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reiderwriter · 2 days

Text

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

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

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bratbutcute · 3 days

Text

A sparkle in the night

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pair: Alastor and Vox. A bit platonic, a bit romantic, could be read in different ways.

Disclaimer: Nothing other than it’s a SFW tickle fic. They are also slightly ooc but tbh we don’t really know since I’m describing a moment that happened before the series takes place sooooo… who knows (but honestly, Alastor is much too sweet to be canon).

Also I had fun with some fonts I found online, I don’t know if that is a problem so if you find difficulties reading please tell me and I’ll change it!

Vox is stressed and wants to reminisce old times, old friends, old feelings.

I got the idea for this from this fic by @starlight-write. I wanted to explore Alastor and Vox’s relationship before whatever happened between them.

I hope you all enjoy it!

~~~

Hell had changed a lot since Vox first arrived. He had met many Overlords who now weren’t ‘alive’ anymore, killed by Angels or by other sinners. He had seen Hell change its geography, different shops rising and then succumbing to nefarious fate.

He had met friends along the way, and he had lost them too.

Vox had learnt that the afterlife was just as complicated and confusing as his past life: people were hard to read, it was hard to understand their needs and, honesty, he wasn’t very good at accommodating them. Of course it was easy to solve people problems work wise (most of the times he was the one creating a fake problem and giving the public a new product as a solution), but when it came to personal business he couldn’t just hypnotise everyone. Well he could but…

He was alone in his personal room, monitors all over him, phones and computers all around him. Even if he was alone he was constantly under the spotlight. He knew he had to prove he was stronger. That he wasn’t scared of anything or anyone.

That’s how he would spend the majority of his afterlife: surrounded by his constant eyes, recording every movement he himself ever made.

So that’s why he felt so excited when he turned off every single monitor except for the bigger one in front of him. He shut down every camera or microphone around him. Unrecorded. Unregistered moments.

A shiver ran down his spine.

After seeing that ghost of his past back again after seven years of absence he had to see something. Something that was his and his only.

What he was looking for was an old memory, one that he had to update digitally from his old headset.

Everything was meticulously categorised so it didn’t take long before he found what he was looking for.

The video started.

And he was almost 45 years younger, he had a different - and much heavier - headset and an ‘old pal’ next to him.

They were in the middle of an animated conversation in a remote bar in the pride ring. Everybody was keeping their distance from them and the moody bartender kept sending them drink after drink.

«Television is much more than photography you radio obsessed demon. Television is alive, it’s thrilling!» Vox exclaimed standing up and stomping his foot on the chair in front of him. Alastor looked at the action with little to no reaction, his usual smile plastered on his face.

«You, young man, are as loud as a cow at the slaughterhouse. That is in no way an Overlord behaviour.» he said squeezing his shoulder and inviting Vox to sit again.

Vox blinked in confusion - and slight worry because of the metaphor - before pouting as a scolded child. He got himself back on the high stools next to the counter dangling his feet.

Alastor poured another whiskey in his glass.

«I admire your enthusiasm, but you have to understand that Hell is different from Earth. You cannot show demons your… moving pictures and expect them to simply follow you. You need to plan. To be strategic. Logical.» he offered the drink to Vox, who looked at the goldish liquid with skepticism.

Alastor’s smile grew bigger. «A peace offer?». Vox sighed and gulped it down in one shot, much to Alastor’s disapproval.

«I think you’re complicating your life too much! I can hypnotise people!» he pointed at his eyes as the pupil changed, but Alastor was unfazed.

«It doesn’t work on me.»

«Yeah I still have to understand why…» he sighed as his head started to spin. His face became a bit foggy, just for a moment.

That made Alastor grin wider. «Is the strong and powerful aspiring Overlord feeling a bit dizzy?»

«Fuck you I am not. You’re just-» he looked down at his empty glass and grabbed the bottle to refill it. «I am an Overlord! ‘M not aspiring to be anything you pompous-» but he was cut off by Alastor cupping Vox’s hands with his and helping him pour the drink. Vox’s heart skipped a beat as his antennas sparkled.

«You were saying?» he hummed, fully aware of what he was doing.

«Fuck you.»

Alastor’s smiled softened «Charming.» and Vox smiled back, rolling his eyes.

They had these kind of conversations every time they hang out. They would go to a bar and sit far away from everyone, start bickering, try to get a deal one from the other only to call it even and repeat this cycle every few days. Vox kept convincing himself that these encounters weren’t a big deal but things like that, like that genuine smile, made him doubt that.

Vox drank his whiskey quickly, just to see Alastor’s ear flicker in dismay, a gesture Vox had learnt to recognise over the years.

He took the bottle and refilled his and Alastor’s empty glass.

«You do not understand what it means to be an Overlord just as much as you do not understand how to enjoy your drink.» Alastor said turning on his stool and leaning with his back on the counter.

«AH! Alcohol gets you drunk. That’s the big meaning behind it.»

Vox was about to chug down his whiskey when he felt something brushing over his side. As he yelped Alastor snickered, trying to camouflage it with a cough.

«AÆl- he glitched - what are you doing?»

«As you can see I am not doing anything.» he said raising his hands to prove his point. Vox straightened his back, looking at his surroundings in confusion.

His fogged brain was trying to process whether there was a threat or not. He felt electricity build up in his body.

As he raised his glass, he felt it again, something brushing his side, just lightly, but, when he turned, his eyes could only scan thin air.

«What is going on?» he mumbled putting the drink down.

Alastor didn’t answer, but he was having fun. Vox could see it by that stupid tail of his that was slightly wagging.

If it was his doing… oh no.

The tendrils came out of nowhere and wrapped around his torso, caressing his stomach and sides slowly.

Vox felt electricity between his fingers and in his antennas. He clamped his mouth shut with his hands, slightly kicking his feet.

«Is everything alright Vox?» Vox shook his head, little sparkles all around him. That fucker…

One of those tentacles circled around the center of his tummy, caressing the blue skin. He could feel the tip lightly scratching the sensitive area, making his body tremble.

It was so agonisingly slow. The gesture felt both sweet and mean, as if it were Alastor’s fingers toying with him.

Then he increased the pace.

Vox’s face started trembling, the image of his expression danced on the screen for a moment, deforming his flat features. Alastor came closer to his prey, enjoying every second.

«Maybe it would be better if you just let yourself…-» the tentacles that were around his stomach changed direction and dug in his hips «…Laugh.»

Vox giggles sparkled, as static electricity vibrated around him. He tried so hard to contain himself, but once the first chuckle was out he could not stop.

«AHAHAHAHL nohohoho.»

«No? But I’m not doing anything my dear! I think you had one too many of these.» he said sliding away the man’s drink, saving it from being destroyed.

«Yohohou knohow dæ-ámňņ well what you’re dohohoing.» Vox managed to say while trying to push his tentacles away.

«Of course I do.» he got closer, more tentacles coming from all around him. Vox felt his heart pounding in his chest, his face a mixture of fear and excitement. A stupid wobbly smile was plastered on his screen.

«And you’re enjoying every single second.» had Vox been a little less drunk he would have probably tried to retort, but all he could do was stare at Alastor’s tendrils.

Two of them wrapped around his wrists, raising his hands.

«Oh noho don’t y҉̗͚͚̯̋̏̍̑O̸͎͕̒̽͐̏U҉͓̦̰̘̌́̏̾͆ DARE ALASTOR!» the tentacles danced in front of him, circling around his underarms. Two of them were near his sides, and no matter how hard he tried to pull at his restraints he couldn’t free himself.

«Oh how I like seeing you like this.» Alastor sighed «So helpless.»

«Ahahahahahl Ihihi ha-hatehehe yohohor stupid gahames.» he protested. He was still sat on his absurdly high stool, his feet trying to touch the floor to push himself back. But there was nowhere to run.

Every demon in the place had already fled, believing that the Radio Demon had found his new victim. Well they weren’t completely wrong.

«Do not lie to me.» Alastor caressed Vox’s screen with a single finger, and fake sweat flashed on his face. «You love my games. And besides, a powerful Overlord like you should laugh at the face of danger.» that actually made Vox titter.

Anything said by Alastor made him laugh.

«Let me see your smile.»

All of the tentacles attacked at the same time, some caressing his skin, some scratching at the fabric of his clothes. They were under his arms, on his stomach, meaningly attacking his hips.

The laugh that left his throat gave Alastor goosebumps. It was loud, the loudest he had ever heard from him and it was so… carefree.

All the sense of control, the pressure of becoming a powerful Overlord, the high standards the man held on himself all crumbled down. And he was just helplessly laughing in front of his friend, eyes closed, not afraid to be hurt.

Unfortunately for him he was definitely too sensitive though and the moment a tendril flicked his antenna he started to glitch.

«NOHOHOHOHŒĦØ-»

A spark of electricity made the entire place blackout for a moment, before the lights came back on. Alastor looked at the display of power both amazed and awed.

The man was really strong.

«Be careful my friend-» Alastor’s voice came from much closer than before «We wouldn’t want you to short circuit would we?»

He decided to give him a little break.

The moment the tendrils freed him, Vox turned his back and held the counter with both of his hands, looking for stability.

He could not stop the giggles and titters leaving his body, feeling even drunken than before even though the alcohol was starting to wear off.

However, before Vox could stop laughing, a single tentacle snuck under the his shirt, through his sleeve, slowly and gently caressing his underarm with its tip. The small movement was driving Vox mad.

He collapsed on the counter, laughter now pouring out of him. His feet were kicking the air. The free arm was pounding on the surface, not lucid enough to try to free himself.

He let his head rest on the table, the screen tilted toward Alastor.

«Yohohouh bihihihitch.» he giggled before trying to pry away a new tendril that was slipping under his shirt, targeting his stomach.

His feet kicked harder and quicker as he started to hiccup. «Ihi- IHĮĦĮ- chahaæn’ț.» his voice changed and distorted.

Alastor drank another glass, closing his eyes and enjoying the flavour.

«Sooo» he stood up next to the giggling mess. «Do we wanna make a deal?» he asked making his tentacles stop their torture and back away.

Vox took a few seconds to compose himself before lifting his head and facing the other demon.

Giggles were still stuck in his throat, threatening to leave his body at every word. «A deahal?» he straightened his back and fixed his shirt, now turning his entire body towards the friend.

«I’m not selling my soul for some T̵̲̫̈́̉͗̂͆-tickles. You can’t be that stupid.»

«I am not, my friend. And for once I do not care for your soul! Oh no no no! I would like…-» he let the anticipation roll on Vox’s nerves as he approached him with twitching fingers. «-for you to never drink whiskey in such an inconsiderate way. You either taste your liquor or you don’t drink at all. You do not gobble your alcohol. You understand that young man don’t you?» and as he pronounced the last sentence, he started tracing invisible circles on Vox’s sides.

Vox closed his eyes and the giggle that escaped his lips was a mixture of ticklish agony and amusement.

«Are you finding my request funny?» his fingers danced on his sides.

«Oh c’mohohn Ahahal.» he kicked his feet again, very careful not to hit the demon in front of him. «Ihiht is fuhuhucking hilariohohohus.» he managed to say.

Alastor was not amused.

«Well if you think this is hilarious I cannot imagine what you’d think of t̷̥̲͎͇̤̒̈́̔h̵̳̪̰͋̊ȉ̵̭̦̰̊̉̒s̶͈͉͙͕̥̅̚.» as his voice distorted he drilled his thumbs in Vox’s hips, scratching slightly under his clothes.

Vox’s face became black for a few seconds, before returning to his loud self, pounding with his free hands on Alastor’s chest.

«Such a sweet sound.»

«Ḍ̷̙̙̪̏́̏̒͊e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿l̸̳͓͔͇̗̋͌̈ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄.» his glitched and distorted voice came so soft to Alasto’s ear.

Alastor stopped with a chuckle.

«You enjoyed it.» he said before stepping away.

«Oh well don’t think I didn’t notice your tail wagging.» the tv demon whispered with a smile on his face.

Alastor turned himself, hiding his back and his stupid soft tail, a small blush colouring his cheeks.

Vox laughed again, a genuine laugh, and then grabbed his own glass. The older man way eyeing him, fingers ready to summon his power once more.

Vox drank slowly, feeling the warmth of the alcohol. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste.

Alastor smiled at him, the genuine smile reserved to these late night, where the alcohol in their veins made their heads lighter and their words easier to leave their lips.

The words Alastor pronounced forty-five years ago echoed in the empty room. They sounded sincere, no filter altering them, just honesty and liquor on his tongue.

«You’re like a sparkle in the night Vox. You make this dark world brighter with your smile. Remember that»

Vox closed his eyes and let out a sight. He hugged himself for a moment and let those words sink in, burning his soul.

He allowed himself to feel this way for a few seconds, before turning everything off and straightening his jacket.

He had to go now.

He needed to find out what that pompous old prick was planning.

~~~

I feel like I’ve been working on this fics for a month, but it’s actually been a couple of weeks.

I loved exploring Vox and Alastor’s dynamic and showing Alastor being kind of a mentor for Vox.

Initially Valentino had a part in this fic, but in the end his role got cut off, but who knows! I might explore their relationship and how it affected Vox and Alastor in future fics! In this universe (yeah, the one I created pretty much for this single tickle fic) Al and Vox originally had a strong relationship, something between platonic and romantic, that got ruined when Vox met Valentino and started hanging out with him (Even though I strongly believe that in the serie Vox was the one that fell in love and Alastor was just trying to get something out of him and eventually got tired of Vox and left him)

The first scene felt really like when Hamilton and Burr go drink together at the beginning of the musical ahahahaha.

I don’t know when will I publish the new fic, it will take me a long time before I am able to write so much again.

Let me know what you think guys 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

#tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #lee!vox #ticklish!vox #ler!alastor #i hope it’s well written I’m stressing so much #i started writing with no idea for a plot #but i can totally see Alastor getting mad for not drinking in tge ‘right way’#and Vox being an impatient little shit about it #idk I love them so much #and really I need to get lee!vox out of my system

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borderlinereminders · 23 hours

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I actually really want an outside point of view. But also to share my side.

There’s a user posting a lot of bad stuff about me. Like a lot. I try and let this stuff go and not engage on this platform. I’m not posting their username publicly because I am still trying to respect their privacy but if anyone does see the posts, I want my side to be out there.

I run a trauma survivors discord server. In the server, I try and manage everyone’s comfort as best as I can.

I had more than one person approach me about feeling uncomfortable at the frequency this user tried to get other members to DM and how pushy it came across as.

Me and the other mods understood that this likely didn’t come from a bad place but from being lonely so we weren’t mad. Genuinely. But if I have multiple people feeling uncomfortable, I feel I need to act on it. No one approached me publicly in the server so no one knew someone else had approached me. The people approaching me didn’t know anyone else had approached me so this wasn’t a thing where people just started agreeing and piling on.

So, I sent this message (privately through a ticket system)

The things being said because of this message have me second guessing myself. And I’m just tired.

I understand that they are feeling attacked and I so remember how it felt when I was in a really bad place and I would have felt really upset about getting this message too. But I still don’t think the amount of harassing is justified by them or the things they are saying about me are okay.

I really don’t usually post about drama but my other urge was to delete my blogs because I am just so tired. And I realized that urge was coming because I felt like I couldn’t defend myself. Like I had to be the “bigger” person and that’s something I struggled with a lot growing up. Being quiet to protect other people.

So, here’s my side of the story.

Edit: the user has now taken down the posts about me and apologized. I am leaving this up though because it does not identify them at all and I don’t trust stuff not to get out of hand again. It feels like it protects me a bit.

#drama #not positive #honestly #an outside view on whether I am all the things being said based on the message I sent #would be nice #because maybe I’m just #totally wrong and I was mean #and degrading #or all the stuff said about me #I don’t know #undescribed #I’m too tired to describe right now #I’ve had two hours sleep #and woke up to more attacks on my character so

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blitz0hno · 2 days

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The reason the line "Happy or sad, why decide?" From Tear Drop sticks out to me is because it really does highlight Yuno's disdain for pity and projection

Sometimes people who think they are "empathetic" are just really stuck in projection without realizing, which is why ppl like "dArK EmPaThS" etc. use their fawning trauma as an excuse to be judgy assholes.

Like a sort of "If I was in that situation..." So like even if they Understand the Emotions they're still seeing it from THEIR pov, THEIR life experience and not the other person's.

And like. I keep thinking about how, if I want to live authentically, it's always gonna be blatantly obvious I have trauma.

But like. EVERYONE has some degree of trauma, it came free w your late stage capitalism and your parents being as dumb and scared as you are/neu i am talking like BIG picture here.

Like you can be bummed stuff happens to ppl and like bear it in mind if conflict gets difficult, but me and my system mates do NOT need pity, unsolicited advice, to be assumed attention seeking or untrustworthy etc.. I don't have bad intentions but plenty of people do so I have a survival mechanism for that. I play it close to the chest. So fucking what? Why does life have to get so complicated so fast, but we as people are expected to be simple? I can't even decide if I want to tell people what name I truly am In the moment. Sometimes I feel 35, at a time in my life when I'll be grateful if the earth is still here in my mid-twenties. I've done almost nothing and feel the weight of everything and I don't see a place for judgement in a world like that unless someone does something TRULY heinous. Preying on others, hoarding resources, abuse etc.. So who cares how I am living and getting by? Why do I have to be secretive about something that's not hurting anyone? "Good" or "bad," there are assumptions attached to my circumstances that I am not happy with at all.

This isn't like a vent or anything I just think that system or not, Yuno is in a similar predicament. She Knows she should not have to feel shame, but she does. It has been placed on her for years, so she rejects it entirely and seeks to empower herself. Living as she pleases and being a boss bitch yeah, but still having these delicate feelings that are just too complex for many people.

I feel like everyone feels that way about something

#tw existentialism #?? maybe #yuno milgram #yuno kashiki #my beloved #this is more abt me than her but I WILL dedicate a post to her EVENTUALLY i just wanna do her justice #milgram #i love milgram

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bibibbon · 2 days

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Sukuna is a good villain analysis

Coming from someone who hates villains that are evil because they were born that way and with no other explanation. To be honest, out of all the villains in jjk I always found sukuna to be somewhat boring , he is well written but I just couldn't really see what people saw in him. I still think that kenjaku is way more interesting than him but I will say that due to the recent arc and chapters that my opinion of sukuna has significantly changed.

Sukuna is the abstract embodiment of nihilism (in a way). His character for the longest time has always been about destruction and chaos. Sukuna's first introduction consists of him saying that he is going to destroy absolutely everything and there is a heavy focus on him destroying the woman and children. He simply views then as little maggots that he can easily destroy with ease. We later learn the connection (I guess) he has to his mother which he doesn't regard her disrespectfully and his devoured twin whom he is shown to remember the presence of. Every time we meet him before shibuya his power is further emphasised and he is further demonised and built to be the big bad.

It is later in shibuya, during his fight with jogo that we get more to sukuna. In this fight sukuna brings out his CT of flames and jogo is surprised however, before sukuna kills jogo they share an interesting conversation. Sukuna recognises jogo's ideology and desires to be human and sukuna relates to it. He understands jogo's desires of taking humans place and ruling the world yet he views that view as foolish. This is where we learn that sukuna believes that being alone and having the power to destroy everything you care about is what makes one powerful. This can explain sukunas love for destruction and simple chaos. However, sukuna is incapable of understanding why he is talking to jogo, why does he even care for him in a way and instead of trying to understand he does exactly what he said to jogo that he should do and destroys/ fully burns jogo after calling him "strong". At this point both of these curses have experienced what it's like to be 'human' with emotions flowing through them that aren't negative but while one (jogo) questions it and tires to explore it the other (sukuna) rejects it and burns it all away.

There's also sukuna's relationship with his relatives especially itadori his nephew. Sukuna and itadori share completely different ideologies while sukuna believes in him being the strongest and destroying everything he cares for to stay that way yuji will believes that he is a simple cog in a system and tries to do everything to fulfill his role and protect others. Both are strong characters yet it is yujis drive and strong resolve that makes him so much more mentally stronger than sukuna and what irritates sukuna as yuji is claimed to be unbreakable in his views and passion. Yuji also makes sukuna question his own purpose and what he is here to achieve. Even though the two are strangely similar in many ways considering that yuji is a part of sukuna they're vastly different especially with their ideologies.

There's also the huge contrast between sukuna and his twin Jin itadori. Sukuna is strong, cold hearted and would put himself before anyone. Sukuna doesn't care for others and his existence is mainly him trying to satisfy himself and his needs while flaunting the immense power he carries. Yet from the little we have seen from Jin itadori he is is the polar opposite of sukuna. Jin itadori died for love, he was so blinded by grief that when kaori came back even though it was kenjaku he still loved her the same and he loved itadori more. It was stated that Jin really wanted to have a child and truly cared for itadori to the point he and itadoris grandpa got into fights about it. Jin from the moment we see him seems like a really nice and somewhat nerdy guy the complete opposite to his twin sukuna heck even their character designs are completely different with them only having the same colour hair and eyes (I think).

These twins are also juxtaposed to the zenin twins. Its stated that sukuna had to eat his twin to survive in the womb due to how poor their mother was. However, the only thing that sukuna got out of his twin was the physical characteristic and his CT while Jin's soul went through cycles before coming into he human realm again. This contrasts with eh zenin twins whom voluntary chose to join together and when she died Mai chose to take all the CE they both had while dying physically she joined her sister spiritually by becoming a sword. Maki and Mai will always be together and entwined by their souls. The sukuna and jin twins are only connected physically which could be why sukuna has 4 eyes and 4arms.

Sukunas own character design just shows that he is the embodiment of destruction and how he simply devours everything around him. When asked if sukuna ever feels lonely he literally says that he lives however he wants and that he can eat as much human flesh with all of them tasting different and filling him with different emotions. The closest thing that sukuna has to a friend is his loyal servant urauame and they only obey his orders while entertaining him. It's stated that the only reason sukuna keeps urauame around is due to their talent in cooking human meat, the same thing that gives him joy aka any real emotion.

There are then his other fights that focus on sukuna and his views on love and power. Yorozu's fight is an interesting one where we get more on sukunas cannibalism and how both of those characters view love as a means of destruction and death. Yorozu is happy that sukuna killed her and got to know more about her through that while sukuna is questioned on stuff that he views as pointless and meaningless like marriage. Yorozu sees the solitude that sukuna is surrounded by and think that he can understand her since she has faced similar yet they heavily clash with sukuna believing that to have power one must face the burden of solitude. In the end yorozu, does give sukuna a gift crafted by her which he actually takes and uses during the current battle. Yorozu's attempts to get to sukuna and to make him reciprocate his love all fail even when she makes a TRUE SPHERE. Something that has the largest surface area and can contaminate and touch everything yet sukuna leaves untouched by yorozu at all. I think it's interesting that yorozu's heart took a shape of a true sphere just to show how obsessed she is with sukuna and her desire to be with him.

Sukuna then fights with kashimo. Kashimo somewhat like jogo has an understanding of what it's like to be strong yet kashimo is sick of superficial interactions that the strong have to have with people that are inferior to them or want to challenge them. Kashimo asks sukuna if there is a way where he can be strong and surround himself with love sukuna says that this is selfish thinking considering his view that everything he cares for must be burnt for him to be strong. Kashimo isn't satisfied by only having strength but he also wants to experience simple things such as love, sukuna could of been similar to that long ago yet he gave up and has resorted to taking in all the destruction and enjoying himself from it. Kashimos fight with sukuna was more of a self discovery journey for the both of them and at the end they both come out on different sides.

After higumara's death there is a whole chapter about sukuna and he starts questioning his own life view. What has he been doing? Is it worth it? Where is the joy in what he used to do? And he is again faced with his complete opposite yuji. He is deep in thought and he feels empty, confused even he can't seem to understand why everyone is dedicating themselves to this belief, they're all united and strong yet he is alone and bored. Sukuna has done everything he has fought and killed but like kashimo said that caught up to him and now he is tired of it he wishes to experience the unity and stuff that the others fighting him are experiencing. Sukuna has no purpose but to destroy at this point but he has caused so much that him destroying over and over again has just been a mundane cycle.

Yet things start to change as the tides are against him and he may taste losing for the first time.

In conclusion, sukuna is an abstract and literal ideology of nihilism to a cerian extent and conveys the big bad villain trope in a fantastic way. I find him way more well written than AFO and muzan.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk manga #jjk rambles #jjk ramblings #jjk critical #jjk spoilers #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jjk analysis #sukuna being yujis uncle is way better than them being twins #i actually dont mind sukuna but kenjaku is just better #kenjakus behaviour needss to be studied the dude is insane #jjk parallels #jjk contrasts #jjk has some serious family drama and iam here for it #jjk meta #jjk rant

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worldunbent · 3 days

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a difference between the experience of reading the natsuyuu manga and watching the anime which is only interesting to me is that there's no distinction between special chapters and regular ones in the anime. the reason i find that interesting is that the specials are, so far in my reread, the only chapters that spend any time completely outside of natsume's POV. when we see other characters' perspectives in regular chapters, it's typically part of an extended monologue or a memory being transmitted to natsume, so we're still not really leaving his perspective. the only times we leave his POV are when he's physically not present in a scene, and in those instances we usually don't get any narration or interior monologue from the other characters.

tanuma in "a suspicious visitor" is the only exception i can think of off the top of my head, though i'm sure there are others i'll get to and just don't remember at the moment. the scene between matoba and ban at the end of the homura arc, for example, is outside of natsume's POV by necessity but is pure dialogue with no interior narration because these are not characters to whom we have that kind of access! (for more on matoba's elusive subjectivity see sp15, says tumblr user worldunbent.)

the special chapters jump all over the place; so far i've gotten to chapters from the perspectives of little fox, an unnamed youkai, nyanko, tanuma, and hinoe (although hinoe's chapter is framed as a story she's telling natsume, so it could have fit in a regular chapter). they have a separate numbering system from the regular chapters, are much shorter, and almost always come at the end of volumes*. in the anime, however, there's absolutely nothing to distinguish the episodes adapting the specials from the ones adapting regular chapters other than the POV shifts, which gives anime-only viewers a very different impression of how the series approaches character interiority. i don't think there's anything wrong with this as an adaptation move and it's pretty much necessary, but it's just notable because in a series that's all about how people see the world differently, the choice to make such a distinction between chapters in the protagonist's POV and chapters from everyone else's POV is a significant one.

the reason i'm paying so much attention to POVs in this reread in the first place is because i've been listening to the podcast media club plus and jack, who is pretty new to anime, keeps pointing out the constant perspective shifts in hunter x hunter and the other hosts are like, "yeah, that's normal." this post from another listener expands on how and why it works as a genre norm in shonen battle anime/manga specifically. so now i'm just cursed to be hyperaware of POV shifts in anime/manga, and given that the three series i'm reading/watching at the moment are hxh, dungeon meshi, and natsuyuu, natsuyuu really stands out in how rarely it leaves natsume's head in the regular chapters. i guess i need to go read some more shoujo for a larger sample size lol

*i have a chapter spreadsheet 🤓 and the exceptions to this are sp18, which is just stuck in the middle of v22, sp20, which is the second-to-last chapter of v24, and sp21, which is the first chapter of v25. i understand the placement of sp20, which is "intermission detectives" and makes sense to have as an break between regular chapters, but i'll have to figure out what sp18&21 are doing when i get to them.

#i think as i get to more plot-heavy arcs with more characters there will be some POV shifts within regular chapters #but either it hasn't happened yet in what i've reread or i haven't noticed lol #natsuyuu.txt #the conversation between ban and matoba is fun to me because it's one of those only times in a regular chapter #that the reader gets access to concrete information that natsume doesn't have #there are definitely other moments like this such as the locked room in the miharu arc #but that's more about characterization and vibes.#after 100 chapters midorikawa is finally like you can have some dramatic irony. as a treat.

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sarahmackattack · 2 days

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Hi Sarah!

I have a cephalopod question: do ceph’s ever lose their suckers, and if so are they able to grow new ones?

And a SciComm question: do you have any advice for someone who wants to grow their career in SciComm? It’s my dream career but it seems like opportunities are few and far between.

Is it “better” to pursue a degree in a specific science, or to focus more on the education/teaching side of things?

(although a huge shoutout to you and the other SciComm folks sharing your passions! I did manage to get a part-time internship and job at my local zoo in their education department, and I only had the courage to pursue those opportunities thanks to people like you! Didn’t think I’d get this far, and now I can’t wait to take it even farther; I’ve just got to figure out how to get there first!)

Do ceph’s ever lose their suckers, and if so are they able to grow new ones? I'm sure they do! The regeneration of some species has been studied but not all of them so there's likely some species that are a little better at it than others (for example, it's probably something a predator that attacks very strong fast animals needs than an animal that primarily eats bivalves).

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to grow their career in SciComm? The trouble with this is that my job is very very weird, and doesn't exist in the kind of structure where you apply for a job →you get the job → you have a stable job. It's more similar to the safety and job structure of being an artist, but with a nonprofit thrown into the mix. It's... complicated! And not necessarily stable! All that to say, how I got here is not going to work for everyone and I honestly sometimes cant believe it worked/works for me at all. It might stop working any second.

But whatever here's what I did. I practiced science communication on social media and locally in Connecticut (where I was at the time). I tried to consume a lot of science communication and consider what was working in those pieces, and thought about what I enjoyed doing within that whole huge ecosystem. There's one zillion ways to do science communication, and different approaches will hit different audiences. It's totally critical for a lot of different people to be doing science communication in a way that feels genuine to them, in their own voices, with whatever methods they like doing the most so that as a collective, we hit the broadest patch of people. No one science communication technique is perfect for every "audience" member, so the diversity of approaches is so so important. I don't think that gets said enough. So explore! See what you like, see what you get joy out of doing, see how people react to it. Producing science communication as you're practicing will build out a portfolio of work that you can point to when you graduate.

There are a lot of kinds of science communication jobs. There's the freelance/DIY approach like having a podcast like Alie Ward, or founding a nonprofit (this is very hard and i don't recommend doing this lol), or having a successful youtube channel/social media situation like Hank Green or doing TV like Emily Calandrelli/Bill Nye/Phil Torres. Then there's working for an existing science education nonprofit like Biobus or Science Friday or working for institutions like museums/zoos/aquaria, etc. Theres also a whole field in the university system called "extension" where you're taking the work happening at the university and connecting the surrounding population with that work. Each of those jobs, particularly the older institution-based ones have their own structures and will come with different advice on how to get into those jobs. I'm not really sure about those. Having that science communication portfolio will likely help for all of them though!

As far as what to do for school... I think the true but kinda complicated answer is that often what we do for school isn't directly related to what we end up doing. The skills we build while we're in school, and the connections we make are really what determines where we end up and what we end up doing. So... really take seriously the stuff you're doing that nobody's telling you to do. That's as important as class... and honestly, in my personal experience, it's way more important than what you do in class.

#science communication #squid #cephalopods #career #career advice #your mileage may vary

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breezytealy · 3 days

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Summoning Goten and Trunks fans

HI RIGHT so I'm trying to get ages and school years for Goten and Trunks and it's driving me bonkers (working out Blue Hal but birthdays will do), feel free to chip in and correct, I'll update the original post with strikethrough corrections if needs be.

ETA: would be too much to correct but @secretsofdbz has a really good breakdown of why we can consider Daizenshuu (and therefore most online timelines) as out in the reblogs. The post below attempts to square Daizenshuu by squinting but sounds like it's neater to just ignore it. It's too late for my fics I'm stuck with parkour, but maybe not for yours if you're particular!)

At the end of the day it doesn't matter but I like everything to line up as best as possible and headcanon what I can't.

They're born 767 and 766 respectively, Future Trunks is postulated as Nov 766 as he's stated he was born about six months before the androids arrive. We know Goten is born after late May 767's Cell games.

In the early May 774 tournament before Buu we know they give their ages as 7 and 8, but since that's impossible for Goten I like to think he rounded up and Trunks was born earlier than Future Trunks. Trunks could have also lied but we know the timestream changes and it's just funnier to me that a 6 year old would lie to be a cooler age, especially if his friend is 8.

Running with those constraints we're at:

Goten: May 767 - Dec 767

Trunks: Jan 766 - early May 766

I thinkkk Blue Hal takes place 3 months before Super Hero, which is when Pan is 3. She's born 779 (seeing references to May?) so Blue Hal at the latest is early 783 could be late 782? She's also supposed to have just started kindergarten in Blue Hal, but I don't have the Japanese scan to see if it's Japanese or American naming, and kids join nursery all the time so idk if there's strict timing help there. We also know Goten and Trunks are one school year apart.

So! Taking late 782 for arguments sake:

Trunks is 16 turning 17 sooner rather than later

Goten is 15, turning 16 later rather than sooner

In the Japanese system which runs April to April and three year high school, to keep them only a year apart Trunks needs to be born after April (so basically born in April 766), making him a first year high schooler (already turned 16), so Goten is a final year middle schooler (May 767 - Dec 767, has or will turn 15 in that apr 782-mar 783 school year).

BUT we know they go to the same school, and it's literally written as "high school" in the Japanese, and it's in West City, so they could be a freshman and sophomore.

Going further, if it's a Western High School the American system runs September to September, that means Trunks can be born Jan-early May 766 and Goten May 776-Aug 767 for the year gap, and in that case Goten is a sophomore and Trunks is a Junior, as they'll be turning 16 and 17 in their respective school year.

So I can get all my ducks in a neat little row with a very constrained pick of April 766 and July 767 for birthdays. I think?

WHEEZE

#goten #trunks #dbz #someone must have this knowledge in their heads #i also hc that Saiyan pregnancies grow fast last minute too so chichi can stay slim for Cell Games #I know some people use Goten as a premie instead

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soullessjack · 2 days

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🔥 jack

oh my godddd I have so many unpopular opinions where do I even start….HOLY DISCLAIMER BATMAN!

anyways so in no particular order or tier system:

✯ i don’t think jack would wear anything feminine im sorry spn fandom. for lolz he has same-outfit-pattern-everyday autism and for serious it’s like. Really weird how fandoms tend to HC/portray non-binary amabs (and men/transmascs in general) almost exclusively as GNC or fem-presenting…like DGMW that is a real and valid form of self expression but it’s not the Only type of non-binary expression that exists. and honestly…**dare I say that most fandom/queer spaces just need to realize that queer masculinity exists and it doesn’t always have to be a matter of breaking gender norms??

** genuinely do whatever u want idc I can’t stop you i don’t want to stop you yada yada. paint his nails and put him in a skirt all u want but Please recognize patterns yall 😭

✯ more headcanon complaints (see disclaimer above ⇧) but I promise to switch it up soon. anyways every time somebody on this lil website says something along the lines of “Jack can’t handle/doesn’t like [insert violence, scary or adult-oriented thing], he prefers [soft or blatantly childlike things]” I shrivel inward like a dead spider. It’s annoying, it’s completely inaccurate to his canon personality and interests, it’s annoying ˣ2, and whether ppl wanna admit it or not—it stems from infantilization. not necessarily ableism, as infantilization is not exclusive to disabled people, but still just about the same thing.

honestly all I see of majority jack headcanons are ones that set him back to just being a child or otherwise being treated like one. for example, the one about him being able to shapeshift is pretty cool...until it just becomes about him deciding to age regress, yknow, to an age set he canonically chose not to go through, showed no desire to be in, and is more offended than anything to be considered as such. all of his interests have to be some shit like bluey or animal crossing, and he drinks apple juice from a sippy cup instead of beer. BARF.

I’ve lessened on my keyboard warring over babyjack in the past year but I have not lessened in being a hater. and I’ve said this before, but the baby-jack au already breached headcanon containment a long time ago when it’s not only so widespread that ppl take it for canon and it makes having any intelligent conversation about him nearly fucking Impossible, but it also lead to harassment and accusations of being a fucking predator, to anyone who dared find a whole grown man attractive. any potential jack ship, like jackharper? automatic grooming case to them. it’s like the fandom is just so dead set on this idea that jack really truly is a child in every aspect you can think of, and for what? if it’s just a headcanon, something you know is not part of the actual show, then don’t go Travis the Chimp levels of apeshit when you see him being treated like he is canonically 💀

unpopular opinion numero 3 which is slightly connected to 2:

✯ baby-jack and a handful of the domestic au’s are BORING (see disclaimer again ⇧), not just on a surface level to my suiting, but also because I feel like it just ..misses the point of the show?

the ragtag untraditional found family is now as nuclear and traditional as the Atomic Age. Dean and Cas are the most heteronormative “who wears the pants in the relationship” gay couple ever, Sam is demoted to the uncle that gets written out of his own family, Jack is just there to make his gay dads look cute and emphasize that they’re a gay family (while still being very heteronormative), and at least 5 of them could be found in a California gated community. everything that made any of them unique or defined their personalities is just scrubbed off, even for an AU.

so much of the later seasons focus on Sam and Dean realizing that they don’t have to make a hard splitting decision between the lives they want to live; that they can find a balance; be happy and have good things—namely families—without giving up hunting (and vice versa, that they can have hunting without giving up on family or happiness). everybody loves the gay hunters from S10(?12?) and what they represented for Dean, but I almost never see that be put into practice in the fandom.

THEY’RE ALREADY DOMESTIC!!! AND WITH THAT PERFECT BALANCE!!!! Season 13 quite literally gave Team Free Will a surrogate son to raise and established them as a family; highly untraditional, largely dysfunctional, overall not fitting of a family family, and yet they are a family still. Dean wears an apron and cooks and bakes for everyone; he built himself a man cave and established two separate family night events that they all ritually keep up; Sam has a morning jogging routine and visits his girlfriend every so often; Jack was taught how to drive, has normal chores like washing dishes, and gets groceries. And they didn’t just have that while fighting monsters—they had that while fighting a whole fucking archangel. Even if it did go down the gutter by the end, they still had it: domestic familial bliss and violent messy hunting without having to trade one for the other.

✯ I truly genuinely think Jack’s relationship with Dean is the best, most interesting and most misunderstood out of the three, and I also think that the problems with his relationship to Cas and Sam are hugely overlooked by the fandom—granted they are very small, especially if you’re comparing it to Dean, but they’re still there and I think we should bully Cas and Sam about it more. I shan’t elaborate because it’s 5AM and this was an impulsive add-on ❤️

✯ getting normal now…his plaid pattern jacket from the first half of Ouroboros is ugly as SHIT i have never liked it and don’t think I ever will. but I cannot deny it; he got that shit on.

✯ most unpopular opinion of all, I wanna do insane shit to his cervix 🙌

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theworldoffostering · 3 days

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You guys, I feel like I’m drowning. These past three weeks have felt unmanageable to me. Like, I don’t know how to keep going.

I’m walking alongside (trying the best I know how) the older girls as one navigates this break up and the other tries to transition to college. We got DD a car, but it still needs a few repairs. She was here all afternoon today working on it with DH.

I am waiting for the updated version of Ms. 6’s IEP to hit my inbox to send it off to the school. I am also working on her housing contract. Then I think I can step back for a few weeks. Still trying to figure out what’s going on with graduation. Her mom is back to letting her go to it and maybe allow her to stay for dinner, but it’s Memorial Day weekend and I don’t want to put a deposit down for a dinner somewhere only to have her not be allowed to attend at the last minute. I also don’t want to disappoint her. I’m unsure of how to proceed, so I’m just sort of frozen.

DS takes his civics test next week. You have to pass in order to graduate high school. He has prepared and seems like he will do well. He’s also pole vaulting and doing well at that for being a novice and having very little practice time due to the crummy weather we’ve been having.

Work is a lot right now. It’s to be expected due to the time of year. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s a lot to slog through.

DH was verbally offered a job this week as a special education teacher. He is supposed to return to school to get his teaching certification in about a week, and is waiting for a letter of intent via email from the potential employer. It’s a lot. We are trying to manage the financial aid piece and we are up against a super tight deadline right now. His interview for the job was virtual, so he’s heading to the school next week to actually tour it and meet his potential coworkers. In the spirit of living in a small town, one of the women he used to live who was in live with him (for real)—the housing situation was work related—works at the school. She has legit not spoken to myself or DH since he and I got engaged so that seems like it will be super awkward (although she is also married now and has kids).

DH is finally seeing a decent therapist and between the therapist and neuropsych eval he had done during fall, it is apparent he is super depressed. Depressed is apparently his baseline and super depressed happens quite a bit. It is helpful to have it identified, but wow, it is a lot to live with. I am really struggling as his wife because he cannot do much and is not really emotionally available 90% of the time. He’s so inwardly focused, that he cannot focus on me, the kids, relationships, stuff that needs to be done, etc. I’m drowning and he cannot take on any of the workload. It sucks.

My endocrin had me take b12 supplements the last three months and my level actually decreased. I’m starting up with b12 injections next week. My TSH is also super, super low which means I’m hyperhyroid and should be losing weight, but I’m gaining which also sucks.

My endocrin is out of network for me which means my injections will be out of network. I have ZERO out of network benefits. The whole healthcare system is atrocious. I refuse to go back to the three endocrins I saw before I connected with my current one. They were all terrible, but in network. I need a super expensive full body scan but I for sure cannot pay for that out of pocket, so I’m waiting to see if my GP will prescribe it when I see him in June.

My crown also broke this week and when the dentist looked at it, I had worn a hole clear through the middle. He said it was due to grinding/stress. I wear a mouth guard religiously at night, so it’s happening during the day. :-/ Cue more medical bills. They glued my current one back on and can’t get me in to work on repair until June. I almost cried when trying to schedule with them because I just cannot even do all of this any more. (It also hurt wicked bad last time they fixed it so I’m somewhat terrified to return.)

That’s my list of complaints/brain dump. There’s more, but I need to wrap up some grading and get dinner going. I miss a life that was easier and less complicated.

#adulting #complaining

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hoao · 7 hours

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our morals are what we serve neatly on a thin plate. sometimes, when confronted with unexpected radical changes, our hands waver where they’re holding these plates full of morality. geto’s morals first crack when gojo dies, only for him to come back from the death anyway. riko stays dead, though, only haunting him in memories of bright skies and clean waters and big smiles.

sweet haibara comes back from his mission as a breathless corpse. geto’s morals crack and crack and crack. he turns them over and over again in his head, not being able to anchor himself to the same old notions of good and evil and weak and strong that he used to advocate for. with gojo away on his own so much, thoughts rush in.

who is it that he needs to protect? who’s really hurting who? and he hates the system he’s serving, because it does nothing but add weight to his already overwhelmingly full plate. if two young sweet sisters can look this scared and tremble this much at their age, geto supposes evil is everywhere around him — not the courses he swallows, not the courses he kills, not the sorcerers who get killed one after the other, no, the weak.

his plate shatters and crumbles to the floor, to the point where there’s blood on his hands and a dead village. he’s never guilty afterwards, the sun seems especially bright when shoko calls gojo and leads him to geto himself. it’s still bright as he gazes into gojo’s angry and confused gaze, an ocean between them, “are you the strongest because you’re gojo satoru? or are you gojo satoru because you’re the strongest?” .

you’re my best friend and i thought you dead long enough to grieve you.

geto never really finds out that his shattered morals and his radicalized beliefs and his new life aren’t reason enough for him to stop being loved. nanami doesn’t blame him, shoko leaves the meeting room when he’s being talked about, and gojo does nothing but love him as the years go by. he doesn’t find out about it until he’s sitting against a wall, sweaty bangs pinched to his forehead, a wound too bad to be overlooked, and a man so familiar calling his name so lovingly.

our morals are so fragile it only takes one truth to shake them up. objectively, geto’s faults lie visibly for everyone to see. there were so many things he could’ve done instead of what he did, but how much of it was his doing and how badly were the circumstances driving him insane? a whole dead village for two little girls. innocents (not according to him) dead for a new dream.

the only reason riko had to die and gojo was killed and haibara was killed and sorcerers kept dying and gojo was being used and used and used and his little girls were locked in a cage for being who they were. if he kills them all, then what?

morals change, we are never the same.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanart #meta #hoao.s #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto #suguru #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk spoilers #gojo #i think we all get extreme thoughts at least once and we simply don’t act on them #satosugu #stsg

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sillyfanatic · 14 hours

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It’s my birthday. Have a pirate sonadow blurb 🫡

He doesn’t think there’s another feeling like it – the sun warming your face, the salty air carried around by a soft breeze – it’s almost like heaven.

Shadow relishes in the feeling of the sunlight on his fur, a warmth unlike any other; it had always felt as though it was an embrace from the sky itself.

The wind picked up as they sailed through the day, their destination unknown. The ship was fully stocked, and she had been well maintained too. The crew was happy, they’d gotten to stretch their legs on the land. It had been an opportunity for some to be alone, the others choosing to socialize with anyone that lived outside of the boat.

There was no place to go, no one awaiting their arrival. It was a moment in-between, one that was sure to leave as fast as it had come.

Sighing, Shadow signaled another crew member to take the wheel, allowing him to store himself away in his cabin.

He was glad to have a moment of rest, but his years of surviving off scraps had left his nervous system a wreck: he was unable to “relax” as it were, always needing to do something useful with his time.

As he stepped into his cabin, he tried to shake the feeling that crept bellow his stomach.

He eyed the bed.

You should lay down.

And yet his desk called to him;

You should make yourself useful. Do not waste your time, you know better than to do something foolish like that.

Huffing, the hedgehog made his way to his rather empty working surface. It wouldn’t stay like this for very long – there was always work to do, something to check off the never-ending list.

And so he started.

On everything and anything, Shadow kept himself busy. He charted courses, logged in progress, assured everything was up-to-date and stocked to its maximum capacity.

He read and wrote, turned away from the sun and the salty air, he found ways to make himself busy. To make use of his time.

He did so until there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” He grunted, that little voice in his head trying to tell him to ignore the knock, the distraction.

Behind the wooden door appeared a familiar shade of blue – trouble in the form of a hedgehog.

“Sonic.” He greeted, rather passively, as he drew up some old paperwork he’d meant to organize many moons ago.

“Captain.” The other said in return, nodding his head with a little smile. Said captain glanced at his crewmate, a little dip in his brow – curiosity.

“Out with it.” He said, though it wasn’t harsh. He knew Sonic well enough to know that he’d not come here for nothing, and the longer he stayed, the less work Shadow would get done.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I suppose.”

Taking a few steps forward, the blue hedgehog stood at the front of his captain’s desk, casting a shadow onto his paperwork. “Why’re you in here?” He tilted his head as he spoke.

“Working.” Was the simple answer, an incomplete one.

“I see that, but-“ He took a breath, pouting for a second as he thought. “Forgive my rudeness here…” Another little pause, as if he was hesitant to continue. Still, ever the risk-taker, he proceeded: “There isn’t really any work to do. You shouldn’t be working.”

“Pardon?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, you’ve been working hard for weeks now, and… you have to admit it, there’s nothing to do.”

“Tcht.” He had to force himself to not roll his eyes at the other. “There’s always something to do.”

“I mean, if you think that way, yeah, there’s always something to do.” He shrugged his shoulders, soft smile lining his lips. “But thinking that way’ll kill ya.”

“Oh, don’t be-“

But before he could give into his annoyance, the dark hedgehog heard his words turn to muffling as a hand came down to stop his speech.

“Shadow.” The other spoke, eyes locking with his. A crew member shouldn’t be so familiar with their captain. And a captain should never allow it, should never encourage it. And yet, Shadow seemed to do both those things. “It’s a beautiful day, there is nothing to do. You should enjoy it.” The hand was removed, allowing him to respond.

He opened his mouth to… refuse? To yell at Sonic to leave? To ask him how he dared speak to his captain in this way?

To accept?

The choice was made for him – before he knew what to do, he’d been dragged onto the deck, gloved hands linked to strong blue arms tugging him across the ship.

It wasn’t long before they were still, watching the ocean from behind the strong wooden railing of their ship.

His every instinct told him to leave.

But the life in Sonic’s eyes begged him to stay.

How could he ever refuse such a thing?

As they took in the salty air, they filled the quietness of the day with banter, their laughter lost to the horizon.

And Shadow thought this was better than the sea breeze and the sun - Sonic was better than the sea breeze and the sun. He was as rowdy and free as the ocean, as strong and reliable as the sails that pushed them through it. And as the captain gazed upon his crew mate he knew that this was no ordinary friendship, that this was a gem in an empty and vast sea, one that only came around once in a lifetime.

He’s be a fool not to seize the opportunity.

A/N

Yoooooo crimson part two ??!!;!;;!;! After almost 2 years ,??:?!. I haven’t named this but I’ll post it on ao3 :3 hope y’all enjoy I am RUSTY !

<- previous part

#shadow #sonic #sonadow #myr writes #my writing #pirate sonadow #captain shadow #crewmate sonic #shadnic

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a-french-coconut · 20 hours

Text

Part 2 (Will Solace)

Will wakes up tired.

The sun greets him as usual but there is... a coldness that has never been there before. No matter how much he exposes himself to the sunlight, he can't shake the feeling that he isn't receiving enough solar energy.

His father must be going to a rough time.

It's not like he needs the boost of energy the sun gives him in the morning, coffee is more than enough, but he appreciates it. He'll just have to do without.

As head counsellor and main healer, Will spends most of his time in the infirmary, sometimes helped by Austin and Kayla. However, today he is alone and growing grouchy every time a camper enters with an injury.

A sprained ankle, second degree burns, dislocated shoulder, broken arm.

Will deals with this daily, he knows how to heal any of those and without problem. And he still does.

But gods does it exhaust him.

It's not supposed to. After years of honing his skills, broken bones are not the challenge they used to be.

Except for today and it's getting on his nerves. He makes back-handed comments to those coming to the infirmary, leaving them and himself bewildered.

Sure he is not always the sunny happy-going healer Camp knows but he enjoys healing.

Something is definitely wrong with him.

It has to be the lack of sun, he doesn't see any other explanation.

He stayed in the infirmary until after dinner, taking Kayla's late night shift after her sister promised him she would do the morning one.

There's no one except him, all campers are enjoying the bonfire.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock

Will watches the clock, waiting until it indicates 9pm and he can get out of there and in his warm bed.

He already made all the beds, rearranged in alphabetical order all the salves and medicines in the cabinet and looked randomly in the campers' files to find some interesting facts (he finally understand why Clarisse was always in a sour mood before leaving for college : being allergic to strawberries here sucks).

Will is bored out of his mind and ready to dash out of here.

Only ten more minutes.

He takes a bandage's roll and mindlessly put in on his arms, humming a tune his mother taught him.

Eight minutes.

He shoots darts at random objets, sometimes (mostly) missing.

Four minutes.

The door opens and Miranda Gardiner walks in, looking at him strangely.

He supposes he deserves it. As last form of entertainment, he resulted to stick the most ridicules band-aids he had to his face. Maybe not the brightest idea but sue him, he was bored.

The clock chimes, indicating the sweet moment of release except he can't really say to Miranda to wait until next morning.

"Hi Miranda, how can I help you ?"

He must be rocking the professional look, Hello Kitty, Minions and Rarity adorning his face.

"Hum, my head is hurting and I'm sweating. I thought that maybe I had fever and you could check ?"

Will groans internally. If Miranda happens to have fever, she'll have to stay the night. Which implies he also has to stay to monitor her.

"Sure, let me see."

He takes her hand and concentrates.

He can feel the blood flowing in her veins, and most importantly he can feel the immune system kicking in. She does have fever.

Will's eyes twitch.

"Bad news: you have a small fever. Good news: I can just heal you and we both can return to our very comfortable, cosy, plushy, and hum, luxurious beds !"

He completes his rather convincing argument if he says so himself with a bright smile.

Miranda just looks at him with concern.

He could heal her with traditional hymns to his father but he frankly does not want to. Fever is a sickness and so he'll get rid of it much faster with his sickness powers.

A flawless logic his father would proud of.

Hey Raz, I know I never ask you anything but could you heal this girl's fever ? I really need to sleep right now and that's not happening if I have to stay up all night surveying her.

Radio silence.

Will frowns, his little own personal plague spirit always took the chance to talk.

Raz ? You there ?

Still no voice in his mind. It's silent.

Will's mind is never silent. There is always a background noise, a buzzing indicating the presence of another spirit.

A buzzing, Will realises with panic, that has not been present since he woke up this morning tired.

"Hum Will ? You good ?"

Ah yes, Miranda.

"Obviously I'm good ! I'm great even, everything's peachy and sunny and I just have to, I have to, hum, look at your file ! Yes that's it and write down your fever you know ? Because I need to keep track of what happens to you guys !"

Without waiting a response to his disastrous rambling, Will locks himself with the files.

Raz is not responding.

He's been feeling down since he woke up.

He has not been receptive to the sun as if...

As if a part of him was not there to capture the solar energy.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, this can't be happening !

There is no way he's that unlucky.

Ten years of hiding his little secret so that no one knows the wickedness he has inside him.

Ten years of suppressing every pulsing of rage and wrath, cumulating power or power doing so, until it burns below his skin, the plague begging to be released.

If he has no control anymore over Raz and she decides to cause a little chaos...

Okay relax Will, she would start with something small right ? Like a cold, a fev...

"Will everything's okay in there ?"

His eyes widens and he bolts out of the files room, surprising Miranda who is beginning to look very concern about his mental health. He looks at her straight in the eyes and with the most casualness he can muster, aks her :

"Did a little girl touch you today ?"

The daughter of Demeter seems considering now to put in an asylum.

"An unknown little girl, about five years old ? Brown eyes and braids ?" he specifies.

"Huh maybe ? But what does she have to do with my-"

"Forget it, I'm just tired and blabbering nonsense."

Fortunately she doesn't push. It would be hard to announce her that a plague spirit is wandering within Camp borders and possibly infecting everyone she touches.

He heals her quickly, burning all the energy he had left and goes back to his cabin.

He may have had a panic attack on the way but nothing he couldn't handle really.

He's fine.

Totally fine.

Raz is not going to leave his mind until he's one foot in the grave when he catches her.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #heroes of olympus #miranda gardiner #will solace has plague powers #plague will #will solace

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sydsaint · 2 days

Text

Things are a-changing in everyone's favorite polycule!!!

Summary: The WWE draft rolls around and GM!Reader invites Ava to observe. But that's not the only thing on her agenda for the first night of the draft.

It's late Thursday night as you finish up packing your bags for your flight to Cincinnati. Smackdown is hosting the first night of the draft in the city tomorrow, and it's bound to be an interesting show.

Off to the side of the room, the door creaks open. You glance at the door as Knight leans against the door frame. "You almost ready to go, gorgeous?" He asks you.

"Yeah." You nod and turn back to your bag. "Is everything in the apartment off? And did you set the feeder on the fish tank for the weekend?" You ask him.

Knight pushes off the door and walks over to you. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. "Everything is taken care of, darlin'. Like always." He assures you. "Your boy toys are already on their flight. We're just waiting on you now, boss lady." He teases you.

"God, reliability is so sexy on you." You zip up your suitcase before turning around in Knight's arm. You wrap your arms around his neck and lean up for a kiss. "Can you take my bags down? I need to make a quick phone call before we get to the airport."

"Of course, darlin." Knight nods and lets you go from his arms. "Anything for you, sweetheart." He winks at you before grabbing your bags and hauling them off out to the car.

You fish your phone from your back pocket and begin switching off lights as you move through the apartment. You dial the number you need and the line rings a few times before someone finally picks up.

"Yeah? This is, Ava." A sweet female voice answers the call.

"Ava!" You smile to yourself and switch the last light in the apartment off. "Hey, it's YN. The GM for Smackdown?" You introduce yourself.

You hear rustling on the other side of the phone before Ava finally answers you. "Yeah! Of course! Hi." She answers with enthusiasm. "What can I do for you?" She asks you.

"I actually had a sort of business proposition for you." You explain. "I'm going to assume you know that Smackdown is hosting the first night of the draft, right?" You ask Ava.

"Yeah." Ava replies.

You linger at the front door of the apartment and check the security system one last time before locking the door and stepping outside. "Well, I'd like to formally invite you to Smackdown to be a guest on the show." You inform Ava. "If, of course, you're willing to fly out to Cincinnati by tomorrow night."

"Really?" Ava sounds surprised by your proposal. "Umm, yeah! That sounds great! I think that I can make it in time for Smackdown tomorrow." She adds, and you can hear more rustling on the other end of the line.

"Sounds great!" You smile to yourself. "Listen, I have to head out and catch my flight. But you have my number, so text me when you get your travel plans figured out. We can talk more later, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Ava agrees and hangs up the call.

You put your phone back into your pocket and make your way out to the car. Knight has just finished packing up your bags by the time you get out there and greets you.

"You have a productive phone call?" Knight asks you.

"It was, yes." You nod and walk around to the passenger side of the car.

Knight comes around with you and gets the door. "Glad to hear it, sweetie. You ready to go?" He asks you.

You nod and the two of you head out to the airport.

The next afternoon you pull into the arena in Cincinnati alone, Knight, Waller, and Theory haven already arrived and been engrossed in some meet-and-greets for a few hours now. You head through the security gate and make your way down to your office. When you step into the hallway leading to said office, Waller and Theory are mingling outside the door.

"Gray? Austin?" You catch their attention as you make your way toward them. "What are you two doing back here? Don't you have a meet-and-greet before the show?" You glance down at your watch, briefly.

"Event ended a little bit ago." Austin explains and pushes off the wall he's been leaning against.

Grayson does the same and springs up to help you with the bag slung over your shoulder. "Thank you, sweetie." You thank Grayson and make it to your office door.

You head inside the office with Grayson and Austin following behind you. Grayson sets your bag down onto the desk in the room and you walk around it to sit down in the provided chair.

"How'd the event go? Lots of screaming girls thirsting over the two of you?" You muse and begin unloading your bag.

"Well, we are WWE's sexiest tag team." Austin chuckles and leans against the front of your desk.

Grayson laughs with him and they high-five before Grayson turns back to you. "Not that you ever have to worry about any of those simps, YN." He assures you.

"Good to know." You giggle and boot up your laptop. "Did either of you see Knight at the event center?" You ask them, attention on your laptop.

"We went by his booth on the way out of the center." Austin answers you. "He looked like he was wrapping things up."

You nod and enter your password on your laptop to boot things up. "Good, I have something for him to do for me tonight." You glance up at Austin and Grayson. "As for you two. No match tonight, sorry. But! I do have you two scheduled against Tez and Dawkins next week." You inform them.

"Not a problem." Grayson replies confidently. "That mean you're kicking us out for the night?" He jokes with you.

"Fraid so, pretty boy." You nod with a playful smile. "After one of you gets me a coffee from catering." You add.

Austin and Grayson both chuckle and Austin nods at you. "I got you, babe."

Gray and Austin head out and you try and get some work done before everyone from the Smackdown and Raw draft teams begin to show up. Knight eventually shows up to check in on you after he's done with his meet-and-greet.

"Working hard in here, sweetheart?" Knight saunters into the room with his usual confident swagger.

"Extremely." You laugh. "Thanks for stopping in, sweetie. I've got a job for you to handle real quick, then you're off for the night with the boys." You explain.

Knight nods and leans on your desk. He waits patiently and watches you answer a text on your phone before you turn your attention back to him.

"I've got a special guest joining me on Smackdown tonight." You set your phone down and glance up at him. "Ava Raine from NXT. She should be arriving soon. So, can you meet her and bring her down her for me, please?" You ask him.

"Sure." Knight nods. "No problem. Ava Raine, huh? She's that bright-eyed girl you were talking with last week at the PC, right?" He asks you.

You nod and get another text on your phone. You read it briefly and rise out of your chair. "Thank you, sweetie. You can just bring her back here. But I've got to go meet with Pearce and Hunter really fast before the show." You explain.

Knight nods and gets the door for you. The two of you part ways for the time being, and Knight heads on down to the loading docks to wait for Ava to show up.

It isn't long before Ava's uber pulls into the loading bay. She thanks the driver with a grateful smile and checks her phone one last time. There's a text waiting for her when she unlocks it.

Sent one of my boys down to meet you. See you in my office! :)

Ava reads the text before locking her phone again and stepping out of the back of her Uber. She scans the loading bay for signs of anyone waiting for her and it doesn't take her long to notice lingering around.

"Umm...hi." Ava walks over to Knight, unsure if he's who she should be lookingg for. "LA Knight, right?" She asks nervously.

"You know it, sweetheart." Knight flashes a grin at Ava and nods. "Boss sent me down to pick you up." He explains. "Come on. She wants you in her office before Smackdown starts."

Ava nods and follows behinnd Knight as he takes off further into the building. She rushes to Knight's side and falls into step with him.

"It's nice to meet you, by the way." Ava offers Knight a friendly smile. "Officialy I mean. I obviously know who are and all." She adds with a laugh.

"Pleasures all mine, sweetheart." Knight replies smoothly.

The rest of the journey back to your office is mostly silent. The pair reach the door and Knight knocks twice before pulling open the door.

"I went ahead and picked up that special package for you, darlin." Knight announces as he comes through the door with Ava.

"Perfect! Thank you, Shaun, sweetie. That's all I need for tonight." You look up from your phone, sitting beind your desk and looking all professional. "Ava!" You stand up and greet her with a wide smile. "It's good to see you again. I am so glad that you could make it."

You come around the desk and pull Ava into a hug. Knight gives you a nod and heads off back to the locker rooms for the night.

"I'm super honored that you offered to have me on the show!" Ava replies as you release her from your embrace.

"Of course!" You nod and gesture for Ava to take a seat while the two of you still have time to chat. "I like you, Ava. Honestly? You remind me alot of myself 20 years ago." You admit.

Ava nods and you can read the surprise on her face at your claim. "Really? Wow." She gushes. "I don't really know what to say." Ava rubs the back of her neck.

"Don't sweat it, Ava." You laugh casually. "You've got all the making of a future powerhouse in this business, kid. You're smart, talented, and passsioniate. Not to mention who your father is." You add. "All you need is a little guidance. And I'm here to provide that for you."

"You are?" Ava replies. "But why me?" She asks you.

You smile to yourself and glance down at your watch. Hunter and Pearce will be by to grab you any minute now.

"Like I said earlier. I like you, Ava." You answer her. "And, we need more women in posistions of power in this business, don't you think?" You add.

Ava nods and your smile widens. "Atta girl, Ava. Now come on!" You rise out of your chair and pick up a few papers off your desk. "Smackdown is airing in about ten minutes so we should be heading down to the conference rooms." You gesture for her to follow you.

Ava nods again and pops quickly to her feet. The two of you mingle all the way down to the conference rooms. Hunter and Pearce are both waiting when you arrive.

"YN." Hunter greets you with a friendly smile and handshake before noticing Ava standing behind you. "And, Ava?" He glances at her.

"Ava's here on my request, Hunter." You explain. "I felt like since some of her NXT stars are eligable to be called up tonight that she should be involved, right?"

Hunter nods in agreement and you take it as a good sign. Hunter and Ava step away to chat for a minute and you turn toward Pearce idling nearbye.

"Got a new pupil, YN?" Pearce teases you casually. "I gotta say. I never pegged you for the sympathetic type." He adds.

"Ava's an investment into the future of this company, Adam." You reply. "And you'd be smart to become friendly with her. Or I might end up aquiring all of NXT's best stars." You grin at him.

Pearce snorts and the two of you shake hands. Hunter lets Ava go and she returns to your side. Smackdown kicks off live on the air so Hunter heads off to appear on camera. You and Pearce step up to your respective conference rooms and head inside them. Ava follows silently behind you as you step inside the room.

"Good evening everyone." You adress the room. "I'm sure some of you regonize Ava Raine, the GM of NXT. Ava is here as a guest of mine, here to observe and learn." You explain. "Now! Let's all get to work in making sure that Smackdown stays the A-show, shall we? Starting with making sure that we draft Carmelo Hayes before Raw has a chance to take him."

You make your way across the room and sit down at the head of the table. You nod to the empty seat to your right and Ave sits doww silently.

Now it's time to get to work.

#wrestling #wwe x reader #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fic #pro wrestling fandom #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #la knight #la knight x reader #austin theory x reader #austin theory #grayson waller #grayson waller x reader #wwe #ava raine #gm reader

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