#you're doing THEM a favor damnit

[jukeboxhound]

The number of times I'll ask an intern about their upcoming schedules so I know what to expect for my own schedule and they'll be like, "But I mean, if you really need me to come in more than that...."

Stop! Protect that boundary! Tell us no! Nonprofit culture can be just as toxic as corporate culture but more insidious because it dresses up its labor exploitation as ~charitable~ and ~humanitarian~! Oh, but we do this work because we care....no, we do this work because it's an emergency stopgap measure on an unjust system that's inevitably going to crash and burn! This work will absolutely take advantage of the kindness in your heart and drain you until all that's left is bitterness and cynicism.

Anyway, if you're a volunteer in social services or whatever, don't give us the inch we need to drag a mile out of you.

#nonprofits #volunteering #internships #unpaid internships #yes i have this conversation with ALL my interns but especially the ones with waffly boundaries #DON'T BE WAFFLY #YOU DON'T OWE YOUR PLACE OF INTERNSHIP SHIT #you're doing THEM a favor damnit

[wesstars]

touch

jenna ortega x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: jenna, your lovely girlfriend, has been away filming for far too long, in your opinion. she thinks so, too. wc: 2.6k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI. all characters are 18+. phone sex, masturbation, bad dirty talk lmao, this is basically all bad dirty talk, light D/s dynamics, name calling/slight degradation, praise, reader is a soft dom, strap-on referred to as “cock,” horribly excessive use of italics, feels a bit odd writing rpf… a/n: @crazyoffher :) returning the favor!

masterlist

6:01 pm

call u in a sec?

A grin lighting up your face at the text, you hurriedly type an affirmative reply as you unlock your apartment door. Dropping your bag, you kick your shoes off, sighing as you shed your coat. Making a beeline for your bedroom, your eyes slide shut as you flop down on your gigantic bed. You’d washed the sheets earlier, and they were feeling extra soft. If Jenna were here, she’d be rolling around in them, covering her own scent with one of fresh linen.

Usually, she was—you were lounging in your shared apartment, a wide open space near the top of a sleek, tall building. Every evening in LA, the two of you could be found here, the appeal of a night in far exceeding that of a night out. A bottle of wine and a packet of popcorn to share wasn’t rare either, the expensive drink wasted on you two young lovers. 

Everything had happened so quickly, but you loved it. A chance meeting on a plane had led to a long conversation about anything and everything, so common for new couples, and one-drink dates across busy nights had culminated into a fateful party invitation and an equally fateful blushing confession. Your relationship was wild, and crazy, and everything you could’ve wanted. A year later, Jenna had surprised you with a set of keys. It was a certain kind of promise that made those long nights, waiting for a phone call from half a world away, so worth it.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seeing the ID, you instantly pick up.

“Jenna?”

“Hey,” her familiar voice comes shyly through the speaker, a comforting sound. “Are you busy?”

“No, I just got home from work.”

Jenna hums in a way that tells you she’s plotting something, and her little stifled giggle just confirms your suspicions. You fake a sigh, happy to venture into her ploy.

“Jenna, did you have something to drink?”

“No.” She huffs a laugh. “I just miss you. Tired of me already?” She asks, with innocent veneer.

“Of course not,” you say. “It’s good to hear from you, you're so busy now, I had to talk to your secretary,” you teased. She was busy, but you’d already done the calculation of Jenna’s timezone to yours—for her, filming would’ve just wrapped up in the midnight hours. For you, the setting sun was just beginning to stream through the glass walls, and you pressed the button on the nightstand to draw the curtains.

“Well, if you’re not busy,” Jenna presses on casually, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Jenna,” you smile. It was a dialogue you two had often, something you never tired of. 

“Mmm,” Jenna’s voice tugs in your stomach, lilting into a whine at the end of her emission, “I miss you, baby.”

Your mouth goes dry; it’s an automatic reaction. Damnit, this girl—she knew what kind of effect she had on you. You were glad the room was dark, because if you had to face your own blushing cheeks in the light, you might’ve just collapsed. You pull the phone away from your ear long enough to take a deep breath. “Do you, Jen?” Keeping your voice composed, you roll the end of the duvet between your fingers to keep you grounded.

“Miss you so much,” she says, the rustling in the background telling you she’s rolling on the covers. She lets out a lilting laugh, the sound sending a swooping, giddy feeling into your stomach. Jenna’s trying to lure you in; it was her game: enticing you with that docile, persuasive tone.

You decided to play, though you held back just a bit. “How much?”

“Some of your clothes still smell like you,” she says in lieu of a direct answer. “So I’m wearing your big shirt, the black one.” You’d been wondering where that shirt went, one you often slept in. Even now, you can see in your head how Jenna looked when she stole that shirt: it cut off at her thighs, the kind of sacrilegious short that inspired crimes. It reminds you of countless times she’d surprised you, when you slid your hands up under the hem to find—

“What else, Jen?”

“No bra,” she replies sweetly, laughing lightly at the end. 

“No bra, huh,” you repeat. You can practically feel your pupils dilating, the heat around your collar. “Good.”

“And this,” Jenna sighs, “lace number I got here; it looks like the one you gave me last year.” 

Your jaw clenches, and you glance at the clock, looking but not seeing. You remember what she’s talking about—a pair of panties, an expensive little excuse for fabric that grew dark at the slightest moisture. Jenna’s birthday had ended in a long, long night.

“It’s red,” she says, “just like my nails.”

Fuck. Everything feels hot, and you can just picture her in that standard issue trailer, lights dimmed, alone in a way that should be illegal. “How much time do you have?”

“Not a lot… got an early morning tomorrow.” There's a trailing edge of disappointment in her voice, but you’re familiar with her—she’s looking, hoping for you to guide her, to push her in the way only you know how.

You breathe in, deeply, your own desire quickly falling prey to Jenna’s. She had you wrapped around her little finger, that’s for sure, but she trusted you to hold her down. “Hand in your hair, Jenna. Gentle,” you instruct.

You hear her sharp inhale, but you have no question that she’ll listen. When Jenna gets like this, playful but pliant, you know she’s willing to go with just about anything you ask. It’s torture for you, each second you wait. “Now pull.”

Her responding whimper sends a bolt of heat down your neck, and you let out a silent breath. Jenna loved it when you would touch her hair, even when it was as innocent as just braiding it. The haze in her eyes when you’d tug on her locks, telling her how good she feels, was your favorite. “Harder. Do you like it?”

She breathes out, “yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Tell me what’s been on your mind to get you eager like this.” She’s shy, you hear it in her sigh, even though her hands are still running in her hair. “C’mon.”

“I miss your mouth on my neck.” The words tumble out of her almost immediately, and you dare to wonder if that’s been on her mind all day. The bruises you’d left there before filming started were long gone, no doubt. She’d begged you to make them darker, and you were all too happy to please. “I miss the car, before the airport…”

Those frantic, heated ten minutes you two were able to spare in the car before Jenna’s flight were chastised by her manager and makeup team, but you wouldn’t have traded them for anything. “That’s perfect Jen,” you coax gently. She liked your encouragement, you knew. 

“And…” it’s as if something snaps in the air on the telephone line, pushing both you and Jenna’s inhibitions to the ground. “I wish you were here,” she whispers, the cliche line sending equally cliche butterflies rushing through your lower stomach. “I’d be on my knees for your cock right now, and you’d pull my hair, so I’d-” she whines, a small and breathless noise-“suck it so good ‘cause I know where it’s going next—”

“Fingers in your mouth,” you interrupt, blood rushing in your ears. “And listen to me.” If you’d let Jenna keep going, you might’ve just booked a plane ticket right then and there. You can hear her obey you through the speaker, moaning softly. “Play with your nipples under your shirt. Be gentle.” It’s a warning, you know she knows, and a reminder that you control her pace.

“Mmm,” she hums, complying. It’s practically confession on bended knee, how her muffled whimper makes something shoot through your lower stomach.

“Press down on your tongue.” You hear her breath shaking, right in your ear. It makes you bite your tongue to keep from moaning out loud. “Don’t gag, don’t be greedy, Jenna.” She whines around her fingers, and you know her telltale little cry as she touches herself as instructed. You can hear that she’s not being as gentle as you wanted, but you had always been weak for your girl.

“You wanna put on a show for me, honey? Twist.” You wouldn’t know it, but Jenna instantly closes her eyes at the word show, her pulse spiking.

Jenna’s uneven breaths are pure song to you through the speaker, and it puts your every nerve on edge, remembering how she would sprawl on your sheets, just like how you were now, happy to be over or under you. She’s so vocal tonight, every exhale coming out with a small oh, and it makes you wonder if it’s because of something more than just the distance and time between you two.

The cadence of her breathing matches your stuttering heart. “For someone that likes having her mouth stuffed,” you mutter, “you sure wanna talk real bad.”

The whimper Jenna lets out is enough of an answer.

“Alright babydoll, you can take your fingers out.” Almost immediately, you can hear her panting. You keep your voice even, despite the heat on your cheeks. “I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

Her voice is raspy when she speaks. “I am…”

“Two fingers in your cunt.”

“What about-” you can hear her swallow- “what about my underwear?”

“Push it to the side,” you say, dismissive. You could practically see Jenna like this, warm brown hair splayed on the pillows, shirt rucked up to her breasts, with enough want to end a war.

It’s silent on the other side of the line, save for the shallow breaths you hear her taking. “Are you waiting, good girl?”

She hums an affirmative. 

“Go ahead, I won’t make you beg right now,” you say with a nonchalance you absolutely do not have, “fuck yourself.”

Her breathy laugh in response would drive a saint to sin, and she’s only all too eager to comply. Jenna’s shudder comes out in her moan as she shoves two fingers in herself, shameless in her need.

You close your eyes, her quiet little moan telling you all you need to know. The impatient groan she gives you is just vulnerable enough to be desperate, and it makes your head swim.

Jenna’s voice is small. “You know…”

“What is it, darling?”

“Wish I could put this on a camera for you, baby,” she whines, breath hitching. “Wish you could watch me right now.”

The mere thought of it is enough to have you biting your lip, hard enough to bleed. With the way that Jenna loved to perform, the idea had occurred to you before, but you were always too hesitant to bring it up. “You want me to see you, don’t you? Blushing and wanting all by yourself,” you mock, your arousal overriding your rationality, “you need someone to fuck you, is that it?”

“I need you to fuck me, fuck me so hard that I don’t remember it all, and,” her voice breaks, “you’ll make me watch our video later, to make me like this again.” You close your eyes again, your knuckles growing white around the sheets fisted in your hand. 

“Like what, Jenna?”

“Messy, and-” her voice climbs higher with a gasp-“needy.”

The words cling in your mind, ivy on a terrace. It only takes half a moment for your mind to conjure her up again, flushed cheeks and two fingers deep in her pussy, framed by red lace.

“Is that what you are, mmm?”

She gives a moan, and you laugh because she’s embarrassed. It’s nearly pathetic, how bad you wish you could see Jenna’s face.

“Want…” There’s a hesitant pause. “Want your hand around my throat, too.”

God, no one knew how to play you quite like Jenna did. “Jenna,” you groan, your facade rapidly crumbling, “you’d look so pretty like that, baby.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agrees mindlessly, “I like it ‘cause…” her voice is strained in a way that you just know she has her head thrown back, strong and delicate, “you’re so gentle.” It’s with a bleeding intimacy that momentarily makes you forget you’re thousands of miles away from Jenna, and the only thing you can think of is her warm eyes on yours, just begging for you to touch her.

She quiets down, and in the damning silence that follows, you hear her fucking herself. And because you know your girl, you know she wants you to hear.

“That’s filthy, Jen,” you say, matter-of-factly. It makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“I know,” she whines, and you can hear her going just that bit faster. “Fuck-” she exhales sharply- “I’m—I’m close.”

“Already?”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna whispers, and you know with every hitched moan, she’s hitting that spot inside of her. She’s not sorry, and you certainly aren’t either. “I can’t help it…”

You hum noncommittally, feeling anything but. “Don’t come until I say, alright?”

Jenna moans right into the receiver, and you can tell she’s frustrated to high hell. You laugh lowly, something cruel, and it only serves to fuel the way your fingers crave the smooth of her skin, how your tongue wants for her taste.

But that’s when you hear it, blazing through the fog in your mind, of brown eyes and pink lips. “Please…”

“Please what?”

She falters, breathing ragged. “Please let me…” A beat.

“Let you…?” You press on. 

“Please,” her voice edges on the right side of desperate, the side that makes all of you pulse. “Baby, I’m so close…”

“I know,” you say simply. 

There’s a silence that hangs in the air, and you know without seeing that Jenna’s cheeks are so red with her embarrassment that you could’ve slapped her and not gotten that same glow. You wait, patiently, nails biting into your skin.

“Let me come, please.” Her voice comes out like a quiet sob, resistance broken by her desire.

Letting out a long breath, you press the phone harder to your ear, feeling your fingers tremble. “You’re such a needy slut, Jenna.” She whines again, pleading and keening.

“I know,” she’s soft with it, “I am… so, please?”

You bite your lip, mind swimming, letting her plea hang in the air. 

“Come for me, Jenna.”

It's quiet, at first, and then you hear it—a soft, little ah from where she’s clapped a hand over her mouth, and then muffled moans spilling out from behind as she tries so desperately to not let anyone else hear. You clench your jaw, wanting so bad to tear Jenna’s hand from her mouth just so you can take in every little whimper, quiet her with your mouth instead. But you whisper praises into the phone instead, coaxing her through her orgasm. She comes hard, you can hear it in the way she pants after she’s calmed down.

Jenna’s breathing evens out, and you know it before she does—she’s asleep. Your eyes close again, fist clenched in your bedsheets. It wasn’t the first time that she’d fallen asleep right after she came, and it makes a soft little grin play on your lips. The other end of the line is a loving, sated silence. You keep your voice low, not wanting to wake her.

“God, the things I’m gonna do to you, Jenna.”

--

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

#project wes #fanfiction #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega smut #smut #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader smut #reader insert #self insert #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega fanfiction #jenna ortega fic #lgbtq #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #how can I snooze and miss the moment you’re just too important #tara carpenter x reader

[levelever]

jonhshi headcanons you say?

- kenshi pinches johnny. a lot. as a joke, as a corrective action when johnny's being odd about something, for no reason at all. it's like the urge to bite, but... pinch.

- in return johnny gets to be a biter. not even just in bed, everywhere (except for around other people). johnny's the type to just give into the urge to gently gnaw on kenshi and kenshi lets him. lovingly.

- johnny is wildly defensive of kenshi. kenshi asked that johnny just not joke about his blindness for a while, and johnny was happy to do so. that also included, apparently, johnny snarling at anyone who DOES make blind jokes at kenshi's expense.

- they're t4t and tism4tism.

- they're also, even though it doesn't have a term yet, both disabled. kenshi being blind obviously, and johnny i actually headcanon as being hypermobile. very hypermobile. and there's really only so much being very very strong can do when you're that hypermobile and your joints are determined to get weird, so johnny probably does have occasional pain flare-up days. they'll stay inside and take care of each other

- or, if the responsibilities that day are unavoidable, johnny will take a cane or crutch with him to town, and kenshi wil tag along, returning the favor of biting anyone who makes a joke at johnny's expense (that johnny obviously isn't okay with)

- kenshi is scary dog privileges

- johnny, when he's the guard, is creepy cat privileges (i made that up but there's no better way to describe it)

- to expand on johnny being hypermobile- no grown-ass man in his late 20s is hitting the splits that fucking easily, painlessly, without prior stretching. he's just death dropping in some of his animations. and i just don't think he has a stretching routine for that. it's his party trick, something he can just *do*.

- kenshi finds johnny's flexibility wildly hot

- (when it's not causing him pain, ofc)

- kenshi's tattoos weren't done himself but at some point johnny unlocks the lore that kenshi apprenticed under one of the tattoo artists in the yakuza, and actually graduated to full artist before he left the yakuza. kenshi is a seasoned tattoo artist

- johnny jokes about opening a flower shop across from him so they can be just like the stories. kenshi doesn't understand the reference.

-they have an actual conversation at one point about the after-- once kenshi has completed his quest, and johnny's career is fully winding down. the plan is to get a flat above a storefront, and turn the storefront into a tattoo shop.

- kenshi wears sleeveless turtleneck compression shirts when working out and johnny fans himself like a victorian maiden every time

- (last one i prommy) johnny once wore a clownish formal outfit to the gala celebrating the success of the ninja mime movie. to this very day, kenshi maintains that one was his favorite outfit johnny's ever worn on the red carpet.

i am going to respond to every single one of these damnit

THE PINCHING/BITING IS SO ACCURATE. like i cannot explain what it is about it but that’s just so them. they do different things but it’s the same concept ghdjdkwkw

YES! johnny is super defensive of kenshi not because he thinks he needs to be, he knows kenshi can hold his own, but because he cares about him too much. i’m sure at first when it was still raw johnny never made any comments but i’m sure it reaches a point where kenshi starts joking about it himself and assures johnny he’s come to terms with it. but if anyone else makes a comment OOOH it’s over for them.

i rlly do love trans headcannons for them. whether it’s t4t or one of them is trans while the other is cis i do not care i eat that up every time. I ALSO FOR SURE SEE TISM4TISM!! johnny has the hyper fixations/knows random facts autism while kenshi has the not really sure how to handle your emotions autism. i think he gets overstimulated too which is also from his other senses being heightened once vision was gone.

I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT HIM BEING HYPERMOBILE BUT IT MAKES TOTAL SENSE! he’s doing the splits on the battlefield i mean come on?!?!??!? (i saw you mentioned this later on LMFAO see u get it)

yes 100% johnny gets scary dog privileges cause of kenshi. too many fans in his face? kenshi doesn’t even EYES for god’s sake and i’m sure a look in their direction will scare them off at least somewhat. and johnny is for sure creepy cat. it’s like “can i come over and be weird and offputting” literally him.

oh yeah the flexibility while it has its downsides for sure comes in handy sometimes. (in bed) i know kenshi is manhandling him into wild positions and johnny loves it. so does kenshi of course.

I’VE POSTED ABOUT THE FACT THAT I DO THINK KENSHI HAS AN INTEREST IN TATTOOS THAT ARENT HIS OWN! he could definitely tattoo johnny i just know he has steady hands and it would come out so awesome.

kenshi not getting the flowershop thing is so real johnny definitely then went off on a long tangent explaining it. i feel like they could just be grocery shopping and something gets johnny going and he goes off on a long spiel as they’re walking around, i’m sure this is an often occurrence. kenshi loves listening to him talk but again, the heightened senses, he probably does occasionally need to rest his head so he kisses johnny to shut him up LMFAO (and it always works that man is so easily distracted)

TATTOO SHOP DOWNSTAIRS FLOWER SHOP UPSTAIRS!

oh yeah johnny loves the compression shirts for sure kenshi looks good in anything. but he does wild for kenshi in short sleeves. he doesn’t wear them super often to cover up his tattoos but when he does goddamn. johnny feels like the luckiest man in the world.

JOHNNY IN A CLOWN THEMED FORMAL OUTFIT FOR THE NINJA MIME PREMIERE MIGHT JUST BE MY FAVORITE ONE OF THESE LMAO. saved the best for last. johnny for sure wears eccentric and colorful outfits on the red carpet. i mean have you seen his MK skins? this man has style he isn’t playing around.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED :)

#mortal kombat #johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #mk1 #this is so long #but i love it #that one lois video #thank you whoever you are #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #johnshi

[no-m4gic]

Hi! I'm the anom who asked for the autistic reader and I loved your writing! So may I request the same THH characters but with a reader who's try to be the sunshine in their lives (example: help Chihiro to be himself), but is secretly depressed and hide It from them cause reader doesn't want to seem fragile?

Sorry If Is complex XD thx!

i have limited free time so i know im probably never gonna complete (another) request(s) today. also i discovered i have no idea how to write for hifumi and yasuhiro, so i'm gonna blacklist them and replace them with mukuro. felt like this request seemed like a good prompt for nagito and also i feel like i could replace ishimaru's one with komaeda's as an apology.

sorry if you wanted the girls too, i'll get on them as soon as i finish my work- i didn't have enough time to write for them. i'll write for ishimaru, too. sorry for missing a lot of characters!

p.s thanks guys for your support !! i appreciate it sm <33

that's a long title 😨

the tags are such a PAIN

~ mod sitaya

THH CHARACTERS W/ AN S/O WHO IS THEIR SUNSHINE BUT IS SECRETLY DEPRESSED

BYAKUYA TOGAMI

"damnit s/o, why didn't you tell me earlier? you know i wouldn't judge you."

money = happiness to him, so he wouldn't fully understand your pain. he'll still support you though, if you need anything he'll send one of his workers to get it for you.

i mean if you were gone, yeah, he'd definitely be upset, so whenever he couldn't understand, he'll just imagine how he'll be like if you died or something.

he'll hire a personal therapist for you, unless you want him to be your therapist... which trust me, he is not good at.

bro can't even comfort anyone without making them cry more.

since he can't comfort someone psychologically, he'll comfort them physically, though he'll only show displays of affection at home or when you guys are alone, n e v e r in public.

honestly at this point, he won't give a shit if you stain his rich people clothes with your tears, he can buy the same new clothes again.

he's not that desperate, but can you imagine byakuya singing his s/o a lullaby?

not really, but he'll tuck you into bed himself personally if you fall asleep while sobbing your eyes out.

if you don't, he'll ask if you wanna fly out of japan for awhile, on his rich people private jet.

it's the least he could do to repay you for helping him during his dark times.

MAKOTO NAEGI

"s/o. how could you hide this from me? did you think i was going to criticize you...?"

he wouldn't ask the million questions running through his head first, he'd hold you first.

you come before anything.

he'll hold you for as long as you'd like, letting you cry in his shoulder while he rubs your back and pats your head.

since you helped him show the others he isn't an 'omega male' and also chased everyone who bullied him away, he'll return the favor.

he'll tell the teacher that you weren't feeling well and needed some time to rest in your room.

also he'll bring you your homework so you don't have to get it yourself and do tons of paperwork at once after coming back.

you don't need a therapist, you have naegi tell them as your therapist.

he'll listen to you go on for the entire day, and if you need to break down, you can jump into his arms and break down, using his shirt as a handkerchief.

MONDO OOWADA

"damnit... who did this s/o?!"

honestly he might just break down too.

but then he'll tell himself he's gotta be a man, with balls in front of his s/o.

he'll put his coat around you and hug you, telling you that it's alright and you can let everything out.

you can take that in any way.

he feels really guilty whenever he has to leave you for training or a competition.

but he'll always come back with a gift and your favorite takeout.

if you ever wanna cuddle, go find him. he'll be more than happy to have a reason to hold you.

daily compliments whenever you two meet up.

CHIHIRO FUJISAKI

"s/o, it's okay. you're not hopeless, you're filled with hope, you still have so much more potential,"

he'll offer to accompany you to do some activities to keep your mind distracted and also to cheer you up.

something maybe like styling your hair and making it look ridiculous by putting tons of bright, glittery accessories on your hair.

he'd ask if sharing his own insecurities would help, maybe just so you know he has other countless insecurities than just him fearing showing the others he's a guy.

if making your hair look worse than junko's didn't cheer you up, chihiro would make up some stupid games like hop like a bunny into mondo's room or sing one of sayaka's songs outside makoto's room while he's showering.

speaking of sayaka's songs, he'll blast all her upbeat pop songs in the room and you two can dance your heart out.

LEON KUWATA

"i figured. now come here i'm gonna cuddle your sadness away!"

leon would definitely try to remain positive

the only good side would be that he could skip his daily weekday baseball training, since y'know he likes hates baseball.

but no, really, he'd have NO idea on how to comfort someone properly.

he'd ask what he could do to make you feel better.

as well as bring you out to get ice cream.

while you guys are out you may or may not encounter celestia's cat wandering around aimlessly... and bring it back to leon's room.

obviously you guys return her, maybe style her a little, watch leon get scratched by her and so on.

overall at least you recovered quickly and now everyone can see you smile again <3

BONUS ;; NAGITO KOMAEDA

NAGITO KOMAEDA

"oh s/o. you didn't have to hide it from me, hopeless trash like me don't have the right to judge hopeful people like you,"

well now it was his turn to have his clothes stained with tears.

countless outfits of yours have been stained with his tears, because whenever you'd return late (which was always) he'd think you left him or something, and the closest thing he has to you are your clothes.

he's clingy.

and he'll become clingier.

everywhere you go he'll follow you like a lost puppy.

lost puppy literally. he won't just follow you, he'll beg for your attention.

anyway... back to you, once you even mention you were upset he'd pull you into a tight hug.

imagine how long that tight hug would be with depressed.

verrrrrry verrry long.

he'd wish he didn't have to let go of you.

and he wouldn't. you'd have to literally wait for him to fall asleep just to work your way out his arms.

he'll shower you in compliments and bless you with encouragements.

if you wanted he could ask gundham for a cat or dog or something, or he'd blackmail gundham just to "borrow" the four dark devas of destruction for like 10 minutes before giving them back even though nagito would lie and say they'd forever be gone.

you want, he buy. literally, you just have to say "i want this" and you'll have it.

no more despair only hope.

IM SORRY ITS MISSING SO MANY CHARACTERS ANON 😭

#byakuya togami x reader #byakuya x reader #togami x reader #makoto naegi x reader #makoto x reader #ishimaru x reader #mondo owada x reader #mondo x reader #chihiro fujisaki x reader #chihiro x reader #leon kuwata x reader #kuwata x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda x reader

[midnight-moth-musings]

Rocket Queen

Captain John Price x mechanic reader, slight enemies to lovers

Part 2

---

If I say I don't need anyone, I can say these things to you

'Cause I can turn on anyone just like I've turned on you

I've got a tongue like a razor, a sweet switchblade knife

And I can do you favors but then you'll do whatever I like

John Price knows almost everything about everyone on base--part of his job as Captain is to always be informed. So when he walks into the cafeteria one morning and finds someone new sitting next to Soap and Gaz, he is utterly perplexed. He steals glances at the boisterous young woman engrossed in conversation with the two young men as he makes his coffee. Long, choppy hair frames her face wildly almost as if the tendrils have a life of their own. John searches for any clue as to her rank but finds nothing--the woman is dressed in black overalls with a grey long sleeve beneath them. Quite unprofessional, John tells himself. The edges of her shirt lift as she reaches over the table for pepper to reveal the swirling black ink adorning her wrists. She tilts her head back to laugh loudly--hair becoming messier by the second. What could possibly be so funny?

Here I am, and you're a Rocket Queen

I might be a little young, but, honey, I ain't naive

Here I am, and you're a Rocket Queen, oh yeah

I might be too much, but, honey, you're a bit obscene

The woman leaves the table seconds before John arrives--seconds before he is able to learn who she is. Soap and Gaz seem to notice the faraway look in their Captain's eyes and answer the question before he even has to ask it--

"You've never met the base mechanic, hm, Captain?" Gaz grins up at him in between mouthfuls of his food.

"Aye, she's proper fun." Soap winks, nudging Gaz with a laugh. John sits down next to the two and simply grunts in acknowledgment. He mentally takes note of this small bit of information--curious to learn more about this mysterious woman.

---

I've seen everything imaginable pass before these eyes

I've had everything that's tangible, honey, you'd be surprised

I'm a sexual innuendo in this burned out paradise

If you turn me on to anything, you better turn me on tonight

The sweet sound of Guns N' Roses blaring from an old speaker on my desk fills the garage as I work on the repairs of a Humvee that has seen far too much action in the field. Nonetheless--Gaz and Soap insist that its their favorite one, so of course I'll make sure the old beast is running until it falls apart. Dust and grease coat my arms in heavy strokes as if given by Van Gogh as I fiddle with the underbelly of the great beast above my head. I am jolted from my focus as a pair of boots walks into view from my place below the Humvee. I kick my heels to roll out on my creeper and wipe at the sweaty locks of hair sticking to my forehead.

"Music is a bit loud." I look up from my seat to see the unamused face of Captain John Price staring down at me.

I stand up with a grunt, wiping my hands on my overalls. The man standing before me crosses his arms as he still looks down on me. Damnit, why's he so tall? Makes him even more intimidating. I choke out a nervous laugh, ruffling a hand through my bangs. "Yeah, well, no one ever comes down here. Figured I could play my music as loud as I wanted."

Anxiety bubbles in my stomach as the man looks over me. "Right. Well, I wanted to come down here and introduce myself. Seeing as we haven't met before and you must be new. I'm Captain John Price." He holds out an arm and I take his hand, shaking it. His hand practically envelopes mine--squeezing tightly in greeting, before disconnecting.

"I've actually been here for five months." His eyes widen in disbelief at the revelation and I have to hold back a laugh. "Sergeant Y/N L/N, base mechanic, sir." We stand in an awkward state of silence for a moment--save for the blaring of my speaker. The captain glances pointedly at the speaker and I walk over to my laptop to pause the music. "Right, sorry sir."

He places his hands on his vest, gripping the straps tightly before stepping closer to me. "Interesting taste in music." He leans forward to glance at the screen of my laptop showing my playlist. I watch as his eyes flicker down the screen--before he nods in approval.

"Interesting? Is that good or bad, sir?" My words come out more defensively than I had meant for, but the captain's mouth quirks up as if trying to hide a smile.

Clear blue eyes meet mine when he turns to look at me and I find my heart skipping a beat. "Good." My cheeks heat up and I have to remind myself--this is your captain, pull yourself together. "I'll let you get back to your work then." He takes a few steps away before looking back over at me hesitantly. I watch as his eyes trail down my form and I suddenly feel self conscious of my ripped, greasy overalls. "I'd like for you to find a more...standard uniform."

My eyes immediately narrow and I cross my arms to stare back at him. "Standard uniform? I never realized mechanics were required to wear standard issue. Not many soldiers even follow that rule." The air between us thins as we lock into a stare.

Immediately, the captain's demeanor changes. I hold my breath as he grips the straps of his vest tighter--voice lowering an octave as he replies. "Are you questioning an order, solider?"

I bite back a snarky reply. "No, sir." The edge of his mouth twitches and I imagine I am about to receive a verbal warning--certainly not the first of my career. Instead, he simply nods. The captain turns on his heels and walks away--leaving my head spinning as to if I'm more irritated or intrigued by him.

---

Part 2 will be coming tomorrow. I wanted it to be one part, but I have a bit of a headache at the moment so I decided to post part of it :)

-P

#john price #cod x reader #cod fanfic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price #captain johnathan price #captain john price x reader

[mamamittens]

Fun little headcanons before bed that I've had on my mind for a while.

How would (X) handle you not being able to look/talk to them because you think they're too pretty?

(it's me, I can't look and talk to people I think are really pretty. Don't look at me with your pretty eyes damnit 😭)

Marco

Now, quite reasonably, Marco is going to assume you're just intimidated (and he's not... Wrong???) And give you space. This is assuming you're on the same ship and prone to running into each other otherwise he wouldn't need to think about it much at all.

This does get troublesome when time doesn't fix the issue. Unless he's your direct commander it just gets... Frustrating. Sure you're not together all the time but he gets a bit tired of being treated like he has the plague. Eventually, he's going to confront you about hating him.

Only to be baffled by how you're studiously avoiding eye contact. And you're blushing madly. And can't seem to string together sentences.

Oh.

Now, he gets a little mean. Screw him. He thought you hated his guts for the longest time. He milks it a little, just enough to see you sweat that he's definitely onto you. But if it approaches real anxiety or fear he takes a step back and handles it differently. He doesn't want you to be uncomfortable after all.

Ends up having a small but genuine conversation with your backs to each other.

Afterwards, he's preening to himself.

You really thought he was so damn pretty you couldn't talk to him.

Luckily, he thinks you're pretty cute too.

Ace

Immediately assumes you hate him totally and completely. So much so that it takes some time for people to figure out who's avoiding whom. And it takes even longer for someone to convince Ace that there's something going on. But once that idea is planted in his head he's going to worry over it. Constantly. It will literally haunt him.

He needs answers.

He's going in a tad aggressive, demanding answers so he can make peace with the obvious truth that you hate him. Getting pissed off that you won't look at him--clearly you're disgusted by him. Fuck, can't you at least have the balls to say it to his face??? What's he gotta do to get you to admit how much you hate him?

Then he sees how hard your blushing, face hot as you hide behind your hands. And he assumes that he's effectively been bullying you and maybe you don't hate him but clearly you're terrified of him (so close yet so far...)

So now he's apologizing, getting all worked up himself because now you definitely have to hate him! He's just going to... Go now. Sorry...

It's only when his back is turned that you can string together a response to explain that he's too pretty to handle.

It's a solid two minutes before he can think again, he's so fucking thrown by your explanation. Turning on instinct before remembering the problem so he hides his face in his hat, which is great cause his face is bright enough to function as a lighthouse.

Face now hidden behind a hat he gets to the bottom of it. He's... Absolutely baffled and almost doesn't believe you but the sheer awkwardness is convincing enough on its own.

Now he's got a new problem.

How does he get you used to his face so he can see your cute face himself whenever he wants?

Thatch

Immediately he wants to solve the issue. He may not know what it is but he certainly isn't a shrinking violet! It's actually kind of impressive how persistent he is given your determination to not be confronted with him in person. He constantly laments that he can't hold a conversation with you now matter how hard he tries! That you always end up running from him--he's not that rough looking is he? Is it the hair? Please don't be the hair he might actually cry

Finally, after turning in some favors, he essentially corners you. Turning up the charm (oh sweet summer child that is not helping) to talk through this little issue between you. But! You're not looking at him! How will you know he's being sincere if you can't see his face?!?

And hey... You're looking kinda flushed you good? Are you sick?

He goes in to coddle you a little and is startled at the dying sound that slips out, your hand immediately covering your face in sheer embarrassment.

Oh... Oh?!? OH?!?!

He wastes no time preening to himself, instantly figuring it out while asking if there's anything he can do to make it easier to talk (batting his eyes like a nerd). You're so damn cute he pulls you in for a hug while laughing a bit.

All those plans for nothing! You didn't hate him not were you scared of him (sorta).

Looks like he's gotta make new plans so he can see more of your cute reactions for himself.

Now imma pass out for work in... 5 hours lol, no wonder I sleep for 17 hours on the weekend, yikes 😬

#one piece #one piece headcanons #thatch one piece #portgas d ace #marco the phoenix #back on my bullshit

[feelbokkie]

Number 1 Fan

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

**Request**

Chan with actress reader (I lost the actual request for this but I remember the gist of it)

genre: fluff

pov: 2nd person

description: Chan reassuring his girlfriend while she trys to self tape an audition.

pairing: idol!chan x actress!reader

warnings: swearing, self-doubt

word count: 641

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

"Chan, if you're going to sit there while I do my self-tap audition, you can't look at me like that." You groan as you walk back to the camera to stop the recording again.

"Like what?" He tilts his head to the side and gives you a big grin making his dimple more prominent.

"Like that! All smiley and cute. This is supposed to be a serious scene." You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling.

"I can't help it, you're just so amazing it's giving me butterflies and chills." He says, smiling harder than he was before. You're not even sure how that's possible.

"Tell that to the casting directors." You mumble as you go through the camera and delete the messed-up footage.

It's not that you can't act, you acted very well and were cast in a handful of commercials. You even worked in music videos and as an extra on a few shows. You just haven't had your big break yet and it was frustrating you. While Chan lets you live with him to relieve the burden of living expenses, you still don't make much on the few acting jobs you did have, and the part-time job you had to give you some financial stability. You wanted to land a lead role or side character so you could make your dreams come true and not feel like you're mooching off of your boyfriend.

"You don't need my help, you're good enough as is. But I would tell them if I could, but you told me not to interfere. And your wish is my command." He teases. He doesn't have much pull in the industry, being more on the musical side of things, but he still has some connections. If you were going to make it in this industry, you wanted to do so on your own merit.

"Love your vote of confidence, babe but I've been doing this for so long. I'm tired. I don't know how you trained for so long, you're a better person than me." You mutter the last part as you flip through the script one more time, trying to see if you could try a new angle for the scene. Chan gets up from his seat and gently pulls the script from your hands, setting it on the table. He cups your face and forces you to look him in the eyes.

"I was able to train so long because I had you cheering me on. You were there for me through all the late practices. All the monthly evaluations. All of the showcases. And I'm returning the favor. I'm here for you every audition, callback, et cetera. And when you win best actress, I'll be right there in the audience cheering the loudest because I already knew you are the best, everyone else just has yet to open their eyes." He presses a hard kiss on your forehead like he's trying to engrave his love on your brain. When he pulls away he swipes his thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear.

"Damnit, Channie, I'm supposed to do a confession scene. Why did you have to go and make me cry." You sniffle.

"I didn't do it on purpose. You're just emotional. But maybe use it?" He smiles as he uses the back of his hoodie sleeve to clean your face, tears pouring out now.

"Use it? But--oh, OH! Bang Christopher Chan, you're fucking brilliant." You quickly kiss his cheek and push him back onto the couch.

"I have my moments," He smiles sheepishly, taking one of the couch pillows and clutching it to his chest. You send him a wink, which causes him to blush and bring his knees to his chest, as you set the camera up again ready to try a new approach to the scene.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Permanent Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

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[jonathan-samuel-smith]

BoSS Dami is like the same character but rather than serious and grumpy they play up his arrogance into him being boastful and cocky and I love it. He's having so much fun in the film, he loves fighting. He's bloodthirsty in a way that makes the audience happy for him which is pretty funny. I love the way they animate his facial expressions it's so good, and I love his voice. It's a little bit serious and broody while still being arrogant and youthful it's great. Jon sounds a little too old to be ten but I like his voice other than that. I love how Jon thinks he's cool and how quickly they bond despite clashing early on. And they're so cute. So. Cute.

The colorism thing is a big problem and it's par the course for Damian, when given the full range of color options for a character of his heritage they will always choose the lightest unless they're actively fighting their subconscious racism and colorism.

I went off on a rant on DC colorists colorism under the cut this post really got away from me, but READ THIS IF YOU DRAW DAMIAN!!↓

I get that you draw what you see and if you see a lot of white and lightskinned people you end up getting good at only drawing white people, and light skin has been purposely highlighted in visual media for centuries in this country, but USE GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCH GOD DAMNIT, FOLLOW POC ON SOCIAL MEDIA, HIRE POC. Go out of your damn way to learn this shit. If you can't do it good now, learn!

I went through this with homestuck, all the human characters have #00000 skin so you're free to have whatever race headcanons you want of them, but that's not actually representation. I was influenced by this style because coloring skin is hard so I just shaded it with my pencil and left it uncolored but then I realized by refusing to color the melanin in someone's skin, that's colorism. Fuck that. So I decided to learn, and mess up a lot of otherwise pretty works, because it would be worth it in the end. I'm still learning but I've learned so much already.

For example a lot of colorist societies draw pale skin far too desaturated. If you compare actual skin to the skin in anime, nearly all Asians that aren't photoshopped or wearing make up/bleaching look so much darker. Bleached paper being what we draw on and light skin being the presumed default in our culture has made white people (and others) way too comfortable doing the bare minimum in coloring skin. You don't still use the yellow crayon for blonde hair so why do you still use the very light peach/tan as the default skin tone? You're not even coloring light skin right let alone approaching properly drawing dark skin right.

I'm so fucking tired of every company doing this when I learned how to do better in middle school. Get out of your fucking comfort zone and draw diversely, or you're a coward and you're not doing anything to combat your culturally inherited racism.

Most DC artists are good at drawing 1 or 2 skin tones, maybe 3. There are so many more undertones and shades than that. I'm not counting rainbow colors. If you want Damian to be paler than his mother to reflect his mixed heritage that's totally fine! But it should be darker than Bruce's and Jon's. I've compared them and paid attention to the shadows being cast and he's really not darker than Jon and only rarely darker than Bruce because they drew Bruce especially pale.

I want you to understand that removing melanin from a character is erasure of their identity and actively harmful. There's a broad range of skin tones that the son of Talia and Bruce might have but choosing the lightest possible option is favoring white skin over dark skin, not realism. Just because you've seen more light skinned mixed kids doesn't mean there aren't darker skinned ones. The light skinned ones get more attention on social media and commercially because of social bias + algorithms + intentional racism. Most people who are colorist think that they're not racist because they're representing nonwhite people not bothering to notice that the people they represent have the most european features and light skin in their group. Yes those people are oppressed too but you're not fixing anything by only showing racially ambiguous people.

Mariner on star trek is a relevant example from animation. Both her parents have dark skin but she has much lighter skin because she's a main character. Stop it. Stop it. Don't think just because you see something highlighted a lot that it's the most common thing that's so dumb. How many mixed people do you think you see that you assume aren't mixed? There's confirmation bias at play.

I just wish I could beam this message into everyone's thick fucking skulls. Dark skin is beautiful. My number one coloring tip for any artist is this: don't be afraid to go too dark. You'll ruin the contrast and legibility and dynamic if you keep everything light and mid tones.

If you go too dark, you can filter it later.

I hate the argument "there are plenty of mixed people who dadadadada" stop. there are such a variety of people in numbers you literally cannot fathom with your human brain. You cannot picture all of the people that look exactly like whatever it is you're saying is more uncommon. Race is made the fuck up but its impact and cultural significance is real as hell. Genetics are so fucking diverse. I know a biologically related pair of siblings, one super tall dark skinned black dude and one super short freckled white girl, they have the same parents you cannot tell that they are related if you're thinking that mixed race children are like taking the skin tones and mixing them like paint.

Colorism is physically dangerous. People will assume that a mixed race child is being kidnapped by their parent because they so look different to them.

Damian could look the spitting image of Talia, I can tell you that with 100% certainty. He also could look the spitting image of Bruce, or Thomas Wayne, or Martha, or Ra's. All we know is that he's Arab, Chinese and white, he has black hair and green eyes, and he's short and good looking. Taking that and making the most european looking version of that guy as possible is fucking racist. I'm so serious.

If you want to do your part to combat racism and make a society where everyone can get attention and be seen as beautiful regardless of skin tone, then draw Damian with dark skin.

If you don't want to do that.... I don't understand you. Learn empathy, it will be useful to you.

#battle of the super sons #damian wayne #damian al ghul wayne #text post #jonathan samuel kent #jon kent #super sons #supersons #dc comics #damian al ghul #remember how i said i didn't come on here to rant about colorism “yet”? well the time has come #it will not be the last time im sure. i care about this a lot #batfam #batman

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Okay so I am now caught up with the new Black Butler chapters

NOW ONTO THE THOUGHTS WITH SPOILERS UNDERCUT!

BABY GOT A GUN!

Hmmm...kay Artie maybe you're a bit-

GOD DAMNIT-

...Okay so me and @cartyrs recently have a talk of the vibe of the manga rn (see here and here for the actual talk) in which we both kind of agree the whole Undertaker setting up a orphanage that sacrifices children for blood donations for Doll (in which I ask WHY KILL THE CHILDREN AND NOT DO WHAT ANA DID AND GET THE DONATIONS VIA MEDICAL SHIT-) while building the kids up to be like OCiel, Sebastian, the other servants, and maybe Doll is a bit weird and doesn't fully make sense, but seeing the final face shown panel of Artie is straight Sebastian!

. . . Artie-

He's uhhhhhh....he's kind of freaking me out-

I red this again to figure out what it could be cause it's not just a Sebastian vibe anymore, it's something else, and with a next page that struck me with a thought-

Why does he look kind of like Peter to me?? I know I can't base it purely cause he's a youthful blonde Victorian child, but even his dialog is weirdly Petercore just while Peter was "kids are brats" Artie's more "adults are mean", now obviously I'll be nuts to try and dare theorize he's actually a BD of Peter cause 1) he would have a scar where he was shot unless like Wendy the bullet was to the side and not back to front as I assume based off his corpse-

and 2) Doll would've recognize him for certain or at least be weird around him supposed deja-vu

... No-

Yana you can't-

YOU CAN NOT-

WELP HERE ARE THE TEARS HOLY SHIT-

Now I won't be first to mention how Finny thinking of when OCiel matched with how he's feeling right now, but the fact that Theo, this orphanage's literal Ciel, telling him to run has to be SO conflicting for our baby...

Well, I mean it'll be sad but at least 208 wouldn't be worst-

. . . OKAY

FIRST OFF, I was spoiled of some scenes already, thank my friend for that!

Second, when this picture showed up, my brain decided to ruin me more by playing this-

WHICH DOESN'T FUCKING HELP-

Anyway, back to the review of 208, a weird feeling in my chest of tears, happiness, anxiety, and theorizing-

The parrels Snake even points out of Doll and OCiel when it shows the parrels of Doll and Finny crying over the idea of losing Snake-

The hand reaching out to him by people who saved him-

MY HEART!

. . . I'm sorry wha-

Ooooooh, okay, I was about to whip out my knowledge of animal DNA vs Human DNA and how at sad as it sounds we can't have werewolf babies and question everything-

I mean Dagger's not wrong, I mean he literally named Sebastian based off what he wears and OCiel just off how adorable his smile is, unless someone else named him and he took credit

Also on that thought how he named Doll makes it so much cuter/sadder since he described aka in his eyes she's really is as precious

Also I can't tell is Dagger is saving other abused kids from this circus/freak show, is packing up the ones who tagged along, or if Snake unknowingly witnessed one of their kidnappings-

YOU CAN'T SPRING THAT SHIT UP ON ME YANA-

Kind of interesting they don't have beef, which according to some weird test is the most favorable meat out of the ones out there. Like I get they don't have cattle since they roam and I assumed beef is expensive back in the day, but a part of me kind of hopes it's like a Soma situation back in Weston where they don't have beef due to someone's religion, though then there's pork-

JUMBO!

My boy didn't speak much at all throughout the arc so this is excited as shit!

AAAAWWWWWWWWEEEEE~!

S-So... Jumbo...named the Snakes...?

Hey, Jumbo simpers, come back so I can bless you with him naming your kid-

Okay this is by far my new favorite picture of all of them together! Doll chilling in her dress- A honestly super cute wholesome pic of Beats- Peter giving off that trustworthy older bro vibes- Wendy giving off that one cool Aunt who lets you eat ice cream before breakfast and lets you sip her wine if you behave enough and takes you to Disneyland a weekend just to see you excited and scared on roads vibes-

Though now I have a few questions of this scene seems to show everyone knew Doll and her habit of dressing up to chill with others in comfy clothes (which in same bitch) and which i wonder: Did no one fucking care she was in the bath and trying to strip OCiel back then?? Dagger and Jumbo were in there, I get why they would be chill with their baby sister in there but why didn't they step in-

Unless my joke was true-

My final thoughts. . .

I AM NOT OKAY!

I am taking a lil nap, watch some Black Butler Season 2 cause for some reason unless it's Alois' abuse and death I don't cry, so there-

I have a lemon mint tea brewing-

Hopefully Doll does not die cause I might not return from that, not as a shipper but as it'll be silly bringing her back then killing her off AGAIN!

LET HER HELP FINNY ESCAPE, LET HER HAVE A BIT OF A CRISIS BEFORE EITHER HER OR SNAKE OR SNAKE'S SNAKES STOP HER FROM DOING ANYTHING EXTREME, LET HER RUN INTO OCIEL AGAIN, LET ME HAVE A SCENE OF OCIEL SHOCKED SEEING HER, LET ME SEE HIM WATCH HER WALK UP, LET HER PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE, LET ME HAVE THAT!

#black butler #black butler spoilers #finnian #black butler finny #black butler doll #black butler artie #black butler theo #black butler mabel #black butler oliver #black butler snake #black butler joker #black butler jumbo #black butler chapter 207 #black butler chapter 208 #not me crying #Spotify

[luminous-letters]

hi! i love your writing and i show it to my sister sometimes when she's still awake as I am during these hours (it's 1 am here). i've been wanting to send a request for a long time but I haven't perfected it in my head shshahhaha but i did and i just want to ask if i can get a scenario request where mc is the one to overblot and it's azul who has to deal with them but he's having a hard time bringing the blows in because he loves them? i'm sorry if it's too angst-y (╥﹏╥) but thank you still!

i'm so sorry anon i couldn't answer right away 😭

"Azul! Get your head out of the clouds!" Floyd yelled, shooting the blotted figure with a strong blast of fire, sending it reeling back.

"Focus, Azul," Jade called out, evacuating the remaining Octavinelle students left in the shambled and wrecked lounge.

"I know! I know!" he knows. That he'd have to fight you to save Octavinelle, to save Mostro Lounge, to save everything he's been working for his entire life.

But...

But even with all of that on the line, he can't bring it to himself attack you. You're as important as the wealth and contracts he's amassed— hell you're more valuable than all of those combined.

"Do not be selfish, Azul," Jade eyed his housewarden, who was clutching his staff tightly, trembling. "Selfish?" Azul seethed.

"By stalling, you're just prolonging their suffering. Do not be cruel Azul. Make up your mind," Jade told him, quickly dashing off to lead the blotted monster— you — away from the dorm.

"Food! Become food! All of you shall be...CONSUMED!" you screeched, thrashing and mindlessly bashing at anything you could lay yourself upon, the inky puddle of blot beneath you grew larger.

"AZUL! DAMNIT HELP ME OUT!" Floyd angrily shouted, bombarding you with a barrage of magic.

"Azul..." Floyd's booming call caught your attention. "Yes...Az—azUL..." you choked on the jet-black blot that was spilling out of your mouth.

Azul stepped back in horror.

Slowly, your limbs, your face, your everything, started to twist and crack, what used to be skin was slowly being replaced by hardened blot.

"We shall....shall—rUle- rule tOgeTHER! This wOrld wiLL lic—k tHe fiLth...OFF our boOTS!," you cackled maniacally. "So join ME AZUL! JOIN ME AND CONSUME THE ENTIRETY OF THIS WORLD!!!"

This wasn't you. This was the clumped up hatred and pain from the blot, its clouded your mind.

"No...I don't want to see you like this..." Azul almost sobbed, but not right now, not when he has the power to tip the scales to his favor.

He will save his dorm.

He will save you.

"Jade, Floyd, we need to do some cleanup," Azul beckoned the twin morays with a snap of his fingers.

"Glad to know you've finally snapped out of it," Floyd sighed, cracking his knuckles.

"Someone's finally returned to his senses," Jade chuckled, dusting off some debris from his uniform.

"DAMN YOU ALL! INSIGNIFICANT FOOLS!"

"Shall I interest you in Octavinelle's secret special, darling?" Azul tipped his hat.

"If it isn't but a pinch of salt," Jade's pen glowed a bright green.

"A spoonful of roughhousing~" Floyd's pen sparked a violent shade of red.

"And a great amount of magic," Azul finished, the crystal of his staff had flickering shades of blue emanate from its core.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #gn!mc #gender neutral reader #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #floyd leech #overblot #overblotted mc #twst fanfic #twst drabble #twst oneshot #answered ask #writing #my writing

[flesheatingstar]

Dumb Choices, Dumber Prizes

Gn reader insert

Small little thing

Summary: The 3rd Winchester sibling only ever wanted to do the best they could, even if it meant sacrificing things.

The abandoned house was like any other old creepy haunted place, if only it was haunted. The number of people attacking their loved ones for no reason was rising every day by the look of it. So here the three of them were, having chased the demon into the abandoned and creaky old house.

They split up, Dean taking the ground floor, Sam on the second, and [name] in the basement. It wasn't a big basement, but it was cluttered and dark, making it hard to see any demon if there was one. Looking around a pile of long forgotten books made them feel like they were forgetting something. Their thoughts were interrupted quickly by the sound of a body crashing against something and a loud groan from Dean.

They ran up the stairs being met with the sight of Dean getting punched by the demon with his gun far out of reach, [name] sprung into action, taking their own rifle and putting it around the demons neck, harshly pulling it back as it fought against them. "Son of a- DEAN SHOOT IT!" They yelled, seeing Dean reaching for his gun, Sam had barely made it down stairs to see the commotion.

The demon struggled, making it harder for Dean to aim without the possibility of clipping [name] heightening. "JUST SHOOT DAMNIT!" They yelled they demon, throwing their head back into [names] face sending both falling backwards into the still open basement.

"AHHHHH!" They screamed, feeling a rake go into their back after tumbling down the stairs, the demon moved quickly, using their powers to slam and lock the basement door and then straddling [name] as they choked them, with [name] scratching their arms and reaching for the demons neck. The demon only returned the favor by digging its sharp nails into their neck, ripping unto the skin with ease.

[Name] saw as dots clouded their vision, the blood loss and suffocation made for an agonizing time. However, as a loud ringing defended them, they were able to somewhat breathe again instead, coughing harshly as the limp body of a demon flopped forward.

The hole in the door made it easier for Dean and Sam to open it, unlocking it quickly and rushing over to [name], "c'mon [name] you'll be ok just let me pick ya up real quick." Dean assured, but as he did, the feeling of the rake slowly being pulled out of their back made them nauseous. "No, no, please, it hurts." Thry begged gripping deans arms as he continued. "I know. It's ok. We'll get you patched up. You'll be ok, kid." He comforted, finally picking them up full. "Dean.." Sam hesitated seeing the amount of blood loss, "Sammy, please, I'll need help. I can't touch their back, you grab arms, I'll get legs." He explained.

"Dean, it's cold, damnit we're in goddam Arizona. Why am I cold?" [Name] cried, gritting their teeth. "Dean, it's too late. Look at the blood." Sam muttered, "Fck, no no, their fine sammy, please just help." Dean whimpered, gripping [name] as blood smeared onto him. "Dean! Sam's right, damn thing got me good. Damnit, i forgot to finish my paper." They whined, "do you think dying will be a good enough excuse not to do it?" They smiled, "You're not gonna die shut up." Dean hissed, Sam knelt down, grabbing [names] hand.

"I love you guys.." They slurred, their eyes fluttering close, making Dean and Sam panic. "Hey, hey, stay awake damnit!" Dean yelled lightly, slapping [name] to keep them aware. "C'mon name, you just need to stay awake, ok?" Sam assured, but it was too late as their eyes closed for a final time. They heard the two yelling at them.

When they opened their eyes again, pain was all they felt. The word around them was decorated in chains with spears replacing the cuffs. They couldn't breathe, they couldn't move. Only then did they remember the price of their soul was to set the curve in their colledge. They were only 19, a stressed out, stupid, and desperate 19 year old. Dear God, what have they done?

#spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x gn reader #gn reader #reader insert #x gn reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #reader death

[journeyofthemoonprophet]

There is an outpost on the edge of the Oina territory, and not a far journey from the passageway Ikken told you about. The guards posted apparently rotate every month, and just your luck, the next pair leaves to trade out tomorrow. Thanks to Ikken, you'll be following Akari and Burai out at dawn, taking you most of the way you need to go. He even promised to give you one of his old maps for your journey south... well, he'll trade it in exchange for a favor... that being to bring Akemi back home along your way.

("Do you normally stay in Wep'keer this long at a time?" you had asked her that evening, and Akemi argued that it's a very long walk for someone her size, before sheepishly musing that she was going to be in so much trouble...)

You try your best to get some sleep, but your nightmares prove persistent. The dead are restless as always, but even more so now that you plan to leave. Every time you wake, you're left with the phantom chill of icy fingerprints on your limbs, clasped around your ankles, tugging you back by the arms, hooked around your shoulders and wrapped around your throat.

Why should you get to leave? they whisper, echoing louder in your skull and off the walls each time you awaken. How do you lead so many to death and bring a curse upon the world, and still get to walk away a second time?

The third time you jolt awake, you sit up to find the room is suddenly way too small, too warm, to the point where it's actually hard to take a comfortable breath. You have to go outside, at least for a moment.

You try your best to be quiet as you push open the door, and the cold air on your face is an immediate relief, however small. You don't go very far, opting to just stare up into the sky from a few steps away. The moon is barely a sliver, and you'll be lucky if any of it's left in tomorrow's sky. Not exactly the most promising omen... especially for you.

"Even with travel in the morning, you're once again wide awake..."

Glancing over your shoulder has Yawa staring back at you. Ah, damnit, and you had tried to be so quiet. "I'm starting to wonder if maybe you belong in the moonlight," she muses, tilting her head to the side. "It certainly seems to have an effect on you every time you're standing in it."

"Sorry to wake you. Just... needed some fresh air." You still have no idea what she means by that, but still do your best to casually wave her off. "I'll be inside in a moment, promise. You can go back to sleep."

Not surprisingly, Yawa isn't deterred by this, and instead tromps over to join you. You're half-expecting to get dragged back by the ear, but instead she just studies your face; it's almost torture how silent she stays, and how long she does so.

"So many thoughts behind those eyes," she eventually murmurs. "What's on your mind Waka? Wondering if perhaps you should stay instead?"

You shake your head. "I can't stay, and I know that, but..." You glance back up, though instead of the moon your eyes settle on the uppermost path. "It still feels a bit... wrong, I guess. Leaving them behind like this."

"You mean the ones who died..." Yawa hums a bit, and out of the corner of your eye you see her following your gaze. "You worry you're abandoning them?"

"Am I not, in a way?" You offer her a shrug, eyes not once leaving the horizon. "Not that I have much choice in the matter, but... do they understand? Or even care?"

Another hum, this one as if she finally understands. "You fear they'd resent you, then."

You really don't like how this woman's managing to cut to the core of you. Should you tell her? Should she be the first you confess the blood on your hands to? Maybe she already knows; Yawa would've been first to hear whatever you'd end up mumbling in your sleep. Maybe it's your imagination, but you swear the wind is still moaning with the dead's laments, carrying them from Lake Laochi to drift past the two of you.

Of all the people who fled the Celestial Plain... of all the people who should have lived or died...

"If any one of us that boarded that Ark should currently be dead on its floor, it's certainly me." For many, many reasons. The wind hisses past your ears as you raise your gaze back to the moon, and your heart aches at how empty it looks with just one little sliver left. "A prophet rarely sees his own future... perhaps I'm just running from my fate, and I don't even realize I'm doing it."

There's a long pause... then a set of hands on your face as Yawa gently pulls you down to look her in the eye. "Listen to me, Waka. I can't speak to how life was on the Celestial Plain, but here? Life is a gift, one that you're never guaranteed to keep. Even the gods that are dead would want you to live that life instead of spending your days asking whether or not you deserve to do so."

If only she knew why you're questioning it. The little 'heh' that escapes you is mirthless, flat as the ice on the lake. "You make it sound like that's so easy."

"Oh, it's definitely not. There are days that being alive feels more like a miserable curse than a gift." Her thumbs brush the corners of your eyes, and it's only now you realized you're teary. "But no one--not even the gods--can change what's happened; we can only choose how to move forward. The sun will still rise tomorrow whether we're ready for it or not, and it's up to us what we do with the day it brings." She chuckles a little. "Speaking of the sun, you still have that goddess to meet up with, yes? Certainly she wouldn't resent seeing that the escape wasn't completely in vain."

That's now two people who've said something like that. The mention of Amaterasu does rouse your spirit again, though the feeling is wavering dangerously, teetering on a knife's edge and threatening to slip from your grasp. Yawa seems to sense this, and before you can speak any doubts, she leans forward to rest her forehead on yours.

"Honor her and the dead by allowing yourself to live," she murmurs. "Don't let that resolve you share fade away by the time you meet again."

Resolve... that seems a good word for it. It's what fueled the fight on the Celestial Plain, and what's stirred in your memory to keep you going thus far. The breath you take is shaky, but the flickering feeling evens itself out into something smoother, warmer, burning just a little more steadily. Just enough.

"How did you get to be so wise, Yawa?" you murmur, and she huffs a quiet laugh.

"I'm a grandmother, dear. We're all wise." She pats your cheeks a few times before letting go of your face. "Now come inside before the cold makes you sick. You have quite the journey ahead of you, and Burai will be cross if he has to carry you a second time."

#Okami #Waka #HELLO I AM BACK #As I said in the OOC post the busy period at work obliterated me for a grip but we are through the other side and I can actually write agai #thank you all for sticking with me =u=d we're now back on track #Journey Through Nippon #I swear this wasn't long to make up for missing weeks this one was gonna be long no matter what

[elk96]

A Battle Of Ideals 2

Part 2.

Pairing: Chris O' Doyle( Free Fire) x female OC

Warnings: graphic description of blood, wounds, some violence, swearing cause that's all they did in that movie, enemies to lovers kinda?, h/c, English is not my first language, and I do not have any medical knowledge.

Word Count: 2476

Chris didn't wake up early enough to watch the sunrise, he didn't even get to share Amara's lunch with her, burned bread with butter and the cheapest cheese she could find. At noon he finally opened his eyes, regretting immediately that subconscious decision. His whole body felt filled with lead, wrapped in needles, his head hammered. His eyes were too heavy to open, still, he flinched when a hand came resting on his forehead.

"You're completely cool", Amara said satisfied. "Well done to you Chris".

She earned a loud groan in response.

"Are you hungry"?

Another grunt, considered to be a 'yes', led her to the kitchen. Shortly after, Amara came back with two fried eggs, and a small, peeled apple.

I'll have to get him to sit, she thought with a sight of boredom, and through groans and grunts she pulled him somewhat upright.

Chris faced her with a defiant look as she held the plate for him, holding the fork in front of his mouth.

"You can't eat with one arm and half a leg you proud idiot. Eat your damn food so you can go back to sleep", Amara said harshly-perhaps she had too little patience for the job.

Chris's eyes never left hers, wide open, and ironic, and that ridiculously deep hue of blue in them, and so Amara did him the favor, alright. She dropped the tray on Chris' lap, hearing him groan in satisfaction, before she put the fork next to him on the mattress with a sarcastic grin.

Chris' hand shook as he lifted it up, and the piece of apple fell on his lap, but he clenched his teeth and tried again.

He tilted his head down so as to meet the fork halfway, and scraped his mouth against the metal clumsily. It was that last sound of pain that made Amara grab the fork from him in a swift motion.

"For fuck's sake, god damnit", she growled and shoved the next piece of egg onto his mouth.

She'd never fed a baby before, but she imagined it would've been much, much easier. Babies don't feel so fucking mortified of being taken care of, do they? So defiant. And if he was defiant about her doing such a simple thing as feeding him, how the hell was she supposed to convince him to abandon his cause?

The phone in the kitchen rang just as she was about to wipe egg and apple juice off of his ridiculous mustache, so he stayed undignified for a moment.

Chris focused his hardest on listening to the conversation in the other room, but his head was so dizzy he only caught a few stray words.

"Alive" and "Of course he made it, isn't that why I was sent here"?

"Not yet", she then said in a different tone. "He's not ready yet. No, I will tell him when he is better, and ready to listen to me. He has no choice, does he? I will, I will. Yes, I know the stakes, that's why I'm treating him like the idiot that he is. And now excuse, I have to wipe the shit out of his ugly face".

Amara returned to the bedroom more furious than she had left, swiped some paper across his face and then, full of joy and cockiness, unfolded a wheelchair in front of him.

"A wheelchair? Really?", Chris complained, eyebrows intensely raised.

"Would you prefer a coffin? I can arrange one if you want. I'll cut the bed frame in 4 to fit you".

"No", Chris rasped out, serious this time. "I'll live to see my home country united. I'll go back".

"Back home"?, Amara asked and blamed the wounded man for the emotion her voice carried.

"Yes".

"You've got anyone waiting for you there"?

"I have my people".

"Calm down Gandhi".

Chris's eyes lit up by a sincere intensity despite the fact that he couldn't keep his head up for more than a minute. He half opened his mouth so as to say more, but knowing she wouldn't, couldn't understand, he decided to save his strength.

"You"?, he asked instead, tilting his head on the side like a curious puppy.

"Nah. We've kinda grown apart, you know? I had a sister once…she died. Too young. But now's not the time for sad stories", Amara said and took a pill out of her pocket.

"You drink that as a good boy, will you"?

"Fuck you-how old are you eh? Can't be older than 26, what the hell are you doing here"?

"What are you doing here Chris"?

"Trying to save my country, girl".

What about the innocent lives you take in the process?, she wanted to shout but instead put the pill in his hand.

"Don't drop that too", she said and left for the kitchen.

Damn it! She had to think. She had to. What the hell was she doing? Chit chat and shit, hI cHriS yOu hAve AnyOne wAitInG foR yOu baCk homE? How do you like your eggs? Fuck.

She'd planned on sleeping in the kitchen that night, she'd even brought pillows and blankets. And now her heart clenched enough to crash her chest just thinking about leaving him alone.

Him. Him of all people.

He's helpless, compassion argued, and before she got more angry at herself, she got pissed off at Chris, Chris who was so helpless he couldn't take a piss on his own, but, oh well…

"Did you take your pill"?, she barked as she entered and Chris flinched.

"Yes for Christ's sake".

"Great".

With long strides she reached his side, grabbed his shoulders and threw him on the wheelchair with surprising strength. Chris was all grunts and muffled curses, but he insisted on going to the bathroom by himself.

Silence fell over the room, and Amara tensed. She checked her watch. It'd been 10 minutes.

"Chris are you alive in there"?

She knocked on the door.

"Chrissyyyy"?

Grunt if you're alive, she sighed and opened the door. Chris had never actually made it to the toilet, he was splayed in the wheelchair, head hanging low, face pale.

"God's sake", Amara murmured despite herself and rushed to him. She instinctively knew he'd be too much of a jerk to answer a question, so she brushed his wounded leg with the heel of her shoe. Relief run n

through her upon hearing the familiar sounds of pain.

Chris half opened his eyes, remaining silent as she slid his underwear down, helping him sit in the toilet. She so much as had to keep him from falling on the side, had to stay there, mortify him. Between glimpses of bitterness, and another feeling, one Amara could not pinpoint, he managed to clean himself up a bit, before being led to bed again.

He looked like a corpse, pale and stiff -and yet he was burning hot. Amara struggled to realize they, him and her, were in the same place, at the same moment. She was left untouched by the mayhem in the warehouse- had let the others do the job, she thought with dismissal.

Her jaw clenched, eyes tentative, she reached for his forehead. The 679th time this day.

"You've got a fever again, goddamn it".

"Yeah, you don't say"?

Yeah yeah, speak while you can, cause you’ll start whining in a little while.

"Do…would you like me, perhaps, to stay here"?, she heard herself say. "-To keep an eye on you I mean".

Chris scoffed, with an exhale that would've been a laugh if he wasn't so weak, eyes locked at her face again.

"I'll take that as a no", she murmured and banged the door behind her. If the bastard needed help, he'd have to scream for her to hear him. Should hurt his ribs enough.

It suffocated him, hurt while he was breathing,his whole body spasming beyond any control. The room was spinning, a bone-deep ache flooded him and he was alone.

It’s probably the shock, damn you, just try to relax, he thought and focused on his breathing. But as the hours passed, the trembles running through his body became more severe, made him jolt in pain and grunt and curse, until all he could think of was the need for it to stop. To relax, and sleep, and fucking heal, if possible. It didn’t seem possible at that moment.

He called Amara, a few times over actually, until he realized no voice was coming out of his mouth. It was all in his mind, and he’d have to make his muscles cooperate in order for her to hear him. But how would he open his mouth, how would he keep his teeth from clutching?

In all his years he never had to face problems like these, so human, so humiliating.

So goddamned weak because of a deal gone wrong.

“Amara”? The word was full of regret as it left his lips. “Amara”?

She’d closed the door. Why had she closed the fucking door?

“Amara”? Please just come here, please.

Had she heard him? Was she deep in sleep or just pissed off by his attitude?

You’re a grown man, not a little child. She won’t come at all, his conscious whispered and the panic made him yell her name louder.

The woman rose to her feet immediately as she heard him, opened the door quietly. Even in complete darkness, Amara could feel Chris’s eyes pinned on her.

“Are you okay, what’s wrong? Chris”?

“I don’t know…It just won’t stop”, he whispered hoarsely.

“It’s okay, don’t worry”, Amara smiled, and disappeared from the room.

“Don’t go”, Chris uttered, too low for her to hear him. He kept begging she’d return, silently, despite himself, his instinct, his principle.

When he saw her silhouette again he released the first shaky breath of gratitude in what seemed like a decade.

“Don’t worry, I’d only gone to bring the painkillers with me”, she said softly and placed a dump cloth on his forehead.

“ ‘M cold”, Chris whined. “It doesn’t stop”.

“It’s because your fever is rising again, Chrissy. Drink that”, she said and helped him swallow down another aspirin.

Their eyes met at that moment, filled with pain and desperation, Amara’s melting under his silent plea.

Her fingers brushed his wet forehead and Chris closed his eyes, her palm warm and steady against his skin.

“It will pass. Soon. You’ll sleep, don’t worry, okay”?

The sadness in her voice made Chris indulge into that physical ache. He dared move his body, only a tiny bit, towards her.

“Please”, he said, more like a muffled breath.

A pathetic whine escaped him as her touch became firmer, brushing his hair back. He tilted his head towards her-a little more to the right and he would reach the spot she sat on on the bed, and he would feel her close.

Amara held his hand steady, feeling herself the trembles that shook him. ,

The same thoughts as every night came to her mind as she layed on her makeshift bed. What the hell was she doing with a half dead man in this shit hole in Massachusetts, hm? And since she was with him, why hadn't she shot him yet?!

You don't know if it's him. It could have been someone else.

Yeah, as if it would make a difference. They're all the same, aren't they?

"If you know what you believe in, then you're truly free", their father used to say, his phrase followed up by some snarky comments about the government, or society, or that mess of a world they lived in, in general.

And she was floating now.

Between uncertainty, fear, and her ever strengthening code of ideals.

If you don't know what you believe in, how can you keep going in life like that?

At least Chris is lucky in that part, she thought through her new wave of melancholy.

But he wasn't lucky in anything else. The fully closed curtain left no light to the room, his eyes seeing figures and shadows as if he were a child. His head felt tight, as if someone was crushing it with a hammer. Continuously.

And the trembles wouldn't stop. It made him suffocate.

“It will pass, I promise. Just you wait”.

Chris’s breath itched, in fear she’d leave again. He tagged her weakly towards him. He needed her, needed her to hold him, to feel her warmth, her calm strength.

“Come here”, he breathed out, and at that very moment, he lost all hold of himself. The tension was too much to bear, his eyes started watering, a sob got caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry. For all of this”, Amara muttered as she slid underneath the blanket. He was too battered to hug him, only so few places she could touch him, but Chris felt he would completely unravel if he lost the closeness. He rested his head on her chest, as her hand petted his harsh features, while the other one in his stomach tried to steady him against the fever, and the wounds, and the fear.

“That’s it, try to relax”, Amara whispered with a softness she didn’t know she could have towards him, as his muscles relaxed ever so slightly.

“I can’t”.

The only sound in the room was his shaky, tortured breaths, and the gentle scratch of her hand on his hair. The rest of the world had faded away, distant and unimportant.

Chris continued to shake, elbows and sharp hip-bones poking into her flesh. The tears ran all the way down to his naked torso, making him crave for her warm touch in every part of him.

Please don’t die, okay? Don’t die on me, Amara thought and soon she found herself kissing him everywhere, his brows, his eyelids, his temples, and when she realized what she was doing, it was already too late for her to stop. Cause Chris had finally found something else to focus on, rather than the pain, and he began to still, and relax, even though the low whines continued.

“I know, it’s okay. Ten more minutes and you’ll be fast asleep, I promise. Your temperature is lower now”, she whispered, her lips brushing against his temple.

The first morning light came to represent the beginning of an easier time, for both of them. His body stayed almost lifeless on the mattress, his eyes fell close. Chris could feel Amara’s heartbeat, steady, and fast. The sobs were replaced by tears, the tension turned into a bone-deep weariness that seemed would haunt him forever.

Amara turned her head slightly towards the window, as noises came from the neighbors.

“Don’t leave me now girl”, he whispered with all the strength he had remaining.

Her hand on his forehead became heavier, holding him down firmly against her chest.

“Sleep, Chris. It’s going to be fine

#cillian murphy #chris free fire #chris o doyle #free fire

[beauleifu]

Hello! I like your writing and I would like to ask a request if your taking them at this time. It would be Mayor x reader (gender neutral). (I'm pretty sure it could count as fluff?? I'm not really sure😅)

The prompt is this: the Mayor and the reader have known each other for a while now, and he comes to visit them often. However the reader has a pretty risky job, being a sort of mercenary/freelance sort of work. While the Mayor isn't aware of how dangerous their job is, he does know it sometimes keeps them away from home for days at a time. One day the Mayor is at their house waiting for them, they had texted him saying that they'd be home by that night and they could hang out once they got there. So he's waiting for the reader, until he hears a noise coming from their bathroom. Thinking it's a home intruder, he goes into the bathroom only to see the reader; bloodied up and injured from a bad day at work. They were rummaging through their drawers looking for medical supplies they had on hand. So the Mayor helps to treat their wounds.

Apologies if this is written confusingly, feel free to ignore this if so.

First off, thanks so much! I love writing and this prompt is SO GOOD, I've kinda twisted it a tad so reader is like a freelance assassin of a sort, not specified, but i hope it meets your expectations

Roughly 2k oneshot, enjoy!! <3

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

MAYOR X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: Working as a freelancer does come with its perks, but tonight has sadly betrayed you. After offering to have the Mayor over and failing to welcome him properly, you're now sitting in your bathroom, trying to make the most of your decidedly horrible day. Job is job. (The ask also provides some context <3)

TW: Blood, language, panic attack, assassin topics

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Damnit!

With a frustrated sort of grunt, you yank off a strip of bandages from the roll, your hands shaking with effort. Unfortunately, your client had failed to inform you about the bodyguards surrounding your target. Funny how such an important detail could be missed.

The consequence has left you with more injuries than you care to count.

Just your luck.

Plus, you'd invited the Mayor - one of your good friends - over to hang out, and he's no doubt already at your door. He's the type to either be early or exactly on time.

It couldn't be any more misfortunate. Time is the bane of your existence. You'd stumbled back home with a wounded shoulder (gunshot, probably), and had barely won a knife fight as you tried to escape (resulting in a few cuts). The operation had failed; your client will indeed be unsatisfied with the still-alive target, but you value your own life over other's desires.

"F-Fuck-" You bite your lip and hiss with pain as you try to apply some rubbing alcohol to the wounds.

There's a large slash to your side that needs immediate attention, but the pain is proving to be almost too great. Sure, wounds come with the mercenary package, and you're used to that.

But your clients normally tell you everything.

The new one is a rookie and all together a disappointment.

People hire you to kill their enemies; those who have wronged them or prove to be too much of a nuisance to their plans. Those unlucky few are reported to you, and a contract is sealed in favor of the target's elimination. Basically, you do the higher-up's dirty work for them.

The Mayor doesn't know this.

And hopefully, if you wear a bunch of layers tonight, he'll never find out.

So your in your bathroom, trying to stop the flow of blood seeping from your wounds. Cuts to your arms, side, and oh hell that bullet to your left shoulder is killing you.

Why are people so stupid!?

Why couldn't the stupid client tell you the target had bodyguards?!

You grit your teeth hard enough to crack a tooth.

It's too much.

You can't-

Suddenly, something reaches your ears. You pause everything, hands frozen at your side and soaked in your own blood. Footsteps are approaching the bathroom door - footsteps you recognize. Oh, fuck.

Three, gentle raps sound on your door. "(Y/N)? Are you in there?"

It's the Mayor.

Of course it's the fucking Mayor. The demon practically breathes bad timing. You suck in a deep, shuddering breath, eyes blurry with pain as you collapse against the wall furthest from the door. There's no way to conceal your presence now; he's well aware and won't leave you alone. "G-Give me a second-"

A hiss of pain slips through your teeth; the cost of speaking is doing numbers to your side injury.

Silence.

Only the soft dripping of your blood hitting the floor can be heard.

"Is the faucet leaking?"

So the Mayor can obviously hear it, then. You close your eyes, fighting for a sliver of strength. "N-No, I . . . n-no . . . I'm gonna have to . . . cancel . . ."

Meaningless words escape you, the intentions being to ask the Mayor to come another day. The prospect of entertaining him in the state your in simply isn't feasible.

Click!

The bathroom door is suddenly enveloped in an icy blue hue. It steals your breath away; you watch with wide eyes as it twists, magically unlocking, and swinging open. How that happened is unimportant.

What's important is the demon standing in the doorway.

The Mayor's blank, white eyes slide onto your broken and bloodied figure, his own neat and tidy in his signature pinstripe suit.

You swallow dryly.

"I-It's not what it looks like-"

His smile suddenly sharpens at the sight of you, becoming twisted and deranged, his eyes flashing with blue. A gust of blue wind blows past you, making you wince and close your eyes.

It's fine.

He's merely clearing the perimeter of any threats. You're used to this.

However, what makes it so anxiety inducing is that it means your injuries are serious. Especially if it seems to alarm the bone demon himself.

You fight the panic, heart hammering in your chest.

He found you.

He'll find out how dangerous your job is, the reason you'd be absent for days on end.

"OUT!" You yelp, clutching the gash on your side with your uninjured arm, the other hanging limp at your side. "G-Get out, I'm fine!"

This is bad. The way your heart's beating is just making the blood flow faster from your words. Eyes wide and riddled with pain and anxiety, you stumble upright. The room sways with your erratic movements.

A hand snatches your wrist. The Mayor's eyes are firm. "That's enough."

"Wha-"

"Sit down," he instructs, taking action so fast it renders you shell-shocked. You hardly resist when the Mayor settles you gently on the bathroom floor.

"I-I'm fine-" You gasp, thoughts foggy and disorganized.

The Mayor's smile is absent as he gathers what little medical supplies you've managed to supply, and perhaps it's that small detail which gives you pause. For now, you sit on the ground without another word, trying to focus on calming down. Gazing dully at the demon, you watch as he unrolls a bit of bandages and brings whatever else down with him as he kneels beside you.

Eyes wide and serious, he takes your chin and tilts your head towards him. "Look at me."

You do so.

The fight is all but lost, anyways.

There's no point in resisting the assistance you obviously require - not like you could, anyways. How helpless you feel, limp on the floor like a ragdoll.

The Mayor searches your eyes for a second, assessing things unknown to you.

Something flickers in his gaze; he gently presses his hand to the bullet wound on your shoulder, eyes hardened and focused.

Pain.

It flares through your body like a fucking wildfire.

"Stop!" You scream, twisting away from the awful, white-hot agony pulsing from the Mayor's hand. Tears blur your vision, your head feels light, your heart seeming to stop. It's too much. "Stop it-!"

A hand to your chin drags you back to reality. The Mayor forces your head back to him.

"Look at me," he growls.

You swallow, positively shaking with pain and panic.

Eyes never leaving yours, the Mayor presses his hand to your shoulder once again. You wince, gasping out, but the demon shushes you gently. "Enough. Just breathe, (Y/N). I'm simply extracting the bullet from the wound."

You have to squint to stay focused. The Mayor's hand is cold against your skin, pulsing with an icy blue magic.

After a moment of gritting your teeth against the pain, the feeling recedes slightly. A dull throbbing is all that's left, and you blink wearily up at Lady Bone Demon's henchman.

He merely holds up a bloody bullet between two fingers.

The smile is back.

You're going to be just fine.

"F-Fuck you," you gasp, unaware of how your fingers have slid through his (the one previously holding your chin), and gripping tightly.

He hums, clearly unbothered by your tactless insult. Instead, he takes up a damp rag and begins washing the blood off.

"May I ask what resulted in all these injuries?"

You close your eyes.

He's a demon. An incredibly powerful demon, who no doubt has ended countless lives over reasons we shall never disclose. The news that you work as a freelancer probably won't stun him as bad as you'd previously feared. In the end, you decide to scrap your anxiety.

"Work," you mumble, and it's silent except for the few noises of discomfort on your end.

The Mayor blinks slowly, eyeing you carefully. But the rag never recedes from your wounds. "I see. . . . Does this happen often?"

"No . . . it was just - just a mix-up."

A long, thoughtful hum meets your words, but your eyes are closing. Your heart is slowing down. It seems as though the bullet in your shoulder was the cause of all your pain, and now it's gone.

Or perhaps you've gone numb, your body deciding to spare you.

Either way, you don't care.

You're tired.

"I think I'll stay a little longer tonight," the Mayor says suddenly, smile somewhat forced. "I'm afraid I can't leave you like this."

"I don't care," you huff, then take another breath. "I've had worse."

"Oh, I can imagine," he returns dryly.

So he's not taking shit from you. Well, that's just fine and dandy. You try to resist his help a few more times, but the demon is quick to shut you down. And, after you've showered to wash the blood off and he's mopped up the crimson remains of your little adventure off the bathroom floor, you're both sitting on the couch in the living room. You; a disheveled, battered mess of a human being with baggy clothes to accommodate for your wounds, and the Mayor.

As always, your companion is dressed to perfection with a smile to complete the look. This time around, however, his smile is forced and strained.

You know why.

What should he think after discovering you so close to death in the bathroom? Covered in blood (most of it your own)?

So you glance apologetically at the demon sitting next to you. The TV is forgotten for the moment. "Hey. I, uh . . . I'm sorry. For coming home all banged up."

"I wasn't worried," he replies simply.

Something tells you that's a lie. Your frown deepens, and you stare at your hands in shame. "Sorry I scared you."

"I was more confident in my ability to heal you than fretting over your survival."

"I'm sorry for lying?"

At this, the Mayor offers a more gentle smile. "My dear, everyone has their secrets! There's no harm in keeping the few that pose a threat to others to ourselves," he ads mysteriously, white eyes twinkling with amusement.

You return the smile faintly, hugging yourself in your pajamas. The pain is almost gone, now; the bone demon had used his magic to heal the biggest wounds, and now you're partly mummified.

"Okay. Thanks for helping me."

"You would've died had I not," the Mayor says casually.

"Yeah." You glance sideways, gently feeling the areas in which your injuries are located. Everything will heal in time.

The TV becomes the sole noise for a bit.

Then, the Mayor directs his attention to you once more. You'd think he has an offer for sleep, considering the time, but his next words confirm your suspicions incorrect. "I assume your injuries will render you fatefully unavailable for any future freelancing for awhile, correct?"

You falter. "But . . . I need work."

"I'm afraid you need to heal, my dear!" The Mayor says, grinning widely. It's a grin that warns you not to object.

"Ah . . . And I suppose you'll want to be my caretaker?"

The threat in his expression softens, and the Mayor's eyes fix on the TV, satisfied with your question. "Indeed. I have nothing better to do, anyways."

"Lucky me," you snort.

He hums in agreement. "Yes, you would've-"

"Died without you, I'm aware," you interrupt, suddenly grinning. For the next few weeps at least, you'll be under the care of your good friend. It's not a bad feeling that fills you up; in fact, you're excited to spend more time with the Mayor. "You must love repeating yourself., dude."

"Mock me, won't you? Freelancing isn't the only activity that results in injury."

"Ooh, I'm scared."

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk story #lmk mayor #mayor x reader #blood/injury #fluff #panic attack #story prompt #freelance #assassin reader #mayor is a creepy caring muffin but he does love you #honestly he's looking forward to caring for you #like breakfast in bed shit #tucking you in #lmao jk #but he's a sweet guy when he wants to be #expect him to scold you whenever you do something too strenuous #he be terrifying #thanks for the ask!

[tiderider]

bg3!harry + banter dialogue , under the cut .

i believe starlyht was the originator of the idea <3

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 ,

❝ about time. ❞ ❝ let's pick up the pace. ❞ ❝ feels like we're going in circles. ❞ ❝ i'd better get to kill something soon. ❞

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 ( 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐭 ) ,

❝ what's the matter? scared? ❞ ❝ hahahaha! ❞ ❝ i'll eviscerate you! ❞ ❝ you call that a hit? ❞

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 ( 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ) ,

❝ they won't see me coming. ❞ ❝ let's make this quick, alright? ❞ ❝ i'd rather look 'em in the eyes, ❞ ❝ think they've got anything worth taking? ❞

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐦 ,

❝ someone's needy. ❞ ❝ don't you have anything better to do? ❞ ❝ you're a desperate thing, aren't you? ❞ ❝ i bite. ❞

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ,

❝ i'm gonna need a new pair of boots. ❞ ❝ next wagon we see, i'm stealing the horse. ❞ ❝ every path looks the same. ❞ ❝ nice view. ❞

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ( 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐭 ) ,

❝ i can't wait to gut you. ❞ ❝ where do you think you're going? ❞ ❝ i think i'll wear your ears as a trophy. ❞ ❝ do yourself a favor and drop your loot now. ❞

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ( 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ) ,

❝ this is gonna take ages. ❞ ❝ let's just bullrush them. ❞ ❝ quiet as a temple mouse. ❞ ❝ this better be worth it. ❞

𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 ,

❝ can't stop now. ❞ ❝ i'll make you work for it. ❞ ❝ get them off my back! ❞ ❝ if i die, i'll just come back to haunt you. ❞

𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 ,

❝ watch it! ❞ ❝ blind, deaf, and dumb. ❞ ❝ whose side are you on, genius? ❞ ❝ i'll kill you. ❞

𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 ,

❝ what do i look like to you? ❞ ❝ i'm not gonna fit in that. ❞

𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 ,

❝ now you're just taking the piss. ❞

𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐦 ,

❝ great, more junk. ❞

𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 ,

❝ we're not just gonna leave that here are we? ❞

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 ,

❝ like riding a bike. ❞ ❝ give me a challenge. ❞ ❝ finders keepers. ❞ ❝ what's yours is mine. ❞

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐛𝐞 ,

❝ been there, and there . . . there too, ❞ ❝ i miss the sea. ❞

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐞 ,

❝ huh . . . i can't see the little dipper, ❞ ❝ looks like rain, ❞

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 ,

❝ i'll need to shave again, ❞ ❝ is that blood? ❞

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩 ,

❝ nice try, ❞ ❝ back up, trap. ❞ ❝ watch your feet. ❞ ❝ they're not very slick, are they? ❞

𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐜 ,

❝ that doesn't look right, ❞

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐜 ,

❝ i hate these things, ❞

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 ,

❝ better than nothing, ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 ) ,

❝ now's not the damn time to die! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐥𝐚𝐞'𝐳𝐞𝐥 ) ,

❝ no, lae'zel! i'll gut every last one of you! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ) ,

❝ where's your lady now?! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞 ) ,

❝ shit! we're all screwed! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 ) ,

❝ astarion! damnit, not now! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐰𝐲𝐥𝐥 ) ,

❝ you bastards! only i get to kill him! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡 ) ,

❝ karlach! you're gonna pay for that! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 ) ,

❝ you didn't survive this long just to die now! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 ) ,

❝ get it together old man! ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐣𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐚 ) ,

❝ seriously?! that's what does it? ❞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 ( 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐜 ) ,

❝ there goes the comedy relief. ❞

#. dash prompts . › sailors knots . #hehehe i enjoyed this

[saltiestcoconut]

can i request an aiyusa sickfic (either one of them gets sick) 👀 as fluffy or as angsty as you like. thank you in advanced!

This is exactly what you asked for huh nonny? (It is not its more comedic than fluff oops~)

Pairing: aiyusa/aiball Rating: T Content Warnings: None

Friendly reminder that I'm accepting requests for aiyusa prompts (ps if you want an angstier take on this prompt-ish do look forward to aiyusa month~ it's going to be fun!)

Yusaku knew something was wrong when Ai didn't respond first thing in the morning. While laziness was the norm for Ai, he made sure Yusaku had food to eat during the weekdays. 

Yusaku shook Ai's SOLtis, but he was unresponsive. Yusaku shrugged and got ready for school anyways. 

"Bye, Ai. I'm going to school, now, without anything to eat, because I forgot to make food."

No response. Yusaku thought it would be enough to rouse Ai from his stupor. 

Yusaku leaned over Ai, his tie creasing the side of Ai's face. "Ai, I'm leaving. Don't you have something to say to me before I leave?" 

No response. 

Yusaku straighted up, then announced, "I can no longer afford to spend 500 en a month. I'm going to cancel Hulu and instead use the money to invest in crypto." 

Ai shot up. "You wouldn't. You need Spotify to live, you're so addicted to it. Why would you even invest in crypto, invest in me instead I can actually make you money, popular, whatever you want."

Yusaku crossed his arms. "Got you. What's wrong? You were ready to let me walk out without saying bye, or making me eat."

Ai blinked his too long eyelashed, "sorry Yusaku-chan, I couldn't respond to anything today. I think I might have picked up a virus somewhere."

"Were you watching porn again or something?" 

"No! Gosh that was a joke, Yusaku, stop bringing it up all the time!" 

Yusaku smirked, then sat down at his computer. He rummaged around for a few minutes until he was able to slap Ai's porting cable on his desk. "A virus, huh? Then let's take care of that real quick." 

Ai pressed himself against the wall. "Don't you have school? Go to school, and you can deal with this later, I'll be fine." 

"No. School is just a formality, you're more important than anything school has to offer."

Yusaku knew he trapped Ai when Ai's cheeks turned pink and he quickly averted his eyes. "Don't say that…" Ai then pointed an accusatory finger at Yusaku. "You're just using me as an excuse to not go to school!"

Yusaku smiled at Ai. "Turn around, I need to hook you up to the computer." 

"No! Go to school!" 

Yusaku crawled on the bed and tried to turn Ai around. Ai, however, fought Yusaku with gusto. 

"Help! Help! Yusaku-chan is molesting me! I don't want anything to be stuck in me right now!"

"Damnit Ai, we've done this multiple times, why the fuss now?" 

"You need to go to school!"

"Let me take care of you! You're my responsibility, so let me handle this." 

Ai stopped struggling, long enough for Yusaku to tug him closer to the computer.

"You're not… I didn't mean… I'm not something you have to take care of all the time."

Yusaku gathered Ai's hair in a loose ponytail and twisted it into a shitty bun. "I didn't mean it like that. You entrusted me with the cyberse, didn't you? I'm just doing the minimum." 

Yusaku hooked Ai up to the computer. He heard a huff. "Classic Yusaku, not saying what's on his mind. I know what you really mean, though." 

"Do you now?" Yusaku said half-heartedly in favor of scanning Ai's code. As a more complex virus, ordinary anti-virus softwares wouldn't work for Ai. 

"Yeah. I know that you love me, and that you care for me, and what you really wanted to say is that we take care of each other." 

"Yeah… something… like that…" Yusaku trailed off. He had already been absorbed by the task at hand. 

"You're not even paying attention to me," Ai whined. "I thought we were having a heart to heart moment!" 

Yusaku hummed. Finally, he found the virus, which seemed to be the type of virus that gathered information and sent it somewhere else. He carefully dealt with the virus as Ai chanted his name. 

"Yeah, you're right," Yusaku finally said, if only to get him to shut up. 

"So you agree you're emotionally constipated!" 

"Yeah."  

Yusaku finished his sweep of Ai's code and leaned over to power off the SOLtis. He needed to restart the SOLtis to properly rid it of the virus. 

Yusaku detached the cable and casually tossed it aside. While Ai powered back on, Yusaku laid him down and dragged his chair closer to the bed. 

Ai slowly lifted himself from the bed. "What time is it?" 

"Two thirty."

Ai stared at him. "You're the worst." 

"Glad you're okay." 

Ai tugged Yusaku onto the bed. "Your punishment for being such a bad boy is to rest with me." 

"You don't need to sleep off a virus." 

"Yes I do. Let's go to sleep." 

Yusaku was thus forced to spend the rest of the day smothered in Ai's embrace. 

#me? promoting my own event? sure why not fjkdsjkl #aiyusa #aiballshipping #ygo vrains #scribble scrabble