#'i finally got sewed up; set a time and i showed up'

[oikasugayama]

Could I ask for chuuya and dazai (separately) x fem reader where the reader wears a low skirt at work and bends down to get something and how the guys would react? Nsfw ofc

I only did Dazai because I got really carried away, oops. Have 2.3k of unedited, filthy dazai + coworker!reader smut. MDNI!!

You’ve wanted Dazai for quite a while. He’s so hot, and he’s silly, and sometimes he can be really nice and suave. The fact that his eyes linger on you heavily every time you wear a short skirt or a low-cut blouse only make you want him more because it sure seems like he might be interested in you too. You don’t talk to him a lot unfortunately given that he’s not in the office every day, and you’re Kunikida’s secretary, but sometimes he does linger by your desk and chat with you (until Kunikida runs him off), or when the whole office goes out for lunch he’ll sit at your table with you, Naomi, and Junichiro. Once when you were sitting across from each other you even swore that he had to have known that his leg was against yours, forcing your legs slightly wider apart as he slid his further and further toward the outside of the booth. Any time you looked at him while he did this, he would just quirk the corner of his lip up in a smile and turn back to the conversation. There was sexual tension between the two of you, there had to be.

One day you’d had enough of being the shocked one, you wanted to be bold to see if you could get him to break and finally invite you back to his place after work. You put on a button-up blouse that “accidentally” lost its top two buttons, your shortest skirt, a red silk thong that was definitely part of a lingerie set, and you made sure to put on some extra perfume so he’d smell it any time you got near him. Now you just needed the opportunity to get his attention. 

He was late to the office, as always. He casually walked in, hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face as usual 45 minutes after he was supposed to be there. You say nothing to him, as usual, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention. Kunikida already gave you an uncomfortable glance-over this morning and offered to sew your buttons back on if you still had them--you couldn’t risk him looking at you and seeing the sultry look in your eye when you greeted Dazai.

He saw you, though. Dazai. His eyes locked onto yours as he took his jacket off and slung it over the back of his chair. He very obviously trailed his eyes down to your chest, and you sat up straighter and tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, watching him watch you. You weren’t backing down, and he noticed.

Maybe that’s why he declined the offer to go to lunch with the group later that afternoon. You also declined, telling a little while lie to Kunikida that you had plans with friends at a different restaurant, so you’d be leaving in a few minutes to go your own way. Kunikida is sharp, but Dazai is sneaky, and you’d never mentioned to your boss how Dazai’s eyes defile you every time you show a bit of skin. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have ever left you two alone in the office. 

A couple of minutes after everyone was gone, you got up and crossed the room to Dazai’s desk pod under the guise of putting something on Atsushi’s nearby desk. As you approached, Dazai “accidentally” swiped a pencil off the edge of his desk right into your path.

“Oops,” he said lowly. You glance at him over your shoulder and give him a half smile.

“I got it.” Normally you’d squat or crouch down to prevent anyone from seeing your butt, but that’s not the goal today. You have an objective.

You slowly bend over at the waist, reaching for the pencil with your fingertips. You can tell the exact second your panties become visible, because Dazai hisses and leans back in his chair.

“Fuck,” he sighs. Before you’ve even stood back up, his hand is on your ass, pushing the curve of it up from the bottom to make it jiggle.

“Dazai-san,” you say sweetly as you fully stand and turn toward him. You hold the pencil out toward him and he grabs it quickly, throwing it onto the desk. His hands are on your hips then, pulling your skirt up so he can feel your soft, supple skin.

“Tell me you want me,” he demands, stilling his hands but holding you in place.

“You first,” you say, reaching out to trace your fingertips along his jaw. There’s a look in his eye you’ve never seen before. A type of hunger you’ve only dreamed about him having for you.

“I’ll fuck you on this desk right now,” he swears in that low, calm voice. It makes you wet just to hear him say such a lewd thing to you.

“You can cum inside,” you coo, and that’s what does it. He stands so suddenly that his chair is knocked backwards with a loud crashing noise. His lips are on yours, kissing you hard and fast and desperate. His hands grope your ass, squeezing and massaging and using the leverage to force you against his body, to feel his hard-on though his pants.

You waste no time fumbling with the bottom of his shirt, pulling it loose from his pants. You unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly, and shove your hand inside, feeling his cock straining against his underwear. He moans against your mouth, and you let out an involuntary whine. You’ve wanted to hear that sound for so long.

“I’m surprised Kunikida left you alone with me,” Dazai mumbles, pushing you back just a little until you hit his desk and sit on it. He spreads your thighs so he can stand between them, then he starts teasing his long, deft fingers over your clothed heat. “He’s always on my ass telling me not to be inappropriate with you.”

“Oh?” you ask shakily, still trying to feel him up though he’s got you distracted now with his feather-light touches.

“Mmm,” he hums, taking his hands away from you. He pushes his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock, and you can’t help but to stare at it. You hoped it would be big, maybe even taken a few long glances at his crotch while he slept unknowingly on the breakroom couch. But it’s even bigger than you expected, and your pussy flutters with anticipation. “I think Kunikida wants to make a proper lady out of you.”

“Proper ladies don’t fuck their coworkers in the office,” you say, pulling your panties to the side. Dazai watches you and licks his lips, giving his cock a few strokes. He reaches forward, slides two of his fingers up your slit and groans.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” you admit, leaning back onto your hands. You both moan to some degree when his fingers slide into you.

“The feeling is mutual,” he mumbles back. He gives a few pumps, a few twists, before pulling back out and smearing your slick wetness all over the head of his cock. Then, with urgency, he lines his tip up with your pussy and teases for just a few seconds, collecting more of your natural lube so he can slide in smoothly. 

“Dazai,” you whine, squirming, trying to get closer. He says nothing as he pushes forward slowly, pulling out just a bit, then continuing in until he’s almost completely buried in you.

“Fuck,” he moans, dropping his head down. He can’t stop looking at your pussy taking his cock in. “You’re so fucking hot. God, this pussy is so tight.” You whine and moan, leaning back more until you bump into his computer.

“Get this shit out of the way,” he mumbles, annoyed, as he reaches behind you and shoves stacks of papers and his computer monitor to the side with reckless abandon until you have room to lay on his desk and pull your knees up and to the side. You’re at the perfect level now for him to start drilling you, and oh does he.

The once quiet office is filled with wet squelches and skin slapping skin as he fucks you, holding you by the hips so you can’t slide away from him. He fucks you hard and quick and dirty. He fucks you all the way to the hilt, stuffing you full and letting his balls smack against your ass. You’re so wet that it covers his cock all the way to the base and starts to make a sticky ring against his body. 

“Oh, Dazai,” you moan. “Shit-- Fuck-- oh, you’re so fucking big.” 

“Good fucking pussy,” he huffs out. He reaches up with one hand and starts palming your tit, massaging and squeezing. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. You’re gonna like that, huh? Gonna sit at your desk all day doing work for Kunikida with my cum in your pussy.”

“Yeah,” you whine loudly. You manage to pull another two buttons free and Dazai takes advantage, reaching inside to knead your boob and pinch your nipple, making you moan even more. “Fuck me so good, Dazai. Make me cum, please.”

“Oh, I’ll make you cum, baby, but I’m not done with you yet.”

He pulls out of you then and you whine at the loss of his thick cock buried deep in you. He leans down, pushing your shirt and bra to the side to suck on your tits. He swirls his tongue around, suckling and nipping with his teeth while his other hand tweaks your nipple and massages. After a minute he switches, giving equal attention to the other breast. You take the opportunity to run your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and pulling on his hair.

“They’ll be back in fifteen,” you warn him. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Mmm, but there’s so much fun to be had,” he sighs, resting his face in the valley between your breasts. “Do you live in the ADA dorms?”

“No, I have a roommate across town.”

“Tell them you’re staying with a friend tonight.”

He stands up and takes your hands, pulling you up too. You’re afraid he’s gonna stop here, but instead he turns you around, kisses down your neck, and then firmly pushes your shoulders down so you’re bent over his desk. Without another word he lines up with your hole again and enters you quickly. He sets a brutal pace, utilizing long, hard thrusts to make you feel the full extent of his cock. It’s so long and such a nice girth that it fills you completely, stretching your walls so nicely and thrumming against your cervix with every thrust. Once again the office is full of the sounds of skin slapping skin, your pussy squelching every time he enters you, and a steady stream of moans and curses from both of you.

“You’re gonna cum with me,” he says after a few minutes reaching around your hip to feel you up. He finds your clit in only a few seconds and rubs it frantically while still fucking you hard, trying to suddenly overwhelm your nerves to make you cum hard, and fuck does it work.

“Dazai,” you call his name loudly as a warning, whimpering and whining while pushing back against him. “I’m gonna cum, Dazai, fuck, I can’t stop--”

“--Cum,” he commands. “Cum all over this fat cock, princess.”

Your orgasm wracks your body, making your knees shake and your thighs tremble. You cum, slightly squirting, making even more juices squish out of your pussy as he fucks you through your orgasm. The pulsing of your walls as you cum squeezes Dazai’s cock so good, making him cum too, spurting ropes of his seed deep into you. He stays buried to the hilt, grinding against you, for several seconds after you’ve both worked through your orgasms. When he finally pulls back, he holds you down by your hips so he can watch cum drip out of your pussy and onto the floor. He swipes some of it onto his fingers and reaches around, holding it in front of your lips.

“Open,” he says, and you do, sticking your tongue out and taking his fingers in, sucking the cum and other fluids off his fingers. “Good girl,” he says, rubbing his other hand on your ass. After he finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he readjusts your panties so they cover your abused cunt.

“You’re gonna leak through your panties,” he says, finally allowing you to stand back up. “Gonna leave a damp spot on your chair by the end of the day so you have a reminder of me.”

“Good,” you say, buttoning your blouse again. “And I’d love to come over tonight, by the way. I’ll tell my roommate not to expect me until late.”

Dazai smiles and finishes tucking himself back into his pants. He also kneels down and uses a tissue to wipe the cum off the floor.

“Only a few minutes left,” he says when he stands back up. “Clean yourself up and get ready.”

“What about your desk? We really messed it up.”

“Don’t worry about it, just go sit at your desk like a good girl.” He presses a firm kiss to your lips then pats your ass so you’ll get moving. He sighs wistfully, climbs on top of his desk, and lays over it, draping himself all the way across Atsushi’s desk as well. Now the mess looks like another dramatic Dazai performance that no one even questions when they come back from lunch.

#ask answered #dazai smut #dazai x reader #dazai headcanon #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader

[cup1dt3a]

❤︎~I’ll always have my Eyes on You~❤︎

Summary: Your friend had gone to a mysteriously abandoned studio and came out with a small puppet. They gave you the odd doll from fear of its creepy eyes. Including the fact you like to collect things like this. So how strange would it be if suddenly the puppet started to almost form a life of its own. Even its soul purpose being dedicated to your love. What odd adventurers life brings you? Care to find out what happens? |Yandere! Wally Darling x Collector! Reader |

You tilted your head as you analyzed the dirty puppet. They were covered head to toe in dust, dirt, and even a few webs making you cringe at the thought of spiders in him.

Your friend had a bad habit of sticking their nose in places they shouldn’t. For instance why this little guy is here. They had explored an old abandoned studio of a puppet show for children. They would constantly complain about the smell, weird black substance, and loud creaks. As they video chat with you constantly telling them to get out if they’re so disturbed. Every time rolling their eyes until theirs had landed on the puppet now in your possession.

You knew you had to clean them asap before you could get of whiff of whatever stench they had. Like the other puppets in your collection they all had been left to rot from their former glory. As you looked at the tags they all said instead of Made in China said Made in 1970. Which was weird considering nothing ever had dates on them. But you just shrugged it off as you tried to gently scrub off the bugs from them. As you got to the now pastel yellow puppet you had finally moved onto their eyes. As you analyzed their eyes you couldn’t help but admire how their eyes stayed the cleanest. Still purely snow while as if they were just sewed on.

“ Wow you have impressive eyes.” You praised.

“ How is your hair still so soft?” You questioned running your fingers through the silky blue locks of the doll.

As you admired the doll one last time before going off to bed since it was 3am you turned not noticing the puppets widening smile as you left the room to your own.

You soon woke up from the horrid sun rays shining into your eyes. You groaned turning over away from the burning rays. As you did you felt an odd softness now on your side. Half asleep you pulled the soft thing closer to you not noticing the blue hair now under your chin.

A while later finally waking up to the ringing of your alarm set you got up still holding the soft object close to you. As you stretched finally waking up you looked down to see what you were cuddling not remembering bringing anything soft to your bed last night. You stated down at the now clean puppet as they smiled up at you with their large eyes peering into you.

How did the get in here? You must have been supper tired last night if you brought them into your bed without noticing. You sighed putting the doll upon a nearby desk in your room not paying any mind to them as you continued on with your day.

It was like that for a whole week every time you went to bed the puppet was right beside you. You had been working on fixing them up so you just brushed it off as you subconsciously doing it out of pure tiredness until one day.

Going towards the kitchen to get a snack you couldn’t help but notice a strange black substance now on your floor. It was as thick as carmel sit even felt like it too when you dipped a finger in it. It looked like someone had microwaved some black licorice or poored ink all over your floors. What a wonderful thing to wake up to. How did this even get here? You then noticed a mother odd thing. A letter. A red envelope right over it with many hearts all over it.

Inside the letter said “ You’re so sweet I like you ❤︎“

Rolling your eyes you put the letter down assuming it was another one of your friends pranks. Because Your chaotic friend who you should have never given a key to your apartment to now comes by every so often. To prank or just hang out with you. The letter was sweet sure just why the mess. They usually come by and clean it up, but the substance looked like it might stain the floor. You have no idea how long it’s been there but you had to clean it up before it ruined the floors. Sighing you went to get the cleaning supplies upset with this little prank of your friends. This was a bit too far.

“ Hey! So how’s the new guy to your collection doing?” They asked in a video call as you where fixing up their clothes.

“Fine.” You grumbled still upset with having to clean up your floors.

“ Why are you upset? You ok did something happen?” They questioned concerned why you sounded so distraught upon speaking to them.

“ Well, just next time for one of your “ Stalker” pranks please don’t ever use that weird black substance again. It almost ruined my floors!” You barked as you finished tying the bright red ribbon around the puppets neck.

“ Wha…____ I haven’t been to your house all day.” They told you in a concerning tone.

“ Haha! Very funny but I’m serious please don’t do that. I don’t mean to snap but-.” Just before you finished your sentence they said.

“ No! I’m serious I’m all the way in Texas right now! I left at midnight! Are you sure you’re alone!?” They exploded with worry as you felt your heart drop.

“ Yes! I think? I don’t know! Can I go to your place then I’m scared now. I’ll have the police investigate!” You panicked now weary of your surroundings.

“ Yes get out of there immediately! And call the police right now bye please be safe!” They said before hanging up.

“ I’m not sure. I just woke up and this black carmel like substance was all over my floors including this note.” You told the officer outside of your apartment while they questioned you.

“ Ok, thank you for your cooperation.” They said before bidding you a goodbye.

You still with the doll at your side sighed as you drove to your friends house with the spare key they lent you for emergencies such as this. You’re now scared shitless of actuality having a stalker. You took the small puppet with you for some comfort. Even if they were a bit creepy you didn’t care nothing at the moment was creeper than some person you don’t even know stalking you, trashing your floors, and leaving an odd letter on your counter tops. Plus the doll was quite soft and almost oddly warm. You just didn’t want to think of any red flags and try to calm down at your friends house.

All you had now was just the comfort of your phone, the puppet, and food. You had gone to the grocery store not wanting to steal any food from your friend since they’re already letting you borrow their house. They had called again to check up on you which you appreciated, but for the moment you were fine you just needed to relax. Then the worst thought came to your mind. What if they took the rest of your puppet collection luring you away from your home so they could steal your millions of dollars and tears collection. You spent days to hours of fixing up to look brand new. No way in hell!

“ Wow not even the threat of possibly dying or that creepy puppet scares you except a creep stealing your puppet collection can scare you wow!” They said sarcastically.

“ Shut up! I just spend…”

You were just so beautiful and kind. The more you talked the more his heart beat against his chest in a raging matter. As if it wanted to escape and latch onto you forever and never let go. He wished you would just stop talking to your friend and begin to praise him once again. You had done so the other day for hours now all you’re concerned about is the mess house left and his note. He thought it would be sweet and house sometimes can’t help but make a little mess every so often… But it hurts so much that his sweet letter didn’t make your heart flutter like his whenever your around.

Oh how he loathed those who talked to you so freely while he bearly has control over his own. As he angrily thought of ways to make you finally notice him you finally ended the call with that annoying friend of yours. Always doing such harsh pranks is not so nice.

“ Well then what are we gonna do now?” You asked him. HIM!

“ No idea either huh?” You sweetly chuckled with your angelic voice.

He had had many very many ideas of what you both could do. But instead you chose to cuddle him with his head tucked under your chin once again. Not that he’s complaining he can now softly snuggle up against or nuzzle you without you noticing. Last time he moved everyone was so scared of him. He hoped you wouldn’t do the same but there’s always a chance so why ruin a perfectly good moment?

God you even smelled like a dream.

You begin trying to do some research on the newly acquired puppet of yours. Soon enough after typing “ Yellow puppet with blue hair made in the 70’s” you we’re finally shown some history about Wally.

“ Huh Wally what an interesting name little guy.” You said rembering about the movie Wally.

The more you read the more you found out about them. There was even a whole website about the little guy. This was very interesting. After an hour of researching Wally you finally yawned needing to get some rest. You put the doll onto a nearby night stand in the guest room before going to sleep.

So… what to do now. You weren’t petting his head or praising him anymore. It brought a pout to his plush face. He wanted more but alas a person such as you needs to maintain their beauty sleep God he was already missing you just running your fingers through his hair. It made him shiver with glee at the thought.

Bouncing off the nightstand you left him on he had crawled upon the side of the bed to admire you for the rest of the night. Even cupping your cheek as gently as you handled him the first time you met. It was like love at first sight. What a wonderful feeling! All he needed was you and you alone. Whatever you did made him fill to the brim with blissful joy. Ignorant to all your flaws, things you didn’t like about yourself, even the things others may see as odd he didn’t. No he saw them as your perfections everything has been nothing but pure bliss as you slept soundly asleep with him by your side singing soft lullabies to help you sleep.

It was 3:42 am and your throat was dry from not drinking anything so you headed towards the kitchen. Not noticing the now gone Wally from your bedside. As you made your way you had overheard someone humming.

You held your breath while grabbing the nearest weapon. It was a decorative stick from a glass vase how wonderful. But in your defense it was dark in the hallway and it seemed somewhat sharp so why not. As you crept quietly down the stairs to catch whatever creep is in your friends house. You gasp at what you saw.

It was Wally. Wally was in the kitchen not moving at all but with the light on you could see he was later out on the floor with a knife in hand. While a half of the apple remained on the countertop including a little ladder.

Ok this is funny but something doesn’t add up. Wally isn’t alive no he’s just a puppet. As you turned around pretending to go back to bed you had never in your life turned back around. And instead of Wally being laid on the floor there he stood knife in hand. You thought it would be one of those situations you were just being dumb but no Wally is and was alive.

“Well Hello Y-“ you cut him off as he walked over to you slapping him with the breakable stick.

“ Ow! Well that wasn’t very nice.” He said still with a smile.

“ You…You…Heh no this is just a dream yes a dream.” You chuckled trying to calm yourself down.

As soon as you said that the once fallen over puppet now pinched you with his soft baby hand.

“ Ow!” You hissed at how that actually hurt.

“What? Usually people ask someone pinch me?” He said with a tilt to his head.

“ So you put that note and that stuff that almost ruined my floors?” You glared as he nodded.

You don’t know where or how to begin with the puppet. Is he going to kill you? Is he just some possessed doll. And…why is the TV saying you’re missing? So many questions and so few answers.

The TV had just glitched onto the news and right on it it said “ ____ ___ missing for a week if seen please contact this number…”

You weren’t missing you have been in your friends house. You were in your friends house. No this is some joke you’re not missing your…What the fuck is going on.

“ Oh the TV is on!” The doll said.

“ What did you do?” You asked.

“ Nothing.” He replied.

“ What did you do? Where are we!?”

“ I just brought you to my home!” he smiled with glee as you felt your heart sink.

“ No! It’s my friends house I’m not missing! What the hell did you do!?” You cried.

“ Hey! None of that now! Why are you crying?” He asked.

“ You fucking kidnapped me! Why won’t this stupid door open!?” You cried hyperventilating as you roughly twisted and turned the door knob.

“Let’s calm down. Listen I just brought you to my house. Home and me just took a very big liking to you!” He smiled it would look sweet in any other situation than than.

It’s been what feels like weeks since you’ve been here. Wally says days though you have no reason to trust a word of his.

You just want to go home.

Hello! And yes I have gotten sucked into this colorful fandom. Hope you all are having a wonderful day and enjoyed<33

If your day isn’t then I just hope it gets better.

Sincerely-Cup1dT3a💌

#wally darling #Welcome Home #Wally Darling Welcome Home #gender neutral reader #yandere wally darling #wally darling x reader

[spirantization]

I'm surprised at the hate that Sokka's character arc from NATLA is receiving. To me, Sokka's development and characterization was one of the strongest adaptations the series made.

In the original ATLA, Sokka's character arc revolves around him unlearning his own misogyny. He makes pointedly sexist comments throughout the early episodes like "Leave it to a girl to screw things up!", "There's no way a bunch of girls took us down!", etc.

Sokka's comments have a strong narrative purpose: they give a platform for women in the show (Katara & Suki mostly) to refute his attitude. Katara emphasizes traditional "women's work" (cleaning, cooking, sewing, etc), which forces Sokka to confront its inherent value. Suki is able to prove to him that women can fight too and he learns to respect female warriors. It's a great character arc and it's well-executed.

It's also characterization that is in direct response to the culture and feminism of the 90s and early 00s. The representation of women in the media at that time was...oof. It was not great. One-dimensional love interests whose only purpose is being saved by the male protagonist, mostly. Female protagonists were not as common, and certainly not ones who were depicted as being able to fight, and certainly not in cartoons. Female protagonists in animation were almost exclusively princesses.

ATLA was progressive in this regard. Katara was a complex female character in a time when there were not a lot of them, in media in general but especially in animation and kid's shows. (I grew up in the 90s; there were no characters like Katara in animation on screen for me.) ATLA incorporated the zeitgeist directly into the story, which is why we have Sokka learning to overcome his sexism in his interactions with Strong Female Characters.

If you go back and watch the original cartoon now, Sokka's sexism feels a bit dated. It's a very 90s, Girl Power, "girls can fight too" style of social commentary. It doesn't match with the media landscape of today. We've got 20 years of media with female superheroes behind us. If your message is "girls can fight too!" the response for the most part is going to be "yes, we know that. And?"

So imagine you're adapting the original ATLA for a live-action remake. You want to keep Sokka's character arc intact, but you want to update it for the 2020s. So what do you do? You look at the conversations that are happening today.

The 90s were about "girls can do everything boys can do", but the 20s are over that. The conversation is more about gender: gender expression, gender roles, gender dynamics. What does is mean to be a woman? What does it mean to be a man?

Sokka's character arc in NATLA is focused on this question: What does it mean to be a man? At the beginning of the series, it's his identity as a warrior that defines him. He needs to be the warrior, the protector, the leader. He's constantly trying to reaffirm this part of his identity, and it's completely tied up in his perception of his value as a man. Instead of his interactions with Suki being about "how could girls possibly be warriors", it shifts to Sokka saying "I'm ALSO a warrior" and trying to justify that to Suki (and mostly himself).

His arc over the series is about him accepting other aspects of himself and relearning how to define his masculinity. He can still have value as man without being the greatest warrior. He can still have value as a man by using his skills as an engineer. He can still have value as a man by offering compassion and kindness to others, like the little girl with the doll & Yue in her final moments. Instead of rigidly defining himself by a specific set of gender roles & expectations, he learns how to define himself through his own strengths and qualities.

I know there are a lot of people who are upset at this change to Sokka's characterization, and the most common thing I see is that it results in changes to Katara's character and her anger in response to Sokka's comments. I think there are valid criticisms to be made about how the show handled the adaptation of Katara's character, but I won't go there with this. In terms of Sokka and his characterization, it was well-done and thematically consistent with the original. It's not an exact port, and it never needed to be. It's still a feminist arc that centres on unlearning harmful misogynistic worldviews, but the focus has shifted from external (roles of women) to internal (his role as a man). And his journey is one that people would benefit from seeing represented.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #natla #netflix avatar #atla meta #there are many criticisms to make about the adaptation but this just isn't one of them

[saintvainglorious]

My First Fanbind! A Black Sails Fic Anthology Series

It took me a year (and a lot of anxious research) before I worked up the courage to bookbind fanfiction, and after months of on-again-off-again work, my first fanbind is finally done!

I knew that if I was going to bookbind fic, I had to bind something from the Black Sails fandom, aka the fandom and show that have had the biggest impact on my life. Y'all, I almost went into academia to study slavery in the 17th-18th century Caribbean because of this show - when folks say this show rewires your brain chemistry, they are NOT kidding. THEE show of all time. Happy 10th anniversary to Black Sails! This fandom is small but mighty. May we continue to get our hearts and souls blasted to smithereens by this show for many years to come.

Ao3 abounds with magnificent Black Sails oneshots, so I decided to put together an anthology of my favorite Silverflint fics under 20k, which I split into two volumes. Included are works by @justlikeeddie, @vowel-in-thug, @balloonstand, @annevbonny, @francisthegreat, @nysscientia, and more! Thank you, thank you all, you brilliant wonderful people, for gracing the Internet with such amazing writing. When I read the fics in these anthologies I want to fling myself into the sun.

More on the design and binding process below the cut!

Vol. 1 Page Count: 270 (12 fics) Vol. 2 Page Count: 248 (11 fics) Body Font: Sabon Next LT (10.5 pt) Title Font: Goudy Old Style Other Fonts: IM Fell English, pirates pw

The typeset (which I did in Word) took a while, mainly because I'd never done it before. Manually adjusting the hyphenation line-by-line was especially tedious. After making these books, I abandoned Word in favor of InDesign, in large part because InDesign gives you way finer control over your justification and hyphenation settings.

Regarding my actual design choices, I'm happy with how the ocean motif on the title page turned out (it's not the same pattern as my endpapers, but they're complimentary) and I'm very fond of my divider dingbats, which are little swords! Goudy Old Style was a fun title font to use, since it's the font that Black Sails uses as its logo. The stories in Vol. 1 are divided into parts based on what Silver WAS at that point in the show (cook, quartermaster, or king), and Vol. 2 is split up into comedies, histories (AUs set in the canon universe) and tragedies - befitting Black Sails' Shakespearean ~vibes~.

I stuck to a flatback binding, as I wasn't feeling quite ambitious enough to try rounding and/or backing. I've learned that I ~Anakin Skywalker voice~ hate sanding, enjoy folding/sewing, and don't LIKE edge trimming but enjoy the results enough to make it worth it.

The real adventure was decorating the cover, which remained bare for months. After agonizing over Illustrator and experimenting unsuccessfully with HTV and lokta paper embossing, I ultimately turned to using stencil vinyl to paint on the designs. There was a bit of seepage under some of the stencils, but I was able to scrape off the excess with my Cricut weeding tool without damaging the coated surface of the bookcloth (probably Arrestox Blue Ribbon from Hollander's). Even though it was very time-consuming, I'm so happy with the end result of the stenciled paint job and I intend to stick with stencils for my foreseeable future binds.

Are there things I would change? Sure. It was humid out when I printed, so the pages have got a wave. There’s an extra two pages in Vol 2. that I have no idea how I missed, and I got a line of glue in the middle of one of my Vol. 2 endpapers. I’m pretty sure I didn’t case in quite right, since my endpapers pull away from the case at the spine. I think the inner margins are a bit too big, and despite going line-by-line there’s still some wacky justification spacing in the typeset. But man, am I proud of these books! It is so satisfying to learn a new skill - MANY new skills, if we’re being honest - and to make something both beautiful and practical. If I’m still binding in two years or so, I can see myself redoing the typeset in InDesign, cutting out the existing text block, and reusing the cases. I’m also already planning for Vol. 3, which will be Silverflint Modern AUs.

Thanks for reading!

#bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #my books #black sails #silverflint #fanfiction #bsanniversary #10yearsblacksails #10bsfest

[lovelybrooke]

Yandere Castlevaina x reader Concept Pt.2

read this post for some most context. I'm changing how Alucard is found a bit, but it's nothing major, I just didn't want to have to write a big fight scene. Sorry.

Masterlist--Pt.1

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Life without the Tepes's was fine, for the most part. It was tiring, working on your own, you've started to take up sewing, creating beautiful fabrics and even some clothing just to make money. It wasn't anything great, but it was enough to survive. Though, living away from society, in hiding, proved to be harder than you thought. You didn't interact with people as much as you probably should, and a small part of you started to miss the Tepes. 

The only time you went into town was to sell your clothing. The closest town was Gresit, which due to the ever growing presence of monsters was not all that easy to get to. Living away from people, you never knew where these creatures came from, or why they never showed up around your small home, but thinking about it too long put a knot in your stomach. 

Eventually, you had to get food, you were running low on supplies and wasn't going to last long, so you made the trek into town during the morning to avoid any monsters. Finally reaching Gresit you realized how downtrodden it was, barricades, dead bodies, injured lying in the street. It was hard to ignore it all, and it was even harder to ignore the strange man stalking around the market. He was tall, even while hunched slightly, and there was a strange sense of familiarity to him, especially when he looked you in the eyes, his stern scowl becoming shock in a split second. 

The awkwardness caused you to avoid him at all cost, and as the sun slowly set and your shopping came to an end, you counted out the coins needed for a room, leaning against one of the only non bloody walls as said man grabbed your wrist before you could leave, causing your coins to drop on the floor. "(Y/n)..." He whispered, stinking of bear and clearly drunk "Is it really you?" You squinted at the man, desperation all over him. You slowly nodded, which made him let out a sigh of relief, the hold on your wrist lessening slightly, but still present. "Do you remember me, Trevor, your brother?" 

You almost choked, "I-I don't have a brother, you must think I'm someone else." You say, prying your arm away and picking up your coins. 

"I'm not mistaken" His rough voice was back again "I know it's you--why don't you remember?!" He sounded almost angry, which caused you to back away slightly. He was slurring his words, stumbling slightly. 

"Look sir, you're drunk--" You sighed as he followed you towards the inn "you should get a room, sleep it off." He doesn't listen, grumbling something inaudible. You knew it would be bad to leave him alone for the night, so you bought a room for the night, one right next to you so he wouldn't wander off. You spend the night awake, afraid of what might happen to you if you fall asleep. The sun eventually rises, and you're alive once more. 

In the morning, the man, Trevor, was extremely hungover, but still very adamant that you were his sibling. He didn't try to explain anything to you though, which made you even more frustrated. "Look--I need to go find some speakers daughter or something, come with me, you'd be safer than if you'd stay here." It didn't sound like a question, more like a demand, so you obliged, following him into the tunnels below the city which this supposed speaker got lost in. 

The tunnels were dark, hard to navigate without the help of Trevor, who wouldn't leave you alone despite his aversion to him. As you crept deeper and deep into the tunnel, you began to hear stomping, growling, and something that put a pit in your stomach. Trevor pushed you behind him, advising you to stay behind one of the many pillars. The way Trevor fought was a stark contrast to the bumbling man you knew yesterday. It was amazing, but you couldn't watch it for long as you were too busy staying alive. 

Eventually, the monster was dead, and you were safe. As you calmed yourself down, you were able to spot multiple statues, very lifelike, that all slowly began to glow as the monster died. In front of you, a woman slowly turned from stone and fell to her feet. You and Trevor walked up to her, both learning that she was the speakers daughter, Seypha, who was looking for a "sleeping warrior" in these tunnels. Even after confronting the monster, she was still devoted to finding him, refusing to leave until she explored more, so you both relented, hoping to keep her alive. 

The tunnels slowly turned from wet and stony walls to metal and cogs as you traveled even deeper. Sypha was amazed by it, while you were terrified, reminding you of something you didn't want to remember. The deeper you went, the more hostile the architecture became, having to stay near the two in order not to be crushed by anything. Eventually you reached the end, a large pedestal with a coffin on top, vials of blood being pumped into it. At this point, your breathing was heavy, shaking as you backed away from the coffin, watching as it slowly opened, a familiar face rising out of it. 

Adrian slowly lowered onto the ground, standing before you all. He looked the same, which made sense for him, but the only difference was the large scar across his chest. You couldn't pay attention however, panic coursing through your veins as Trevor confronted him. The world was spinning, and you could faintly hear someone calling for you before you passed out. 

When you awoke, Adrian was kneeling next to you. You were placed on a few blankets in an old, run down house. He was staring at the ground, only moving once you did. He didn't speak for a while, nor did you, until a few seconds passed. "Why did you leave?" He asked, causing you to scoff. 

"You know why I did." You sighed. "I-I just felt suffocated." You whispered, but you were sure he heard you. 

His expression didn't change much, but you could almost see something sad in his eyes. "Father and mother are doing this because of you." He dropped that on you, causing your heart to drop. 

"What do you mean?" 

"They thought you died. They couldn't find you. I couldn't find you." He answered, quieting as she heard the sound of Sypha and Trevor arguing in the distance. "We are going to confront them, you'll come with us, maybe that will fix the damage you caused." His voice was devoid of malice, but it didn't make his words hurt less. Ignoring his silence, he took your hands and pulled you up from your makeshift bed, dragging you towards the others. 

This was all your fault, the deaths, the fear, the horrors, it was all because of you. You were selfish, and you left something that was good for you, and now people are suffering because of it. You keep repeating what Adrian said over and over, "(Y/n)...are you okay?" You heard Trevor ask, causing you to nod your head. 

"Yeah--let's just get going."

---

A/n: This would've been too long if I included everything so feel free to ask any question that you have.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #platonic yandere castlevania #castlevania x you #castlevania x reader #yandere castlevania

[still-not-over-transformers]

Here is some content for whilst I continue to work on my requests. I just really got inspired to write some Headcanons for (TFP and TF Earthspark Starscream x Reader) and how they would show their affection for the reader. 

TFP & TFE Starscream x Reader Headcanons (Showing Affection to GN Human Reader) 

Word Count: 900+

TFP:

Let’s face it, showing others genuine affection and praise doesn’t come easy for Starscream. This could most likely be from himself receiving more criticism and spite than respect and positive reinforcement. So when it comes to showing (Y/N) affection, it’s subtle, especially if other prying eyes or optics are watching. 

At first he would be aloof towards you in public settings, especially around the other Vehicons and Decepticons on the Nemesis. Then it would gradually turn into little jabs at how small you were, and how a helpless human such as yourself couldn’t possibly navigate the Nemesis on your own. But he was willing to “graciously” lend you a helping hand, so to speak. 

Despite initially choosing to ignore your presence, Starscream would quickly switch to insisting on having you near him as much as possible. The first time he received a compliment from you, he tried to brush it off with prideful boasting, “Yes, yes of course you would recognize my brilliance. As Second-in Command of the Decepticons, I must always set a stunning example for the troops.” Underneath the vain facade, the Seeker would conceal his fluster, as secretly he questioned what you gained from complimenting him. 

After a while, Starscream would begin to show slightly more obvious signs of affection for you. He couldn’t allow others to see him fawning over you, so he was sneaky about it. Often his favorite method to get you alone would be to take you out on patrols with him whilst in his alt-mode. This is when the Seeker would open up more to you, sharing his frustrations regarding work-life, Megatron being an unfit leader, etc. You were taken by surprise when he asked for your opinions on matters, as it was unlike Starscream to ask for anyone else’s thoughts. 

Winning Starscream’s affections was a long-game, but once you had his spark, you were his and his alone. Starscream doesn’t like to share after all. Especially not his precious little human. 

As for nsfw: He’s a huge tease. He enjoys feeling in control and often instigates intimate encounters. Making you hot and bothered until you begged him to finally enter you. If you give him a cheeky compliment on his frame or his spike, it was easy to tell if he was flustered by the twitching of his wings. Oh and his wings are VERY sensitive, if stroked in the perfect spots, it was very erotic for him. He’s very kinky and really enjoys bondage (for you) and has a stash of toys in his private chambers. 

TFE:

Starscream’s encounters with humans hadn’t been necessarily positive while he had been on Earth. G.H.O.S.T had seen to sew mistrust in his spark, making him reluctant to trust any human. But then of course, there was you. When he first encountered you, he fully expected screams of terror or you to flip out and run away begging for the Autobots to come save you from the evil, selfish, traitorous… Starscream. But you didn’t. You addressed him the same way anyone would when meeting a stranger for the first time. No judgment. 

This was a first for the Seeker, and it only further piqued his curiosity and interest for you. Initially, his old bad habits took over and well, he kind of kidnapped you. But only because he feared being sold out to G.H.O.S.T, or having Megatron find him again… Self-preservation, something Starscream was very good at. He wasn’t rough with you at all, just was keeping you close to him “for your safety”, as he initially told you. Sure enough, after spending more time with you, Starscream’s guard slowly lowered as he realized you weren't a threat. 

Trust wasn’t something easily won from the Seeker, but you steadily earned it. The first time Starscream didn’t hover around you and allowed you space, he was pleasantly surprised you didn’t try to escape. Starscream would slowly open up, telling stories of his adventures as a Seeker before the Great War. He didn’t open up to just anyone, so to see the genuine look of interest and awe in your eyes made him feel something. Something new. 

Starscream tried to be subtle in expressing his affections, asking you to help map out stars in your galaxy, or assisting him with selecting new locations to scout. But despite all of his cunning and skills at deception, he couldn’t lie convincingly to you. So if he had a surprise planned for you, it was apparent on his faceplate. If questioned as to what he was up to, Starscream would brush it off as a glitch in his system. 

Sometimes he would show off a bit to you. Even allowing you to go on flights with him, his favorite moments being when he shocked you with barrel-rolls and gunned it at high-G’s. Any bit of joyous or excited laughter would make his spark skip a beat. Starscream realized that he could in fact, make someone smile rather than cower, and he was glad he made you happy. 

As for nsfw: He would be a little shy at first, maybe a bit flustered by being desired this way. Starscream would be a gentle lover as the two of you initially began your intimate endeavors. Making sure you were comfortable, going slow, giving more than receiving. As his confidence grew, however, he would reveal just how naughty he was. He had an edging kink for sure, getting off at bringing you close to ecstasy and then withholding it from you. Also it is no surprise that the silver-tongued Seeker would be rather good at oral. He definitely got off on seeing you squirm in pleasure at his touch, and he enjoyed kissing every inch of your body. 

#transformers #transformers prime #decepticons #transformersprime #starscream #earthspark #starscream transformers #starscream earthspark #tfp starscream #transformers earthspark #transformers x reader insert #transformers headcanons #starscream x reader #starscream x reader insert

[mandomaterial]

I LOVE your Miguel x Reader fic so much! Can we please get another Miguel x Reader where they are complete opposites again, but she isn't use to seeing a scary/violent Miguel. So when she finally sees him like that she gets a little scared and Miguel has to reassure his little angel that he would never behave this way with her. Fluff please because i love your fluff fics!

OFC BBY! I changed it a little so that reader didn’t only see it but also experience it, yk? U’ll see :3 I hope you like it pookie!

Miguel scaring and accidentally hurting you

Like this? Check out my Masterlist

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You were on your way to visit your boyfriend of a few months at work, with a little Tupperware box of fresh cookies in hand, you knew that he was Spider-Man and you knew all about the spider-verse. You also knew that Miguel worked very hard to keep the society intact and that it put an immense strain on his mood and health.

He’d come home all grumpy and annoyed, just wanting to cuddle you to death, he wouldn’t even let you get up to make him some food or treats, so today you decided to bring him something to cheer him up. You’d made a variety of cookies, some frosted and others shaped like animals and stars, to some people it might seem like something from a kids birthday party where a trottle ran off with the sprinkles and went crazy with them but it was just how you liked to bake. You knew that some people thought you were weird for dressing in bright colours and having fun hairstyles, sometimes older people would whisper when you walked past them but you didn’t mind, to you the worst possible thing would be being called normal or plain. You didn’t let anyone stop you from buying or making the clothes you thought were cute and today you decided to show off the new skirt you made. You spent all of last week sitting at your desk with your sticker covered sewing machine, securing the fabric and hemming the edges.

It was truly adorable and you loved how it framed your butt and thighs! You matched it with the off white cashmere sweater that Miguel gifted you after only two moths of dating. He knew that you liked cute things so he had little bows added to the sleeves and it warmed your heart every time you thought of his attentiveness. You packed the cookies into a little shoulder bag and set off.

It didn’t take long for you to get to the main office and there you almost crashed into Jessica who you always enjoyed having a little chat with, you always asked how her baby was and if everything was going as planned at HQ, but today she decided to give you a little warning, Miguel had been a little agitated and stressed today, because Gwen got stuck in a mess and brought back a Teenage boy who was never supposed to know about the Spider-verse and how said boy was causing a bit of trouble. You thought nothing much of it and continued looking for him.

Your first stop was his main office, to be honest it looked like the bat cave, with a floating platform that was his favourite. It always made you giggle when you compared Miguel to batman, but he wasn’t there, so you decided to just walk around and see if you’d find him, when you suddenly heard a loud bang. Instinctively you whipped around, running to a large window and what you saw shook you to your core.

It was thousands of spider people chasing after what seemed to be a small figure in a black suit, it was a sight that you’d never seen before, was everything alright? Was that an anomaly? Why were so many chasing it? Millions of thoughts rushed through your head as you sprinted down the stairs to the ground floor to get a better look, but everything was moving so fast that you lost sight of them as that disappeared behind another building.

You rushed through the halls, trying to catch up with them and somehow you ended up in the room with the go-home machine, all while everyone was surrounding Miguel and the young boy who was in the midst of being “sent home” and Miguel had his talons dug into the electric walls of the capsule, almost tearing it apart while growling and yelling. You’d never seen him like this, as if he were a feral creature hunting its prey with cruel intent. Your body started shaking a little as you took a small step back, maybe this was a really bad time. In that moment the capsule fully closed itself, sending the teen home and leaving Miguel seething with rage, ready to demolish anything he got his hands on, when he suddenly noticed his wach showing signs of an anomaly or something that wasn’t supposed to be at headquarters standing only a couple meters behind him.

Without a second thought and with pure rage and will for distraction Miguel lunges backward, his vision blurry with fury as he sunk his claws into the floor, propelling himself closer and closer to his new victim. All the while you didn’t even have time to think, fear filled every fiber of your already tensed body, he made the decision in split-seconds, not even realizing that it was you, his partner, as he rushed closer to you. You started stumbling back, screaming his name, but nothing helped clear his mind. Miguel stretched out his right arm, talons out as far as they could go, ready to tear you to shreds.

His usually gentle fingers wrapped themselves tightly around your neck, nicking you and squeezing tight, you felt him almost crush your throat but that wasn’t the end of it. Miguel flexed his arm, lifting you up into the air and just as he was about slam you down with all his force, he had a moment of clarity, his heat almost stopped as he recognized your face, albeit it was contorted in ear and pain. He noticed how tight his grip on your neck was and how you were scratching at his hand for a single breath, as he cut off your air way. His eyes widernd, fear and regret washing over him. Instead of glamming you to the ground, he quickly let go of your neck and pressed you to his chest. He felt your tears wet his suit and he heard you cries. Your cries were pain filled and your voice hoarse as he tried to comfort you by rocking you back and forth gently. He knew that it was his fault. What had he done? What if you never wanted to see him again?

He did something he swore to never let happen. He hurt you. He made you fear him. Miguel commanded everyone to leave, so that the two of you could calm down and as soon as it was only the two of you, he collapsed to his knees. It was like your tears were never ending and your fingers weakly grabbed onto him, barely able to hold on as you hid your face in his chest.

“I’m sorry…” Miguel whispered, his voice cracking as he continued muttering “I’m so sorry.. please forgive me.. I didn’t mean t-to…” he whimpered, but it was like you didn’t hear it, way too caught up in the scenario that played out just minutes ago. Your heart was going a mile a minute and you were hyperventilating, not being able to calm your breathing. Minutes passed and Miguel was still rocking back and forth, as if comforting a crying child, the horrid scenes kept replaying in his mind and he didn’t know how to make it better.

Your cries slowly turned to whines and hiccups, you moved around in his lap, trying to find a comfortable position when he gently lifted your chin to look him in the eyes, he opened his mouth but said nothing for a few seconds until he finally whimpered “I love you, you know that, right?” He pulled you into a close hug, not even waiting for your response, he squeezed you as close to him as he could, his anger long gone. “P-please don’t leave me…” he continued, he sounded utterly broken and that only made you shed more tears, you didn’t want to be sad, you didn’t want him to be sad, this was just a stupid accident right? He didn’t mean it…

You nodded a little and tried to speak, but nothing audible came out, only whimpers and whines. Miguel pulled the two of you apart, gently placing his large hand onto the crown of your head, carefully lacing his fingers between your hair as he looked at your little form that was dwarfed by his own. “It was and accident… please forgive me…” he muttered as his eyebrows scrunched together in regret. You replied with a little nod, your lower lip still wobbling a little. Miguel caressed your hair a bit before moving lower to your neck, he pushed your hair back and revealed a couple red scratches going almost all the way around. He felt so ashamed that he’d hurt you, that he was the cause of your pain. Ge gently brushed his fingers over them and you let oust a little wince. He’d take you to the med bay right after this, he promised.

Only then did he notice what you were wearing, first he looked at the sweater. It was the one he had custom made for you, when he saw it in the store window he thought about how’d you look like a fluffy baby alpaca in it and he just had to get it for you. He touched the soft fabrics and slid his grand down your arm, intertwining his fingers with your slender ones. Next he noticed the skirt, ha hadn’t seen it in your closet or anywhere else?. Did you buy it? No it fits too well for that… you probably made it. He couldn’t help but let a soft smile cross his face. The room was almost silent so he tries to shift your attention to a different topic “Did you make this?” He gently rubbed the b fabric between two of his fingers.

You looked around quite confused for a moment until you found what he was talking about, you rubbed your eyes a little and gave him another nod “y-yea, i finished yesterday.” Your voice was barely audible and littered with hiccups.

“It’s cute” he replied, placing his hands on your hips and shifting your body so that you were sitting sideways on his lap with your head leaning on his pec. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled closer, almost purring. You liked sitting like this, on his lap and utterly surrounded by him, it made you feel small and soft, like a precious delicate possession of his.

You could feel how worried he was, it washed off him like waves and you wanted to make him feel better, so you cupped his jaw and whispered “I’m okay Miguel, you didn’t hurt me” as soon as he heard, you could almost physically hear the stones dropping from his heart and his spirit lifting. The two of you were definitely feeling better but there was still a bit left to talk about, so Miguel decided that it was time to leave. He rose to his feet but kept you in his arms, you rolled over a little and decided to play with his hair as he walked out of the now silent room. Your fingers wrapped themselves around the little short curls at the back of his neck, it was one of your favourite parts of his hair because it was so much more curly than the longer pieces.

Miguel felt your little fingers and could stop the lopsided smile that formed on his face, sure he still had work to do, but to be honest, for once in his life, he didn’t care. He’d do it tomorrow and surely get an ear full from Jessica.

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Once Miguel stepped through the doorway a long sigh left his chapped lips, he still felt quite bad about what happened today, but he knew that you’d forgiven him and that you weren’t upset. You fell asleep in the car, so he decided to be the good boyfriend he was and carry you up to his penthouse. You often slept over at his place because you liked the big windows and loved his comfy king sized bed. Normally you fell asleep earlier than him and once he got to bed, he’d find you in your cute pink jammies, laying starfish with one of your legs over the blanket and the pillows long thrown off the sides. He couldn’t help but snap a little picture, you were just too adorable.

So now he careful layer you down on the side you preferred to sleep on. He took off your socks and reached under your shirt to unclasp your bra and pull it off you so you wouldn’t wake up in pain, before covering you with his blanket. Once you were tucked in, he strode over to one of his cupboards in the bathroom and pulled out one of the first aid kits (he has multiple stocked) and pulled out a salve. He rummaged around further until he found your favourite bandaids, the ones with the cute shapes on them and walked back to his bedroom.

You were sleeping soundly as he sat down right next to you, careful not to dip the mattress too much, he gently stroked your hair back so that he could tend to the little wounds on your neck. Guilt shot through him again once they were revealed, t be honest they weren’t even that bad, but he knew how sensitive to violence you were and he knew that the scare was probably worse than the pain. Nevertheless he dipped his fingers in the salve and started softly rubbing it over the red marks and covered them with the bandaids after. After a few minutes he was satisfied and snuggled up to you, making you the little spoon, he wrapped his arms around your wast to pull you close. And just like that, all cuddled up, the two of you fell asleep, meeting again in your dreams.

#Miguel #miguel x you #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara x reader angst #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader fluff #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara #Miguel ohara fluff #Miguel O’hara fluff #Miguel x reader angst fluff #miguel x reader fluff #spiderman #atsv #x reader comfort #x hurt reader #Miguel hurting reader #Miguel scaring reader #reader scared of Miguel #how do i tag thisss? #Miguel O’hara chasing reader

[stuffeddeer]

y!dazai buying plushies and clothes for you :) but since he’s a massive douchebag he ended making you cry about it (probably didn’t feel bad either bleh)

he feels like he need to coddle you every single minute of the day or else he’ll go batshit crazy

anon i thought this said MAKING clothes for u i was about to cheer imagine dazai with his precise and nimble fingers hand sewing clothing for himself during the two years he spent underground, patching holes in his jacket and such ouughhh.. his darling gifts him a sewing machine after seeing his dodgy sewing set up utilizing a single bent needle and a lot of patience that he doesn’t normally have… ARE YOU ALL SEEING THIS TOO…… tbh tho he’d prick himself one (1) time with the needle and never pick one up again he’s such a baby or he’d swallow one

Kidnapper!Dazai who drones on and on about how hard he works to provide for the two of you, the least you can do is cuddle the plushies he got you if not him. That’s money that could have gone towards the betterment of your forcibly shared apartment, rather than some childish plushies just to keep you placated. Stop crying, that’s why he got them for you, remember?

wait hold on

He tries and be all sweet and doting, dropping the plush on top of some cozy pajamas he’d purchased for you that day. With a delusional smile he’d pull you into a hug, tugging at the hem of your pants claiming he wants a fashion show. At least the pajamas are modest — long pant legs and sleeves that at least cover your shoulders. The worst offender has a low neckline, but he’s sure you’ll appreciate that he didn’t go for anything too crazy. You’ll gently push him away, picking up the stuffed plush from the thick paper bags instead: It looks just like the one you had as a child. Dazai knows this, of course, like he knows everything else about you. He sits back with a smug grin, watching as you gently push it from one hand to the other.

The difference between this plush and the one sitting in storage at your parents’ home is the life brought into it: fur that is no longer matted from love and eyes that aren’t scuffed and scraped from kicking it off your bed at night… Wow, you missed those days. You missed your mom. A frown crosses your face as you turn towards your shared bedroom, deciding to spend sometime on your own. Before you can enact these plans, however, Dazai plucks the stuffie from your gentle grip, holding him high above your head. Your eyes widen and your face immediately drops. Hadn’t he already taken so much from you? Tears begin falling before you can even register it, too caught up in the sudden fear that you’d lose another part of yourself. Your parents, your friends, your life before this: it was all imprinted onto that stupid stuffed toy Dazai had gotten as an afterthought.

Yet, he continued to dangle it over your head. “You’ll get this little fella back when you answer me. Don’t you wanna make me as happy as I’ve made you?”

Happy? You couldn’t help but feel sick. With how long you’ve been in Dazai’s home, you knew expressing that wouldn’t get you the plushie back. The sleeve of your current outfit helps to wipe the tears off of your cheeks. “Fa-fashion show, right? Okay, okay,” you mutter while dropping to your knees, digging through the bag of clothing for the first set.

This is not your prompt but Dazai who bought a cam stuffie. Unbeknownst to you, the eye of the cute little teddy your dear friend gifted you fed video straight to his laptop at all hours of the day. He spends his nights watching you sleep peacefully; the rise and fall of your chest soothing him and giving him something to focus on other than the negative thoughts on his mind. Something about the way you’d pat the little bear on the head every morning had him swooning, as though you were doing the action to him. Weirdly enough, you always seemed to turn the little teddy away before changing… Oh well — Dazai would have plenty of time to see everything he wants to once you’re finally together: something he envisions happening soon.

this is not proofread bc i have soo much due rn... classes are kicking my ass!!! hope you like it anon :)

#do yall spell it stuffY or stuffIE... #stuffed plush. little guy. #🦌anon #🦌request #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungo stray dogs fanfic #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x you #yandere dazai osamu #yandere dazai osamu x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Charles smith is usually a very quiet, reserved man. But when he hears Micah insult fem!reader (Whom charles is sweet on) for rejecting his advances, the reader pushes him away, which he responded with slapping her hard enough for her to fall down.

Charles couldn't help himself, and he tackled Micah and would have beat him to death if Arthur and John didn't pull him on.

Afterwards, after his adrenaline seems to wear off, he starts to feel pain in his knuckles. The reader pulls him aside to set his broken knuckle back into place and to wrap his hand up. She thanks him with a kiss :) fluffy, angsty, the works <3

Million Dollar Man

(Charles Smith x Fem!Reader)

This was so cute. I love my followers' reqs. Also I have a near identical request after this which is kinda freaky but they are literally asking for the exact same thing and idk how to do a different spin on this so this will be for both of y'all anons whoever you are.

Warnings: Man on woman violence, then man on man

There was something about the vulgarity of a man that made you all the more appalled with them. Often when Micah would be near you, you’d have to swallow hard in fear that you might abruptly throw up on your shoes. There was nothing appealing about the man. Whenever he spoke to you, you would’ve liked to wring his neck for disturbing your peace. And his tepid attempts at flirting were described as otherwise laughable. His initial advances were turned down politely, not something you wanted to make a big deal out of. But he was consistent, so much so that your patience began to wear down with him. 

You once giggled and waved your hand dismissively, repeating reluctant no’s over and over until Micah finally got tired and left you alone. It seemed to be a ticking time bomb though, because the next time he approached you his advances would increase tenfold. Walking around freely in camp felt like walking on eggshells, and you’d often have to duck behind someone anytime you heard the familiar raspy, drawl of Micah. Your polite refusals slowly transformed into you demanding he leave you alone, hoping and praying that one of the men in camp would come over and help you get rid of him. Occasionally it’d get as bad as Micah calling you a whore, before throwing a flurry of other insults at you and storming off angrily. It was times like these you wished you were a man, so you could possess the same mass as one to hopefully beat the hell out of Micah. But your limber body provided no such abilities. 

“C’mon sweetheart, just let me take you on one date.” He invited himself over to your tent, leaning on the wagon situated behind it with crossed arms, eyeing you uncomfortably. You were sitting there with Mary-Beth, who was just as uncomfortable, and frankly scared, as you were. She offered you a sympathetic look, mouthing a “sorry” to you before averting her gaze back to her sewing. 

“Micah, for the last time, leave me alone already. I said no.” You were firm in your inflection, your body rigid and shaking out of irritation and fear. As much as you hated the man, he also intimidated you. You knew how violent he could get, and the fact remained in the back of your mind always. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.” He insisted, chuckling afterwards in a way that made you swallow a gag of disgust. His attempts at having a sugar sweet laugh that could seduce you were fruitless, sounding instead like the metallic screech of a train braking. 

“I could show you a real good time…” He added.

You stood at once, gathering your things to move elsewhere in camp and bidding Mary-Beth a silent farewell. You bunched your fabrics and sewing materials against your lap, moving to walk away until you felt Micah clamp his hand down on your upper arm. You tried to push him off but he was using all his strength. 

“You ain’t going nowhere.”

“Micah, you're hurting me.” You warned him, your voice inflected with actual fear. It wasn’t so much the pain but the act of him holding onto you that felt so awful, the knowledge that he was the one in control of the situation. You weren’t sure, despite his violent streak, if he’d actually hit you right now. But he definitely wasn’t opposed to using applied force.

“This is the last time you say no to me, you hear?!” He yanked you towards him by the arm, looking to Mary-Beth, who had already gone up and left to retrieve someone for help. When your chest met his, you dropped your materials and instinctively put up your arm between the two of you, your elbow acting as a protective barrier. You shoved as hard as you could, just barely managing to push him off of you. 

“Let me go you fucking creep!”

Before you could even register him stepping forward, he delivered a heavy slap to your face. Your body jerked to one side from the force of the slap causing you to fall on your hip. You raised your elbow once again to protect yourself from the fall, promptly moving to cup your stinging cheek. You were seething at this point. 

“What the fuck?!” Your voice trembled in your rage, squeezing your eyes hard with each blink so as to not allow tears to escape. You dare not look up at him again in fear, only staring at the ground beneath you. You hoped to god people from around camp had noticed by now. 

God himself seemed to have answered your prayers, because not a second later you turned to see Micah tackled by Charles. With a guttural yell, he pinned Micah down to the floor, swinging his fists at him with his full force. You weren’t sure of the force intended by Charles, but the impact of his fists alone caused Micah’s flesh to lacerate, forming raw gashes that began to bleed in seconds. Charles’ anger was near animalistic, seeing red and blinded by rage as he continued to strike Micah’s face, who was helplessly clawing at him in an attempt to get him off. You’re sure he would’ve killed him, if not for the fact that Arthur and John had to pry him off. You hadn’t even registered the horrified screams of people around camp, some even clicking their tongues and slyly commenting that Micah was asking for it.

You felt two gentle hands lift you up, presumably Miss Grimshaw, who was frantically asking you if you were alright. You whispered out a yes, the stinging of your cheek reduced to a throbbing warmth. No one offered Micah any help in getting up; everyone was far too focused on getting Charles’ to calm down so he wouldn’t charge him again. 

Once the dust settled, you insisted you were fine and walked past Miss Grimshaw, approaching Charles who still seemed to be grappling with his anger and keeping it in check. In unison, the two of you looked at eachother and asked, “Are you okay?”

The two of you stared at each other, and you felt a small laugh bubble up in you at the coincidence, Though your amusement was replaced by horror when you looked down at Charles’ left fist, which was swollen and bruised. 

“Oh my god!” You cried, moving to cradle his hand but promptly retracting your own when you heard him hiss. “Your hand! It’s broken!” You looked back up at him in concern, feeling the heavy weight of guilt settle within you like a boulder thrown into a lake before sinking to the waterbed. He shook his head, wincing as the pain became more prominent as his adrenaline wore off. 

“Don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Micah hit you pretty hard… I…” Charles pursed his lips at the very mention of his name, having to suck in a deep breath before he looked back at you. You shook your head, grabbing Charles’ arm and leading him to your tent. 

“I’m fine! But we need to tend to your hand asap.” You sat him on a crate just outside your tent, briefly venturing inside before remerging with some bandages you had sourced from your satchel. You sat before him on your knees, taking his massive hand into your own. You felt your heart swell in tenderness for him, wanting to throw yourself on him as an embrace to thank him for the valiant act. 

“You didn’t have to do that…” You began carefully coiling the bandages around his knuckles, looking back up at his face occasionally to spot any signs of pain you might be causing. 

“He had it coming anyways. It was bound to happen. But I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” He motioned to your cheek once again, which was still a flush red. You were sure it would bruise, but you tried not to think about it. As you tightened the bandages around his fist, he hissed, his body jerking slightly. 

“I’m sorry…” You stilled your ministrations, looking up at him with a pout. 

“No it’s okay… Thank you. This means a lot. And it was worth it to defend you from the scum bag Micah.” He smiled warmly at you in a way that made you giddy.

“Well.. thank you for that. It was actually quite satisfying to see.” You admitted with a sly smile, breaking into laughter. 

“Anytime, I mean it. Anytime.” 

You finished wrapping his knuckle up, planting a gentle kiss on it to finish your care off; a bold act that left you internally panicking. But he found it rather cute, and continued to hold your hand as he moved to stand.

The final act of your boldness would be you leaning forward and landing a kiss on Charles’ lips, leaving him standing there in bewilderment and pleasant surprise. 

“Thank you, again.” You cooed, your face burning up and blending in with the shade of your already red cheek. In the morning, your cheek would ache with the memory of the pain inflicted on you, but your heart would swell in remembrance of your salvation.

.

.

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Million Dollar Man - Lana Del Rey

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #charles smith #charles smith x reader fluff #charles smith x reader #Charles smith fluff #micah being an ass #micah bell

[vintgedoll]

a heart that's lazy ... simon 'ghost' riley.

content warnings ... heavy mentions of mental health, thoughts of being worried about someone committing self harm, mentions of not receiving help for previous mentions. that is really all i can think of, so if i missed something please let me know!

lacie's diary says ... hi i had this in my drafts from a while ago bc it was inspired by andromeda by weyes blood + people wanted more ghost angst so go crazy with this! i am so sorry for the messy "plot" and if this feels ooc :c this was before i got better at writing ghost's personality. - i half proofread this since it's mostly just brainrot

you knew simon had his own set of issues. the military can change people, and he let you know there would be days he just ... simply couldn't do it when you began dating.

he never talked about his personal mental health, so you never pushed. he could show vulnerability, though; apologizing for not wanting to be touched on certain days, letting you know he wasn't in the mood to be around others and expressing remorse for the time he never wanted to get out of bed, canceling plans. you always smiled and told him it was alright because you were never angry or frustrated. you loved him and always wanted him to get better but ... it wasn't like there was much he could do to get better.

unmedicated with no resources, he let you in on how could face a discharge from his task force and military unit for even alluding to the idea of seeking professional help. you felt awful for him that night, holding his head against your chest while he slept and all you could do was run your fingers through his hair and stare at the ceiling, plagued by what he had told you hours earlier. you accepted it, though. there was nothing he could do until he was retired but even then, it would be a while. he was young, skilled, and built like a brick; everything the sas wanted in their officers. so, simon had to hold his problems to himself, barely ever letting you in on the thoughts and problems that ran circles in his mind. you accepted things to be that way and never asked again.

besides, it never got too bad ... well, as far as you knew it never got too bad. occasionally he would go a day without talking to you but reading your messages let you know he was at least up.

you sometimes feared the day when he would go silent and that small grey 'delivered' notif would never change. when you lay awake, tangled in his bed and staring at the same ceiling, it was like simon's personal thoughts would leak into your body and invade your restless mind. you would lay there, thinking about it until the early signs of sunlight shined through the cracks of his bedroom curtains, letting you know you had laid there all night thinking of the worst.

maybe that's why you asked him for a spare key. at the time it was a subconscious decision but the more you thought about it, the more you realized how your stomach felt empty at the thought of not having it, like there was nothing but a hole where organs and flesh should be. you knew he was safe when he was away for his missions, never allowing anything to hurt him. he would keep you a secret from his teammates, which you were still hurt by but you knew he loved you, just hiding you to keep you safe from whatever his job may bring.

when you first started dating him, it was interesting seeing simon care about his job so much. you always thought back to when he had invited you over to watch a new episode of your favorite show, the electricity in your building going out completely which pushed you to ask. when you got there, watching your boyfriend carve out and sand down a clay and plastic mold into a skull was more interesting than the drama playing on tv. he asked you if you knew how to sew when he finally finished and learned you had been watching him work from the living room sofa; you shyly replied that you didn't. getting his kit out, simon showed you a basic running stitch tutorial with his balaclava and the freshly made skull. the way he held your hands for guidance when you took the newly made mask to try finishing the stitch for yourself never failed to make you smile; gentle and caring, giving small praise when he reviewed your work.

waking up and following your fingertips against beige walls in the the dead of night softly reminded you to check in on him as the memory took a trip inside your mind. he didn't talk to you the day before and it slipped your mind completely, too busy with your work to have remembered any information about your personal life. embarrassed by how you had only noticed when the majority of manchester was asleep, barely hitting three a.m. but you knew simon was up. back into your bedroom you went and you snatched your phone as your bottom hit the mattress, tugging the charger from the wall as you did, not bothering to remove the hanging wire, despite no longer charging your phone. 'hey ... sorry for not talking yesterday.' it only took two minutes before he had read your message and replied.

‘do you think you could come over?' looking at the clock, you had work in four hours but for him, you wouldn't mind calling in sick.

'of course :)'

in as little as fifteen minutes, you were outside his door, gently knocking. you had left your own key to his apartment at home and were more focused on getting a ride than locking your own door ... oops? the sound of his heavy footsteps on the other side made you look up and listen as the noisy locks clicked, their mechanism becoming undone.

the sight of tired eyes, uncombed hair, and his bent frame was enough for you sadly smile, body subconsciously stepping in and closing the space between you two, wrapping your arms around his torso. "hey," simon returned the hug, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. he didn't return the greeting, though, opting to continue to hide in your neck, feeling his chest rise against yours as he took in a deep breath. the two of you stayed in each other's embrace, lifting your leg behind you and weakly kicking the door shut.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare ii #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare ii x reader

[littlebluentebook]

Alastor x Sewing!Reader

Hi everyone! This is my first ever fic but I have read far more than anyone should in a lifetime! Please let me know if theres any criticism. Im open to other ideas and fandoms (that I will eventually make a list for.) I'm merging some chapters I have just because they're short or make better sense that way and tried tot keep things gender neutral. If I slipped let me know and I will go back and edit! This is probably super out of character but I did my best! Hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1 <3

You and your husband had always gotten along like a house on fire.

Every other week a client would come in asking for costumes and repairs for a speakeasy she sung and danced at.

"-just say Anne invited you love n' they'll be bound ta let you in!" she exclaimed while picking up her newest order for the night ahead.

"Well darling I'll just have to see if I've got any sort of plans." You said knowing full well you were going to come up with new patterns until eventually falling asleep.

"Come on Y/N, Ive been coming to you for months! Don't you want to see where all your heard work goes to?" Anne was definitely pulling your strings taking advantage of your curiosity. She had a point.

"I suppose you've gotta point Anne. What time are you starting tonight?"

"Nine!" She was bouncing up and down in excitement. " I've got to get going now doll! See you tonight!"

The jingle of the bells on the door signified she was gone. You started to realize what you agreed to and panicking.

"Oh my goodness gracious!" you stressed out loud, "what even am I going to wear! Im going to look ridiculous- I don't know a single soul there! What if I make a fool of myself?!"

Your thoughts battles for longer than you would like them to eventually grabbing a paper riddled with measurements no longer needed and started writing pros and cons of visiting Anne.

Pros: Cons:

Meeting new people! Showing up alone

Can make friends Looking like a buffoon!

New possible clients

Deducting that embarrassment is temporary, your cons list could easily be eradicated by breaking out of your shell and talking to others. Plus, Anne would be there and she was your friend... kinda? You considered her a friend but was unsure if she felt the same way. Well, she did invite you to visit her tonight, at the very least she will introduce you to her friends! There shouldn't be a worry.

With your mind finally set you heard the clock strikes four. Ashamed of how long you let your thoughts get the better of you, you got back to work. The task was to complete a keepsake blanket from a wedding. You created the dress for the newlywed, sitting for hours with her finding the perfect materials and creating patterns and designs for her. In the family, it was a tradition to create a quilt from the dress of the bride using the grooms suit as a border. All the pieces were cut and you could not wait to sew them together and create a stunning memento.

Chapter 2 <3

you knocked on a door two streets over from your shop. A short lady opened the door raising an eyebrow.

"And who might you be?"

"Im Annes... friend," you tried. "She comes to me for her outfits and graciously offered me the opportunity to come a view her performance tonight."

The lady's gaze hardened, staring at you intensely.

"It looks like I have got the wrong place then, I am so sorry to waste your time," you stammered taking a step back away from the door.

"Oh Mimzy! You mustn't be giving anyone trying to see me a hard time now!" Anne's bubbly voice spoke from behind the short lady who must be Mimzy. "Y/N is a good friend of mine! Works far too hard for me and deserves a break, plenty of time to relax!"

Mimzy bursted into a smile and reached for a hug. "of course! Welcome! Sorry for being all prude- just had to makee sure you weren't anyone coming tottery and ruin what I've got going for me here" she drawled.

"No ma'am of course not! Im just here to watch my friends performance then I'll be outta your hair, away from your 'do," you explained to Mimzy while she dragged you from the door to the bar.

"Nonsense my dear! Please have a drink and stay awhile!" you sat at the bar with Mimzy talking about how difficult it was to be a female business owner. No one takes you lot seriously!

The lights dimming and shinning on stage caught the room's attention effectively hushing all conversation. Anne sauntered to the center of the stage, dress shimmering. You recognized it as the most recent dress that you crafted for Anne. It was stunning on her.

"My oh my! Look at the handiwork that went into making that dress. Must of taken days!" a familiar voice chipped. You were unable to put a name to the voice but luckily Mimzy did it for you.

"Alastor," Goodness! The radio broadcaster! You had always loved his voice, you would have his station playing while sewing- waiting patiently for songs to end just to hear him speak. "Our dear friend Y/N made that specifically for our lovely Anne!" Mimzy exclaimed.

She admired your work while Anne sung and waltzed around the stage. You were incredibly proud of your work. Every detail of that dress took so much time and effort and turned out beautifully. The fringe was all hand cut, the lace took countless hours of stitching for the perfect design and finally the beads. Each bead had to be placed individually in the right spot on the dress to shimmer. It was a fine dress indeed.

"Y/N, how would you like to make dresses and suits for the rest of those who preform for me?" As soon as the song ended Mimzy had dropped the question, ensuring she wouldn't tale any attention away from Anne.

"Oh my! Why I would be honored and ecstatic to! Thank you so much for the opportunity Mimzy!" You were so excited! Sure the flapper dresses were hard work and time consuming, but now, seeing how they looked on a stage, in front of an audience, made you realize you didn't mind all the time and effort it took into making them.

Mimzy left her seat in an excited hurry to go get paperwork for you.

"You know," the broadcaster- Alastor leaned over Mimzy's now empty seat, "she goes on and on about how beautiful Annes dresses on stage are." The comment caused you to blush but he continued, grabbing your hand gently. "I must agree with her, although the lady behind the creation of this wonderful attire is much more beautiful than what she creates."

With that Alastor kissed the back of your hand with his lips. You were speechless.

Mimzy came back with paperwork and Alastor smiled at you. The three of you spent hours conversing, telling both jokes and stories.

"Oh my!" You glanced at the nearest clock- almost one in the morning. "I have got to get going! I have to open the shop in the morning."

"Do you ever take days off darling?" Alastor asked softly.

"Only Sundays. No one is out on Sundays!"

"Goodness! -at least let me walk you home. You know its not safe for a lovely person such as yourself to be out alone this late."

"Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you at all Alastor."

"Of course I'm sure dear, its not an inconvenience if its you." The words were rolling off his tongue and you blushed so hard it could have matched his vest.

"Your performance was amazing Anne! You are so talented, I have definitely been missing out, I am going to come back to watch you! " Enthusiasm and pride towards your friend took over. You wanted to let her know what you thought before you suddenly ran off.

"Thank you for coming out tonight for me. Sure was nice seeing a friend in the crowd!" A jittery wave of happiness washed through you at her last statement.

"Im so glad to hear you enjoyed yourself!" Mimzy gushed to you giving a farewell hug. "Blessed to know you'll be coming back doll."

"Of course! You have an amazing place Mimzy. This is a pleasant change of scenery compared to what I'm used to!"

With your goodbyes concluded you walked out the door arm in arm with Alastor.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbinhotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #x reader

[dancing-with-the-madmen]

The Massive Aggression of Calico Jack, redux

Several kind souls have complained brought it to my attention that my failure to use cut tags is, in fact, not optimal. I don't have any good reason that I don't use cuts - mostly I'm just throwing these thoughts out here so they don't endlessly rattle around my brain. Frankly, I'm endlessly astonished anyone but me can be arsed to bother wading through them at all. So, after a truly epic tantrum thoughtful consideration, I've decided to edit my longer posts to add cuts. If you've already read them, (may endless blessings rain down upon you) there's no new content (vile lies and calumny. I'm going to take this opportunity to fix errors and add a line here or there, but nothing major). Just making it more scroll-friendly. You'll know it when you see the word "redux" in the title. So without further ado...

I’ve been trying for a while to put my finger on exactly what it is about Our Flag Means Death's Calico Jack that makes me want to crawl out of my skin and smother him to death with my own abandoned ecdysis.

I mean, I normally love me a spurned admirer/cock-blocking ex. Romantic comedies have their beats, and there’s obviously no serious danger the love interest will end up with anyone other than their intended, so I may as well sit back and enjoy the machinations. After all, the course of true love never did run smooth, and these bitches are here to rough some shit up for sure. I also love Will Arnett. Hands down favorite recurring character on 30 Rock. The second best Batman after TAS (fight me). I can even cheerfully bear his Reese’s commercials if I must bear commercials at all.

Real-life Calico Jack? One of my v. favorite pirates. He wore floral-printed cotton from India as a fuck you to the British tax man. He had an affair with Anne Bonny and offered to purchase her divorce when her husband found out. The two ran away together into piracy when Bonny’s husband refused to quit her and had her whipped for her infidelity. Mary Read was part of Jack and Anne’s crew, and possibly their lover. We love a hopeless romantic, possibly polyamorous king. 

So what is it about OFMD Calico Jack that makes him so acutely punchable?

I’ve rewatched the episode several times (oh my v. dears, I really hope this write-up is worth it. I am SO BRAVE to subject myself to this), and I think I’ve finally got it. It’s not just that he’s a loud, vulgar, hectoring, drunken jackass of a bird-murderer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have as little patience for his brand of mindless destruction and violence-for-violence-sake as Stede does, but that’s not all.  It’s that he’s also a master of passive aggression.

Jack does the little whisper-y “Sorry! Sorry!” when Stede wants to know what’s with all the cannon fire, but immediately starts grinning like an unrepentant varlet as soon as he drops his hands.

And then accepts Stede’s introductory handshake with clear derision.

When Stede says he wasn’t expecting guests and there’s only two settings at brekkie, Jack doesn’t wait for Stede to sort things out, and he’s already lowering himself into Stede’s chair by the time Stede invites him to take his spot. He then purposefully keeps steering the conversation to topics that exclude Stede from participating, and cuts Stede short when he tries to reign the conversation back.

He insinuates Stede is less of a pirate for being “store bought”

He refuses to get Stede’s name right, even when corrected. Twice.

And is just SO insincere when calling him back.

And, just, the whole pissing contest scene.

But so what? We’ve had other passive aggressive assholes on the show; Badminton with his cracks about Stede’s tiny dick ship, the French captain’s slurs, Gabriel simpering about Jeff the Accountant’s dining manners. I’m not shedding any tears for their respective fates, but none of them made me want to crawl through the screen and sew all their face holes shut. Because Jack isn’t just passive-aggressive (and aggressive-aggressive), he might just be the most savvy reader-of-rooms we see on the show, and purposefully and systematically leverages his passive aggression to manipulate the actions of those around him for the purpose of making Ed and Stede betray their better selves and make them do the work of driving a wedge between themselves.   That was a lot in one sentence.  Let me break it down.

Jack uses passive aggression to achieve one of four goals: to nettle, to undermine, (seemingly paradoxically) to reinforce connections, or to coerce. And, if he can manage to achieve different goals for more than one target with the same attack? So much the better. And he’s frankly just astonishingly good at doing so. Like, I’d admire him for it if it didn’t also make me want to make him swallow all of his own teeth.

The basic gameplan goes thusly (this is not a strictly chronological list, a lot of these tactics take place concurrently and recurrently): Stede is the primary target, so Jack nettles him with passive aggressive comments, which puts him on the back foot and undermines his self-confidence. He reinforces his relationship with Ed in ways that excludes Stede and undermines Stede’s relationship with Ed and Ed’s relationship with Stede. Jack uses coercive tactics with Ed and the crew, which undermines Stede’s relationships with them, isolating and othering Stede, which further tanks his mood, which leads him to self-isolate. When Stede eventually lashes out at Ed for falling for Jack’s bullshit, Ed has no idea what’s got Stede so out-of-sorts; Jack has so carefully lead Ed to making the choices that have alienated Stede that they seem like they were Ed’s ideas in the first place. And if Ed has made the choices to do these things, then they are clearly just a reflection of who he is, which, if Stede is lashing out against them, then Stede is rejecting him. Wedge set and match.

So let’s look at the specifics.

Jack’s interactions with Ed are like a masterclass in neurolinguistic programming for evil. First, he plys Ed with booze from the very start. Just look at the bottle in this shot from right after they blow up the dresser drawer.

That bottle or rum is over half gone, and the sky in the background is the peachy-pink of sunrise. This isn’t the bottle Jack had with him in his dinghy; that one he drained and then threw in the air and tried to shoot before coming aboard the Revenge. Which means that they’ve consumed over half the bottle between just the two of them in a very short amount of time.   Alcohol, of course, is a social lubricant - the physical warmth it produces mimicking the “warm, fuzzy” feeling of true comradery, and, more importantly, decoupling the decision-making process from inhibition (that is to say, Ed isn’t necessarily doing anything he absolutely wouldn’t otherwise do, but he might otherwise think twice).

But it’s more insidious than just having a few drinks with an old friend. Jack specifically gamifies the consumption of alcohol to reinforce the coupling of the feeling of inebriation with the comradery engendered by teamwork and excitement of success in order to encourage Ed to drink more than he necessarily otherwise would. Ed confirms to Stede during his apology that the idea to use the drawers of the armoire for target practice came from Jack, and we saw that a bullseye meant that Jack had to take a drink, but Ed didn’t. Presumably, there would have been some consequence for a “miss”, and it seems likely that it would be Ed has to take a drink and not Jack. In this way, Jack is able to exert a measure of control over how much Ed is drinking (by missing on purpose) while making it look like the responsibility lies with Ed and his skill as a thrower. This pattern of sneakily controlling Ed’s actions while making it seem like Ed is the one who made or is responsible for the decision will pop up again and again during their interactions.

After the apologies for waking Stede, Jack steps into the space where Ed is gesticulating to make himself readily available to be touched, reenforcing the bond between them, but letting Ed be the one to instigate the touching.

At brekkie, he pours rum into Ed’s teacup without asking or being asked while Ed’s attention is diverted by getting food.

Jack’s collaring of the conversation does not just function as a means of making Stede feel excluded, he’s also refreshing and reinforcing the bonds he and Ed forged under adversity. Talking over Stede also demonstrates that what he has to say is more important than anything Stede might contribute.

Note that just before Jack cut him off, Stede had referred to Ed as Blackbeard (“Blackbeard and I met on a ship”). This may be innocently explained away; if you meet a person from a facet of a close friend’s life with which you do not intersect, you might refer to said friend by their given name instead of a nickname that the other person might not know, for the sake of common frame of reference. But this is the opposite of that - referring to a friend by a nickname instead of the given name that you both presumably know. That suggests to me that the seed of the Ed/Blackbeard dichotomy has already been planted in Stede’s mind by the morning’s shenanigans. And when Jack invites Stede back into participating in the conversation by talking about something he knows Stede would find upsetting (the wanton cruelty of Ed purposefully trapping people to be burned alive, couched in what sounds like sincere admiration for his friend’s piratical prowess), Jack has picked up on that distinction and is leaning into it HARD. He WANTS Stede to see Ed as a collection of behaviors he finds palatable, and Blackbeard as a collection of behaviors he finds repulsive, and then coerce Ed into performing those “Blackbeard behaviors” in order to coerce Stede to drive the wedge by rejecting him. Fucking diabolical.

When Jack is calling Stede a “big girl,” or “store-bought,” or purposefully getting his name wrong, he’s not just throwing barbs that play on Stede’s insecurities (and with such harrowing precision, too; calling on the effeminacy for which he was tormented as a child, his body image issues that we’ve also seen him struggle with under the tender mercies of Badminton - both brain-ghost and original flavor - and the authenticity of his claim to piracy, which we’ve seen him confess that he fears he’s ill-qualified to claim to Jim, Oluande, and Ed. I mean,triple bullseye for this fucking guy). He’s also using these public declarations to undermine Stede’s authority in front of his crew, and establish himself as the real authority on things like piracy and masculinity. He further reinforces this idea by withholding the story of how he saved Ed’s life under the guise of false modesty; people never want something more than when they’re told they can’t have it. And what they’re being told they can’t have is the story of how Jack was so amazing that he even managed to save the life of the coolest, most legendary pirate they know. This withholding primes the crew to think even more highly of Jack and hang on his every word.

This puts Jack into a position where he can pressure the crew into things that sound fun at first blush (like diving off the yardarm or having a snowball fight, but with coconuts), but end up hurting more than anything. Of course, within this dynamic, no one wants to admit they aren’t having a good time, or don’t want to do it; to do so would be tantamount to admitting you are less of a man or not a real pirate. So when Stede refuses to participate, or admits his discomfort or disgust with the proceedings, he’s doing Jack’s work for him, and further alienating himself, and solidifying the roles Jack had put into place where Jack is the fun, cool guy, and Stede is the killjoy that no one should listen to.

Stede unwittingly plays right into Jack’s design when he tries to stand up for himself and wrest back a modicum of respect before things get too far out of hand. He’s well-versed in the world of passive aggression, and sees what Jack is doing. He also knows that you can’t call it out because passive aggression comes with a built in cover of plausible deniability gaslighting. So instead, he tries to push back with a little passive aggression of his own, suggesting that a real pirate has a ship and a crew. Sadly, Stede is not nearly so adroit at wielding passive aggression as Jack is. Jack uses the story (and we know that Izzy sent him, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole mutiny thing is just a story; I could even easily read that slight hesitation after Stede asks his question as Jack deciding on what would be the most effective cover story, instead of hesitancy to admit to something shameful) of his crew’s mutiny to casually re-sow the idea of mutiny on the Revenge. It’s played for comedy when the crew starts talking about how they almost mutinied on Stede and probably will again, but you can’t tell me this hasn’t been a major concern for Stede ever since the first episode. So Jack’s not only got the crew trying to buoy his spirits by assuring him that his crew mutinying on his doesn’t mean he’s a bad person; it’s just something that happens! He’s also got them low-key committing to a future mutiny WITHIN EARSHOT OF STEDE.

Additionally, while Stede is well-steeped in the ways of passive aggression, his crew and Ed are not. They are not particularly sophisticated at identifying passive aggression on its own merits as opposed to the reaction it provokes, which can make it look like they don’t care when it’s being leveraged against Stede, undermining his ability to trust they will look out for him. Stede stoically putting up with Jack’s jibes makes them even more difficult to identify as hurtful. Jack’s (fake) emotional reaction to Stede’s sally might make him look momentarily weak, but allows Ed and the crew to unequivocally identify who is in the wrong and react accordingly. By positioning himself as a victim, he villainizes Stede, further undermining Stede’s authority, and placing him in a position where he owes Jack recompense. Thus, Jack is able to manipulate Stede into the trap of Dead Man’s Cove and make it look like it was Stede’s own idea. I mean, the Xanatos Speed Chess of it all.

What’s heartbreaking to me is how Jack’s wedge-driving and othering of Stede is working so well that at this point we start to hear it from other sources. As they approach the island and Stede suggests going for a swim or taking a nature walk, Ed is the one who tells him, “I think with this crowd, I think they want something a little more…” Not Jack would want something more exciting, this crowd. Jack’s exclusionary rhetoric out of Ed’s mouth.

Which is exactly the time Jack decides to up the ante.

I want to take a minute to look at the immediate lead up to yardies, because I think it’s an excellent illustration of how Jack looks like a lumbering boor, but his actions are actually so carefully considered and nuanced. He runs up from behind Stede and Ed and throws his arms around them shouting “Yardies!” literally insinuating himself between them, which interrupts anything that was going on between them, puts them off balance, and focuses the attention on him. Then, when he says “Who’s up for yardies?” he makes eye-contact with Ed - the implicit social expectation being “You, Ed, are up for yardies.” When he turns to Stede, it is to literally laugh in his face. I mean, the absolute cheek.

Until this point, the crew of the Revenge have been passive participants in Jack’s hooliganry. They watched him perform whippies, and got whipped at without encouraging him to do so. They listened to his and Ed’s stories. But now Jack is cashing in on his established expertise of what real pirates do to coerce the crew into taking part in a dangerous stunt. It’s more of the “Blackbeard behavior” dichotomy he started sowing in Stede’s mind at brekkie, but now he’s extending it beyond Ed to the whole crew. He wants Stede to feel like he’s all alone in a sea of idiocy, but he wants him to come to the conclusion on his own by making it seem like Ed and the crew are doing things of which he would disapprove of their own accord.

Once we get to the island, we see the activities take a turn from the careless Jackass-ery of whippies and yardies to the abject cruelty of turtle vs. crab. There’s no saying that Jack organized the fight, but we do see the crew handing him various trinkets to be used in gambling on a winner, which certainly suggests he was the central figure in how the game was established. We also see that, though he has been presenting himself as a drunkard, there’s no bottle in his hand or around him in the sand. There is, however, one in Ed’s hand, who is directly to his side. I can easily see him handing it off so he could handle the gambling stakes, the real intention being to keep Ed readily supplied with booze.

And then we have the pissing contest. Jack’s got Stede literally and metaphorically isolated, and now it’s time to really drive it all home. Every moment of their interaction is designed to drive Stede to distraction; the amount of derision he lays on the phrase “Your good, close buddy,” the insinuation that he and Ed are just alike, and then being as rude and crass as possible. And because he’s read the room - the intimate breakfast for two, Ed’s little touches and the way Stede smiles at them, the way they keep going off together for little chats - of course Jack’s just got to twist the knife and allude to his and Ed’s former sexual history. So now that he’s got Stede primed, it’s time to name the fear: “Maybe you don’t know him at all.”

At this point, Stede is left to wonder: does he? Blackbeard’s reputation preceded him, after all. And he’s been acting so differently since the appearance of one of his oldest friends. It’s not the violence qua violence, per se; Stede is by turns delighted and impressed by the violence he’s seen Ed and his crew employ in the heat of battle in the pursuit of piracy. It’s the cruel and senseless violence that Stede objects to, and that’s exactly the brand that Jack has been peddling, and which Ed has gone along with so enthusiastically. And it’s not JUST the violence; Ed apologizes for Jack when he recognizes Jack has crossed a line in a typically agro way (destroying Stede’s belongings, and insulting Stede to his face), but it never occurs to Stede that his insistence on persevering with quietly aggrieved dignity in the face of Jack’s slights would make it nigh impossible for Ed to identify that Jack has crossed all sorts of other lines, and Stede is hurting because of it. For Stede, it must be frustrating and mystifying why Ed keeps letting his friend get away with his passive aggressive bullshit. Doesn’t he care? 

Is it any wonder that one more failure to notice how Jack has riled him, and one more act of coconut-flavored Jackass-ary is enough to break the dam, and for Stede to spill all that built-up hurt on Ed?  Is it any wonder that Ed is bewildered at where all this is coming from? I’ve talked before about Ed’s tendency to fawn on people, and how, as an emotional chameleon, he would have difficulty identifying when the motivation for his actions is self-directed or externally dictated. Jack has further confounded this distinction by manipulating scenarios to make it seem like participation in all the Jackass-ary he has instigated was voluntary instead of coerced. When Stede says “I don’t like who you are around  this guy” what he means is “I don’t like how this guy is able to manipulate you into acting on your very worst impulses”, but what Ed hears is “I don’t like you”. For who is he, if not the collection of behaviors he chooses to exhibit? And were those choices not entirely his to make? With the rift clearly established, if in its infancy, of course Jack is going to do everything he can to foster its growth. So again, he interrupts Stede, again implicitly signaling that Ed should pay attention to what he says and not Stede. By lobbing the coconut at Ed at that moment, he forestalls any possible clearing of the air between Ed and Stede, and causes Ed to literally turn his back on Stede, in the way Ed feels Stede has emotionally turned his back on him just moments earlier. Jack reinforces this idea of turning his back on Stede again moments later when he says “Don’t go!” and immediately turns Ed around by the shoulders.

I know that I’ve been laying it on a bit thick and prolly sound like the written embodiment of the red string conspiracy meme, but I’m about to get a whole lot worse, and I’m going to ask you to stick with me, oh my v. dears. I think Jack killed Karl on purpose.

I know, I know. It was an accident! He was flailing drunkenly! But was he?

Have we seen him take so much as a single drink since the cannon fire at the beginning of the episode? Even though he’d been drinking earlier, did he not have devastating precision and accuracy when he first demonstrated Whippies - shattering every glass, snapping the cards from the Swede’s fingers, and ball-tapping Ed without permanently maiming him or even splitting the leather of his pants? In fact, while nearly every other crew member on the deck has a bottle in hand, just like on the beach, Jack does not.

Jack knows he has to get Ed off the ship before the British show up, but he can’t just say “Let’s ditch these losers” and expect Ed to agree, especially since he’s spent most of the day roping the crew into his schemes. The most effective way to get Ed to follow is if Jack is rejected for just being himself and doing what he does, just like Ed feels he was earlier by Stede. I think the original plan was to goad Olu into seriously hurting the Swede, the fallout of which would be recriminations that Jack made them do it, and Jack getting aggrieved that he was just trying to show this ungrateful lot how to have a good time, skulking off and leading Ed to follow him and reassure him that he’s really a good guy - how could he have known it would turn out like that? But when Buttons calls a halt to the proceedings and it looks like everyone is going to pack it in, Jack has to think fast. If HE maims a crew mate, that would be a bridge too far, painting him as the bad guy. But Karl? He’s just a bird. And if Jack can get a little revenge on the weird bird guy who made him change his plan, so much the better. AND, as people with far fewer auditory processing issues than I have pointed out, Jack mutters that he expected there to be more feathers. Could the evidence be any more damning?

Of course the whole ship turns on him, and then here’s Stede to order him off, explicitly rejecting him the way he metaphorically rejected Ed. But when even that isn’t enough to get Ed to follow him, Jack pulls out one last, desperate manipulation - the debt of life.

Jack’s tragic flaw is that he can’t turn it off. Once he and Ed are alone, he turns his passive aggressive assault on Ed, pressuring him into drinking the morning away by sarcastically saying he didn’t know he had an audience with the pope when Ed expresses disinterest, and, ultimately, giving up the game when he mentions with casual derision how he’d heard of Ed shaking up with Stede, and then deriding Ed for his failure to spot Jack’s machinations.

Too bad Jack didn’t know that the punishment for passive-aggressive fuckery on this show is death…

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #calico jack

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. Chapter warning has drinking, a drunk and all over the place Buggy, and Sunny just quietly being "what the fuck". Also it's Buggy's birthday. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I actually have started rewriting it after chapter 5 because I realized I wanted to change some things up.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 6

“I think she’s heartbroken.” Benji said as he and Miss Pins watched you stumble around the shop, looking through stacks of fabric and spools of thread looking for your tailor’s chalk that was tucked up in behind your ear. You had been acting… odd since you told Buggy to leave the shop three weeks ago. You managed to sew a customer’s order to your lap, sewed cuffs inside out on another one, and just now you spent the last hour looking for the blue piece of tailor’s chalk that you tucked behind your ear. 

“Oh?” Miss Pins replied, head resting in her hand as she watched you look through the same stack of fabric again. “You’re a kid, how do you know about heartbreak?”

“I was in love with a girl and she broke my heart.” Benji told her as you finally found the chalk and set it on the table. “We were 12. She told me she wanted someone nicer, which was dumb. I am nice. I just voice my opinions.”

“Well, don’t get hung up on that young romance. Someone else will come around.” The old woman said as you started looking for your scissors next. They were in a cup in front of you along with other tools. “This is really sad. Did she like the idiot that much?”

“I think so.” Benji frowned. “I didn’t like him.”

“Neither did I.” Miss Pins sighed. “So of course Sunny would.”

“Why did she like him?” Benji asked. Miss Pins shrugged.

“She’s always been kind, ever since she showed up here all those years ago.” Your boss replied. “No matter who someone was or how awful they were, she would just be nice to them.”

You finally found the scissors and held them up triumphantly before pausing and staring down at your work. It took you so long to find the tailor’s chalk that you forgot why you needed it and the scissors. You were distracted, half expecting Buggy to come bursting into the shop any moment now with some silly little thing to fix on his jacket, but you were quite firm when you told him to leave that one day, so he must have taken it to heart. You weren’t going to see him again.

Was it fair you got upset because he couldn’t remember your name? But at the same time, the way he reacted was more hurtful. Something stupid like your name. It repeated in your head nonstop and you wished it wouldn’t. He was just so mean about it. Sure, he had been rude and a bit of an ass since you met him, but it was never mean. 

You remembered what you were working on. A customer wanted his jacket to have reinforced stitches in the sleeves but more room in the shoulders to allow him better movement when he used his sword. He had come into the shop and while you even thought he was handsome, you didn’t hide your disappointment that it wasn’t Buggy. Miss Pins gave the job to you and the man paid ahead of time, so you immediately started working. 

Maybe Buggy would show back up.

~

You had been fast asleep until you were woken up by someone yelling outside the shop. You heard your boss shouting from her bedroom window at whoever it was, but you got up to see what was going on. You heard her shout Dammit Buggy! So you headed downstairs to the shop and opened the door. 

Sure enough, Buggy was standing there, glaring upwards at Miss Pins’ window. He swayed where he stood, a bottle clutched in his hand before he raised it up.

“You’re loud too, Miss Pins!” He shot back before shrieking and jumping out of the way. Miss Pins had dumped a cup of water on him. “Hey!”

“Buggy?” You stepped out of the shop and closed the door behind you. His eyes lit up when he saw you and he had a big smile on his face. His face was flushed and he looked so happy to see you.

“Su-Sunny! You’re still here!” He slurred, grinning as he dropped the bottle and threw his arms around you, catching you off guard. “I thought maybe… maybe you left and never wanted to see me again!”

Oh, this was a happy and drunk Buggy. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as well coming off of his clothes. You wondered how much he had already. It was best to send him on his way, to not get involved, but you worried what sort of trouble he would get into if you left him alone, so you called up to your boss’s window that you’d be back later, you wanted to make sure he got back to his ship safely. You picked up the bottle and put your arm around his waist, keeping a firm hold on him to keep him from wandering off.

“‘S my birrrrthday!” He announced as he slung an arm over your shoulder, laughing loudly as you made your way down the road and toward the docks. “I’m… I’m two months… After you. I’m younger.”

“You definitely are.” You mused as you tightened your arm around him. He looked at you with a smirk.

“You’re touching me.” He lifted his arm to have another drink and realized he didn’t have his bottle. “Where-”

“I have it, Buggy.” You told him, holding it up to show him. “No more, okay?”

He looked grumpy until his hand popped off and grabbed it from you, bringing it back to himself. Smirking triumphantly, he raised the bottle to his lips and continued drinking. You weren’t opposed to drinking at all, but you also didn’t want to be around a drunk pirate right now. You wanted to be home and sleeping.

“Which one is your ship?” You asked when you came to the docks. He lowered the bottle and frowned as he looked at them before pointing to one furthest to the right. You hoped he was right as you walked with him to the ship, still keeping a hold on him. Once you dropped him off you’d head back home, but he turned to you with bright and excited eyes.

“Have a drink with me!” He pleaded. “It’s… it’s my birthday.”

“I know it’s your birthday, you told me.” You reminded him. “And I don’t want a drink, Buggy. I need to get home.”

“Please?” He asked as he stopped in his tracks. You kept your arm around him and looked over at him. The happy and bouncy Buggy was gone, replaced with someone different. He looked unsure of himself right then as he asked you, turning his gaze to his feet. You were going to regret this but you sighed and nodded.

“One drink.” You told him, and before you knew it, he was smiling again and taking hold of your hand, leading you up to his ship with his chest puffed out proudly, looking quite happy once more. You followed after him, shaking your head as he led you to what you figured was the captain’s quarters. One drink, that was it, then you’d head home.

He finally finished the bottle and tossed it aside before stumbling over to a cabinet for more. You took a seat on his bed, watching him as he rummaged around before pulling out two glasses and a bottle. He grinned at you, wagging his eyebrows as he brought you a glass and opened the bottle, but you took it from him.

“The birthday boy shouldn’t be pouring his own drink.” You told him as he plopped down beside you. You didn’t trust him to not spill it everywhere so you poured him a glass before your own, setting the bottle out of his immediate reach (which was silly because he could still grab it with his Devil Fruit powers). “Cheers, Buggy.”

He smiled brightly and let his head rest on your shoulder as he gripped his glass tightly. “You’re nice.” 

“I’ve been told that.” You chuckled. “Thanks.” 

“No, no, no, you’re so nice.” He continued gushing. “And… y’know, I’m gonna marry you. You’re so nice, Sunny, and I’m not married, y’know, so we should get married.”

You choked on your drink and set the glass aside, coughing a bit before clearing your throat. Oh, he was so drunk. You reached up to pat his cheek gently. “You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow, so don’t propose marriage to me yet.”

He tossed his drink back before giving you his glass. You put it beside yours, not wanting to fill it back up. The moment your hand was free he took it in his own, entwining his fingers with yours as he continued his drunken rambles.

“We’ll get married, because you’re so nice to me, and I’ll be so happy.” He continued as he turned to look up at you. “I want to be happy with you, Sunny.”

“Buggy, I want you to be happy too.” You told him. “I don’t know if marrying someone will make you happy, however.”

“Is it because I was an asshole on your birthday? Is… is that why you won’t marry me?” Buggy asked with a frown. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was mean. I was an asshole. I like you a lot and got scared ‘cause I couldn’t remember your name, and you have a nice name, and I didn’t get you a present.” He suddenly dropped your hand and stood up, marching back over to his cabinet. “Wait, I wanna sh-show you somethin’!”

Oh, Drunk Buggy was just a bit everywhere. Happy, excited, emotional, and apologetic. It was kind of fun to see in a way. He rummaged through the cabinet before hurrying back over to you, tripping over his own feet before falling onto his bed beside you. He held up something and you took it. They were photographs of two young boys, one with a straw hat and red hair, and the other had to be Buggy going by the bright red nose and scowl. 

“That’s me,” He pointed to himself in the photo. “Wasn’t sure if you knew. And that’s Shanks. We… we were best friends on a ship together and then we weren’t.” He frowned. “Haven’t been for a few years.” He sat up on the bed and leaned into you again. “You’re really nice.”

“Thank you for apologizing for my birthday, Buggy.” You told him as you looked through the photos. There weren't many, and they were old, showing their age in their wrinkles and fading color. Buggy certainly was a cute little kid. “I’m sorry I was rude to you.”

He straightened up and put both of his hands on your cheeks, turning your head so you faced him. He glared at you and you wondered what was about to happen, but his gaze suddenly softened and he looked down at his lap, his hands still on your cheeks. “Don’t you ever apologize because you’re perfect and have done nothing wrong ever.”

You put both of your hands on his and moved them off your face. “Buggy, I think you need to go to bed.”

He turned red suddenly and pulled away from you, looking down at his lap as you got to your feet and removed his hat, setting it down on a nearby trunk. You noticed he went quiet but decided not to say anything as you looked for some kind of sleep clothes for him, or did he just sleep in his everyday clothes? When you looked back over at him he was struggling to remove his shirt. You sighed and went to help him get free of it. When you saw his face again, he looked away once more.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you knelt in front of him to help take his boots off. You didn’t trust him to do it himself, afraid he’d topple over and hit his head. 

“I never… with… with anyone before.” He mumbled as he gestured between the two of you. For a solid minute you stared at him as you tried to process what he was thinking, and when it hit you, your face burned as you set his boots aside. “So um…”

“Neither have I, Buggy, but that’s not what I said.” You told him firmly. “I told you it’s time for bed. For you, not me. You need to get some sleep.”

“Canyoustaythenight?” He blurted out. “Please? I don’t… want to be alone.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap your mind around this. You didn’t intend for any of this to happen. You were just going to bring him home before going back to your place to crawl into your bed, but he managed to get you to stay for a drink (that you didn’t finish) and now he wanted you to spend the night. 

He was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his world right then. It was a little hard to say no, but you did want to make sure he would be okay, so you removed your own shoes before putting your hands on your hips. “Where are your pajamas?”

He shrugged as he fell back on his bed, stretching out across it. His entire body separated for a moment before snapping back together and honestly, it was momentarily horrifying to see it all happen at once. You needed him to explain this but not when he was drunk. You sighed and nudged him to get under the blankets, which he did, watching you once more with bright, excited eyes as you got into bed beside him. Almost immediately he wrapped himself around you, resting his head against your chest as he closed his eyes and sighed happily. 

“So nice, so soft, warm.” He mumbled quietly. You took the chance to remove his bandana, pleasantly surprised to see how long his hair was. Why did he keep it all hidden? You ran your fingers through it as he made himself comfortable against you. “I don’t wanna be away from you again, please, ‘msorry.”

“Get some sleep, Buggy.” You told him as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay? No more talking.”

“Imma marry you.” He sighed. You rolled your eyes and wondered what you needed to expect the next morning.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

[chaoticbindery]

Here's Looking at You Kid

By Messermoon(@sophsicle )

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world..."

George wanders into a bar. Nothing is ever the same.

Thanks to Soph for accepting a copy of this story. Apologies for the delay and ups being trash 💀

Thanks to @upthehillart for approving my use of their art for this fic.

Special thanks to the @renegadepublishing server for all your support, advice, and encouragement during the making of these books.

To ups, I hope you never feel the gentle touch of a woman, that your child never hugs you again, and that every time you enter a room, you forget the reason you are there.

Below, I will discuss the process, which will include a lot of spoilers. (But also more pics 😈)

When I heard this story was set in the same universe as choices, I lost my shit a little and read it. Slowly, however, this story began to mean a lot more to me than I could put into words. George's grief over the lost of his soul mate, the struggle to find himself, and Blaise's love, passion, kindness, and confidence in himself resonated to me in such a way that I knew I needed to hold it in my greedy little hands.

I started to think about what I wanted to do and how I wanted to bind this story. I struggle a lot from picking the font for the body text to picking the chapter titles. I finally, after fucking around with canva for more time than I'm willing to admit , I was able to come up with these:

(If you would like the files for anything I used, please dm me, and I will send them to you! I will eventually set up a google drive)

In the story, there is this moment where Blaise casts a spell that creates a constellation, of which George got the inspiration to make a mood ring that created a little sky, and depending on your mood the sky changes to reflect how you feel. He gives it to Blaise, and they have a picnic under the sky, indoors, later at Blaise's party they have such a cute moment at night and so I wanted to implant the sky in some way.

I also wanted to use constellations in this bind. I didn't know how or where. I just knew I needed them in my life. So while i mop over my inability to impelent them, I took a break. So one day, I was reading a book with these very cute corners, and then it hit me. (No, I didn't finish the book i was reading. I was busy stalking the internet, trying to find the perfect image)

After that, picking the page breaks was easy. I wanted something simple since I didn't want the typeset to look so busy that it took away from the most important element of the bind, aka the story. I added a few little things for me in Draco and Harry's 2 chapters because I'm weak, and that's for soph to find all on her own 👀

I will put this here, tho.

Lastly, because Tumblr won't let me post more pictures, here are the endpapers I used for 2 of the 3 books.

As some of you may have notice, there are blues, pinks, and whites in this bind. It's a subtle yet very loud depiction of the Trans flag. It was very important to me to show that this story is of a Trans man that, as soph, puts it, saved himself.

I added all the chapter notes, trigger warnings, and more information about this bind on the typeset itself. Ultimately, to me, this is a form of archiving stories I think matter, and if for whatever reason, technology dies on us, this story will still live on.

The info that's only important to the binders 💀:

Materials list:

Bookcloth: Colibri in color Cornflower, this cloth has a silk like finish.

Htv: I used siser's htv easy weed vinyl with a bit of a pinkish undertone to it.

Endpapers: they are from paper tree nook in the uk

Endband: 2 mm 100% leather with blue viscous thread

Textblock: I used standard 20lbs cream color paper. I used toner to print. To sew the textblock, I use blue linen thread and remie bands gifted to me by my friend duranbinding. I painted the edges using golden acrylic paint, and the charm and ribbon are both from Michael's

Typeset:

(I will edit in this bit later since I made so many changes its hard to recall them all)

#hlayk #regulus black #jegulus #draco malfoy #harry potter #george weasley #blaise zabini #choices messermoon #fanbinding #fandom #bookbinding #my first post #blaise zabini x george weasley #draco x harry #colibri #ups sleep with an eye open

[solarmorrigan]

Little epilogue to the “Steve crochets Eddie a scarf” story (I promise I’m done now)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Ao3

“What are you working on?” El asks, leaning slightly into Eddie’s space to watch as he works.

Eddie pulls his latest stitch tight and tilts the fabric a bit so El can see the patch he’s securing. “I’m putting my new battle vest together,” he says. “Since someone bled all over the last one.”

“You knew I was bleeding when you gave it to me!” Steve snaps from the other end of the couch. “Anyway, we salvaged most of the patches, I don’t see why you have to keep complaining about it.”

“Because you’re so pretty when you’re irritated,” Eddie says, and he can hear Will give a snort of laughter from where he’s bent over a sketchpad on the floor.

Baby Byers is the latest addition to their little group of creatives; he doesn’t do anything with yarn or thread, but he does set up with colored pencils or, sometimes, a little set of watercolors and listens while Steve and Joyce gossip.

(His presence has stumped Steve’s continued efforts at naming the group, however.

“Five people probably makes up, like, an actual circle, but he doesn’t do… fabric-related things,” Steve ponders.

“Call it a craft pentagram,” Eddie suggests.

“No,” Steve vetoes immediately. “Besides, it’s six when Murray shows up.”

Right. That guy.

Eddie isn’t quite sure what he thinks of Murray Bauman just yet; he doesn’t appreciate the relentless roasting of his and Steve’s “honeymoon phase” (Bauman’s words, not his), but it is funny watching him threaten to teach Steve how to knit. In either case, Bauman and Joyce are good friends, so he’ll have to be included in the final group count.

Eddie and Steve decide to think on the name a little longer.)

“What is a battle vest?” El asks.

“It’s a metal thing. You put stuff like patches and pins onto a vest to show off the bands you like, the stuff you support, the stuff you don’t support – shit like that.” Eddie spreads the vest out a bit more to show El what he’s gotten done so far; he’s collected a few more patches since this spring, and he’s still considering what he wants to do with the pack panel, but he thinks it’s really coming together.

El runs a finger over the Motörhead patch. “And you sew it yourself?”

“That’s the only way to do it, kid.” Eddie grins. “My uncle Wayne taught me to sew when I came to stay with him. Said it was something everyone should know how to do.” Here, El nods wisely, and Eddie can see both Steve and Joyce grinning in his periphery. “I’m pretty sure I fidgeted and fussed through every single lesson, but he was right. I was glad I at least knew the basics once I started putting my first vest together.”

El studies his work a little longer before declaring, “It’s bitchin’,” and startling a bark of laughter out of Eddie.

“Thank you very much,” he says, pulling the vest back into his lap. “At least someone appreciates it.”

“Not taking the bait,” Steve drawls.

“Did you do these, too?” El draws Eddie’s attention back; she’s brushing a thumb over the bottom hem of the vest, where Eddie has sewn in a tiny swarm of bats in purple thread.

“Oh. Yeah, those are mine,” Eddie says. “That’s a little different from what I’m doing with the patches. Just some dumb embroidery.”

“I like it,” El says, looking up at him. “Would you show me how?”

Eddie blinks, taken aback by the sincerity in the request. “Uh – well, yeah, sure. I think I’ve got some extra stuff at home I can bring next time. I’m not, like, the best at it, but–”

“Thank you.” El cuts off Eddie’s uncertainty with a smile. “And I can show you how to crochet.”

Eddie can’t say he’s ever really wanted to learn how to crochet – or that he’d even really known what it was until a few months ago; he’s mostly been content to leave that particular craft to Steve.

He glances over to where Steve is sitting now, frowning over the blanket (afghan?) he’s finally decided to try his hand at; despite what Steve says about not being sure about what he’s doing, it’s coming out beautifully. Eddie knows it’s going to end up a prized possession on Buckley’s bed when it’s done.

From the chair beside Steve’s end of the couch, Joyce catches Eddie’s eye and gives him a sly smile he finds he can’t help but return.

And as Eddie thinks about it, it’s a gift all on its own, isn’t it? Getting to teach someone something you know, getting to learn something from them, too. And hell, you can never have too many hobbies.

“Yeah,” Eddie finally says, turning back to El. “Why not?”

#steddie #eddie & el #eddie munson #el hopper #steve harrington #stranger things #no tag list this time because no one explicitly asked and I don't know if those things are just supposed to carry over?? #but anyway I'm done bothering you guys with this fic now I swear #solar wrote #eddiesteve

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi!

I was wondering if you could write more stories of the war captive prince. (Maybe the captive one gets hurt while saving the prince from death?)

By the way, I really love your writing.

Hope you have a nice day! (*ˊᵕˋ*)ﾉ

So this doesn't really fit into the narrative but if I had to, I'd place it between part 1 and 2.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt.4

Being a prisoner wasn’t as bad as he had feared.

He had a room to himself. It wasn’t much but it wasn’t a cell where he would rot within days. Soldiers guarded his door outside day and night and maids seemed to be making his bed when he was working in the castle. Whatever the protagonist had expected, it wasn’t this, it wasn’t an almost decent life.

But then again, he supposed the prince wanted to keep an eye on him. After all, everyone was watching him. All the time.

Most of the time, he worked in the castle amongst the other servants and it was easy to forget that those people weren’t his acquaintances. The protagonist knew these people weren’t responsible for his pain and suffering but still, every time he talked to one of them or shared his food, deep down his heart broke a little.

He felt as if he was betraying his friend by showing others kindness.

One day, when the prince had felt particularly merciful (or cruel), he had brought him down to the dungeons. And there he had seen them. His friend, frail and hopeless. He didn’t know if they had even recognised him. They hadn’t talked, had barely looked at him.

Since then, he had tried to sneak away and get back down there again, but it was to no avail. Whenever he was sure he had distracted the guards, one of them showed up in front of him and barked at him to get back to work.

With that memory burnt into his brain, the protagonist avoided the prince at all cost. Because he was sure he would find a way to strangle him to death the next time they’d meet.

So, when he’d been instructed to go to the prince’s chambers today, he was full of energy. His heart was beating in his throat. Rage blinded him and he feared he would make a drastic decision he could regret later.

However, as soon as he set a foot into the prince’s room, he could tell something was off.

“You actually came, I’m impressed.” The prince sat on his bed, holding his stomach. At first, the protagonist didn’t want to understand. He saw the prince in a weak state and wondered how long it would take him to end this.

In his lifetime, the protagonist had killed a lot of people. Undoubtedly, there was dark and thick blood on his hands.

Maybe he would finally add the prince’s too.

“You’re bleeding,” the protagonist realised. His eyes dropped to the wound the prince tried to hide and the strange amount of linen drenched in blood.

His muscles tensed.

The protagonist wondered what it would feel like to push his fingers into his wound and curl them. What sounds the prince would make if the protagonist found something in this luxurious room to press deeper into the cut. What he would look like if the protagonist strangled him and watched him bleed out.

The protagonist got overwhelmed with ideas, with rage and with determination. He wondered when he had gotten this violent, but maybe war had changed him.

Or he had always been this way.

“Yes. That’s why I asked for you.” His breathing was quick and he hunched, holding his stomach as the blood dropped down his fingers. “You have military experience, don’t you? That includes sanitary practice.”

“You’re delusional if you think I might help you.”

“I’ve heard that in your country you’re sewing wounds. It’s probably my last hope. My medics are panicking,” he said. His voice was raspy and the protagonist was sure he felt lightheaded. Losing a lot of blood was dangerous, even the prince should’ve been aware of that.

“Again, why would I help you?” he asked.

The prince made a noise between a groan and a sigh, mixed with pain and annoyance.

“Your friend, obviously. You can see them again tomorrow if you save me. If you don’t, they’ll be killed.” The protagonist cocked his head but what he was seeing seemed to be real. Tears were streaming down the prince’s face. Not a lot and barely noticeable but they sparkled in the dim light.

This was an easy choice, then.

“Good. Lay down.” The protagonist approached him quickly and pushed his enemy into the bed.

The prince’s face twisted and he looked as grey as ash. Even if the protagonist had to save him, that didn’t mean he couldn’t cause as much pain as he wanted.

“Put more pressure on the wound,” he said. He observed what the prince was doing, then shook his head. “No, like this.”

He pushed the clean linen the medics had given to the prince deep into the wound. They turned red immediately and the prince gasped.

“Oh gods-” He held onto the protagonist’s wrist, grabbed him harsh enough to leave bruises. He arched his back and whimpered like a dog and the protagonist stared at him, stared at the person who could be so cruel being exposed to cruelty.

Quickly, the protagonist realised, that they’d been this close in the throne room last. It was an eerie feeling.

But the pain the prince endured wasn’t satisfactory to the protagonist. He got distracted, looked a little too long at the tear stains.

“Needles? Threads?” The prince pointed at the drawer next to the bed and the protagonist found what he was searching for soon enough.

“What happened?” he asked as he took the bowl filled with water from the drawer. He put the thread through the needle’s head and drenched the needle in water.

“Assassination attempt,” the prince groaned. “I fought back but…clearly didn’t make a big difference.”

Quickly, the protagonist took the needle out of the water again.

“Shouldn’t the whole castle panic, then?”

“I managed to avoid that. Only a few people know that I’m injured,” he said. The protagonist looked at the wound. The bleeding wasn’t as serious anymore, so he pulled the linen out of the wound, much to the prince’s dismay.

His fingertips brushed against the protagonist’s.

“I’ve never killed anyone before,” the prince admitted. “Not with my own hands.”

“It’s much harder than it looks,” the protagonist said and the prince nodded. Before the prince answered, the protagonist pushed the needle through his skin.

The prince’s hand found his wrist again and he squeezed as the protagonist continued carefully.

Although the protagonist could sew, he was rather clumsy when it came to his own fingers. Every now and then, he stabbed into his fingertips until his own blood dropped onto the prince’s stomach, red and red mixing together.

“There was so much blood,” the prince said. The protagonist could feel his eyes on him. “I didn’t even notice I was wounded.”

The protagonist pulled a little too harsh on the thread and the prince flinched.

“Apologies,” he mumbled and for whatever reason, his hand landed on the prince’s forearm, trying to calm him. “I’m almost done.”

Again, the prince nodded and let him continue his work. When he was done, he looked at the result and found himself quite satisfied with it.

Maybe the protagonist was a fool for helping him. Maybe it was his own nature. Maybe war hadn’t hardened him, maybe it had exhausted him, had made him soft.

“Rest for the next few days. You also need a lot of food and water.” He stood up and turned around before he could put more thoughts into the situation, however, the prince grabbed his forearm before he could go.

“No word of this to anyone, please,” he said but the protagonist didn’t answer. What kind of power did he have here anyway? Trying to convince the people to overthrow their own prince? A revolution? Who would even listen to him? “…and thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” the protagonist said and he meant every word of it.

#damn a lot of people have been asking me #just a lil hurt for the protag #writing snippet #kingdoms and royalty #prince x prince #princexprince #mlm #m/m #request #an answer for an ask #whump #I guess?