🙌 I have so much fun with these <3

`12. Cloying sweetness on the back of your tongue

I used this as an excuse to write a little excerpt between two of my characters, Riel and Hypatia, over there being platonic life partners.

Excuse any weird formatting here I'm always too lazy to fix copy paste weirdness on tumblr even when it unmakes my indents sdfghj;

~~~

Riel’s hands were shaking. He wrapped them tighter around the mug, grounding himself with the heat that was just shy of too much. He slid down further against the wall, the floor seeming to sway beneath him. Thank God he’d had the foresight to sit down.

“What is this?”

Hypatia turned away from the window, securing the boards back in place as she did.

“Medicine, Gabriel. Take it.”

He closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall.

“Not the proper name shuffle Patia. I feel chided.”

“You should feel chided, you big baby. Drink it.”

He stared down into the contents of the mug. Tea with so much milk it was an opaque white. Which meant that she was trying to dose him with more than she was letting on.

“What is it?” He asked softly, his voice wavering more than he’d like.

Hypatia was quiet for a moment, looking him over and very obviously reading him like a book. He was glass around this woman. She saw right through him.

She came over to crouch in front of him.

“It’s nothing heavy duty Riel,” she said with a gentle cast to her voice. “It’s just to help with the pain.”

“So was what they gave me at the hospital and we both know how that worked out.”

“Gabriel—”

“Hypatia.”

A weighted silence fell between them, unbroken for a long moment before Hypatia sighed heavily and reached out to touch his cheek.

“Riel, I know. But you need to take this. For fuck’s sake, I just stitched you up and God knows I’m no doctor.”

“Yes you are, you went to school and everything.”

“Don’t get pert. I’m not a medical doctor. Ass.”

He looked away, pressed his cheek to the wall. Hypatia lowered her hand. His hands, meanwhile, were still shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of silence. “I know you’re just trying to help I’m just…”

“I know.” She took his face in both of her hands and turned it so their eyes met. “I know, Riel. But please, for me.”

Another long silence spreading out between them. Finally, he sighed and nodded, dislodging her hands from his face.

“Anything for you.” Before he could change his mind he lifted the mug and downed its contents in three quick gulps that scalded his throat.

Whatever type of tea it was, the taste was disguised by the milk and by whatever it was Patia had put in there. He coughed, the taste sticking to the roof of his mouth and setting up shop on the back of his tongue, cloying and unnaturally sweet. Like something you’d give a kid to try and trick them into taking their medicine. Tasted like a hospital bed and blank white walls that you stared at as doctors held murmured conversations about you like you weren’t there, voices cast in tones of detached pity.

He set the mug down and pushed it away.

“There. Tastes awful.”

“Medicine often does.” Hypatia took hold of his face again and tugged it gently forward, pressing a kiss between his brows. “Now come on, let me help you up. We need to get you to bed.”

She stood, but he reached out and grabbed her hand before she could straighten up entirely, staring up at her with eyes gone wide and frantic.

“Will you stay? Will you stay by the bed? I know there’s things to do but—”

“Of course I will.” She knelt down again and pressed his palm to her lips, keeping it there for a moment before moving it to her cheek and holding it in place with both hands, stroking a thumb over his knuckles. “You know I will.”

“I know,” he echoed softly. “I know…”

#ask game #oc stuff #riel #hypatia #I had so much fun with this I love these two <3 #ella

[cameliawrites]

🛠 💖 and 🍦 for the ask game!

Sorry in advance for the long-ass answers here; I got overexcited! 😳🥹❤️

🛠 What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

Alas, I am but a simple woman—Google Docs for fics, always.

It’s actually a bit funny, because in my professional life, I hate Google Docs with a fury—Microsoft Word is a thousand times more conducive to the kind of persnickety formatting things I have to do to my legal writing.

But for fic writing, Google Docs lets me invite my friends to come leave comments on my WIPs (🥰), AND I have a very handy extension to convert all my formatting to HTML so I can easily copy and paste it into ao3!

I guess the only other “tool” I use for writing is my Notes app, because I often get ideas for fics or snippets of dialogue late in the night, out on walks, etc.

Just for a laugh, I’ll share this note from when I was drafting my oneshot “someone to watch over me” (& I always associate Winston with this fic for leaving SUCH a kind comment on it that melted my heart):

So I usually end up writing snippets of dialogue (without any punctuation 😅) and descriptions of scenes, and both of those things shown here ended up making it into the final cut of the fic!

Although I genuinely have no clue what this line—“Well I’m not; Inej mutters, and ignored the knowing grins as she stalked out of the room”—is referring to, because it didn’t make it into the published fic. And the tenses are all fucked up!

Sigh. 2:30 AM Lia is something else.

💖 What made you start writing?

Mmm, the boring answer is that I’ve been writing creatively since I was a child—typical sob story about not having very many friends in elementary school and becoming a voracious reader instead, etc. etc. (Don’t feel bad for me; I have been richly blessed in this life.)

The more interesting answer regards why I decided to start fic writing, which only happened this year.

I hadn’t written any sort of creative fiction since…early high school? Maybe? (Around age 14 or 15 or so) before this year, actually! I read the SOC duology about 5 or 6 years ago and loved the books (and I actually remember reading pretty much all the kanej fic that was available on ao3 at the time, lol). This past winter, I decided to do a reread and my kanej hyperfixation reawakened at the same time that law school just broke something in me—I was like, “legal writing is fucking HARD and the feedback is brutal. No silly fanfiction that I publish online is going to be as difficult or miserable as this.” …and it kind of killed off any fear or hesitation or self-doubt I had about diving in. 😂

Literally wrote the first fanfiction of my entire life at age 22 (and I already find it cringy, but I guess that means I’m improving? Lol), and now I’m nearly 70,000 words in and having the time of my LIFE doing it.

When I started, I was of course worried that nothing I wrote would be worth reading—but all of you lovely people have assuaged that doubt time and time again, and I can’t even begin to articulate the difference that’s made in my happiness this year. So thank you. 💗

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

I’m a sucker for fluff, so this question really is like asking me to pick the sweetest ice cream flavor.

I would say this little kanej kidfic, though. Everything I write is some level of self-indulgent, but this one is so absurdly saccharine that I can hardly believe I deigned to publish it. 😂 I try not to throw Kaz & Inej’s characterization out the window in favor of romantic tropes, but sometimes I toe the line, lol. I’m often mad at myself about it!

Sorry I’m such a marshmallow. 😅🤍

#thanks for asking 🥹💗 #I’ll answer the others in my inbox tomorrow I swear! #camelia answers #lia talks

[liu-anhuaming]

Two things:

How do you insulate your windows? (What do you use)

How are you cleaning up your spreadsheets? (Having a hard time figuring this one out)

wow this has been sitting in my inbox for at least a month 💀 sorry about that, let me make it up to you by answering your question in way more detail than you probably wanted

i insulate my windows using these special plastic sheets that you tape to the window frame. this is what i've bought the past couple years. you basically put the double sided tape on the window frame, attach the plastic, then use a hair dryer to get the plastic to shrink (i skip this step because it never really works for me, but i'm probably just doing it wrong lol). doing this adds another layer of insulation to your windows, and means cold air stays out while your lovely heated air stays in

as for the spreadsheets: i work in printing and mailing, so whenever my company wants to send out a large mailing, the first step is making sure all of the addresses are correct. this means running a spreadsheet containing all of the addresses through a program that pulls data from the usps that then tells us if the address is one that the post office can actually deliver to. the way it tells us this is by giving addresses a dpv indicator. if the address comes out with a dpv of y, then we don't have to do any more work with it; it's already fine.

the real work comes in when the dpv is d, s, or n. the link i placed above explains what these are, but for context a "secondary" means an apartment/unit number. when it comes to "failed" addresses (aka addresses that don't get marked y), we mostly get d's or s's. so when the dpv is d, we have to basically cyberstalk a person to see if we can try and find their apartment number (the ethics of this are.....not the greatest imo). other times, this means that the address with an apartment number hasn't been verified by the usps, but the address without the apartment is verified, so you might just have to delete the apartment number.

when an address comes back marked as s, that typically means there's an apartment number provided but there's still something wrong. maybe the apartment number is formatted incorrectly (e.g., just this friday i came across an address that was put in our database with as "Apt 105E", but when i looked into that building's apartment numbering system, i learned there is no such apartment, but there is an apartment 10SE, so i was able to deduce that someone probably misread an "S" and a "5")

the thing with addresses marked d or s is that, even if you can't find a corrected address, if you send it out anyway there's still a non-zero chance the usps will be able to deliver it.

when an address is marked n it's usually because there's just some ridiculous fucking typo or the zip code's +4 has been deleted and the usps doesn't have a +4 listed for these addresses which means we have to go hunt it down (which btw, if you need to find your zip's +4 the usps has a neat tool to help you find it! just a note tho: if you use it be sure to include your apartment number). these ones can also be for weird typos or conversions that happen when the spreadsheet is run through the system though.

one common error is a slash getting turned into an underscore. so there are addresses that include 1/2 but become 1_2, which the usps does not recognize as a real address, so i just have to change it back to 1/2. there's also this weird error in our database with florida addresses where they get entered as "123 street name Fl, city name, FL, zip code, USA" so i have to delete that extra "Fl" that's added after the street address. it's really annoying and i hate whoever entered all of these florida addresses into our database

there's also been countless instances where someone copy and pasted an address from our database but weren't double-checking their work and didn't copy the whole address. so they copied "23 street name", which comes back as failed, so i go to check out this person in our database just to find out their address is "123 street name" and some bozo didn't copy the first number of the address

my personal favorite dpv of n i've encountered (read: the most infuriating) is the time someone just put the street address as "Main Street". no building number whatsoever. that one really made me wanna fight someone

so once we've gone through all of the failed addresses, we can start printing the materials for the mailing and sending things out. sometimes we've got a handful of failed addresses to sort through, sometimes we've got a couple hundred. the volume usually depends on how large the mailing is

but yeah, that's the basics of what i mean when i say i'm cleaning up a spreadsheet

#a special note to the people entering these addresses into the database: go fuck yourself #the number of times i have looked into an address just to find it's been marked 'undeliverable' but with no fucking reason provided #there is a special dropdown menu that you are supposed to use to provide a reason why an address is no longer valid #and if the reason is not in the dropdown then there is an entire extra blank field where you can type the reason in #also please learn how to double check your fucking work you're making my job more complicated than it needs to be

[daydadahlias]

Hey I started writing 5sos imagines lately, and I have a few stories now but I have absolutely no idea how to create a masterlist😅 it's getting chaotic in my feed and since u have one I wanted to ask if you could help me and give me some tips on how to make a masterlist or if there's some kind of guide or sth on the internet 😅

and love your stories btw, you were one of the inspirations to start writing my own ones 🥰

Hello everyone and welcome to the Masterlist Masterclass, I'll be your teacher today, Jess. Hi!! I'll just go ahead and say 'thank you' first! I love to think I'm inspiring a future generation of bottom-ash fans lmfao.

Anyway, on with the class.

I totally get you with the overall Clutter that fics can cause if you don't have a place to store them, especially if you're not cross-posting on ao3 (if you aren't cross-posting, I'd honestly recommend doing that because it makes your fics more accessible and easy to find; slash-writers don't get a ton of interaction on tumblr. Tumblr is a great place to interact with x-readers, and I think ao3 is a much better place to interact with slash fics).

So, when it comes to masterlists, it depends on what you want! What a lot of writers do (and what I initially did for the first, like, year of being a fic writer) is just make a long tumblr post with all your fics! This way, people can reblog and rec your fics easiest! So I highly recommend this kind of masterlist. Here's a link to mine (which is really... painfully out of date, sorry Amanda). And it's fairly self-explanatory, y'know, you just pop a link to the tumblr post to the fic, then you give a little info about the fic (summary, rating, pairing, warnings) and that's that!! If you like the way my masterlist is formatted (which I got the inspiration from by searching 'fic masterlist' and stuff like that and then just scrolling through a bunch and picking out which ones I liked the look of!) feel free to use it as a guideline! Or, go look at other people's masterlists and make your own based on what they do that you like!

As for the masterlist that's linked on my desktop (and in my pinned post), that's a touch more complicated to make. This masterlist (also so horrendously out of date) is just the links to my fics as they are on ao3 with the same info as the other masterlist (summary, rating, pairing, warnings). And basically, this is an extra page on my desktop, so you can only make this masterlist while on a computer. The way I got this masterlist was that I went around on tumblr searching "fic rec themes" and "masterlist themes" and then I picked one out I liked. From there, I copied the html code, and then slapped it onto an original page on my desktop. I know that sounds complicated (and was very complicated when I first did it lol) so please accept and appreciate this series of hopefully helpful screenshots about the process. (These are all screenshots from my masterlist theme).

then, after you click that, it'll whip up the html code of your dreams. I want you to copy + paste the entire thing. So that means hit ctrl + a then "copy" and then from there, go to your tumblr desktop.

Roll on up, hit "edit appearance" and now we're cooking. From there, scroll all the way down to this part:

obviously yours won't look like mine. but then I want you to slap "+ add a page" and I want you to add a page.

From there, I want you to make a "custom layout"

Then, just paste your html coding in there!

From there, things are going to differ drastically based on what theme you're using. And basically you just have to... fiddle around with the coding until you get what you want!! If you're using my theme (which, feel free, it's a fucking fantastic theme and I highly recommend!! and if you're interested in some of my other fave themes, feel free to look at this powerpoint I made when I was trying to pick myself out one lol), then you're going to want to copy + paste this into a google doc for future use:

And you fill in the blanks based on your fics!!

It's kind of a... fuck up and learn type of process and html coding is in fact, very difficult (to me) so I wish you luck lol!! But you got this, and I'm always here if you have any more questions ^.^

Thank you, toodles!

#pigeon #did this help #yikes i hope so #i did have the urge to link the youtube tutorial i made for monse a few months ago about this lmfao #because i literally made her a (very shitty) youtube tutorial about how to make a masterlist #but #it's my real face and voice and overall know-it-all energy #and that's not very fun for new-comers lol #thanks for asking <33