#if i get any hatred i’ll immediately remove it :

[el-buzz]

📚 Cg! Clay HCS!!! 💚🎶

Aggagaggaggag first hc list I do EVERRR (so please be kind (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) /💗💗)

Cg! Clay x Agere! Reader!!

pretty much gender neutral!!

Cw: caps lock (just me having happy outbursts), um lotsa author notes and commentary I just wanna talk about him and about how he would be as a cg :ccc, also this is incredibly self indulgent

Also there was no proof reading ☠️

(Crossposted on ao3 @Soft_Buzz!! oh and I’ll update this if I get a new hc idea)

Anyways here you go 💚:

•nicknames for you: kiddo, baby, bubba, bubba wubba (he’s squeezing your cheeks and baby talking you 😭😭), prince/princess/ lil highness/royal, and a number of other sweet nicknames or any that you prefer!

•he would be suuuuuch a sweet and doting caregiver waaaaaaah but he would definitely ensue rules for you! Calm and Strict(ish) cg! Clay would pull up to make sure you are safe and healthy even if you are feeling big!!

•he’d hate to see you hurt or sick, but he’d do everything thing in his power to nurse you back to health :]!

•Clay would definitely provide his kiddo with healthy snack or with fruit or veggie cups!

•Although Clay’s sorta strict he can be soooo soft he always want to hold you, whether it’s your hand/pinkie or cuddle up with you.

•You are his battery and he wants to recharge.

* HE WOULD SOOOO READ TO YOUUUU AHHH he loooooves reading so ofc he’d love to share that interest with his little one

• (please it’s the cutest thing ever)

• imagine him beside you with a book open (he has his reading glasses on :3) and as he reads, he gives all the different characters different voices and will always put emotion into his reading voice, which always leads to you giggling or you gasping in surprise.

• One time you insisted that you were big enough for his sad book club and that you wouldn’t become a big puddle of tears so he gave you Charlotte’s Web to read.

• You were a mess. You didn’t stop being sad for the next couple of HOURS (yes this is a reference to that JD fan art ifykyk☠️)

• Clay had to give you so many hugs, cuddles, and kisses to make up for it. He thought it’d be funny, but he sorta forgot how emotional of a little one you can be.

• “I’m so so sorry baby.” *kiss* “How can I make it up to you?? I’ll do anything”

• oh you’d grin a that. You choose to either do dress up WITH make up or draw on his face and mess around with his hair. AND ice cream.

• You took soooo many pictures (and you may or may have not shared them with Viva, Poppy, and his brothers) Clay says he hates you for it, but secretly believes it was so worth it to see that sparkle in your eyes

• he bought you a piggy and a spider (with little bb spiders) stuffie. Even if you have arachnophobia, you hugged those stuffies while crying happy tears. You gave him a tight hug which he softly returned and gave you a forehead kiss.

• (This whole event was also the birth of your happy scrapbook club!! (even though it just you :} ) )

• You and Clay will just sit together while reading different things. Him with some well recognized and praised novel or book and you with a happy lil scrapbook in your hands!

• I’d also like to think he has a puppet character like Bandit does with unicorse! (Maybe a dragon but that just me :])

• (Clay and Branch be matching with their ventriloquism skills lol)

• If you seem to be clumsy or fall often he starts to develop a sort of spider sense for it and will catch you before disaster happens

• OKOK I know this is gonna sound random buuuut I believe Clay is the type to carry lollipops, and sometimes other candy, around. Idk like I can just picture him a with a lollipop in his mouth trying to look all serious/mysterious and nonchalant LOL

• ANYWAYS back to the Agere stuff

• I think that after completing a task or being good, Clay would def give his kiddo a lollipop as a treat!! that orrrrr if his kiddo seems to be regressing in public and they really want/need a paci or just something to fixate on then boom!!! Lollipop! :D

• Talking about rewards

• This man would sooooo spoil you!! you’re his treasure and he wants you to know it!!

• He’ll either get you food you’ve been craving or a stuffed animal/little gear orrrr both!!

• (Because of the two of you, you now have a chest fuuuull of stuffies Woops💧)

• You always try to show your appreciation by giving him small handmade gifts!! A lil pop up card, bead bracelets (you definitely have matching bracelets), even something crocheted/knitted, and pretty much any arts n crafts you can make!

• Now onto funny business ( •̀ - • )!

• so ofc when it first came to having fun and being playful with you he was bit scared

• can you blame him???

• He’d spent A LOT of time trying to get rid/away from the tittle of being the fun boy

• Ofc through lot of reassurance you let him know that he can have fun and play with you and still be a very serious caregiver!

• you help him understand that being funny and silly every once in a while doesn’t hurt and that he should try to find a balance that work for him! Which he eventually does :D!!

• I like to believe that he’d be great at playing pretend and hide and seek!

• “Worry not your highness!! You will protect you from the dragon!” (It’s one of your plushies)

• “Wherever could my kiddo be?? They must have turned invisible!!” (he can hear your giggles which just makes his smile wider)

• Although he really tries to be there for you, he’s a reaaaally busy man :((( but he still tries to spend time with you through parallel play! While he’s doing his grown up paperwork, you get to colooor!! (or draw or scrapbook or anything really) as long you promise to be good and not distract him

• (plus the sooner he’s done the sooner he can give you all his attention! so it’s a win-win situation :D)

• Actually if you were feeling extra lil you’d just get a paper and scribble on it with crayon trying to copy Clay’s mannerisms (when he sees this he’s physically holding himself back from just picking you up, cradling you, and just babying you waaaah you’re gonna be the end of him)

• oh and he would sooo keep your little artworks in his working area (they bring a sweet smile to his face and warm his soul you’re the best kiddo he could have ever asked for)

• You also get to have cuddles while he works! Sometimes he’ll just sit you on his lap with a stuffie or two while he wraps an arm around you and litters your head or face with kisses!

• Now onto not so funny business ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა

• sometimes Clay’ll have a rough or tiring day :((

* and that’s okk caregivers have their moments too!

• He’ll usually want to cuddle with you and hold you close. (You are his stuffie :D)

• He might even tickle you or blow raspberries on your tummy (if you give him permission ofc!!) which often leaves you with a giggling and squirming fit.

• He just loves seeing you laugh and smile (especially if it’s him who made you happy :] you just brighten his day so much sometimes)

• One time he was just so tired and just laying down on the couch and then you brought one stuffie to him and then two till you pretty much had him buried under almost all of your stuffies!!

* You then proceeded to lay on top of him, and Clay just sticks both arms out from under the pile while smiling softly with his eyes closed.

• Let’s just say you guys woke up with stuffed animals scattered eeeeeverywhere

• If you’re a kiddo/baby who tends to get overwhelmed easily, he’ll get you some noise canceling/dampening headphones and just wraps you in a soft blanket like a little burrito.

• He’ll also either get you an eye mask or will lower the lights if he can. (And if you’re feeling lil enough then a paci too!!)

• After doing any of this, he’ll just bring you onto his lap and whisper sweet lil nothings to you till you feel better or seem to fall asleep :D!

• would enforce a bed time >:( (he is a very very veeeery serious guy after all)

• but luckily bedtime means a bottle or sippy of sweet sleepy tea and a storyyyy :D!!

• Forehead kisses!! (CALL ME BIASED CAUSE I LOOOOOVE FOREHEAD KISSES but I stand by what I say.

• Oh and if he’s ever gonna to be very busy for the day and he won’t be able to take care of his kiddo, he’d ask Viva to help him take care of you!!

• Plus who doesn’t love babysitter Viva??? She’s so energetic and fun with you, but she’ll definitely tone it down for you 💛

• she’s also super strong so she’ll definitely carry you or give you a piggy back ride if you ask :>!

• She also give you lots of candies and sugary foods but shhhhh don’t tell Clay itsa secret (but I think the sugar rush/crash you have when he picks you up from Viva’s tells him more than enough

• (I feel like he would trust all his brothers with you (especially Bruce) except JD 😭😭)

• He would sooooo grab your cheeks and squeeze them like he did to Branch when first seeing him again

• Expect him to do that whenever he just wants to dote on you and baby you even if you’re feeling bigger than usual he just loves youuuu! 💚💚💚

In summary: I need this man bc he is the bestest boyfriend and caregiver ever!!

Final notes!:

I love likes but comments and reposts are greatly appreciate (I love to talk if you can’t tell) type something out and let me know what you think 💗💗

If anybody would like to use any of the hcs/scenarios for a fanfic tots fine with me just don’t forget to tag me for credit and so I can see it :DD!!

#I’m saying this even though there’s like NO ONE under the agere tag for this fandom. #Which is surprising like where are you all???? Huh?!?! Huh?!?! #Like c’mon it’s agere galore! Colors! Music! AND Family reunion and Love!! #Plus two great and amazing and lovable villains #Branch was literally abandoned as a baby! (Plus other brothers also have problems/struggles) #Just take the bait and write/do Agere stuff for them!! 😭😭(help I sound mean but I meant that in a nice way) #but I get it the fandom feels like it’s dying on here. I just got here y’all don’t die on me already 😭😭) #(Genuinely don’t think anyone wanted this but oh well I’m sending it out to the world with a mission to complete #which is bring happiness!!) #(mostly for myself tho lol) #I can’t believe I did all of this instead of a college essay #trolls agere #clay #sfw agere #trolls 3 #age regression #being brave out here and using clay x reader in the post just to see what happens #if i get any hatred i’ll immediately remove it :/

[azriels-shadowsinger]

hey! could i ask for number 7 from the prompt list with azriel? :)

“I broke the lock. You were screaming.”

Azriel x Reader

wc: 800

a/n: warning: descriptions of an attack

prompt list

You were running as fast as you could, passing the buildings of the Windhaven camp. No matter how fast you ran, your legs kept moving in slow motion. It wasn’t long before two males grabbed you and forced you to the ground.

You see your father step into view, his bitter face full of loathing.

“You can’t run from me this time. You may have delayed the clipping longer than most, but you can’t put it off forever. And I think with your ungrateful and entitled attitude, you don’t deserve those wings at all.”

You try to scream for help, but for some reason, you can’t make any sound. Tears stream down your face as you attempt over and over to call for Azriel, Rhys, or Cassian.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago, you self-righteous bitch.” Your father spits the words with hatred. He holds up a large serrated blade. You try again to scream, to fight, to do anything, but you are silenced by a quick slash on your cheek. You feel the warm blood trickle down your face.

“Shut the fuck up.” Your father growls. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep your cries in.

“y/n” Azriel’s voice echoes, very far away.

You squirm, trying once again to escape the grasp of the males holding you down, but their grip tightens as they shove your face into the dirt.

“y/n!” The distant voice seems louder, but it’s too late. He won’t be able to reach you in time to save you or your wings. Your father lifts the blade with a sick smile on his face. You feel the cool edge of the blade press against the base of your wing and cry out in pain.

“Y/N!”

———

You jolt up in bed, sweating. You feel someone holding your shoulders and you thrash violently, trying to break free.

“Y/N! Please wake up!” You hear Azriel’s voice again, but this time he isn’t far away, he’s right next to you. You open your eyes and scan the room in a panic, but all you see is Azriel above you, holding you by the shoulders and with an alarmed look in his eyes.

You stop resisting his touch and try to control your breathing, but you can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs.

“Deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re safe.” You let your head fall onto his chest, shaking as you sob. Azriel runs a gentle hand down your spine, between your wings, causing you to flinch. He immediately understands what your nightmare was, or rather a memory of what almost happened if he and his brothers hadn’t gotten there in time. His shadows caress your skin gently, cooling the sweat from your neck and forehead.

The two of you sit there for a while while your crying eventually calms to sniffles. Your bloodshot and tear-filled eyes meet Azriel’s.

“He tried to take my wings. Except this time, you weren’t there to stop him.” He nods in understanding.

“You are safe. You still have your wings. You’re not at Windhaven, you’re in Velaris, okay?“ You sniffle again and nod.

Finally, you look at the rest of your bedroom, hoping to remind yourself that you are in fact safe in Velaris, when you notice a pile of broken wood where your door should be. You give Azriel a confused look.

“I, uh… I broke down the door.” Azriel admits sheepishly. “You were screaming.” You look back at the broken door, then at Azriel, feeling your heart warm.

“Can you stay?” You ask quietly. He only nods, sliding into the bed beside you and pulling you close to him. Maybe some other day he will think about why this is making his heart race, or why he can feel yours racing too despite having calmed, but for now, he just holds you, stroking your hair gently and humming a soft tune.

“Thank you for saving me that day.” You mumble into his chest.

“I’ll always save you, sweetheart.” He plants a small kiss on your forehead.

After a few minutes, he notices your breathing has steadied and you seem to have fallen asleep again. He tries to gently remove himself from the bed, not sure if you would sleep well with him taking up so much space, but as soon as he tries to move away, you tighten your hold on him and pull him closer. A small smile crosses his lips as he scoots closer again and shuts his eyes.

Azriel got the best sleep of his life that night.

Thank yall for sending in requests! I’m working on them as fast as i can, i hope to have 2 more out today maybe

prompt list

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #my writing

[happenstnces]

⠀CRIMSON CLOVER ✧ E. PRENTISS

✧ based off of this prompt.     emily prentiss x gn!reader ! 

syn. it may be your job, but you’re getting sick and tired of patching her up. warning ! intentional lowercase, swearing, mentions of blood, alcohol, & smoking, suggested smut, enemies to a little more than friends, slight hurt/comfort & angst. wc. 2.4k 

      ೃ⁀➷ masterlist ! add yourself to the taglist here

            the first time you met her, you immediately knew you could never get along.

            getting her to sit down at the foot of the rig was a struggle on it’s own, she kept insisting that she was fine, that it was just a scratch, and she made it nearly impossible for you to just do your damn job. she huffed the entire time, rolling her dark eyes as you fired through the list of routine questions, acting as though you tending to the gash in her forehead was nothing more than an inconvenience.

            “seriously, i’m fine.” she snapped, shrugging the hand you had on the top of her head away. you quirked a brow, “you need stitches.”

            “no, i don’t. it doesn’t even hurt,” she raised her hand to prod at the open wound, but you were quick to catch her wrist before she could make contact and inevitably give herself an infection. “oh, i didn’t realize the fbi gave out medical degrees.” 

            you dropped her hand back to her lap and cocked your head in annoyance, hoping to god she would just shut up and sit there. “when you work in a hospital that isn’t on wheels, i’ll start taking medical advice from a nurse.” she muttered.

            she wasn’t even sure why she said it, she didn’t have any particular hatred for paramedics, in fact, she often found herself very thankful for them. part of her felt bad for being so rude to you, you were just doing your job, but in her defence, getting clocked in the head with a two-by-four had slowed her down and allowed the unsub to escape; leaving her unwillingly sat in the back of an ambulance while the rest of the team followed in pursuit.

            “perfect. next time you need a hospital on wheels, i’ll remember you said that.” you made sure your tone matched hers, infused with clear irritation, while trying to just scrape being professional. it may be petty, but your day hadn’t exactly been going your way, either. “and i’m not a nurse.”

            “are you done yet?”

            “did i say i was done?” 

            she bit her tongue, stewing in her annoyance until you snapped your gloves as you pulled them off. “there. now i’m done.” she narrowed her eyes at you, “thanks.” if she had only waited until she was a few more feet away, you would have missed what she mumbled beneath her breath as she strode towards the black SUV parked a little up the road.

            “smartass.”

            you didn’t see her for some time after that, either she had been extremely careful in the field (which sounded rather unlikely), or she had requested you specifically be removed from the rotation of paramedics that are first on the bau’s beck and call.

            in all honesty, you wouldn’t put it past her—hell, you had even thought about requesting it yourself. the next time you saw her, you internally groaned, rolling your eyes when her back turned to you.

            “please, roll your eyes harder. i don’t think they got a good look at the back of your skull.” judging by the smirk on her lips, she must’ve thought that was quite clever. you didn’t respond, keeping your eyes trained on the bloody knuckles cradled in your hands, brows knit together in annoyance. you didn’t have it in you to bicker with her right now, quickly making friends with silence.

            “what? no snarky remarks for me today, sunshine?” she prodded, raising her leg beside her, foot tucked into the crook of her knee. you hummed, but said nothing. the quicker you could patch her up, the quicker you could continue with your day. “you bruised the bone.” you disturbed the lull that had snaked its way between you.

            “no, i didn’t.”

            “really?” you pressed ever so gently on the knuckle of her pointer finger, watching as she winced and swore and tugged her swollen hand from your grasp. “ow!” your brows raised knowingly, pursing your lips as if to silently say i told you so. “what did you do?” she was hesitant to slip her hand back into yours waiting open and patiently. “nothing, yet. if you don’t let me do my job, my story might change.”

            you held her gaze for a second, as if to solidify your threat, but it quickly dissolved into a small smile that mirrored hers. “what did you do?” you changed the topic; maybe if you got to know her, your distaste would soften. you highly doubted it, but it was worth a shot, right?

            “punched someone.” she said nonchalantly, “a few times.”

            you let out a sharp puff of air from your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh, and reached for the medical tape beside you. “i’d hate to see what they look like.” you were both silent again, and you didn’t speak until you had taped her hand and told her she was free to go.

            “stop getting hurt, i’m sick of fixing you.” you called as she began to walk away. she turned on her heel and took a few steps backwards, biting back a laugh. “oh, no! what am i to do without my favourite nurse?”

            you curled your lips downward, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “still not a nurse.”

            much like before, a few weeks passed before your paths crossed again—this time, it wasn’t in the middle of your workday. you were walking home from a game night with your friends when she came stumbling out of a bar a few paces up the sidewalk, hand cupping her jaw as she cursed, rather loudly.

            “fucking christ!” you weren’t going to say anything, hoping you could seamlessly pass by, until she spit a mouthful of blood in front of her boots, wiping the corner of her bleeding lip with the heel of her hand. 

            “prentiss?” you called out, stopping a few feet away. she looked up, and if you had been looking a little closer, you would’ve caught the relief that momentarily flashed across her face. “oh, hey.” she shook her stiff hand out, the once swollen and bloody knuckles reduced to faint green and yellow blots, wobbling on unsteady legs as she did so.

            you scoffed, already wishing you could go back in time and keep walking. “what happened?”

            “bar fight.”

            “jesus,” you muttered, wryly chuckling in disbelief. “i’m starting to think you’re purposefully looking to get injured.” she smiled back at you, wincing when the movement stretched the open cut on the corner of her lip. “fuck,” she hissed. “guess i can’t stay away,” she spat another mouthful of blood on the pavement, “where else am i gonna find a nurse with such an attitude?”

            you cornered her with your gaze. “you’re making it really difficult to want to help you.” again, that cocky, shit-eating smile lit up her face. “c’mon, what other patient do you love as much as me?”

            “oh, love is not the word that comes to mind when i think of you, prentiss.”

            “emily.”

            “what?”

            “my name. it’s emily.”

            you nodded firmly, just once. “okay, emily. do you want me to look at that split lip, or what?” her smile only seemed to grow. “it sounds like you really want to. i dunno, i think you do love me. just a little bit.”

            you nudged her with your shoulder as you began to walk forward again, silently beckoning her to follow, and it’s only when she was behind you did you let your sheepish smile present itself to the cement. you were quick to reel it in, turn your head over your shoulder, and nod up the sidewalk, an indication for her to come with you. “i don’t need you telling everyone i neglected an injured fbi agent. you coming, or are you too busy spitting up your teeth?”

            she giddily smiled and began following the ghost of your footsteps, lighting a cigarette after a few blocks of silence. “are you seriously smoking right now?” she cluelessly looked at you, cigarette hanging from the intact corner of her lips, “oh, sorry. want one?”

            “no, i don’t. i can’t believe you smoke.”

            “why? tons of people do it.”

            “yeah, and it kills tons of people—people who aren’t already in danger because of their job. you’re like a walking death wish.” 

            you came to a halt in front of the door to your complex, watching as she tossed it to the ground and stomped it out with the toe of her boot. “technically, i’ve died already.”

            “i’m sorry, what?”

            “don’t be. it was kinda cool, i guess. i don’t know.”

            your lips smoothed into a small frown. you didn’t ask her to share, you didn’t want to prod.

            she briefly explained how she had been put in witness protection after the doyle case as you made your way up to your apartment, finishing her story once you sat her on the lip of your bathtub and began rooting through your medicine cabinet. “i’m sorry that happened to you.” she shrugged it off as if it was nothing more than an insignificant, bothersome part of her week, like getting stuck in traffic or the grocery store being sold out of her favourite snack.

            you watched her gently prod at the cut with her thumb, looking down at the dried blood smeared across her hand in confusion. “is this from me?” she looked up at you, brows furrowed in drunken uncertainty. she didn’t remember there being this much. “stop touching it.” after gathering what you needed, you sat cross-legged on your toilet seat and grabbed her by the shoulders, tilting her towards you.

            “but yes.” you were cautious to grasp her jaw, ever so gently slanting her head to the side to get a good look, “damn, whoever you fought got a few good swings in. maybe you’re not as good as i thought,” you tried to lighten her confusion with a joke, only her intoxication blurred the line between harmless poking and genuine disappointment.

            her face fell slightly. “emily, i’m kidding.” she hummed. she was silent for a long while, glassy eyes inspecting your bathroom as you dabbed the dried blood off her chin with a washcloth. “you’re not obligated to do this, you know.” she quietly confessed.

            “to do what?” she grabbed your wrist and pulled your cool fingers from her face, turning her head straight to look at you. “to keep fixing me.” you let out a shallow, calm sigh, shaking your head. “if we’re still talking in technicalities, i am.”

            you raised your hand to keep going, but she stopped you again, bloody fingers twisting around your own. “but you’re not. you could’ve kept walking. why didn’t you?”

            “why didn’t i keep walking?”

            she nodded, “i know you don’t like me.” and while there was a kernel of truth in her statement, you weren’t exceptionally fond of her, you couldn’t help but find her snarky attitude a little charming. “i can’t let you walk around like this. who’d trust an fbi agent that looks like they got their shit rocked?” 

            again, you tried to bring your conversation back to lighthearted territory. “you’re deflecting.”

            “and you’re profiling me.” 

            this seemed to shut her up for a moment, enough time for you to wipe away the blood that had trickled down the column of her neck. you started to clean along the length of her forearm when she stopped you again, prying the washcloth from your hand and placing it on the edge of the bathtub beside her. “seriously, why are you helping me?”

            you held her eye with your own slightly pointed. “can’t i, just…be nice to you? why do you think i have ulterior motives, or something?”

            “because you’ve never been just nice to me.”

            “you’ve never given me a reason to be.”

            again, this seemed to stun her for the time being. whether it be the intoxicated mind-lag or not, she sat wordlessly and inspected your face as you began rooting through the first aid bag again. “i don’t have the proper stuff to stitch your lip,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, trying to think of a quick temporary fix until the morning.

            “you can kiss it better.”

            “ha-ha, knee slapper.”

            she nudged your ankle with her foot, bringing your focus back to her face. “i wasn’t kidding.” this time, it’s you that was stunned to silence for a beat.

            “you’re drunk.”

            “i’m sober enough to know what i’m saying.” she cocked her head, fingers splayed along the small of your wrist. “i see the way you look at me. i know you want to.” she leaned ever so slightly, enough so you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke lingering on her tongue.

            your eyes flicked from her own, her lips, then to her eyes again. “i don’t kiss my patients.” 

            “no? not part of your specialty?” she smiled, bottom lip slipping between her teeth. then she tipped her chin up, brushing her lips warily against yours. when she felt you start to kiss her back, your hands flying to cup her face in your hands, she poured a little more faith into her movements and kissed you like she meant it, like your lips against hers was the thing she’d been unknowingly missing.

            “do you want me to stop?” she clarified between soft lip locks, hands trickling down your sides. “no.” and then your lips connected again, moving in perfect synchronicity, slow and gentle as you map out exactly what the other favoured. when you part your lips, emily hesitantly swiped her tongue across the bottom one, asking for permission.

            you opened your mouth a little wider, your tongues rolling against one another as you explored each other’s mouths, hands roaming over clothed skin and shallow breaths swapping between you. 

            the next morning you’d awoken to an empty bed, naked body twisted around the cold, stark-white sheets you had found yourself entangled in the night before. it wasn’t until you fully sat up did you notice it; the small crimson blotch in the middle of the pillowcase beside you. it was impossible to miss, it made you grit your teeth and whip your head around in search of the source.

            instead, at the end of the trail your clothing created, a sticky note on the bathroom doorframe anticipated your attention.

             morning, sunshine.            did you know the coffee place down the             street does a nurses discount?            i’d check that out if i were you.             - emily.

           you scoffed. 

           you were right, you could never get along.

an. mean lesbian emily number one in my heart forever <3 this is borderline ooc but idc this was a lot of fun to write :-) 

tglist. ( open ! you can request to be added or removed here ) @mylilenbyheart​ @storiesofsvu​ @mickey-gomez​ @daffodil-heart​ ​

#marla writes #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x gn!reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss imagines #emily prentiss drabbles #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds drabbles #criminal minds fanfiction #bau x reader #bau imagines #bau drabbles #mw: crimson clover

[thecameronchronicles]

Glutton

TW: Suggestive conversations and actions. Language. Smut

SUMMARY: A game with your ‘enemy’ reveals something unexpected…

WORD COUNT: 1800

REQUESTED:

Anonymous asked:

Saw this tiktok and immediately felt like i needed to send it in! I would love to see this as a Rafe oneshot!🤍

Glutton

The rules of the game were simple enough. Synonymous to Truth or Dare, turns would be taken in asking your peers of intimate and even embarrassing questions, only ‘I Bet’ was a game in which money was on the line. And nobody liked an excuse to waste money quite like Rafe Cameron. No matter the reason, whether it was a lavish dinner, an extravagant vacation, or even the useless dime bags he would finish in an hour’s time, he loved to prove how careless he could be without a financial limit. It showed more than ever at this moment. 

“I bet you won’t hit on Kiara…” Topper set down a crisp hundred dollar bill as Rafe didn’t even need to see it set on the table before he marched off in her direction. Both Kook and Pogue, more the latter, she attended the party for the sole purpose of boredom, coming to regret it as Rafe had approached her. The conversation was impossible to be heard, but it was evident rather quickly that he was rejected before he could even attempt to be suave in any context. And you couldn’t help but relish in it as you basked in knowing he was uncomfortable. 

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable there…” Kelce shot to you. “I bet you won’t give Rafe a lapdance…And I mean a full on dance…not just shaking your ass for a second. Really get in there…” He returned to the small collection of Kooks as you took hold of his polo and forced him into the couch otherwise set across from you. 

“Can you at least play some music so I can distract myself and imagine anyone else?” You asked as Rafe’s initial surprise faded until he looked to Topper, who set his phone to view to choose a song. 

“I’ll throw down three hundred right now to keep her from doing it.”

“Afraid you can’t keep it in your pants, Cameron?” He cocked his jaw, reclining back into the couch and motioning for you to continue. 

For the first part of the song, you remained rather behaved, waiting for that beat to drop, and once it had, you were unleashed in your combined sensuality and sexuality. The soft sway of your hips that had begun the tease was now a full fledged collection of grinds and twists that brought every part of your body to him, close enough to feel his breath. 

But you noticed specific instances in which you seemed to find something other than hatred behind his soft hues darkened in those same moments. One had been as you set a hand on his shoulder, chest raised to the point where his nose brushed the frill of a bra exposed by the dance. And the second having been when you turned from him, ass taken across his lap in a circular motion across his thigh, as you felt him shift beneath you. 

“I’ll give you two fifty for a topless…” A nameless Kook offered as you saw how your dance was already affecting Rafe and you would have done it for free, you accepted, removing your shirt and repeating dance moves in which you could accentuate your chest in his direction. But what you hadn’t noticed were the knuckles white as he gripped into the couch or the clench of his jaw when you’d turn away from him. And this was because he timed it that way. He didn’t want you to know you affected him in any way. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. 

“I’d bet you one hundred dollars you aren’t hard right now, Rafe…” You teased as you watched him rise to his feet, seemingly indifferent or deceptive, before he’d reached across the table and taken a wad of cash he’d left behind when addressing Kiara. But not only had he set the hundred, but having tripled as everyone was left stunned by this confession as your words were validated in the shift he made of his shorts before leaving the game. 

“All the coke screw with your head there? I said a hundred-” You followed after him rather quickly, setting your shirt back over your chest, before he had you suddenly pinned against the wall. 

“One hundred dollars is for how made my heart nearly jump out of its chest…two hundred is how I had to fight bending you over that table to keep from fucking you in front of all of them…and the three was for the fact I knew how wet you were-” His eyes lowered for a second. 

“I bet you another hundred you’re soaked…” You took his hand, accepting the challenge rather brazenly as everyone could come upon you. Yet still, you continued. 

“Easy money…” He taunted as he felt your slick. 

“I bet you,” You stood on the tips of your toes as you wrapped a hand tightly around his wrist to keep him stationed between your thighs, “You won’t kiss me..” He narrowed his eyes, hesitating for a second as he licked his lips prior to the collision, before taking you with such passion that you were taken aback. It wasn’t feverish with a war of tongues and dominance, it was tender almost, but still thorough enough to remind you who it was. 

“I bet YOU…I can make you come on my hand with nothing more than two fingers…You’re already dripping and clenching me, won’t take too long-” Your hand now made its way past his shorts. 

“I bet I can make you come first.” In a sexual game of chicken, your hands were ascending and falling to the same speed, moans and curses only motivating each other as he broke the expected responses with a growl. 

“I bet you won’t blow me.” His brow cocked as you looked behind you to find the party still in full swing at your back. Everybody none the wiser. 

“I bet you that you can’t help but come.” You were on your knees as his eyes widened in disbelief. You were always bold, it was the reason he both desired and loathed you. But THIS was different. THIS was risque as much as it was enticing. And he relished in it. With your hair taken into his fist, you watched as his eyes rolled while you took him between your cheeks. A trained reflex made it possible for him to go further than expected as you both became momentarily sidelined by the game and focused more on this pleasure. A pleasure neither of you thought would ever transpire, and yet was surging through him from base to tip as you cried and choked on his thick cock. 

“Shit!” He groaned, strained eyes coming open while his lips parted with a scoff. 

“You look so fucking good like that…” You nodded. 

“But I bet you wouldn’t swallow-” Your brow cocked as you worked him more thoroughly, a tongue to the heavy balls beneath making him agreeable in quickened motions into your hand before you returned him to your throat. 

“Fuck!” He yanked you up by your hair, still all motions as he took your appearance in for a moment. Tousled hair forced that way by his grip, cheeks stained with tears from his length, and drool from his girth-it was enough to come on the spot when making this observation. But instead, he would offer yet another line of the game’s extension.

“I bet you a grand you won’t fuck me.”

“I bet you that you will.” You rivaled back, equalling out the dare as you were lifted into the nearby room and forced onto the bed,clothes almost shredded off, before he was against you with conviction. Where you expected to be turned and thrusted into as if you were nothing more than a warm vestibule for his release, you were actually taken into consideration. Kisses draped from your lips, precise and passionate, that drew sloppier the lower he got between your legs. 

“Don’t come.” He muttered before he was convicted at your sex, tongue rushing your clit as he sucked at your sex, teasing and learning your body as you responded accordingly beneath him. Fingers fisting the sheets beneath you, you were quick to warn him of your release. 

“Rafe!”

“I bet you two grand you’ll come.” You strained your teeth into a clench, not wanting to offer him the satisfaction while also being desperate for that rush of a release. But before you could offer a rebuttal of an amount or dare of adjacent ruling, you were taken at his hips, pulled to the absolute end of the bed before your legs were set over his shoulders. One hand kept your hips flat as he used the other around your ankles. 

“Finally, a reason to make you shut the hell up-”

“You-” He thrusted harder, making you shake beneath him. 

“You say anything other than how good it feels, you won’t get to come, no matter how much fucking money you put.”

“Please, Rafe! I’m so close!”

“Already?” He scoffed. “My fingers made you closer than I thought, huh?”

“Oh my God!” You cried as his fingers rushed your clit, bringing you to that edge before turning you onto your stomach. A swat to your ass made you gasp before you were quickly taken to your knees. 

“I bet you five grand you won’t be able to wait for me to come inside you until you stain my cock, your thighs, and these sheets with your impatience.”

“I bet you ten you’ll come inside me.” You now spoke in complete disregard to the truth of the game. Obviously, you wouldn’t offer him anything more than the aforementioned small amounts, but the humor and risk behind it was exciting enough to utter. 

“I bet you fifty you’ll love it-”

“I bet you one hundred, you’ll love me!” His hand came around your neck as you were pulled up to his chest. 

“I’m already in debt then, sweetheart.” His words surprised you as his fingers moved faster over your clit. “So come for me right now and we’ll call it even.”

“Rafe!”

“NOW!” He ordered as you stopped fighting the pleasure before allowing yourself the release, a rush of waves in both ecstasy and ease having relinquished your control as he pounded into you from behind until your name became a warning of his own orgasm. 

“I bet you five grand you’ll want more.”

You turned to face him, hand stroking his cock before you moved low enough to take you off of his shaft. 

“I’m already in debt then…” You spoke as you reclined to find him breathless on the edge of the bed, risking overstimulation  to commit to the glutton he remained and the one in which he made you into…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @belcalis9503

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #outer banks #obx fanfiction

[quietly-by-myself]

Three Days - Chapter 7

This is a collab with @darkthingshappen for @the-whumpers-soiree. It features Faolan from my Mercury and Time series (link here) and her original whumper, Finlay Iver.

This story will contain elements of explicit noncon, references to past violent events, including noncon, torture, among other adult/dark themes. Reader discretion is advised. It's much darker than what I normally post. Minors DNI.

Tags: @oddsconvert

CW: past noncon, PTSD, coping mechanisms, captivity, kidnapping, aftermath of noncon, noncon touch, discussion of noncon

Faolan was absolutely relieved that he was going to get a break from the intense conversation. With that small, but noticeable tremor, he took the face cloth Finlay had given him with soap. He started with his neck covered in sweat, then began to disinfect his wounds with the soap. It was methodical, the way he rubbed down the wounds to get rid of any grime without flinching. Soon enough, he moved down his legs, then to in between his legs.

What laid there made Faolan cringe. He was gay, yes, but he’d always have a certain hatred for semen after all the times he’d been taken against his will. It was like a stain on his body that never got removed, no matter how many times he washed himself.

The tremor didn’t seem to affect his movements so badly that he couldn’t move, but it did take a little focus to make sure at certain points that he didn’t miss a spot by missing the area entirely.

Once he was done, he turned to Finlay, looking at him patiently. The soapy water wasn’t doing much anymore to rinse him down. “Can- Can I have some water to rinse down?”

Finlay pulled the plug out of the drain.  “Why don’t we drain this.  Then you can rinse and I can put the conditioner in your hair.  That way all the grime from the day can just slide down the drain.”  He stroked Faolan’s bare shoulder, gliding his fingers through the soap that lingered there.  “I like this soap.  It always smells so… clean.” 

Faolan nodded. “It does smell very clean.” The idea of allowing those stains to rinse down the drain was comforting. Maybe he could forget them for a little while and sleep more than a few hours. He waited quietly for Finlay to turn on the tap, not wanting to potentially upset him by acting too much on his own.

Finlay watched the water drain completely.  “Why don’t you kneel.  I’ll rinse you off.  You just relax.”  He adjusted the water temperature on the spray while he waited for Faolan to get to his knees.  

Faolan immediately complied. He wanted the tender moment to last, not to end out with more pain and be dumped, alone, in a lit cell. His sides shook a bit as he hunched over in his kneeling. He knew it wasn’t proper posture but couldn’t bring himself to care. He was tired. Surely, Finlay would understand.

“Why don’t you put your hands on the end of the tub, that way you won’t fall over and I can rinse all of you off.”  He directed the warm, but not too hot, spray onto Faolan’s back.  Faolan did as he was told and Finlay was thorough.  He let the spray wash over every bit of him, he may have taken a few extra seconds when he rinsed between Faolan’s legs, but he didn’t linger too long.  Just enough to make sure he had a good look.  

“Lean your head back.  I don’t want to get water in your eyes.”  Finlay took his time massaging the conditioner into Faolan’s scalp, just like he’d done with the shampoo.  Tomorrow he’d be drenched in sweat and fear again, but for now, he’d be clean and comfortable.  That seemed to be the key for him.  He could do whatever he wanted to him, so long as he took care of him afterwards.  He’d have him eating out of the palm of his hand soon enough.  

Faolan felt warmth go through his chest as that unfamiliar, gentle touch came back. He wasn’t at all used to the hand that hurt him being so kind. Something in him was conflicted. Another part of himself was revolted at the idea that he might even enjoy parts of his captivity. These were basic human decencies, not gifts, right?

Still, as the pain and tension in his scalp was massaged out by Finlay’s gentle fingers, he found himself genuinely relaxing, if only for a moment. It was clear from the way that sleep was dancing in his eyes that he was reaching the end of his stamina for the night.

He told me he wouldn’t sell me. Maybe this won’t be so bad. This is better than William. This is better than I deserve, right?

Atticus’ words came back easily, but Faolan had not the energy to linger on them any longer than to hear that simple truth - everyone deserves kindness. Faolan wasn’t sure he believed that.

Finlay shut off the water.  “Come on.  Sit on the edge of the tub and I’ll get you all dried off.  Then I’ve got some soft flannel pajamas that I think you’ll like.  It gets cold up here in the north at night.”  

Faolan complied and Finlay grabbed one of his soft fluffy towels.  He took his time drying Faolan’s hair.  Working the towel through the blond strands, behind his ears and down his neck, focusing on removing as much tension from the boy as possible.  It would all be back tomorrow, but he sensed that there was something about night time and captivity with this one that he would need to be careful with if he were to keep him from becoming catatonic.  

He worked the towel lower, over his shoulders, down his chest, and now the test.  He dried between Faolan’s legs.  He moved the towel, keeping his touch light, but somewhat exploratory.  

The toweling was relaxing until Finlay made his way between his legs. As he touched in that way he knew was exploratory - a test - he whimpered and gripped the edge of the tub until his hands turned white from the strain. Something in him felt a little betrayed, even if he knew he should’ve expected such a violation.

“Easy little dove.  I’m just trying to make sure that you’re dry and that I didn’t hurt you too badly earlier tonight.  We’re almost done.”  He moved the towel again and dried his back side.  “Raise up just a bit, Faolan.”

Faolan obeyed, but with a small whimper.  Finlay ran the towel over his back side and then into the crevice, again, gaging Faolan’s reaction.  

The movement into him earned a small yelp of pain, then muffled whimpers from Faolan as Finlay worked him. He just wants to know if I’m hurt. Trying to think of a reassuring thought did nothing as he felt those whimpers turn into little sobs in his chest. He didn’t want to upset Finlay, but he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s okay, little dove.  It’s alright.  You can cry.  It won’t bother me.  I know it’s a lot to get used to.”  Finlay moved the towel from his backside.  “Hard part over, little one.  Promise.  Swing your legs over and I’ll dry them too.  Then we’ll get those PJs.”

Faolan did as he was told and swung his legs over the edge of the tub and Finlay knelt between his knees and dried his legs and feet.  

“Okay, my boy.  Can you stand or would you prefer to stay seated and let me help you dress?”

“Stay seated, please.” He couldn’t stand. The pain from Finlay agitating the damaged flesh was so severe that he was having trouble standing. Whether that was from the memory that was on the tip of his brain - the one of when he’d needed stitches - or it was from what Finlay had done to him, he didn’t know. He didn’t have the energy to figure it out, either.

“Alright, sweet boy.  Hang on.  There was no blood on the towel, so I think you’re okay.  Just a bit sore.”  He stepped away and reached for the pjs he had set aside for Faolan.  “Here we are.  Nice soft cotton.”

He helped Faolan step into the bottoms and then pulled him up and close to him as he raised them up over Faolan’s backside.  He then eased him back down before he could pull the shirt on.  Faolan was exhausted and now he seemed to be calm and sleepy.  At least he wasn’t far away and zoned out.  He dressed Faolan like he was a toddler, pulling his arms gently through the arm holes, fixing his collar and then buttoning the shirt up for him.  

“Okay.  All done.  Let’s get you to your bed.”  Finlay lifted Faolan into his arms, cradling the smaller man against his chest.  

Some part of Faolan despised being treated as a child. Ever since he was little, he’d always been ‘grown up.’ However, Faolan had a certain sense of fear that if he disobeyed Finlay, if he didn’t let Finlay have his independence in the way he was taking it right now, that Finlay would stop treating him kindly. 

He seemed to like Faolan being dependent and having control over his life like that. Faolan would let him have it - the kind cleaning, the gentle dressing, and the tender wound care weren’t that bad anyway. Finlay had been right - Faolan had endured worlds worse. If he was going to live out the rest of his days like this… well, it didn’t seem too bad to him.

Maybe that thought only lended itself because of his detachment from what had just happened. Events like that never hit him right away. The weight always came crashing down later, away from the predator that caused it.

Faolan decided to feign being too tired to give much of an answer. It was a test - he wanted to see if Finlay would let it slip.

Finlay nudged open the door to Faolan’s cell.  He’d call it his room, but it was bare.  No windows, no adornments.  A light in the ceiling that Faolan didn’t control, a cot and a chain.  That was really it.  Oh, Finlay thought with a smirk, and the bucket.  

He laid Faolan on the cot and smoothed his hair.  “Would you prefer the chain on your ankle or your wrist?”

Faolan’s heart dropped a bit when he saw the naked cell with all those dehumanizing elements. The bucket stunk of his vomit from earlier. “My wrist, please.” His ankles had been rubbed a little raw from the way that Finlay had tied him while he bedded Faolan.

“Okay, my dear.”  He grabbed the chain from the wall and took Faolan’s right wrist, the closest to the wall, and locked the cuff around his slender wrist.  “Apologies for the bucket.  I’ll have one of the guys clean it out tomorrow.”  He turned Faolan’s chin towards him.  “Do you remember what you must do when I come into the room tomorrow morning?”

Faolan shook his head. The thought of having to smell his vomit all night made him feel a little sick. Would he get a bathroom or would that become the bucket for however long he was kept in the cell? Would he always sleep with a chain? It wasn’t like he could escape easily. “I don’t.” Looking Finlay in the eyes constantly made him a little uncomfortable.  

Finlay took a deep breath.  “You have had a very long day from where we started this morning.  So it is understandable that you have forgotten.  But it is imperative that you remember.  When I leave, I will turn off the lights.  That means that it’s time for you to rest.  That is your cue that nothing else is going to happen to you and no one will bother you.  In the morning, the lights will turn on.  You’ll have a few minutes to right yourself and relieve yourself if you would like to do it privately.  After these few minutes, you need to be on your knees, head bowed, ready and waiting for me to collect you so that we can start our day.  Do you have any questions or need any clarification?”

Faolan swallowed a little anxiously. The ordeal from the morning came back to him in a rush. If he didn’t kneel exactly how Finlay wanted, would he be shocked again? Fear filled his blood as he thought about having to face Finlay’s sadistic side again in the morning. 

He would definitely shock me again. What am I thinking? He’s a cruel man who gets off on others' suffering.

Something about the cell brought back that defiance and reminded him of exactly where he was and who was being kept captive by.  

You can’t let yourself be lulled by his kindness, Faolan. Just because he’s nice and gentle sometimes doesn’t make him even remotely safe. You need to keep looking for escapes.

“I-If I don’t do it perfectly,” Faolan swallowed again, trying to make that panicked lump in his throat go away. “Will you shock me, even if I tried?”

Finlay cupped his cheek. “Little dove, are you telling me that someone who has been through all the things you’ve been through, never learned how to kneel with your head bowed?  That’s all I’m expecting first thing in the morning.  I know you’ll be sleepy and disoriented.  That’s why I am giving you some time to yourself once the lights come on.  You can find your center and decide how you want to approach the day, be that cooperation or… disappointment.”

“Y-You’re very different from him. I don’t always know what you want of me.” 

He looked down a little despite Finlay’s cupping of his cheek. Anxiety was sprawled across his face, marked in lines of thick black ink. He clearly had more he wanted to say, but was holding back. Faolan was afraid of talking too much about William. He didn’t want Finlay to be offended by his comparison of the two, even if that was what he was thinking of constantly. He could think of a million things he was worried about with the morning routine and the stun gun, but kept silent.

“You didn’t answer my question though, Faolan.  Are you not capable of kneeling with your head bowed?  That is all I want from you when I open this door.”  He closed the distance between them, so that Faolan couldn’t look away.  “You’re not stupid.  Do I need to open the door with the shock remote in my hand, or can I expect compliance?  It’s really not that hard.”

Faolan bit his lip as his chest tightened up with panic. He didn’t even know the answer to Finlay’s last question himself. If he didn’t answer, he knew Finlay would assume the worst and be disappointed in him. If he answered either way, he knew he would eventually disappoint Finlay. No matter what, all the answers were bad. He’d been asked questions like that before and he knew what the consequences were, answer or not.

“I-It’s not that I’m not capable. It’s just…” Faolan seemed horribly panicked. He was hurrying to put his words together. Something in him feared bringing up how it was with William. He didn’t want to make him angry by answering the wrong way. “I’ll do my best.” It’s all I can do. 

“Why is this so hard for you, little Faolan?  Why can’t you seem to be able to give me a straight answer?”

Faolan whimpered a little under the intensity of Finlay’s gaze. He just wanted the day to be over. He wished he’d never spoken up and just accepted the punishment in the morning.“I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you.”

“You won’t upset me, Faolan.  I have faith in you, little dove.  Just remember, kneeling and head bowed.”  He leaned over and kissed Faolan’s forehead.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”  He grabbed the one thin blanket that was folded up at the foot of the cot and draped it over him, tucking it round his chin.  “I promise the lights will be turned off.  You can sleep, Faolan.”

A moment of clarity struck Faolan as he looked out and realized that he shouldn’t feel the need to have permission to sleep. The thought filled him with that all-too-familiar sadness of realizing that maybe, there was a version of him that might not panic at every word or need permission to sleep. Maybe, before Finlay, with Atticus, he might’ve been able to reach that. He knew that once the night was over and he saw Finlay again, Atticus would never find him. It was that night or it was never.

The thought worried Faolan, but he did his best not to let it show. Instead, he tried to look happy that Finlay had faith in him. It was a farce of an attempt, but he hoped Finlay would leave it alone.

Finlay stood and gave him one last smile as he left the room.  As soon as the door was shut he flipped off the light, leaving Faolan in complete darkness.  Usually this terrified his toys, but for some reason, he thought that Faolan might like it.  So, if he ever really misbehaved, he could just leave the light on.  Finlay shrugged.  That was easy enough.  He had so much information he needed to file away on this new pet.  So much to consider.  

As the lights flicked off and Finlay wasn’t there to watch him, Faolan’s eyes filled with tears. That night, just as he had the first night with William, Faolan sobbed and cried until his eyes couldn’t stay open anymore. His pillow was wet as he drifted off to sleep. Somehow, it reminded Faolan that he was, in fact, still human through all the suffering.

#three days #faolan dufort #finlay iver #the whumpers soiree #whump #whump fic #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #elements of noncon #noncon touching #intimate whumper #defiant whumpee #kidnapping #captivity #recaptured whumpee

[therecordconnection]

Ranting and Raving: "Mad World" by Tears For Fears

Gary Jules did irreparable damage to song covers made for and used in movies. A crime he didn’t intend to commit, but nevertheless did.

Do you like movie trailers? Do you like when the music in the trailer is a really slow and moody cover of a usually upbeat pop song? You know what I’m talking about, even if you aren’t fully conscious of it. The sad cover version of a song in a movie trailer has been a staple for over a decade now. Ready Player One sucked any and all joy out of “Pure Imagination.” The Batman butchered Nirvana’s “Something In the Way,” turning it into something that is just as dull, dark, and dilapidated as that movie was. The worst offender I know of is A Cure For Wellness having a version of the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated” that sure did leave me sedated. There are tons of these out there, I just named a few of the ones that stick out in my mind the most.

If you want to find where this phenomenon first began, you have to go back to 2001 and the movie Donnie Darko. The film’s composer, Michael Andrews, wanted the end sequence to be a rendition of an old Tears For Fears song, “Mad World.” He had a friend, Gary Jules, who was up to the task.

It became a massive hit and we’re all worse off because of it. Every single terrible sad cover of a pop song you hear in a movie is a direct result of what Gary did. His rendition of “Mad World” is one of my most hated songs. I hate everything about it. Gary’s nasally, whiny voice that sounds like if I kicked Michael Stipe in the nuts, stripping the music down to just a sad-boy piano which removes any and all lyrical dissonance that made the original what it was, all of it. There are few songs in this world that infuriate me, Gary found a way to make the top of my list. It’s a song that removes any feeling I get from the original song. I’m left completely numb and not in a good way. It remains my go-to example of how a cover version can absolutely ruin what originally made a song great. I’m in the camp that believes the Tears For Fears original is the definitive version. With the song having celebrated its 40th anniversary this year, I thought it would be appropriate to try and explain why I find the original so captivating.

But before we get to that, let me answer this question: “Does this mean you hate Donnie Darko too?” I’ll be honest, I’ve never liked Donnie Darko, but I don’t have hatred towards it. I think it’s kind of a stupid movie, but I get why it has it still has its fans. It’s kinda hard to ignore a movie where the plot is more or less about a mysterious figure in a rabbit costume who convinces a possibly schizophrenic Jake Gyllenhaal to go commit crimes because the world is going to end in twenty-eight days. People think it holds up and I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong. No, the only part of the movie I actively hate is Gary’s bastardization of “Mad World.” Everything else is fine.

So, Tears For Fears. For those who may be unaware, they’re the famous British duo of Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith, hailing from Bath, England. If the name rings a bell but you’re a bit fuzzy, it’s due to having heard their eighties classics like “Shout,” “Head Over Heels,” and “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” the last of which is one of the greatest pop songs ever recorded. “Mad World” is one that most people know, but I imagine younger generations are more familiar with Gary’s version and think of that one first. I’m aware that the band adore Gary’s version and have performed it live several times over the years, but I’ve said enough about it. Let’s focus on the TFF original.

One thing that I think will catch someone off guard immediately is how different the original is compared to what Gary did with it. Roland and Curt took a lot of inspiration from early Depeche Mode, Kraftwerk, Gary Numan, all of whom were synth and new wave pioneers. “Mad World” takes a little bit from each of those guys and immediately creates something otherworldly from that influence. It’s a cold song, musically. Most of the song is made up of synthesizers, sequencers, drum machines, and programming. It’s strangely robotic, but not so cold that you don’t immediately get an emotion from it. The bass synth accompanying Curt’s vocals during the verses just nails that melancholy atmosphere instantly. What makes “Mad World” well, mad, musically is that it’s more or less a song you can dance to (which Roland does by busting out some cheesy but rather impressive moves in the song’s video) while a very sad individual pours his heart and soul out to you. That alone is what draws me to the original. That juxtaposition and dissonance is what creates a lasting effect. It’s also true to life: battling anxiety and depression doesn’t stop the noises or the world outside from moving and that’s what the song is doing musically: it doesn’t stop moving. It can’t stop moving. The sequencers and the drum machines are programmed to keep going and going until someone or something turns it off. When you strip the song down to just a piano, you lose all of that impact. The lyrics are still there, but there’s nothing to create a contrast.

Lyrically, the song works with the music because it’s describing a world that doesn’t fit with the music. The music represents everyone else, not the person singing the song. Hell, it fits because even the narrator feels like they don’t fit in with the rest of the world. The first verse:

"All around me are familiar faces / Worn-out places, worn-out faces / Bright and early for their daily races / Going nowhere, going nowhere / And their tears are filling up their glasses / No expression, no expression / Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow / No tomorrow, no tomorrow"

The narrator laments that daily life is just a vicious cycle. The narrator observes people living their day to day lives, doing the same thing over and over again, never being able to break the cycle they can’t seem to see themselves. This first verse is a common pessimistic view of things. The second verse is where I think things become the most bleak in the song.

"Children waiting for the day they feel good / Happy birthday, happy birthday / Made to feel the way that every child should / Sit and listen, sit and listen"

Imagine having the belief that the only day children feel good is on their birthday. Yeesh. That may be the case for some and it’s easy to see how the band sells that view. What other day out of the year shows a child that they’re unique and special and are different from most other people? None, really. The possible bleakness in a birthday also comes into play with “sit and listen.” Children “sit and listen” as others sing happy birthday to them at a birthday party, which is a positive thing! Here, the band is talking about a birthday reinforcing the “sit and listen” concept into the grander idea of “children should be seen and not heard.” Again, these lyrics are sung over synthesized horns, keyboards, and a drum machine dance beat! When you read the lyrics to “Mad World” without all of that, you get someone’s incredibly melancholy and incredibly sad view of the world around them. It makes you wonder what on Earth happens to someone that gets them to start thinking this way? Orzabal himself grew up amid domestic violence and abuse through his childhood, so that’s one possible explanation. The observations continue with the rest of the verse:

"Went to school and I was very nervous / No one knew me, no one knew me / Hello, teacher, tell me what's my lesson / Look right through me, look right through me"

Feelings of anxiety, feeling unknown, being relegated to the background and looked through as if you aren’t even there. Every line hits in just the right way. Vague enough to be open to interpretation, but specific enough that the exact feelings the lines are trying to convey get across perfectly. “Mad World” isn’t the most poetic song, but it doesn’t need to be. It does exactly what it sets out to do and works with the music to achieve that.

However, the lines everyone latched on to and made famous would be these:

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad / The dreams in which I'm dying / Are the best I've ever had

Orzabal, the lyricist for “Mad World,” rejects the idea that these lines reflect suicidal thoughts. In a 2017 interview talking about the story behind the song, he says those lines were inspired by psychologist Arthur Janov, author of The Primal Scream and the man behind the theory of primal therapy. Janov’s belief was that our most dramatic dreams release the most tension, so the lyric “The dreams in which I’m dying / Are the best I’ve ever had” become the only form of escape the narrator has; the only way to start feeling better. The beauty of those lines is in how confessional they are. It takes an immense amount of courage to admit to someone that “the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” You have to be carrying around some kind of darkness, some intense pain inside to write a sentence like that. Whether you subscribe to Janov’s theory or not, it’s clear that Roland tapped into something that none of his peers had tapped into before. Lyrically, nothing from 1982 sounds like “Mad World.” It’s not hard to see how people became attracted to the song and first gave it attention all those years ago.

I love the final chorus of the song. That’s when the song really becomes the most maddening. The way the music escalates as Curt runs through the lines. The drums are pounding wildly and all over the place, the synths and keyboards are droning, almost as if they’re trying to drown him out. It sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking and losing complete control... and then Curt sings “Mad world...” and the music calms back down and shifts back into place.

I find it hard to tell you / 'Cause I find it hard to take / When people run in circles / It's a very, very / Mad world

To lighten things up a bit, if there’s any warmth to be found within the song, it lies with Curt Smith’s performance. He sticks out as the lone human element amongst the musical machinery and delivers a vocal that manages to walk a fine line where it’s melancholy and downtrodden but never melodramatic. Other vocalists like Robert Smith of the Cure or Morrissey from the Smiths could probably perform a song like this, but I don’t think it would’ve turned out the same way. There’s this innocence and a certain sorrow to Curt’s voice that really sells the idea that the narrator has been walking around viewing the world in such a depressing and dark way. His is a voice you can sympathize with even if you don’t see the world in the same way. There’s a melodic quality to it that’s just beautiful. There’s beauty to be found in this song, even amidst all the chaos and despair.

I love this song and I don’t think the original gets the credit it truly deserves. There’s nothing quite like it and every attempt to recreate it and reverse engineer it has failed in my eyes. Tears For Fears capture anxiety and depression in a way that is so vulnerable and so human. They capture what it feels like to truly be able to see and be aware of a world where so many people are blind to the fact that they’re all walking around with the same kinds of pain and despair. They capture how it feels to be caught in a world where people and things never stop, where people never really take stock of what’s happening around them. People run in circles and history repeats itself, the same kinds of sorrow and pain that infected the previous generation keep coming back to do the same to the next one.

If one of the goals of Art is to take pain and turn it into something beautiful, something good, then Roland and Curt succeeded. There’s a reason their work continues to endure and be enjoyed forty years later. Their debut album, The Hurting, turns forty next year and if you like this song, I recommend it. The rest of the album explores themes of psychology, depression, abuse, and most importantly, it explores how to begin confronting childhood pain as an adult. It’s well worth your time. Roland and Curt show you that it's a very very mad world indeed.

#original content #ranting and raving #tears for fears #mad world #music criticism #music essay #Youtube

[asuccessfulbusinessman]

Once again, I come to exercise my writing muscles by inscribing my burning hatred of the grocer self-service shame rectangle onto this hellsite. Because, in addition to my prior complaints, my state has enacted a plastic bag ban, an utterly performative thing in my opinion, but it’s not too bad, right? I thought, no problem at all, I have some oversized reusable bags I can bring. But this was the first time I tried to bring a full cart of groceries out of the store post bag ban.

Originally, I thought I’d just go through the normal queues, so I had my bags at the bottom of the cart, underneath everything. I’d put everything on the belt, and then open my bags to load them up and start bagging - but the scant 2 lines open were completely backed up when I got there.

The one employee made to service the 10 so called ‘self’ service machines sees me enter the queue and immediately recognizes that something’s going to go wrong, and tells me to go to the one nearest to the exit, and offers a second cart to make things easier. I do not recognize the danger just yet, thank her, and start putting items directly in the bagging area to fish out my bags.

“please scan unscanned item in the bagging area” 

Alright, my mistake, I’m drowning in my mask and letting the fluorescent lights get to me, my hair a mess because I used the car window to cool myself down instead of the A/C, my thoughts on the extremely recent wet Damp-rid stain in my car, oh, the fucking irony, I have Woolite to either clear or turn into a more appealing discoloration stain. Yes, you’re not supposed to hang them in a moving vehicle. No, no one listens. I remove the items, get assistance, and then set my empty bags in the bagging area.

“please scan unscanned item in the bagging area”

The worker tries to explain to me in vain, but I at least thankfully accept the second cart so I need not bother her for assistance further. I set my bags in the second cart, and get to scanning. 

“help is on the way”

I’m on my third item. I don’t even know what I did wrong this time. I load up the bagging area - No, I get assistance from the one employee present while there are still 5 other people in this self service rectangle, getting help scanning and loading up the bagging area. I try to say I have it from here to the employee, I cannot impose any further for a multitude of reasons. In other words, I lie. I completely fill up the bagging area with half of my unbagged groceries before moving to transition them to the second cart- 

“please place item back in the bagging area” 

My understanding is, I left the items on the bagging area long enough that - unless I paid right then and there - the robot would continue to spite me. And, as I said before, the bagging area is full, and my cart is still half full. I unload the bagging area, get assistance, and repeat the process. At this rate, I’ll only need assistance one more time.

An item falls out of the bagging area. I tell myself, please don’t register as me trying to steal something, as I replace the item.

“please place it-” 

The robot cuts itself off as it recognizes I have placed the item back, and I cut myself off from finishing my curse as I note that there is a child to my immediate left present scanning items with his guardian. This is parody at this point. The guardian makes a note to her child to get out of there before the machine starts yelling at them - she has seen my pain and can likely emphasize with it, but being spited while a child passes with flying colors would have broken the camel’s back were there not a child present to keep me from outright cursing at the machine. And, yes, I know the guardian meant the machine because she said “she,” and if I was being misgendered ontop of it all I don’t think I could take it.

This machine was designed by someone who gets their kicks by being embarrassed in public and, well, it’s nice to definitively know that I don’t.

I go to finish and pay, but remember then and there that I have coupons. I use my $2.00 off laundry coupon, thinking that it would come off because Woolite is in the same department. It did not come off, and the stain likely won’t either. But now the machine want’s to eat my coupon worth $0.00, and I want my coupon.

I press the button to call for assistance to take the coupon off.

“help is on the way”

 The employee takes off the value of the coupon and takes the coupon. I cannot argue, I just want to leave.

Checking my receipt long after this exchange, another one of my ‘x for y’ discounts advertised to me on the shelf did - in fact - not come off. 

I eat a rotisserie chicken sandwich with pickles, feeling like a gumshoe who has just enough energy to add pickles in the poor excuse for a meal he’s making, despite ostensibly getting plenty of food at the grocers. 

I need not justify myself with the ‘righteous’ reasons to hate these self-service idiots that make an idiot out of me, I’ll leave that to the people who are stuck with working with them and having to assist idiots like me. I just want revenge.

#Self Service #Self-Service

[rebekahannwing]

What do you think of Joyofsatan.org? They claim to follow the Sumerian God Enki-Satan and they’re the largest Satanist group in the world.

first, I want to thank you for asking! I love getting the practice of navigating other kinds of faith, especially this one. I don’t know much about this specific group, + their site overall has a lot of copy to it, so I’ll simply comment on the copy they have on their homepage.

I also want to preface that I take subjects like these seriously, because they are, so I tend to take an academic viewpoint in presenting my thoughts. I want what I say to come across as level-headed, well thought out, intentional, and thorough, so this will be lengthy, I don’t know how to be concise. what I comment on is the words on the website, I have no hatred or ill feeling towards anyone who follows this faith, but my heart does break for them that they are being deceived, + I want nothing more for them than for their eyes to be opened and rescued out of the bondage they are in.

“True Satanism is about elevating and empowering humanity, which was our True Creator (Satan's) intention.”

I could very well deal with this alone + simply be finished, but I won’t. from this quote alone, Satanism is simply humanism with a different name. which is odd, because according to the short texts they abide by, it seems that Satan is supposed to be the one worshipped + elevated, not humanity.

‘We know "Yaweh/Jehova" of the bible to be a fictitious entity, and the people behind coercing this lie, to be the true deceivers of humanity and the masters of lies.’

this is weird for me because from a Christian standpoint, I’m not claiming Satan isn’t real, I know he is very real, + wants nothing more than to destroy all that praises God. so to claim that God isn’t real, then claim the people who came up with it to be the very thing Satan actually is is interesting. (“You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies.” ‭‭John‬ ‭8:44‬)

(immediately following the previous quote)“This is evident in the many contradictions within the Judeo/Christian Bible, revealing this text to be the work of human beings who had occult knowledge and infused it with power to make it credible, and to incite fear in order to control.”

I really wanted to see an article under their “Exposing Christianity” page for a direct source for the contradictions, but I couldn’t find one. I don’t know how Christians would have occult knowledge to write the Bible when the Bible clearly commands us to stay the heck away from that. I would also like to know how they believe Christians “infused” it with power?? to make it credible (so are they then claiming that the Bible is credible??). do you have the ability to control people with the Bible? absolutely, if you’re completely twisting Scripture while taking things out of context + discouraging your church from reading it for themselves.

‘Christianity was invented to remove spiritual and occult knowledge (the powers of the mind) from the populace and place this power in the hands of a "chosen" few to the detriment of all humanity.’

again, the Bible specifically commands us to not deal with the occult, nor is there any “chosen” few who have the power. the power of Christianity is the Gospel, which is available to every single person. (“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.” –John 5:24)

“We practice power meditation to advance spiritually and to elevate ourselves. Power meditation is as essential for the human soul as food is essential for the human body. The serpent, a symbol of Satan represents the fiery kundalini force coiled at the base of the spine, which upon ascending, transforms the human mind and soul to a much higher level of understanding and ability.”

+ that right there, is the new age! again, making the claim that the point of their existence is to elevate themselves, yet then why are they calling Satan their god? shouldn’t he be the one they’re elevating?

“Spiritual Satanism is a life loving religion. Satan accepts us as we are, but guides us to advance ourselves to where we evolve to a higher level. Spiritual Satanists are free to live their lives as they choose- responsibility to the responsible. We live by natural law and encourage everyone to develop themselves to their fullest extent.”

this specific quote makes me view Satan as simply a life coach. I would prefer to not live my life as I choose, because I make some pretty dumb choices sometimes.

‘We know we "save" our own souls as opposed to claims of the Nazarene saving anyone. Satanism is based upon the true transformation of the soul through power meditation.’

how do you save yourself? by power meditation? how much do you have to do before you’re saved? what happens if you don’t do the requirement? it’s interesting to me that they also absolutely refuse to call Jesus by His name or His title either.

“The Nazarene is a fictitious entity, whose identity was stolen from some 18+ crucified Pagan Gods, such as Odin, who hung from a tree and is nothing more than a tool to keep humanity under the control of a chosen few.”

it’s so fascinating to me that people are still claiming today that Jesus never existed, when it can be proven with historical documents inside + outside of the Bible. I’m not sure why they’re comparing Odin to Jesus, because Jesus didn’t hang Himself to get more knowledge like Odin did, Jesus was crucified an invention of torture + eventually death to redeem us. (“In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace.” –Ephesians 1:7) who is this chosen few again?

“The Nazarene has been used in Christian masses and services as a substitute for a human living blood sacrifice, revealing their true purpose.”

our true purpose? our true purpose is to bear the image of God. because we decided to choose ourselves over God, we broke our relationship to God + became responsible for paying the debt for all of the sins we committed against Him. what payment is required from a holy + perfect God? our death because we can’t pay it back ourselves. so God gave us a Savior to take our place on the cross so that we could be redeemed + live for Him. pretty nefarious purpose.

“The Christian religion and its cohorts actively suppress knowledge and free thought, encourage people to be slaves, and never advocate or teach anything for the betterment or advancement of humanity.”

really? the entirety of the book of Proverbs is a book dedicated to knowledge + wisdom. free thought is defined by “Freethought is an epistemological viewpoint which holds that beliefs should not be formed on the basis of authority, tradition, revelation, or dogma, and that beliefs should instead be reached by other methods such as logic, reason, and empirical observation.” (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freethought) as if the authority + revelation of the Bible excludes logic + reason. although instances in the Bible may reach outside of human logic + reason, what god are you worshipping if it can be easily explained away + wouldn’t/couldn’t work outside of logic + reason if it chose to because it created logic + reason? everyone is a slave to something, what you worship, desire the most, spend the most time on is what you are a slave to. I choose to be free from sin, shame, + saving myself to being a slave to Christ to be able to freely do what is right, true, + holy. Christianity never advocates or teach anything for the betterment of humanity? Christians are the reason hospitals exist (https://uh.edu/engines/epi991.htm). “According to EthicsDaily.com, 5 percent of practicing Christians in the United States have adopted, which is more than twice the number of all adults who have adopted. In addition, a survey showed that 38 percent of practicing Christians had seriously considered adoption, while only 26 percent of all adults had.” (https://adoption.org/who-adopts-the-most) Christianity also viewed women way higher than any other culture or religion during that time. we are called as Christians to specifically love and help the least of these and those forgotten by society.

I think that that is enough for me to comment on, but to summarize my thoughts, this specific belief system, although it goes as far as to say on their website they are not a response to Christianity, has brought up Christianity and how it’s incorrect more than what they actually believe, so it is a response to Christianity.

the people who follow after this belief need prayers that their eyes and hearts would be opened and they would see the truth in the Gospel so that they can be saved from themselves and this terrible deceit. deceitfulness leads to death, but in God there is forgiveness, redemption, and restoration.

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can u write an au where carol’s cat (goose) keeps sneaking into fem!reader’s apartment and so carol and reader communicate with each other thru notes they put on goose’s collar and they eventually fall in love (((:::::::

Goose's Best Friend

Summary: After a stranger's cat injured in your apartment one night, you decide to attach a short note to its collar to give your apologies. They lead to something you could have never expected.

Pairing: Army Pilot!Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2,792

It was the middle of the night, 2:57a.m., to be exact, when a loud crash shook you from the clutches of sleep. You sat up with a groan, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision enough to look at the clock on your nightstand. You swung your legs off the bed, eyes catching the shattered lamp on the ground. Fighting off the temptation to leave it on the ground for tomorrow, for fear that you might forget about it and slam your bare feet into the shards scattered around the floor, you slid your legs into some sweats and stood up.

You weren’t expecting, when you turned on the light, for something to move. When something darted around the corner you actually let out a high-pitched yelp, flying backwards and hitting your elbow hard off the corner of the nightstand. You felt tingling rush into the tips of your fingers as you tried desperately to comprehend what had just happened. Your breathing had already increased, and your heart was racing inside your chest. You took a hesitant step forward.

Despite being alone in the apartment, you flushed beet red in embarrassment when you found the creature you’d been so terrified of. The orange tabby cat stared up at you with wide eyes, letting out a quiet mew. Immediately your heart softened, its beat slowing down to a normal pace. When the cat made to step toward you, though, you immediately noticed the limp. Your eyebrows furrowed and you knelt down, letting it come to you. You reached out for its front leg, and it let you take it into your hand.

“Oh, sweet baby,” you muttered softly, wiping a bit of blood out of its fur with your thumb. “Come on. I think I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

It surely didn’t understand what you said, but it followed you when you stood up. It limped into the bathroom behind you, settling once it reached the tile floor. You reached into the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the red case, propping it up on the countertop and opening it up. Quickly, you located the roll of bandages and the scissors that came with it. You pulled it out and got some wet paper towels. Once more you knelt down on the ground next to the tabby.

A black collar around its neck caught your attention. You reached out for the silver tag that hung from it and spoke aloud. “Goose. Well, Goose, there’s no phone number here for your owner. Guess I’ll have to fix you up and trust you can find your own way home, huh?”

He meowed in response.

You continued to wrap up his leg. When you finally finished, you tucked the first aid kit away again. You clicked your tongue a couple times in an attempt to get him to follow you again. The both of you headed toward the kitchen, where you rummaged through the fridge for the leftover chicken from dinner the night before last. You pulled some out and set it in a small dish on the floor, a sort of apology for your lamp having done such damage to the poor animal’s leg. He helped himself quickly. Meanwhile, you dug through one of your drawers.

You popped the cap off a pen and cut a small strip of paper, struggling to keep your writing small enough to fit.

There was no number on the collar, so I opted for this. Goose found his way into my apartment and had an unfortunate mishap. I patched him up and gave him a treat. I hope that’s okay. He should be alright.

Hope he feels better soon.

You rolled the note around the tabby’s collar and taped it in place. He’d finished his treat by now, so you led him back to the apartment door. When you opened it, he cast one glance back at you, eyes shining as if in gratitude, then scurried down the hall. Just as he turned out of sight, though, someone else moved into your peripheral vision. You could have scoffed when you saw who had wandered into the hallway. She spoke before you could close the door.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Fuck off, Danvers.”

“Captain Danvers,” she hummed, a wide smirk on her face as she twirled her keys around her finger.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed. “And next time you’re using your stripes to get random women in bed, be a little quieter, would you? Some of us around here have self-respect.”

You closed the door before she could respond to that.

You and Carol Danvers had hated each other for as long as you’d lived there. The two of you were like hot and cold, or night and day. She liked loud music and late nights whereas you liked a nice book and an early night. You were quiet and soft-spoken, and Carol was a bully. In fact, she was your bully. You’d never endured such teasing and taunting from anyone else before. It wasn’t her harsh words that got to you, though. In fact, you weren’t entirely sure what it was that got to you. Maybe it was her arrogance, or maybe it was her ignorance for anyone around her. It didn’t matter.

Carol Danvers brought out a side of yourself that you didn’t know existed. You’d only have to hear a single word fall from her lips or see a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, and instantly any semblance of a good mood would dissipate and fade into annoyance. The hatred you held for her made your blood boil in your veins at the mere sight of her stupid, cocky smirk. You sometimes wished you could just reach out and slap that stupid smirk off her stupid face.

You pushed the blonde from your mind, heading back to bed. Hopefully, the coming day would be one that didn’t involve the blonde captain.

*

It was three days later that a quiet meow caught your attention. It tore your gaze from the TV, and you glanced toward the source of the sound. The face that was watching you immediately brought a smile to your face. You pat the couch beside you and the tabby jumped up, settling onto the blanket. You ran your hand across his head, watching his eyes close in content. You were about to turn your gaze back to the TV when you noticed the paper around his collar. It wasn’t the same one you put there. You reached out for it and removed it, careful not to rip it, and unrolled it. You flicked on the lamp.

Sorry about him. He wanders around the building. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten into someone’s room. If you fed him, he’ll probably come back to you (which I don’t mind, so long as you don’t mind that he’ll keep coming back). That’s how I know you’ll get this. So, thank you for patching him up. The vet would’ve cost more. You were right. He was just fine.

Rolled up with it was a twenty-dollar bill. You chuckled, immediately standing up off the couch. You pulled a small treat out of the fridge as you passed it, Goose trotting into the kitchen at the sight. You handed it to him and he took it happily, chowing down as you stood up straight again and continuing on your journey toward the notepad on the counter. Once again you ripped a small piece of paper out of it, ripping the cap of the pen off with your teeth and holding it there as you brought the pen down to meet the paper.

It seems so. You were right. He came back. He’s a sweet boy. I truly enjoy his visits. I don’t get many of them, so he’s welcome here whenever he pleases. And I don’t need this. Keep it.

You knelt down on the ground to Goose once again. He sat still for you as you wrapped the bill around his collar, wrapped the note around it, and then taped them both in place. Once more, you led him back to the apartment door, opened it up for him, and let him into the hallway. He rubbed his head against your calf once more before dashing out of sight. You shut the door behind him.

*

You huffed as you stormed into the lobby of the apartment building. Work had not treated you well that day. All you wanted was to head upstairs, put on your coziest pyjamas, order takeout, cuddle into the couch, and watch a movie or two. It was all you needed to wash away the horrible day and ease the stress that was weighing so heavily on your chest. You only wanted to pick up your mail before you did, but apparently, the universe had other ideas.

“Looking for some mail from your mommy?”

Danvers was the last person you wanted to deal with today. You didn't even bother to grumble a response to your neighbour, who was still in uniform as she stepped up beside you and unlocked her own mailbox. You were going to step away without a single word, but once more, you didn’t get your wish. Carol snickered at something, making you slam your box shut with far more force than necessary.

“What, pray tell, is so fucking funny?” You snapped.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. Nice keychain.”

The keychain was a souvenir one you’d gotten from your trip to Disney with your family a few years ago. It was a picture of you and your brothers all wearing Mickey Mouse ears and sticking your tongues out at the camera. If anyone else had said the words, you would have blushed and thanked them. When Carol said the words, you shoved the keys in your pocket and shot a glare so harsh that it would have killed if it could have.

“You’re a dick, Danvers.”

“Captain Danvers,” she corrected once more.

“Look, this whole army pilot thing might work on those girls you pick up from god knows where, but I’ve met you,” you sneered. “You use this uniform for detestable things, Danvers. It’s disgusting.”

You stormed away.

When you unlocked your door and stepped into your apartment, however, you found that you wouldn’t need pyjamas or takeout or movies to make you feel better. Your new best friend was sitting on your couch as if he had been waiting for you to arrive home. You dropped your bag at the door and moved to sit with him immediately. After stroking his head absentmindedly for a bit, you noticed the new note.

Take it. Please? Come on, you’re going to make Goose sad if you don’t. You’re going to make me sad if you don’t.

Attached with the note, again, was that same twenty-dollar bill. You rolled your eyes as you moved into the kitchen once more, handing Goose a few of the cat treats you’d bought for him. He accepted them happily as, for the third time, you prepared to write a note for Goose’s mystery owner. You didn’t even bother to sit down, hunching over the counter in a way that your back probably wouldn’t have thanked you for. You scribbled on the paper.

I’m sure Goose won’t mind at all. As for you? Well, I don’t really know you, do I? Just keep the damn money, will you? You know, Goose is going to gain a few pounds if you keep sending him back here.

Sincerely, Goose’s new best friend

After a few pats to the head, you sent Goose off with that. He was back later that day.

Goose’s best friend,

Goose does mind. He wants you to keep it. Please? Besides, if we keep attaching it with scotch tape to a wandering cat, it’s going to get lost. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you? I sure wouldn’t. As for the treats, I’ll make sure to walk him a bit more. Wouldn’t want to lose my new favourite pen pal over a couple extra pounds on the cat.

- Goose’s mom

This time, there were two twenties attached. You chuckled at that. Goose was gobbling down his treat as you wrote.

Goose’s mom,

I think that’d be quite a sight to see, you walking Goose down the street. Guess if I ever see Goose leashed and with some random woman on the street, I’ll know what you look like.

- Goose’s best friend

P.S. Just donate the money. Seriously.

As if it were habit by now, you reattached the bills, added your note, and sent the tabby out the door once again. You headed back to what you’d been doing.

It wasn’t long before the next reply.

Goose’s best friend,

Here, I’ll help you build the image. I’m 23, blonde, and about 5’6”. I’m in the army, so I’d probably still be in uniform after work. Oh, and Goose’s leash is blue, and he has a grey harness for walking.

- Goose’s mom

P.S. I split the $40 between the humane society and the local shelter

You once more had to laugh at the stranger. Of course, you immediately moved to respond. As much as you didn’t want to kick Goose out, you wanted her to get your answer as soon as possible. You grabbed your notepad.

Goose’s mom,

You sound cute.

- Goose’s mom’s best friend

It was a short note this time. You were having fun, though, and you wanted to tease your new friend a little. You attached the note to Goose and let him run off.

Once more, Goose returned with a new reply.

Best friend,

You didn’t give me anything in response. I’m offended.

- Goose’s mom’s best friend’s best friend

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the way she’d signed her newest note. A pang of confidence hit your chest. You scribbled on the note.

Goose’s cute mom,

Let’s go for coffee then. 2B. I’m free when you are.

- Girl with a crush

*

You regretted sending that last note. You’d never gone more than 12 hours without communicating with the mystery note sender. You’d grown quite fond of the little pieces of communication you’d exchanged with her. It was actually the highlight of your day, on most days. Since sending that last one, though, you’d yet to hear back from her. It’d been four days now. You were quite upset about it, and decided the best way to fix that was some loud music. Maybe it’d piss Danvers off as much as she pissed you off.

When there was a loud knock on the door, you immediately assumed that you’d sure pissed someone off. Of course, they’d complain about you and not her. Everyone loved Carol fucking Danvers. You wished you could whirl the door open and shout at whoever was on the other side, but knew yourself better than that. You’d probably open it up and apologize, then turn the volume down and wallow in your misery to the sound of softer music.

That is, if it were anyone but Danvers.

“What? Just now realizing how damn annoying it is to hear loud music blaring from the apartment directly below yours?” You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off, Danvers.”

You went to slam the door, but she stuck her hand in. It must’ve been a little harsher than you meant to, because she shook her fingers out when she retracted them. You didn’t apologize, because you didn’t even feel bad. She deserved it after giving you two years of hell having to live in the apartment below her. You’d not have been surprised if one day she invited an elephant into her room just so she could make as much noise in your apartment as possible.

As you were about to make another snarky remark, though, you noticed something. That cocky glint that was usually shining in her brown eyes was missing. She wasn’t even meeting your eyes. Her gaze was cast to the door beside your head, locked to the bronze numbers that were screwed into it. You raised a single eyebrow, waving your hand in front of her face to get her attention. She blinked as if coming out of a trace, looking back to you.

“What do you want, Danvers?” You snapped when she wouldn’t speak.

She didn’t answer. She only held out a small piece of paper. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but took it from her. The handwriting was one you’d seen so many times.

Goose’s best friend,

Coffee it is. But I’m paying. I still owe you.

- A girl who also has a crush, Carol Danvers

#carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #reader insert #marvel #mcu #lesbian #wlw

[soulmate-game]

Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

#dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #maribat #bio!dad au #Bio!mom Harley Quinn #Bio!Dad joker #mlb x dc #ml x dc #Harley’s Plea for Help #platonic brucinette #platonic jasonette #platonic Harley Quinn x Marinette

[worstloki]

Okay, this is gettin’ real screwed up here.

I watch a lot of TV. Probably too much. And I’ve seen characters beaten to their knees before, sometimes even with collars. And yeah, there’s usually someone standing over them, and it’s been a woman sometimes. The kind of scene we got in episode 5 of Loki is not new ground.

But here’s the thing. In EVERY OTHER SCENE I can remember like this, the person kneeling is the hero. They’ve been brought down, fully humbled before the sneering villain, and in a few minutes something will happen to get them back on their feet again. It’s usually a tense moment, a “what if they break?” that makes you want the hero to win. You aren’t rooting for, or even liking in some cases, the person standing. You’re cheering for the person on their knees.

This doesn’t seem to be the case with the Loki show. Yes, the viewers may be rooting for Loki, but there’s no hatred for Sif there. She’s not proved herself to be a cold, heartless villain, ruthlessly pounding the hero until all he can do is kneel at her feet.

Except…she did kind of do that. But it isn’t treated as something bad. It’s treated more as something Loki deserved, in my opinion. The show wants us to feel like he deserved to get repeatedly beaten up and told horrible things, just for cutting off a lock of Sif’s hair. I’ll grant, it’s peanuts compared to what happened to him in the mythology. But it’s still bad. Especially since they had him acknowledge it, repeat her cruel words back. They’re playing it off as if Loki is still the villain by himself, and is only good because of other people- Mobius, mostly, but Sif is part of that.

That’s not the way Loki’s character is. In the comics particularly, his biggest arcs are always about reinventing the labels given to him, changing “villain” into something good, something he can use, and doing it by himself. Yes, there’s outside influence, but ultimately Loki is the one who decided to change.

The show is not letting him do that. The show is portraying him as a stubborn jackass who refuses to change until other people show him the light- either with psychological torture presented as therapy, or with beating him up a bunch of times until he gives in. The show and its characters are forcing Loki to become good- they aren’t showing him doing it by himself. He is not becoming one of the good guys, he’s being essentially enslaved by them, and the show is passing it off as somehow all that good influence finally rubbed off on Loki’s cold, villainous heart. That’s why him betraying Mobius was shown as so bad even though Loki barely knew him and had been psychologically tortured by him- Mobius is written as a character who can choose to be good, and Loki is written as a character who must be forced to be good.

And something about an entire show revolving around an independent character being treated as a villain, literally enslaved by the “good guys” (back when the show still wanted us to think the TVA weren’t shady as all hell), beaten to his knees with a collar around his neck until he accepts that he deserves to be alone because he isn’t “good” like everybody else…that doesn’t go down right for me.

The TVA being presented in not just a neutral but often reliable light is something I thought would change once Loki literally called out their propaganda and Sylvie called them fascists, but, for some reason the authoritarian genocidalists are not being presented as a bad thing and it irks me too.

It's especially weird because of the way what Loki claims to have wanted by making choices for people and what Mobius claims the TVA do ARE THE EXACT SAME THINGS, except Loki, until the show, hadn't done that of his own volition and was being tortured during the invasion and is treated terribly for something he didn't even succeed in doing, while the TVA successfully erase events on a mass scale but are presented as having a higher (or at best, - equal) moral ground.

The exact same thing was done in Ragnarok where Loki's "turning point" from a tricksy villainous scoundrel happened because Thor left him frying on the ground and gave him a pep talk filled with lies and general slander about how he could be better - and people see that as good because Thor is framed as a hero, and it's because instead of accepting Loki is a complex character they take what the narrative tells at face value and that is that Loki fights the protagonist(s) so he's bad.

I personally don't like the narrative pushing a character that is canonically an abuse victim and attempted suicide and was tortured right after as someone who needs fixing because he's lusting for power and needs it to gain a sense of control during a retcon which is occurring for the sake of calling him a complete bad guy who needs to change (probably because no actual original character development could be thought of?) after he was just confirmed as queer and colloquially (i assume) called a narcissist because of twisted love.

That he deserves to be alone was presented neutrally as a joke even as he was repeatedly getting beaten to the ground, and then both people he could call friends were removed from his immediate vicinity right after.

Loki isn't being presented as a character that has done a huge mix of good and bad in the movies, he's being presented as an oft incompetent idiot that deserves what he gets because he shouldn't have run away from captors, or he cut Sif's hair, or he killed his mother, or he dared to think he had any importance or could do something good, because the truth is he's an evil lying scourge.

"But maybe," Mobius says, "Maybe he wants to mix it up. Sometimes you get tired of playing the same part. Is that possible? He can change?" And everyone's already forgotten that moments before the mission Mobius said to Loki's face that the TVA has pruned a lot of Loki variants because he's so nice! look! he has hope in him when no one else does! It's also easy to forget the "and hey, if it doesn't work, I'll delete him myself," right after because the guy was smiling through it and the scene is followed by Loki really badly trying to explain the logic of being a trickster who everyone knows is a trickster.

A lot of people payed more attention in Ragnarok than to the other Thor movies so it's not a new retcon and people seem fine with the extremely strange take that 'loki is bad but he can do good sometimes,' because the character is more animated and acts foolish and that's generally more fun for comedy, which is fair for people to prefer imo, people find different things entertaining.

But I do solidly hope the show doesn't go that way though and takes a side with Loki on the narrative stance eventually because I've seen a lot of people who just. miss that the TVA's concept is bad. And those who think they're "reforming" Loki. As if the guy needs anything but a break at this point lmao he only got away from Thanos like 2 days ago please just let him rest for a bit he's a fail villain and it's cringe to have your supposed 1st open queer character get beaten to a pulp by Sif and then put wack sexualizing shots for it too :/

it's like the show itself is trying to sell the angle of "Loki is a villain" and I'm a clown who is still wanting that to be intentional because if it is? It could be amazing and playing with how different parties are framed would be s p e c t a cu l ar and could encourage people to reassess the hero coding in other movies including ones Loki was previously in - but we're reaching the last two episodes and I don't feel like that'll happen.

I feel like even if Loki does reach the end of the show as a transformed person it'll be done leaving the audience with "perhaps you're not so bad after all, Loki," and then also give credit to Mobius or Sylvie or whoever else was involved, simply because as even of yet Loki hasn't taken on a lead role in the show. I'd argue he hasn't really contributed anything worthwhile to plot either. As you've said, he's being shown as someone who needs to change but isn't really motivated to. Aw man they better not make romantic love the reason he wants to change.

#no because they're framing things that are humiliating or demeaning as *casual* #I don't even care if they wanted fanservice in the show did it have to be THAT type??? #of course it did they don't take the character seriously or consider what they're doing with him despite his legitimate grievances #in a show where Loki's had literally no influence on the main plot but delaying it for the entirety of the Lamentis episode #if i was worse this is where i'd theorize about how Loki isn't a typical 'strong' hero and threatens the fragile masculine ideals of some #like........marvel the F*CK kind of message is this meant to send after Thanos throwing Gamora off a cliff was 'love' and Odin was 'strong' #they've made Loki be embarrassingly bad in fights too and what's up with that????? #''no look he's powerful see he just reversed time on an entire building on his own!!! now watch 2 guards hold him back <3'' #bro 2 guards aren't enough if loki wants to escape what movies were you watching bro #you want me to believe this is the guy that went toe to toe with thor and tie-lost because he had tears blurring his vision???? #nice try mcu im onto you your writing sucks #the Loki show #loki spoilers #loki show spoilers #im still reeling from Sylvie's backstory of BITING AND RUNNING and that she left the door to the TVA open for so long accidentally?????? #im enjoying the show but i'm not going to say it's a good show or even that I see Loki as in-character #he CAN CANONICALLY TELEPORT WHY THE FR*CK WERE THEY SITTING AND WATCHING LAMENTIS BLOW UP #he BROKE the tempad - their ONLY WAY OFF THE PLANET - which was stored in a POCKET DIMENSION - by falling TOO HARD ????? #EXCUSE ME???? #put some effort into the story you're trying to sell marvel #the logic with the timelines???? makes NO SENSE?????? #the TVA either has no clue what they're doing or the multiverse literally already exists and the sacred timeline continues to be lies #i want to strange Marvel #the entire thing is so entertaining though so im definitely enjoying #ThisPostIsLongerThanMyLifeSpan #TPILTMLS

[el-buzz]

Too much work!! :c

A Cg! Clay x Agere! Reader fic

This was sort of self-indulgent because I’m sort of in a spot where I seriously have to focus on schoolwork which obviously can be really draining so I tried to scrap this together whenever I had free time :D

(^such a lie I did all this when I should’ve been doing work or sleeping dinwhdjsjdh)

it’s not the best but I wanted to feed myself and anyone else interested in cg! Clay

Again it’s mostly kiddo at start but then goes into more toddler/babyish reader at the end

3.1k+ words :D!! (Yeah I traded quality for quantity 😭😭)

Cross posted on Ao3 at Soft_Buzz!!

Let's just say you haven't been having the best month. Seriously, it hasn't been easy to stay happy, but you really do try your best! It's not your fault that everything just seems like too much. You wanted to help Clay with his tasks. You know, help a loved one out! Unfortunately, the paperwork and amount of tasks you had were overwhelming. Checking the safety of the old gold courses, the amount of food left before needing to send another party out for scavenging, and even the functionality of the new security that had been set up was draaaaaaaining.

Sure you did have Clay to help you out with the accounting, buuuut by the time you were done with everything, you were just too tired to even function!! At least the praise he would give you provided you with some energy and motivation. You genuinely have no idea how Clay seems to find joy in any of this and even has the energy to participate in other activities like his sad book club. You weren't barely even able to spare time to read for funsies or scrapbook at all!

Currently, you were doing the most simple of reports in the admin building, but your brain just will not budge. You just can't concentrate or recall any information at all. You read parts of paperwork, but gosh it all just seems like mumbo jumbo to you. Poor you, staring at the paper desperately hoping for things to align and make sense, but you were just so tired and irritated too!!

All this serious business was genuinely so not your forte, but you wanted to impress Clay by helping him out. But clearly, your plan wasn't working out too well... You didn't want to disappoint him. You wanted him to be proud of you and tell you how good you've done!!

Overwhelming guilt got a hold of you, and tears began to spill down your cheeks. You just wanted a break. You needed a break. You couldn't handle this. It was too much. Gosh even your skin felt like too much and chewing on one of your fingers clearly wasn't helping. The pen in your hand shook from your hold. Your breath hitched, and it started to get hard to breathe. Ignoring your tears, you decided to try to continue the report with shaky handwriting. Tears fall onto the fresh ink. You tried to clean them off by swiping away, but you only managed to smudge the ink and ruin the report.

That was your last straw. Nope no no no. You whined. As you start taking in your situation, you begin to sob. You throw your pen and crumble the stupid report out of frustration. You just couldn't anymore. You sniffled and tried to hold back your emotions. The last thing you wanted to do was make a mess that you would have to clean up. You let the tears fall as you hiccup and bring your legs up to your chest.

Unfortunately, your state doesn't improve when you hear the door of the admin building creak open. Shoot shoot shoot. You panic as you try to get rid of your tears by rubbing them off with your hands. You quickly get back to sitting correctly and try to hide your face from view. The last thing you wanted was for Clay to see you like this.

"Heyy Y/n," Clay says as he enters. From the sound of his tone, he clearly had his usual upbeat smile. "You've seriously got to try that new cheese combo that Viva made. It's killer" He takes note that you're quiet and really focused on some paperwork. "Okay.. you're focused. I respect that." You sniffle. "Wait a minute.. Are you sick? Is that why you aren't talking? Your throat hurts or something?" You tremble as he starts to walk over to you and reaches to feel your forehead. Well, you tried..

You look up at him and start to tear up again. "Woah? Hey, what's going on? You're kinda freaking me out?" The concern is evident on his face, and your heart warms at the thought of him being attentive to you. But gosh were you also scared to death right now, and to make matters worse, you started to feel that fuzzy headspace encase your mind.

You whine, not sure of what to say to him, and open your arms for a hug while hiccuping. "Can I have a hug? P-please?" Your voice cracks as you speak.

Clay sighed and took you in his arms, hugging you tightly. "There, there. Take your time," he soothed, rubbing your back. "It's okay, now. I'm here. You've got me." After a few minutes, and a bit of protest from you, he pulled away and wiped the corners of your damp eyes with his thumb, smiling with much love and care in the world.

By now your breathing had evened, and all you had left was some sniffling. "Now..," Clay starts as he caresses your cheek, "Do you want to talk about it?"

You pout and look down while fidgeting with your fingers. After a few seconds, you nod. "It's just..." you bring your thumb up to your mouth, "too mush."

Clay tilts his head at that. "What's too much?" He questions as he runs his hand through your hair and reaches into his pocket for a lollipop that Viva had given him earlier.

"Work!" You whined before sniffling and rubbing your hand against your nose.

"You feel overwhelmed because of your tasks?" Clay questions you softly as he removes your thumb from your mouth and hands you a lollipop. As you take it from his hands, you whine and nod. "Oh baby...," he mutters as he caresses your face, "but I thought you liked doing them?" You put the lollipop into your mouth and try to calm yourself before speaking again.

"I did..," you look up at him, "I wanted to help you. I really did!" You exclaim at him, but then start to look away with teary eyes. "B-but, then everyfing kept piling up an- and I was tired and started being slow and getting distracted and suddenly I barely had any time for myself!"

Clay just sighs softly and pulls you onto his lap when you finish speaking. "Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?? We could've sorted the problem out before it got this bad." He questions you.

You bit your trembling lip while still looking away from him. "Didn wanna upset you," you pouted as you felt yourself fall into a younger mindset.

"Oh honey, you know you'd never disappoint me. I love you too much to ever feel that way towards you."

"No even a lil?" You ask while looking up at him in awe.

"Not even a lil," he answered with a reassuring smile while leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"The only thing that really disappoints me is the fact that I never realized you felt this way," He gives you a tight squeeze and nuzzles your neck. You return his embrace with new tears rolling down your cheeks. You tighten your hold scared that if you don't, you might just fall apart.  The both of you stay quiet for a moment as he hugs you and whispers sweet nothings into your ear while rubbing your back. You hiccup and sniffle, but you don't dare to loosen your hold. Not that Clay minded. He'd been concerned for you and just wanted to give you the best comfort he could provide.

After calming down, you loosen your hold. Clay cups your face with both of his hands and starts littering your face with kisses. You persist on moving away from him but he keeps his hold on your face.

"Hmno.!.. M' icky!" You snuffle.

"Hmm true... but when has that ever stopped me?" He questions with a smug smile on his face. Your silence answers him for you. "Exactly. But you do have a point," Clay states as he grabs a tissue or two from the desk. "Here." He brings it up to your face and helps you blow your nose. "There we go. Much better now right?" He then chucks the dirty tissue into a trash can.

"Mhm, fank you!" You smile back at him while.

"No problem, baby." He responds and boops your nose, which gets a giggle out of you.

"You know.. you do such a good job all the time, but you clearly need a break and that's okay. So..," Clay picks you up. "That's what we're gonna do. Take a break."

You start squirming in his hold. "Buh wah bout tha wok?!?" You babble while reaching out for the report you had started to redo earlier. Clearly that desperate need to be a sort of workaholic kicked in.

"Ah ah ah," Clay tuts you while bouncing you in his arms, "shhh about that now. We're taking a break. End of discussion." He asserts while petting your head as you pout.

"Plus someone is clearly too small to be doing big adult work. Looks like I've got a little baby on my hands " He says while cooing at you and pinching your cheeks. You were about to whine and complain, but a quick peck on the cheek quieted you right up. "Hm much better."

"Gesss it wouldn huwt," you mutter and start to cling to Clay.

"No it wouldn't," Clay reaffirms to you while making your head rest on his shoulder. Clay opens the door. "Hang tight. We're going back to your pod for some little time okay?"

"Mkay." You wrap your limbs around him and hide your face in the crook of his neck. Gosh if anyone saw you right now, you'd just combust from embarrassment.

Sensing your unease, Clay gives you a kiss on your head and starts to pat and rub your back. "Don't worry we'll be there before you know it." You just respond to him with a soft whine and start to fidget with the stick of your lollipop.

•••

When you get inside your pod, Clay walks past the living room and into your bedroom. He set you down and your bed and gives you your stuffie. Now with you focused on your lil buddy, Clay takes the opportunity to get you a comfortable set of clothes. He comes backs, and you let him help you into them. Clay can't help himself and decides to tickle you to get a giggle out of you, which works of course. You squirm and playfully fight back. He soon stops and chucks your big kid clothes into a laundry basket.

"Ok, now how about you get your little stuff and toys out while I set up a play area in the living room?" He asks while turning back to you.

"Yeah!!" You jump up and start to get your stuff from under the bed.

"Alright," Clay chuckles and pats your head before getting some soft blankets, pillows, and some stuffies and exiting the room.

You, very enthusiastically, search through your stuff trying to pick out some of the things you want such as your paci, a sippy cup, and some stim toys! When you were done, you put everything back in the box as neatly as you could and shoved it under the bed.

You quickly run out of the room with newfound enthusiasm and everything in your hands, maybe dropping a toy or two on your way over. But it's okay! You'll come back for them, probably.

In the living room, Clay has now set up blankets and arranged the pillows on the floor and couch. He had also quickly grabbed some grapes from the fridge and put them in a bowl on the coffee table. Now, Clay pulled out some paper and crayons that you had stored in one of your cabinets, in case you felt like drawing or scribbling. He just wanted to make this a good experience for you!

Clay looks up and sees you running over to him, "Careful there. You don't wanna fall over and get hurt." He chuckles.

"Nah I won-" you begin to brush him over before you stumbled over and start to fall over, making you drop all of your stuff.

"Woah!!" Clay quickly places down the blank paper and hurries over to catch you before you fell hard.

You whine and look down with a frown due to the random scare and dropping everything.

"Oh chin up, sweetheart." He speaks softly while taking out the bare lollipop stick and replacing it with your pacifier, which you happily took. "Just a lil scare but you'll always be safe with me. Let me take me take care of this"

You whine and shake your head. "Hmno! I help!" You remark and start to get on with the business of picking up your mess like the very independent kiddo you desperately wanted to be.

"Hey! Nope no c'mon..." Clay picks you from under your armpits like, one might with a cat, and then settles you right on his hip.

You look at him with an apparent frown and pout. "I help."

"No. Not today. Let me do this for you. Let me take care of my baby." He caresses your cheeks before giving a few pecks on the forehead and cheek.

"You may want to be a big kid, but you definitely need to be small. Just want to show you a token of my appreciation for the hard hard work you've been doing, yes?" He looks as your for further confirmation.

You sigh. "Okay.., jus fo today," you mumble slightly upset, but you wrapped yourself around Clay anyway. He smiled before humming and getting to work, which honestly helped you relax and start to nod off. The pacifier in your mouth just helped to make everything feel fuzzy and sleepy..

Once done, Clay set you down the floor on top of the blankets and pillows. You plop yourself right on top of them and start to make grabby hands at one of your stuffies on the couch. Happily, Clay hands it over to you and you begin to snuggle your buddy. He coos at the cute sight in front of him, causing you to blush but be more playful.

"Gosh you are so adorable, hun. How did I end up with the world's cutest baby?" He pinches your cheeks, and you just smile and babble back him. "Who's the cutest baby? Huh? Huh? Is it you?" He tickles and nuzzles you. You kick your feet in the air and tap your chest with one of your hands. "Yeah, that's right! You are! You're the cutest one!"

You move onto your tummy and crawl over to the stimmy toys that you had brought with you. They are in such pretty colors. Clay sits down beside you and follows along and entertains your little antics. Doing little things like grabbing a toy, showing you how to use it, and handing it over for you to try it too! Unfortunately, you start to be impulsive and play a little too rough with them by grabbing and throwing them against the ground. Seems like the both of you might have underestimated the extent of your regression. Woops...

"Looks like we gotta make a change of plans huh lil bub?" He pushes the toys away from you, but you whine and reach out for them, almost dropping your pacifier in the process. "You're too small to be playing with these right now. Oh look!!" He hands you your stuffy from earlier. "This friend wants some cuddles. C'mon give him a big big hug!" He made an example of him hugging an invisible teddy and you followed suit.

As you were busy tending to your teddy, Clay made sure to move the smaller and harder toys away from you. He didn't want you getting hurt or accidentally breaking something because of some rough playing or you putting things where they shouldn't go. Instead, he surrounds you with soft textured stuff like your blankets and stuffies.

When he was done, he decided to offer you some of the grapes he had gotten. "You want some bubba?"

You gasp and nod. "Mhm mhm I wan pleaseeee!!"

"Here you go," he gives you a few, and you happily start chewing and eating them.  You even pretend to feed you stuffie. Hey, they get hungry too! Clay chuckles and then gives you a kiss on the forehead.

After a while of playing with your fluffy friends, you start you feel your eyelids and head droop a little. You look at Clay and tug at his sweater.

"Hm?"

"eep..." You whine and rub your tired eyes.

Clay takes in your state and pulls you onto his lap. "I see." He slides one of his hands up and down your back. "You want some warm tea?" He whispers and you nod softly.

"Sippy or bottle?"

"Baba.." you manage to mutter. A small pout forms on your lips. If you were to be honest, you'd admit that you were a little upset over regressing to a younger state than you would've liked.

Clay gets up and places you on the couch before walking away and into the kitchen to make you some tea.  You get comfortable and bury yourself under a the blankets, looking all snug like bug.

By time Clay came back with the tea in a baby bottle, your pacifier looked like it was about to fall out of your mouth. Chuckling to himself, he takes it and places it on the coffee table. He carefully moves you, so he can sit beside you. You start to wake up a little and start to whine while making grabby hands at him.

"Shh shh, I've got you." He grabs you and moves you onto his lap to comfortably feed you your babas.

You snuggle up against him and rub your face on his torso. He brings the bottle up to your lips and you take it into your mouth. The soft and warm feeling of the tea fills you and makes you feel ever so small yet happy.

Clay starts to hum and pat your side while holding the bottle up for you. You lightly place one of your hands on top of his and he caresses your soft cheek.

After a while, you were close to finishing the bottle, but sleep seemed to win over you. Clay noticed this and placed the bottle on the coffee table. He moved, so he could be laying down with you on top of him. Clay placed your stuffy in your arms and wrapped his arms around you.  Smiling at the sight of you before him, he gives you one last kiss on the head.

Author’s Note:

Lowkey, I felt like I was yapping after reader and Clay left the admin building. I just desperately wanted to reach 3k words for some reason aghhh and I so missed the opportunity to have Clay read to the reader

I had originally planned to make this into two separate parts but honestly I just wanted this over with so it is definitely rushed but comme ci, comme ça (at least I finally made a fanfic that I actually go all the way through to finish woo!! 🎉‼️)

#Ironically enough this might be the last fanfic I do in a while if not ever because I’ve decided to put #attention on academic work related stuff. I know I know I’ll never learn to take breaks but Ughhghh I’ll #take breaks when I’m a nursing home or sum 😭😭 for now it’s just time to hit the grind. #trolls 3 #clay #clay x reader #being brave out here and using clay x reader in the post just to see what happens #if i get any hatred i’ll immediately remove it :/ #trolls agere #sobbing #what the duck did I just write??

[littlepadika]

Hi!! Can I please request 💕Din, 🔥enemies to lovers, 💅dom!reader ??? Thank you!!☺️☺️☺️

OOOH I love dom!reader with Din mwahahaha this one is hot and takes a nosedive into soft. Your fave @axshadows?

500 follower celebration

Warnings: Male receiving oral, Dom reader

Din despised you. Whenever he'd be close to catching a bounty you would swoop in and finish the job yourself, stealing his thunder. You didn't do any work yourself. Din tried everything to shake you from his trail. He tried to lay a trap, he tried to split the reward, he even tried to kill you once. Nothing worked. You always slipped through his grasp.

Your conflict was coming to a head as Karga was tired of the constant bickering.

"Work it out you two or no pucks."

"Find someone else to steal from." Din glared up at you from his seat.

"But I like annoying you, Mando." You smirked. "Fine..." You groaned dramatically. "How about a deal? We both go after the same bounty. If you get him first then I'll leave you alone."

"You'll just come and steal it at the last second like you always do." Din shook his head.

"I'll play fair. I'll even give you a head start."

"I don't need a head start." Din leaned forward menacingly only you weren't scared at all. In fact you smiled.

"Let me finish." You held up your hands. "If you win, I leave you alone. If I win, things proceed as usual and you can't complain. Do we have a deal?"

"If I win, you should give me all the credits you stole from me."

"No way. Finders keepers."

Din grit his teeth under his helmet. Your little grin made something inside him ball up tight and sometimes he just wanted to throw you over his lap and-and- he didn't let himself think those things right now.

"I want a better deal." He folded his arms.

"You're not exactly in a position to negotiate. I'm perfectly happy with our current arrangement."

You loved playing with Mando, making him stutter and sigh. It started off as a power trip, making a Mandalorian putty in your hands. He tried to kill you once but he hesitated at the last moment. You realized his hatred for you wasn't pure, it was tangled with need. You knew he would miss you if you just left him by himself and you sure as hell would miss him too.

"How about..." You saunter over to him, perching yourself on the table in front of him. You saw him stiffen immediately, clenching his hands into fists on the seat below. "If you win... you can do whatever you want to me. You could try and kill me again, but something tells me that's not what you really want." You watched as the visor of his helmet turned towards you. You felt your heart pound faster knowing you had him in your grasp. "See... you could shut me up with a bullet in my skull or with your cock in my mouth. Decisions decisions, Mando."

With you left him dumbstruck at the table.

"Karga- We've reached a deal. One puck and we'll make it a race."

"One puck huh?"

"And don't make it an easy one." You hold your hand out. Karga rolls his eyes shoving two pucks into your hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was a close one. Both of you were at the same cantina spying on the target. You happened to have more natural assests that drew the targets attention. What an idiot, you smirked ready to drop the sedative into his glass. What you didn't expect was for Din to blast the idiot to hell from across the cantina.

"I win." Din cheered, strolling up to pull the lifeless body off the counter.

"We said bring him in warm!" You glared at Mando.

"We never agreed on that."

"Didn't we?" You frowned.

Mando shook his head. He lugged the body over his shoulder with ease. "Come on, let's get out of here before the imps are on us."

Outside on the street it hit you that Mando won the bet technically. This would maybe be the last time you saw him if what he asked as reward was for you to leave him forever. The warmth in the pit of your stomach hoped that he'd ask for something different.

"You won, Mando." You stopped at the end of the street. He turned, the bounty still on his shoulder. "My ship is that way. Shall I take off never to return?"

The breeze made his cape flutter, but otherwise he was a statue. Conversely it made you squirm where you stood, tugging at your shirt which now felt too tight for some reason.

"No." He said quietly, so quiet you almost missed it.

"Then what do you want?"

"Will you let me put the bounty away before we talk?"

"Fine." You shrugged nonchalantly though you were still nervous. "Lead on."

You had never been on Mando's ship before. It was dirty and breaking down but it softened him. Gave him some personality. He was less intimidating. The clutter and dusty knick knacks made him so human.

"So..." You place your hands on your hips trying to project confidence though you were becoming more and more anxious. "What'll it be, Mando?" Was this the end?

Din was freaking out. He stood on a shaky pedestal he had built to stand up to you. He had only pretended to be arrogant and capable. He played into his appeal towards you but now the game had ended. He was proud of his abilities to catch bounties, track targets, to kill, but his confidence ended there. He had no skills when it came to sex let alone with pretty women like you. You expected so much from him from the way you teased and talked crudely. Din knew he’d never live up to that. He didn’t even know where to start. His desire was bottled up in him with no clear outlet. Just a general direction towards you.

"Mando?" Your gaze softened a little. You realized perhaps he wasn’t going to send you away. You almost smiled as he rocked on his heels. The nervous tick was strangely endearing.

"I'm not going to kill you. I want-" Din struggled to find the words. "What you said in the cantina. You said I could silence you..."

You furrowed your brow in confusion. What did you say? You couldn’t remember-

"When you said I could put my-my cock in your mouth." Din felt his cheeks heat up. He felt himself harden in is pants just at the dirty word.

"Did I say that?" You chuckled. “I guess I did. Is that what you want?"

Din nodded. He waited for you to take charge, tell him what to do, but for some strange reason you were waiting for him.

"You've never done this have you?" You realized, your smile falling off your face. You felt bad for how you treated him this whole time. Maker, you probably made him uncomfortable.

"No." Din looked down in shame. "Fuck-This was dumb. Just go away."

"Mando..." You stepped towards him placing a hand on his arm. The first time you've really touched him. "I'm sorry. I wasn't judging. Most guys don’t like me to be in charge.”

Din cringed further at the mention of your copious previous experience.

“Mando… look at me please-“ and he did feeling some of his dread subside. Your warm reassuring hand felt so good. “I'm happy to show you everything. I want to make you feel good. If that’s what you want.”

“I’m sorry.” He grumbled. He hated feeling so vulnerable. He wanted to explain himself, give excuses for his lack of experience, but the truth was he hadn’t found anyone he was interested in until you.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Now will you let me do this for you?” He looked at you, searching for honesty. There wasn’t a hint of disgust or doubt on your face.

Din nodded, feeling his stomach lurch in excitement. He felt safe with you which was another completely foreign feeling for him.

“Thank you, good boy.” The word shot through him, making him stand up straighter. You chuckled. “You like that?”

Din nodded shyly.

“Go and sit down.” You pointed at the crate against the wall. Din obeyed looking at you again for acknowledgement. You smiled kneeling down below him. “Good boy. See you’re a pro already.” Din blushed at your praise wanting to continue pleasing you. You slid your hands up his thighs slowly. “You can stop me at any point. Just say stop. My only rule is you have to tell me if I’m making you feel good. I wanna hear you.”

Din nodded his understanding. You raised an eyebrow. “Okay.” He said.

“Good boy. I know you can’t remove your armor which is fine. But can I take your cock out?”

Din nodded biting his lip. His dick was already straining against its confines. He exhaled sharply as you tugged down his waistband just far enough to pull him out. The only piece of skin exposed.

“You’re beautiful, Mando.” You cooed, stroking the warm length gently. You couldn’t wait to feel him in your mouth. A low broken cry cracked the voicecoder. “That’s it… feel good baby?” You stare right into his visor. Din swallowed harshly and nodded rapidly trying to keep from blowing his load.

“Tell me.” You reminded him of the rule.

“Yes!” He huffed. “It feels good. Please more.”

“We’re just getting started.” You promised opening you mouth and letting a dollop of saliva hit the head of his cock.”

“Oh Kriff…” Din pounded his fist against the crate. You continued your slow movements. You didn’t want to push him. He seemed lost in pleasure and you felt yourself warm at his trust in you. You slowly lowered your mouth on him, keeping your suction soft. He whined above you, his thighs flexing under your hands. You flicked your eyes up to him. His head was thrown back. You could see just a small slice of golden neck. He was sucking air between his teeth. The edges of the crate groaned under his grip.

“So-so good.” He mumbled between shallow breaths. You chuckled. He was trying so hard poor thing.

“It’s okay if you cum, Mando. I want you to.”

“But-“ Din’s hips jerked up into your hands. “What about you? I want to- I want-“

“Shh I know baby boy.” You chuckled at his eagerness. Already wanting to jump ahead. “We’ll get there but first you’re going to cum in my mouth.”

And almost on instinct he did, hunching over as ropes and ropes slid into your hot mouth.

“Oh fuck…” He croaked. It was better than anything he had done on his own. Your hot mouth and tongue had brought him so high only to let him plummet into his pleasure with no safety net. He was totally out of control. He didn’t hate it though. He loved it. He wanted more.

He came so much it made your pussy tighten longingly. His groans and sighs were gorgeous. You moaned, getting the last drops.

“Good boy…” You started stroking him back to full mast again. Surging with control and pride.

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

My masterlist

Permanet Taglist: @ajeff855 5 @what-iwish-you-knew @kirsteng42 @fan-of-encouragement t @sleep-tight1 @pascalisfairyy @ceniington, @prettypedros 🧁, @pascal-rascal424 @axshadows @prideandpascal @frenchyjuju @pedrosmustache @blackmarketmummy @idreamofboobear @pretty-brown-eyess @persephones-garden @javierpinme @mylittlesenaar @bellaorisa @elinedjarin @beskarboobs @beskar-candy

Din Djarin taglist: @a-skov @pasckles

#din djarin smut #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #sub!din #mando x you #the mandolarian #mando smut #padika's request game #follower celebration #ashley #pedro pascal fanfiction

[favoniuscodex]

scaramouche + body swap soulmate au

prompt: soulmate au where when the reader turns twenty, she swaps bodies with her soulmate. rather than returning to their original bodies at the end of the day, the two soulmates can only return to their original bodies upon sharing a kiss.

pairing: scaramouche x fem!reader

rating: sfw

warnings: foul language, scaramouche’s existence, no beta reader (oops)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: this was the most requested au for me to write for, but i’m posting this one separately because i a) got carried away writing it and b) altered the prompt a bit. hopefully it still remains good enough that the anon who requested it is happy with the results! i love writing for scaramouche, although my interpretation of him will likely end up being super ooc. this is a part of my 50 follower celebration! i apologize to anyone who expected me to write scaramouche in a respectful way

when scaramouche first awakes, he realizes he had finally swapped bodies with his soulmate.

how utterly inconvenient. he thinks. despite the change in body, scaramouche is filled yet again with the rage that fuels him normally.

god has let him live another day and he plans to make it everyone’s problem.

but, before he can wear his rbf again and plan his holy re-conquest of the inazuman throne while doing whatever it is harbingers do, he needs to figure out where he is and get out of this body.

this means he has to find you. great. another incompentent buffoon i have to rely on. he thinks, followed by a steady stream of internalized expletives as he curses the world for placing him within your body.

he stands up and notices a shift in his typical perception of the world. you’re taller than him. he serves the goddess of love and the world made his soulmate taller than him. for a brief moment, scaramouche considers atheism.

as if this godawful, horrid situation couldn’t get any worse for poor, innocent scaramouche, a glance to his side reveals a shield, a sword, and, worst of all, a knights-of-favonious-insignia emblazoned uniform.

scaramouche then decides to rifle through your belongings. he’s not actively trying to invade your privacy, he’s just trying to find where you hide your vision. the world is cruel for tying him to a “perfidious, repugnant excuse of a government puppet”, but certainly isn’t cruel enough to tie him to a visionless plebeian? right?! right!??!?!?!

after nearly an hour of searching and the near destruction of any storage container that may exist in your house, scaramouche is bent over on his knees on your floor, slamming his fist against the creaking floorboards. no, he’s not crying! harbingers don’t cry! don’t look at him! he just spilt some seawater on his eyes! it doesn’t matter that the ocean isn’t nearby!

a knock on your front door disrupts scaramouche’s pity party and he shoots up, furiously wiping at his face to remove the “definitely-not-tear”stains.

“hold on!” scaramouche calls, surprised at the feminine voice that exits his body. he hadn’t even analyzed what you looked like yet. he had had more important things to do.

no, scaramouche isn’t struggling to put your undergarments on! he doesn’t struggle to do anything! he’s a harbinger!

after an unknown, embarrassingly long amount of time elapses, scaramouche manages to swing open the door, now dressed in your typical uniform, sword in his hand and at the ready.

“woah there, sweetheart. didn’t think our relationship had soured that quickly,” the blue-haired man at the door hums, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face.

SWEETHEART?! scaramouche screeches internally. you might be a visionless, uncultured peasant that is a part of one of the worst governments in teyvat, but you’re his visionless, uncultured peasant. scaramouche will be damned before he lets this flamboyant pirate steal you away from what fate decided belonged to scaramouche and scaramouche alone.

“call me your sweetheart again and i’ll rip that filthy eyepatch off your face and shove it up your-” scaramouche hisses, causing kaeya to interrupt him with a laugh.

a laugh? the man who looks like he just got out of a tea party with a three-year-old girl is laughing at me? ME?! scaramouche briefly considers capital murder. mondstadt is known for freedom after all. they could possibly turn the other cheek at this blue-haired menace getting murdered.

“happy twentieth birthday,” the man speaks, his revealed eye sparkling with mirth. “your name is (y/n) and i’m kaeya.”

“i didn’t ask for your name,” scaramouche responds, causing kaeya to let out another laugh.

normally, scaramouche would plead to anyone that he is simply a commoner from inazuma and needs a horse to go rescue his lover, now trapped within his body, and return her to mondstadt. however, his immediate hatred for kaeya had taken abrupt control of his body and eliminated any conniving strategy he may have had in order to steal mondstadtian resources to return home.

“well, kaeya,” scaramouche begins, mustering the most vitriol he can accrue from your voice into his words. “i need a horse if i plan to rescue my damsel in distress.”

kaeya raises an eyebrow, intrigued by scaramouche’s words. “i wouldn’t call her much of a damsel.”

“compared to me, everyone is a damsel. unfortunately, i am contractually obligated by fate to give a shit about this one,” scaramouche responds blankly, causing kaeya to stifle another laugh. “what poor gentleman do i need to seduce in order to obtain a horse with the minimal funding i found inside of this woman’s house?”

kaeya smiles. “i’m the knights of favonius calvary captain so… me. but don’t worry, babe, you already have my heart.”

scaramouche might not be able to commit capital murder without consequence, but he does receive joy from being able to ram his knee into kaeya’s family jewels and watch him double over in pain.

------

scaramouche’s journey to sneznhaya is a long and arduous one, but he much prefers the company of the horse rather than the company of kaeya and friends, whom scaramouche was introduced to at the knights of favonius headquarters.

(however, if scaramouche is being honest, he enjoyed the company of jean. she was dutiful and strong-willed. scaramouche would die before admitting he was impartial towards the acting grand master.)

his journey to find you comes to a halt before he enters the sneznhayan border, however. from a distance, he spots 2 (two? scaramouche queries) horses galloping in the distance and a familiar silhouette on each horse.

scaramouche recognizes his body upon one of the horses first. he doesn’t spend all that time admiring himself in the mirror for nothing!

however, he only pays attention to the person on the horse next to you until he sees their arm raise up, eagerly waving in scaramouche’s direction. a pit of dread settles in scaramouche’s stomach. of everyone in sneznhaya, you accompanied yourself with- ?

“HEY!” the person accompanying you yells, his russet-colored hair ruffling in the breeze. “SCARAMOUCHE!”

before scaramouche can turn the horse around and go resign to his fate of being stuck in your body in mondstadt in order to avoid interaction with him, the two of your horses approach scaramouche’s, coming to a halt a few feet in front of him.

scaramouche looks you, in his own body, up and down and lets out a noise of discontent as he hops off the horse and approaches you.

“you’re not wearing the hat,” scaramouche complains in an even voice, staring you down. much to his surprise, you stare right back at him, taking on the subtle challenge scaramouche has proposed to you through posture.

“i don’t desire to,” you respond, folding your arms. “if we’re going off appearances, you’re wearing that shirt backwards.”

scaramouche’s provoking staredown with you is disrupted as he glances downwards, off put by your statement.

“i don’t really care about correctly wearing the uniform of an establishment that is ultimately useless to the wellbeing of society,” scaramouche retorts.

“you’re literally a harbinger, don’t give me that sh-” you begin, but the third wheel of the conversation interrupts the two of you.

“what?” both you and scaramouche say in indignation towards the man who had the audacity to interrupt the two of you.

“jeez,” the man says, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “that’s no way to thank me for helping you find him.”

“i literally told you i could find my own way back,” you say. “but fine, thank you, tartagle.”

the man, tartaglia, opens his mouth to correct you, but freezes upon hearing scaramouche laugh at your statement.

“you’re no longer needed, you can leave,” scaramouche states to childe, causing him to furrow his eyebrows in disbelief. tartaglia glances in your direction for assistance, but you silently shrug in response, gesturing with your head for him to leave as well.

as childe leaves, you turn your head back to scaramouche and smile. for once, scaramouche’s insistent anger is quelled, the roaring waters of the ocean within his heart settling into a calm stream. maybe, despite your overall uselessness to society, you wouldn’t be the worst soulmate ever. scaramouche tells himself, trying to ignore the increased pace of his heartbeat.

“ready to switch back?” you ask, moving closer to him, causing his gaze to flicker down to your lips. oh, right. scaramouche reminds himself. he parts his mouth to respond but, for once in his life, doesn’t know how to form the words. so, he closes his mouth, swallows down his anxiety, and nods before moving closer to you as well.

his hand bumps into yours as the two of you reach up to cup the other’s face as you lean into your first kiss. he barely has time to register the light giggle of amusement that escapes your lips as the two of your consciousnesses begin to return to their respective bodies upon your lips slotting against the other’s.

maybe, just maybe, you were made for me. scaramouche thinks.

once back in his body, he doesn’t dare utter his thoughts aloud. instead, he reserves that thought for when he gets down on one knee.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche #scaramouche scenarios #*50 follower celebration #sorry if any poor soul had notifs on when i was trying to post this lmao i failed like 4 times #*scaramouche #*writing #*headcanons

[thepilotanon]

May I request the reader finally getting the chance to tend to Loki's severe injuries after all the times he tended to their's. How would he react to it?

AAH.

Any type of wound, Loki is not used to a romantic partner tending to him. A simple scratch or a deep wound, Loki would have to put up with being healed in the healing rooms, or Midgardian doctors - which Loki hates both, because doctors/healers are MEAN. He also just isn't used to being tended to sweetly, having his loved one take care of him. He's used to, and would rather be taking care of his loved one instead (since he doesn't want them to worry over him in the slightest). Loki is used to kissing your bruises, applying salves and gauze to cuts and massaging sore muscles while humming to you.

It would be whenever Loki skips medical attention (because it's not that bad, in his words) and you find him sprawled on top of the bed, all battered and with lots of scratches and gashes. All you really need to do is get the first aid kit, warmed washcloths and his pajamas, climb onto bed by his side and just get started. Loki will scrunch his face at you and be like "Darling, you don't need to do that. I'll get cleaned up in just a moment." Just give him a look and he'll immediately go silent and let you have at it. Tell him to remove certain clothes, he'll do it. Tell him to hold on/press something to a wound, he will follow your orders. He learns that, each time he listens to you, you give him a happy kiss and he starts buzzing with content rather than the annoying stings.

With the harsher wounds (ones that would need stitches, but damn his stubbornness and hatred for doctors), Loki will do a trick of conjuring a healing spell and pass it on to your palms, allowing you to knit his wounds closed with magic. It's very intimate and sweet, because Loki keeps his hands on your wrists, rubbing gently as you work hard to make him feel better; he's smiling to you and complimenting what a skilled healer you are, asking if you could be his Nurse Nightingale (as he learned) whenever he goes on big jobs or fights too rough with Thor. He doesn't tease when you panic about him getting hurt again, instead will hold your face and immediately try to comfort you with "Oh darling, no. I promise I'll try not to get hurt. It's alright - Thor and I stab each other all the time, it's simply like a pinch to us gods."

#headcanon #loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki friggason x reader #marvel loki x reader #pilotanonwrites

[alexaplaysgames]

Can you do Felix and Mc getting into a fight

My angst brain need some

You got it bb <3 Idk if this is really that much of a fight, but I couldn't make the MC too mean to Felix. Also, I’m aware this paints baby in a bad light. I had to make them fight about something okay :’( I don’t think he’d do this in canon.

Title: A bit Bitter

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2564

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

“Tell me the truth, Felix.”

His gray eyes dart upwards from his textbooks as I storm into the room. When he sees what I hold clutched in my hands, he swallows, the bob of his throat visible even from the doorway.

I continue in a voice that is simultaneously weak and as strong as I can manage. “Is this really how you feel?”

“W-why do you have that, love?”

I frown. His nervousness sends guilt shooting through me, but I stamp it out. I’ve bent over backwards for months in an attempt to make him comfortable, and did so gladly. But this? I can only withstand so much.

I set the notebook down on the edge of his desk with a heavy thud. Felix winces.

“The things you wrote in here, about me…” I shake my head, then look away. I can feel my eyes sting, and I bite my tongue to hold back from crying. “Felix-“

“That’s private! You don’t have the right to go snooping through my possessions.”

I sigh. Yeah, I’m nosy and read his journal, and normally I would be ashamed. I shouldn’t have done it, but… “I don’t think that’s important right now.”

“Of course it’s important!” Felix gasps, standing out of his desk chair to snatch up the journal. He meets my eyes with a fragile sort of vulnerability, then pulls the journal defensively to his chest. “I’m not privy to every thought you have. You can’t judge me for mine.”

“I would never think these things of you!” My voice raises until it edges on a shout, and I frantically rush to reign it in. “I would never.”

“That’s not-“ Felix whispers with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair.”

“No. What’s not fair is this.” I reach forward and pull the leather journal from his hands, flipping forward a few weathered pages until I find what I’m looking for.

“‘Not nearly comparable to Rime’s beauty, nor do they possess his talent with magic. They’re candlelight to his radiant sun. I’ve quelled whatever feeling has stirred in my chest and decided that I won’t settle for them. Not while my love is still hurting. And I do miss him so.”

Felix is biting at his lip as I lower the book once more, his eyes watery, wide circles. “That’s old,” he chokes out. “I swear. I don’t feel that way. I love you.”

He looks like he wants to touch me, so I step away. I shake my head. “But you did feel that way.”

“I- why does it matter? That’s private. How- how much else have you read to convince yourself my feelings for you are disingenuous? You were never meant to see any of it.” He’s wrapped arms around his thin frame, now, squeezing his eyes shut as if he wishes this all would simply go away.

“I’ve read enough.”

Felix’s eyes go wide, then dart to the journal in my hand. “Why?” I ask. “Worried there’s something worse left for me to uncover?”

“N-no.” He runs his hand over his face. “Why couldn’t you stay out of my things? That was personal! It was none of your business!” Felix hisses the last words, as close to angry as I’ve ever seen him with me. His eyes are filled with tears, but his expression if one of a rage I’ve never been in the receiving end of.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, watching him hiccup as if the words were a physical blow. “You’re a liar, Felix.” Then I simply can’t help myself but to add, “Maybe you do deserve to be alone.”

I know as soon as I say it that I’ve gone too far, and the look on his face- fuck. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the broken, hurt expression that flashes across his features out of my head. Yes, the words he’d written in that journal had stung, but I don’t feel any satisfaction from hurting him just as badly. If anything, it makes me feel worse.

All I feel is lost. My psyche weighs heavy with guilt, as well as hatred for myself for letting my patience slip. Before it can all come crumbling down on me, I turn on my heel and rush out the door, slamming it behind me with an echo that rings much to hollow to make me feel any better.

✦✧✦✧

I had frantically stuffed my few belongings into a bag and rushed to the nearest inn, flopping onto a rickety bed and crying myself to exhaustion. That had been two days ago, now, and I haven’t spoken to Felix since.

On the bright side, sending drunk texts is much more difficult to do when one doesn’t possess a cellphone.

Each night my dreams are filled with memories of his face, his smile. I can feel him in my arms, see the distinct colour of his blush each time I call him “baby” or “my sweet”. I wonder if I was over-dramatic in my reaction, but then remember the words in that journal. To think, the passage I had read aloud had only been one of many.

No. I was right to be upset.

I keep wondering if maybe the things he wrote in there were true. Yet, it’s so confusing- Felix has always had the upmost respect for me. And he’s not exactly great at hiding his emotions.

I’ve met with Anisa and Sage, both of whom seemed relatively stunned at the news. Anisa had offered exercise as a way to take my mind off it, and Sage had offered… another form of physical activity altogether, which didn’t really surprise me.

“A fight? Really? You two have always seemed like such a sappy married couple…”

I sigh. “Thanks, Sage. Really. It wasn’t even a fight, to be honest.”

“Married couples do fight, Sage.” Anisa pats my hand. “Felix is just dramatic. It will be fine! Whatever he did, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He just gets a little… jumbled up sometimes. But his intentions are pure. At least, I believe so. You can never tell with Felix.” She smiles. “Give him some time to mope and he’ll apologize.”

“If it helps,” Sage interjects, “he fought all the time with deer boy, and they were apparently a thing. I’m sure he’s used to it.”

I refrain from telling Sage that his oh-so-helpful comment is far from helpful; in fact, it highlights exactly what I’m worried about.

Tonight, thunder strikes outside in heavy, booming claps. The room I’ve rented is lowly lit by a single candle, but the flashes of lightning outside the window often light up the entire space. Rain pelts the roof and the wind howls mournfully, as if in empathy of my crushed spirit.

I’m just in the middle of pretending I’m in a sad music video when I hear an unsteady knock at the door. At first, I think it might be a tree branch outside, being as it’s so soft, but then I hear the sound again.

I fling the wool blankets over my head with a huff and shuffle towards the door, then unceremoniously fling it open.

I should have expected it would be my necromancer boyfriend looking like a drenched cat.

Felix is sopping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes so soaked I can see his tanned skin underneath. As soon as the door opens, his eyes go wide, and he immediately looks as if he’s attempting to say something, but he can’t seem to spit it out. His teeth are chattering so forcefully he can’t speak, and the wind has whipped the wet strands of hair into his mouth.

He is so stupid. I immediately can’t help but think that I love him. I am definitely morosexual.

I blink dazedly at him for a moment, before grabbing his elbows and hastily pulling him inside.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sobs as I grab a blanket off the bed and hastily wrap it around his shoulders. I can’t tell if he’s shaking from crying or the cold, can’t tell if the wetness on his face is from his tears or the rain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Felix, it’s fine. Come here, you’re going to get hypothermia.”

I grab a towel from the bathroom and begin using it to dry his hair. He shakes his head as he pushes it away, sending droplets of water flying. “No! Listen, please, I am sorry, I am. I wish to explain myself. You deserve that much, at least.”

I sigh, then stand back and nod. I sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress groans, as do I. “Fine.”

Felix pauses as if he didn’t expect that answer.

Then he picks at the frayed strings of the blanket around him. He shivers as he tugs it tighter around his shoulders. He licks his lips. “I wasn’t in a good place when we met.”

I nod. It was obvious then, and it’s even more so now. “I know.”

“It wasn’t healthy. I know that it wasn’t, but-” he cuts off as the thunder outside rumbles, lightning illuminating the haunted look in his eyes. “I loved Rime. More than that, I obsessed over him.”

That much I had guessed, but the confirmation does still twist my stomach.

“I was still in love with him when we met. Desperately so. I clung to the very idea of him for years. Rime adored how I idolized him, he encouraged it-“ he looks out the window as if lost in thought, then sighs. “It wasn’t you. I would’ve compared anyone to him. I did.”

Felix sniffs, then delicately kneels at my feet. “I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t truly think those things, my dear. I just felt so guilty, every time I felt anything for you. I had made myself think that he was perfect, that I could enforce my love for him through some strange sort of self-discipline.” He cringes, as if he knows how awful that sounds. “It seemed reasonable. I owed him my life.”

Apparently having said what he needed, Felix goes quiet. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles underneath, as if he’s been crying instead of sleeping ever since I left him.

“You are so incredibly lovely,” he whispers, choking. “I could see it even then. I was scared of what it would do to me to admit it.”

I swallow. I’m honestly not sure whether to believe him, but the look in his eyes is so earnest. Felix is many things, but he’s not one to hide his feelings, nor is he a good actor. I know deep down that he’s not faking his love for me, despite how my heart convinced me otherwise.

“If- If you’re still angry with me, I understand,” Felix stammers, though the tears in his eyes make it seem like that isn’t true. “M-maybe I should leave-“

The rain pounds harder against the windows. The wind whistles through the surrounding cracks. I grab his wrist.

“Come here, my sweet.”

Felix’s eyes widen at my use of my pet name for him, a timid look of disbelief in his eyes as he takes my hand and allows me to pull him onto the bed. I lie down on my back and guide to lay against my chest.

“I forgive you.” I almost can’t believe the words myself, but I know that it’s the only option I could ever consider. I love him. It’s a simple as it is complex.

“You needn’t-“

“I do. It wasn’t right of you to say those things, but it was also unfair of me to get so angry with you over something you wrote a long time ago. I know your old relationship really took a toll on you. Besides, I said some awful things to you too, Felix,” I continue, reaching up to brush his bangs back from his forehead. He trembles, leaning slightly into my touch. “You don’t deserve to be alone. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me, and I shouldn’t have. Okay?” I wait until he finally nods to continue. “And I’m sorry for going through your things. I betrayed your trust, and you were right to be upset.”

Felix goes a little slack-jawed before he finally breathes out, “O-of course I forgive you.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t think I could live without you.”

He stares at me for a moment longer before he lurches forward and kisses me, desperate and wanting, full to the brim with both apology and forgiveness. It tastes if the salt of his tears and the cold rainwater that runs over his cheeks. He’s shaking the whole time, and I tug him tighter to my chest. I can feel his heart racing through the fabric of our clothes.

“I love you, sweet.”

“I love you too,” Felix hiccups, “so much.”

We spend a bit longer like that, tangled up in the bedsheets with Felix soaking through both our clothes. Eventually, I pull back.

“Did you really wait until it was storming to show up and apologize?”

A sheepish laugh as he flushes. “I had t-thought it would be romantic. Like in my novels. I didn’t realize it was pouring quite so hard.”

His cheeks are a flaming red and he looks away like he expects me to be upset. I sigh to hide my fond smile. All I can do is kiss him again.

“I’ve brought you something,” Felix murmurs, his lips so close to mine that they brush, his eyelashes wet against my cheeks. He reaches back and takes the leather notebook, the stupid source of all our fighting, out of his coat pocket. It’s surprisingly dry.

I can’t help but want to smack that stupid book out of his hand. “Felix, why would you do that?”

He rolls his eyes, then gets up and stands off to the side of the bed. The room lights up green as his entire hand, the journal with it, are suddenly engulfed in flames, until nothing but ashes sift through his fingertips, drifting down to settle against the wooden floor.

“You’re my future.”

He’s so dramatic. I love him to pieces.

I grab his waist and all but tackle him back onto the bed, delighting in his surprised squeak.

“Stop!” Felix yelps as he falls back against the mattress, only to be assaulted by my cuddles, “I’m positively soaked; I’ll drench the sheets.”

I can’t really say that I care. We have a lot of making up to do; I’m not spending a second without him by my side for the rest of the night. Felix grumbles a final complaint and then sighs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek into my chest, and I can’t help but think he feels the same.

“I didn’t enjoy that,” he mumbles, turning his face into me to hide his expression. “Being apart from you, it- hurt. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” I’m just realizing how much. His scent and the feel of his hair against my skin, his voice. He’s invaded my senses once more, and it feels like coming back to life.

He turns to look up at me. His cheeks are rosy and his hair mussed, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and temples. God, he’s so adorable- I don’t know how I could ever stand to be angry with him. “I don’t want to be at odds with you anymore. I love you too much.”

I boop his perfect nose. “Deal.”

#felix escellun #fictif last legacy #last legacy #last legacy felix #fictif felix #sage lesath #anisa anka #felix iskandar escellun #fictif #rime solano varela #fictif fanfic #alexa plays last legacy #alexa writes #last legacy fanfiction #felix x mc #felix escellun x mc #Fictif Sage #interactive fiction #interactive game #Fictif anisa