#this is just. entirely too long. but I have to dump these things somewhere so I hope you enjoy anyway

[gremlingottoosilly]

What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey. 

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters. 

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places. 

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies. 

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja? 

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it. 

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. 

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach. 

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air? 

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too. 

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely. 

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands. 

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass. 

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute? 

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you? 

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating. 

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right? 

— You’re pretty. 

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly. 

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties. 

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire. 

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning. 

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first. 

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to. 

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone,  but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle. 

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours. 

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too. 

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield? 

— Stay still, ja? 

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one. 

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it. 

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you. 

— Stop, please…’s too much. 

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better. 

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster? 

— Yes. 

— Gut. Would break you in for me. 

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure. 

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible. 

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass. 

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity. 

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think. 

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides. 

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore. 

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy. 

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils. 

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream. 

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb. 

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

 He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you. 

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips. 

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted. 

— Will you let me go? 

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely. 

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja? 

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere

[fluentmoviequoter]

We're Getting Married Now?

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!LAPD!reader

Summary: When Tim finds out you need a fake boyfriend to take to your cousin's wedding, he steps up and offers to go with you. After a night in his arms, you learn that his "boyfriend act" isn't just an act.

Warnings: I referenced a few lines from The Rookie (no spoilers though), a few vague mentions of insecurities and rude family members (they apologize). lots and lots of fluff!! one bed trope?

Word Count: 4.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your phone rings on the way to work, you don’t expect to see your aunt’s name on the caller ID. 

“Hello?” you greet. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I was going through the seating chart for your cousin’s wedding and seemed to have misplaced your RSVP,” she explains. 

“I, uh, I didn’t get an invite. She’s getting married?”

“Of course. You lot aren’t getting any younger, as I’m sure you know, and when she met her fiancé, well, I think we all knew. Anyway, you say you didn’t get an invite? Must’ve gotten lost in the mail, those incompetent kids aren’t as reliable as they used to be. I suppose that explains your lack of congratulations, though, which I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear.”

“I bet,” you mumble before asking, “So what do you need from me? Sorry to interrupt, but I’m nearly to work.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I suppose the wedding planning is making me a touch scatter brained. All I need from you is a confirmation that you are attending. It’s at her fiancé’s family orchard, I’ll send you the address. Everyone is coming out Friday evening and the wedding is Sunday afternoon.”

“Uh, yeah, I have this weekend off. I may be a bit later on Friday, but I’ll be there.”

“And I’ll assume you’re still single, so no plus one. Although, sweetie, you really shouldn’t let this discourage you. I’m sure you have plenty going for you and the right man is out there somewhere,” she says, lowering her voice as pity laces every word. 

“Actually, I’ll be bringing my boyfriend. If there’s room for one more, of course.”

The words come out before you can stop them, and after you slam your gear shift up and set your brake, you grip your steering wheel with both hands. 

“Boyfriend? Well, good for you, sweetheart, I didn’t want to seem insensitive before, but your clock is ticking! I will put you down for two then. Oh, one more thing-“

“I’m actually at work and can’t be late. I’ll see you Friday,” you rush out before ending the call. 

Hitting the back of your head against the headrest, you wonder who you can ask on such short notice. Getting a fake boyfriend is entirely avoidable, of course. You’d have to tell another lie about him being sick or dumping you or call your aunt and explain that her constant jabs at your lacking love life pushed you to speak without thinking. 

“That would go well,” you murmur as you gather the strength to get out of your car. 

She’d probably say something like, “Well then he just wasn’t the one,” before telling everyone that you did something to get dumped, or she’d remind you that you’re running out of time, it’s practically too late, so you should stop trying. You don’t mind being single, but she rips you apart, finding a way to make it your fault for being too busy with work, unwilling to compromise, or “looking too chubby in red.” (Her words.)

As you walk into the station and change into your uniform, you are struck with the perfect idea. 

“Nolan!” you call, rushing to his side before he can enter roll call. “I need a favor.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll do what I can,” he answers kindly. 

“Long story short I need a fake boyfriend to go to my cousin’s wedding or my aunt will expose me as a dirty rotten liar who can’t get a boyfriend.”

“Wow,” Nolan responds. “Does she really- never mind. When’s the wedding?”

“This weekend.”

“Bailey and I are going to San Diego to meet Henry for a few days. I’m so sorry, I’d help you if I could.”

“Yeah, no problem. Thanks anyway,” you tell Nolan while looking for someone else you can ask. “Aaron!”

Aaron turns in the doorway, stepping back toward you and Nolan with raised brows. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

“I need a date, a fake boyfriend for a wedding this weekend.”

“I don’t do weddings.”

“Aaron, please,” you plead.

“Look, I’d love to help you, but my family’s got a big dinner thing this weekend and they rarely end well, so I’m booked.” He pats your arm and adds, “Hope you find someone who can help.”

You nod as he walks inside. Looking around the station, you realize your options are very limited. 

“Think Angela would let me borrow Wesley for a few days?” you ask Nolan. 

“Why don’t you just find someone to actually take as a date?”

“Because that’s the entire problem, Nolan. I can’t get a date.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

As you follow him into roll call, you whisper, “I’m going to have to ask Smitty.”

Nolan stifles a laugh, shaking his head as he takes his seat. You tune Wade out after receiving your assignment for the day, glancing around the room as you try to find someone else you can ask. Maybe you should just cancel, tell your aunt that you’re the one who got sick, and now neither you nor your boyfriend can make it. 

Standing in the bullpen, you have your aunt’s contact pulled up on your phone but can’t seem to press the call button. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sergeant Bradford,” Nolan says. “I need some advice.”

“I already don’t like this, but go ahead,” Tim replies, resting his hands against his belt. 

“If a fellow officer, a close friend, was going to cancel going to a family member’s wedding because she couldn’t find a fake boyfriend to keep her controlling aunt off her back, would you help her?”

Tim doesn’t answer, turning away from Nolan. As he walks toward the bullpen, Nolan raises a fist in victory, hoping it works out for you and Tim. It’s clear to everyone that you have feelings for each other, but neither of you seems eager to do anything about them. Maybe this is the push you need to take the next step. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s hand covers your phone screen before he takes it from you, holding it by his side. 

“You need a fake boyfriend?” he asks. 

“Who told you? ... Nolan, I should’ve known not to trust him and his big mouth.”

“Who’s getting married?”

“My cousin,” you answer, pursing your lips in confusion about why he’s interested. 

“The cousin from the aunt that manipulates and belittles you every time you see her?”

“I’m still sorry for calling you that day, I shouldn’t have. Just didn’t have anyone else to cry to.”

“She lied to you, told you things about yourself that couldn’t have been further from the truth. So, now that you have lied to her, what are you going to do about it?”

“Cancel,” you whisper. “If I can just press the button to call her.”

“I’ll call her,” Tim offers, raising your phone. “Or I can go with you.”

“Tim, I can’t ask you to do this- to lie for me and spend your weekend off at a wedding, around people you don’t know.”

“You’re not asking,” Tim reminds you. “Which one? I make a call, or I go with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Tim smiles while assuring, “We’re friends, and we’ve been on vacation together before. This is just like that.”

“I don’t want to go…”

“But you don’t want to deal with the grief you’ll get if you don’t. I get it, but I’ll help in any way I can.”

You nod, taking your phone from Tim. “Thank you.”

“When do we leave?”

“Friday night. The wedding’s Sunday.”

“Two days before? Why?”

“I don’t even want to think about that right now.”

Tim raises your right hand, pushing a bent paper clip over your finger as he promises, “I will make sure you survive this weekend.”

“And I… will apologize in advance.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you get out of the shower Friday night and get dressed, all you can think about is the weekend ahead. If you or Tim get uncomfortable, you could put your relationship on the line to look like a happy couple in front of your family. 

Tim’s knock draws you from your thoughts, and when he takes your bag from you, you realize something: Tim already acts like your boyfriend, so he really is boyfriend material. Your crush on him is bound to be affected over the next 48 hours, but he agreed to this, so maybe there’s a chance he feels more than friendship, too. Shaking the idea from your head, you accept Tim’s help as you climb into the passenger seat of his truck. He waits until he’s on the freeway to ask you about the wedding and your family. 

“What’s the fiancé like?” he asks. 

“I haven’t met him. Didn’t even know they were getting married until a few days ago.”

Tim nods, laying his elbow on the center console and moving closer to you without thinking. 

“I- I want to go ahead and tell you that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. My family can be a lot-“

“I’m not here for them. I’m spending the weekend with you, and nothing more. Remember that, okay? So, if you need an excuse, a buffer, anything you want or need, that’s me this weekend.”

“I can never repay you for this.”

“I’ll give you a call next time I need a wedding date,” Tim suggests. 

“Deal,” you reply with an easy smile. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Someone squeals your name, and Tim grips your hand when you flinch. 

“I’m so glad you made it!” the woman says, pulling you into a hug.

“Of course. And congratulations!” you reply. “Sorry about the invitation confusion.”

“Oh, no worries, I get it. Stuff happens. My mom said you were bringing your boyfriend?”

Tim steps forward, wrapping an arm around your waist as he offers his other hand. “I’m Tim, the boyfriend your mom mentioned.”

“Oh,” your cousin says, shaking his hand. She looks between you and Tim, and as you begin to expect a sarcastic comment, she says, “Nice to meet you, Tim.”

“That wasn’t so bad,” Tim whispers in your ear. 

“I guess I could’ve been overthinking it,” you admit. 

“You’re in chateau Sauvignon Blanc,” a man says, passing a key to Tim. “Follow the white path and you won’t miss it.”

“The chateaus are named after wine,” Tim muses. “Must be nice to be marrying into a family of nepotism.”

You laugh at him, and when he refuses to let you carry your bag to the chateau, you fall into easy conversation on the short walk. Entering, however, you stop in the doorway. 

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks quickly, stepping forward so his chest presses against your back. 

“Nothing, just- there’s only one bed in here,” you say quietly. 

“I think we can make it work. There’s always the floor if you want to treat your fake boyfriend like that,” Tim jokes, closing the door and tossing your bags on a nearby chair. 

“I- why’d you agree to come?” you ask him. 

“You needed a date.”

You don’t quite accept that. It’s not enough reason for someone as logical as Tim Bradford. You don’t have time to question him further, though, as you receive a text that dinner is being served in the main tasting room in just a few minutes. 

“Hey,” Tim says, laying his hands on your shoulders. “We’re two people on vacation together. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

“Sorry. It’s just, this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“That’s okay, but we’re going to keep moving. No one knows me here, so I’m whatever-“

“I need you to be,” you repeat. “Thank you.”

Tim smiles, and you take your bag into the bathroom to get ready while he changes. When you exit, wearing your favorite outfit and hairstyle, Tim stands, offering both his hands. 

“You look stunning.”

“Clean up pretty nicely yourself, Mr. Bradford.”

“Oh, so you’re a flirty girlfriend?”

You roll your eyes, attempting to pull away from Tim. He tightens his hands around yours and pulls you into a hug, hooking one arm around you as he leads you back to the white path. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Sitting beside Tim, your hand stays in his until the food is served. So far, all of the attention has been on your cousin and her fiancé, and you’re more than happy to listen along to their chatter rather than talk yourself. 

“What about you two?” your grandfather asks. “How’d you meet?”

Tim moves his hand out of yours, patting above your knee as he answers, “We met at work; different divisions, but we joined forces for a narcotics bust and I just couldn’t get her off my mind, so I had to ask her out.”

“How long have you been together?” someone inquires. 

“5 years,” you and Tim say together. You add, “But we’ve only been serious for what? 6 months or so?”

“Since you finally agreed to my begging, you mean?” Tim asks, sending you a comforting smile. “Yeah, about that.”

“Cute,” your cousin comments before the conversation returns to her. 

You close your eyes and release a breath, leaning toward Tim when his hand covers yours again. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“How are we doing this?” You ask, standing at the side of the bed with your arms wrapped around your waist. 

“It’s a bed,” Tim says, blinking at you. “Seems pretty straightforward.”

“Well, yeah, but… what if I, like, snore more or something?”

“I’ll live. Just get in the bed.”

You crawl under the covers, murmuring, “Thought you were gonna call me boot there for a second.”

“I still may,” Tim responds as he turns the light off, lying beside you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes. Thank you, Tim.”

“No problem.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up, it’s a few minutes before dawn, and a strong arm is holding you against the mattress. When you try to move, Tim pulls you closer before tucking you against him as he relaxes again. 

“Friends on vacation,” you remember, pressing your cheek against his chest as you get comfortable. 

Suddenly, you remember you have to survive another night by his side. The idea makes you want to pull away, but his touch and heartbeat lull you back to sleep before you can. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“Your cousin is here,” Tim whispers, shaking you gently. “She wants to talk to you about dresses.”

“You’re a snuggler,” you mumble as Tim pulls you out of bed. 

“No one will ever believe you,” Tim says darkly. 

“Is she really here?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that. This isn’t a horror movie.”

Nodding, you pick up a change of clothes and move into the bathroom. Tim’s voice is muffled through the wall, but you can tell he’s being civil even as his patience wears thin. Straightening your outfit, you open the door and smile at your cousin and Tim.

“You’re wearing that?” she asks.

“You’re beautiful,” Tim says, smiling at you.

“What exactly are we doing?” you ask.

“I wanted to see the dress you’re planning to wear to the rehearsal tonight and the wedding and reception tomorrow. If you need something different, we can-“

“I won’t need different dresses,” you interrupt. “I like the ones I brought.”

“As do I,” Tim adds. “But I’ll leave you two to talk about dresses.” He stands, kissing your temple and pausing by your side to whisper, “Call if you need someone to save you.”

Smiling, you tell him to be careful. Your cousin waits until he leaves to sit on the end of the bed, waiting for you to show the dresses you packed.

As you hold them up, you remember Tim's compliments this morning as you hide your smile at her surprised reaction. And his arm around you last night. He’s taking his fake boyfriend duties seriously, and you’re unsure if your feelings can survive another night beside him.

“They’re pretty,” your cousin says finally. “I have a few more things to do before the rehearsal this evening, but I’ll see you around.”

“Congratulations again,” you call, exiting the chateau behind her to look for Tim.

When you round a corner on the white path, you run directly into Tim. His arms come up to catch you, holding you against his chest as he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Did it go okay?” he asks, rubbing a hand down your spine.

“Yeah. She said the dresses were pretty, so that was unexpected.”

“Wait ‘til she sees them on you,” Tim replies. “Can’t imagine getting upstaged at my own wedding.”

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? The rehearsal isn’t until 5 and then most of the wedding party is leaving for bachelor and bachelorette parties.”

“You could model the dresses.”

“Stop,” you plead, laughing as you press against Tim’s chest.

“It’s my duty as your boyfriend.”

“I knew I should have asked Smitty.”

Tim narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t make me think about that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where do you think the red path goes?” you ask.

“Are you asking me on a treasure hunt date?” Tim replies.

“Maybe. Care to follow our own version of the yellow brick road? See if you can find your usual personality on the way back to Kansas?”

“You don’t like my new personality? The one I created just for you?”

“Tim,” you warn. “Red path, yes or no?”

Tim takes your hand, leading you out of the chateau and back toward his truck before turning onto the other path.

“If we find a crime scene or something,” you begin.

“What?” Tim interrupts dramatically.

“If we find something unexpected, what then?”

“Wait,” Tim calls, gently pulling you back toward him. “What is this about?”

Glancing down, you say, “Last night.”

“Look, if I made you uncomfortable-“

“No, not at all. The, uh, the unexpected part was how much I liked it,” you admit quietly.

Tim taps his knuckle lightly against your chin, smiling as you raise your head to look at him.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything. We’re friends, and I care about you, but this weekend could ruin everything if I make one wrong move.”

“You said it yourself, we’re friends, and we’ve been friends for years. Walking on eggshells around me all weekend is unnecessary, not to mention more dangerous than just telling me you like being cuddled.”

“You like being cuddled.”

“Never say that aloud again.”

You chuckle, taking Tim’s hand as you begin walking again. After a few minutes of walking in silence, you stop.

“The red path looks exactly like the white path,” you point out.

“Not true. The red path is red, and the white is white.”

“Wow. You should have been a detective.”

“Are we on the same page?” Tim murmurs.

“Yeah, I’ll be myself with you this weekend. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Nerd.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Dorothy.”

You roll your eyes, walking away from Tim. He laughs before taking a few long steps to catch up with you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Tim apologizes, and you lean against him, trying to remember what he said about being honest.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hi, sweetheart,” your aunt greets you as you enter the venue for the rehearsal dinner. “You are at table 2, and your boyfriend is at table 9.”

“You didn’t seat us together?” you ask.

“Well, it was late notice, learning you were bringing a plus one. Sorry.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks.”

Tim lays his hand on your lower back, leading you to your table.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, reaching over the table before leaving.

You watch him walk to his table, switching a nameplate before returning to your side. He sets his nameplate on the seat beside you, sighing as he sits.

“Have I told you recently that you’re the best?”

“You don’t have to, I know,” Tim answers smugly.

“What do you want to do when this is over?”

“Planning ahead, aren’t we?” Tim smiles as he leans toward you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Exiting the venue, you take Tim’s hand, wrapping your other hand around his forearm as you walk beside him. He tugs you closer, keeping you close until you’re back in your chateau. After changing quickly and washing your face, you collapse onto the bed.

“I thought my family was tiring,” Tim jokes.

“Still up for cud- lying closely on the same piece of furniture?” you correct.

Tim leans over you, smiling as he says, “Since you asked so nicely.”

You stare at the ceiling until Tim returns and pulls you into his side as he lays beside you. Rolling against him, pressing your ear to his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, you accept that things are changing.

“I don’t think we can go back to how things were before,” you mutter.

“Me neither,” Tim agrees softly, moving his hand to your upper back.

“Did I ruin everything by letting you come with me?”

Tim rolls onto his side, facing you rather than holding you.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow? Does everything get awkward after the wedding?”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Tim answers. “I offered to come because it was an opening to spend time with you.”

“But-“

“We’re friends, right? That’s what we say but that’s not how it feels.”

“How does it feel?” you whisper.

“Like more. Tell me you’ve been pretending, and I’ll let this go, but nothing I’ve said this weekend has been a lie or an act.”

“I have feelings for you,” you confess. “I have for years, but I didn’t know how to tell you or what you’d think. So…”

“We both did. Stay quiet to preserve a friendship that could have been much more.”

Inhaling deeply, you move forward, closing the distance between you and Tim.

“You asked what happens after the wedding,” Tim says. “I’d like to keep going from here.”

“I’d like that too.”

Tim smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rolls over, pulling you with him. You laugh against him, falling silent when you look into his eyes.

“Can I-“ Tim begins.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

Tim cups your cheeks as he pulls you down against him, kissing you softly. You slide your arms over his chest, holding his jaw as you reciprocate his every move. Tim’s arm tightens around your waist before someone knocks on the door.

Pulling away, you sigh before getting out of bed, cracking the door open to see who it is.

“Hi,” you greet, surprised to see your aunt outside.

“I moved your seats for the wedding and reception,” she tells you. “Since you seem inseparable.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry for earlier, and for interrupting. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

After you close the door, you press your hand against it and take a few breaths, surprised by her apologies.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, sitting up as he watches you.

Walking back to his side, you lie down and move against him, smiling as you answer, “I’m great.”

Tim holds you close, both of you falling asleep on the same side of the oversized bed. When you wake up the following morning, you chuckle at the sight of it, with one side still made after a night in Tim’s arms.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’ve been in there for a while,” Tim calls, tapping his knuckles against the bathroom door.

“Maybe she was right,” you answer. “I mean, the dress looked great on the mannequin, but…”

“Open the door,” Tim demands.

“No.”

“I will kick it down. You know I can.”

You pull the door open before he can do anything, and Tim’s eyes widen when he sees you.

“You look…”

“I know.”

“Perfect.”

Furrowing your brows, you look down at the dress.

“How do you feel?” Tim asks. “In the outfit, in general?”

 “I feel good, really good.”

“Well, you look even better. Don’t let whatever someone said make you think otherwise. And I was right.”

“About?”

“You’re gonna look better than the bride.”

Tim’s smile, accompanied by his kind words, makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly. Your relationship with him has changed this weekend, and you’re still giddy because you can tell him you love him whenever you want.

“I love you,” you say against his suit.

Tim pulls back quickly, looking into your eyes as he asks you to repeat it. After you do, he smiles and replies, “I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”

“We’re going to be late,” you remind him, narrowly dodging a kiss.

Shaking his head, Tim offers his arm, keeping you close as you walk to the wedding venue entrance. Finding your seats, you sit beside Tim, pulling one of his hands into your lap as you look at him.

“Those bouquets are really bright,” you say.

“Our wedding will be much better,” Tim agrees.

“We’re getting married now?” you ask, smiling.

Tim looks at you from the corner of his eye, shrugging as he says, “Why not?”

“I love you, Tim Bradford.”

“Thank you for letting me be your boyfriend this weekend,” he replies. “I love you.”

“Oh, you’re going to be my boyfriend for a lot longer than this weekend.”

“And after that?” Tim asks, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“That part is up to you, I think.”

You stand, keeping your hand in Tim’s as the wedding procession begins.

“Then, yes, we’re getting married,” Tim whispers. “But it will be perfect.”

Keeping your attention on one another throughout the ceremony, you fall in love with Tim again. After the bride and groom walk down the aisle together, you pull the paper clip ring from your dress pocket. Tim stands, and when he turns to you, you raise it.

“Tim Bradford, will you be my boyfriend?”

Tim chuckles, pulling you up to kiss you before you slide the ring onto his finger. He had nearly forgotten about giving it to you before leaving the station but seeing it on his finger makes him even more eager to marry you someday.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x you #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader

[flowerflowerflo]

girl's guide to academic success: part 1 ⊹˚. ♡

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ organisation

first off, have something to organise ur academic life with! i personally use notion (which i'll add later) but u can use anything as long as it's cute, convenient, unique and accessible to you, your life and your schedule specifically. especially as a visual learner, i like to have somewhere i can dump literally everything regarding a singular area in my life, so i do this for almost everything along with school and i highly recommend this <3

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ recognition of talents & improvements

analyse your strengths and weaknesses. think back on tests, exams, marks, and analyse which ones you got highest and lowest on. dont beat urself up for it, obviously; it's just to check which subjects you're doing good in and which ones have room for improvement. for example i love science but im not the best at it sometimes and we had an assessment recently and i didn't get as high as i'd like so i wrote down a little list on a piece of paper in my pencilcase for the topics i got the least in for me to study on my own to practise later.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ laying out goals

set down specific goals; i like to do this week by week accustomed to my schedule that week in my school notion page along with images and vision boards based on the term/semester, but you can do it for the week, the month, the year, anything as long as its helpful to you

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ productive planning

plan accordingly based on ur time energy. when creating any to do list or productivity plan dont pile a ridiculous amount onto it that just leaves you stressed and overwhelmed because that defeats the entire point; this works the same for academic plans and goals and lists etc.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ extra credit

put extra work in to the subjects you know will help you in the future. for example, for my personal aspirations i need to excel in english, history and textiles so i always try my absolute hardest and put my all into those lessons and do extra studying for them in my free time where i can. school is to prepare you for the future so take advantage of that

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ asking questions

please don't be shy to ask questions! that's what teachers are there for and you won't have them forever so take advantage of it while you can! you can even do it in that little window of time just after class if ur too nervous to ask in class. for example, on my last english exam i went to my teacher after class and asked about what i needed to improve on to get the marks i missed next time, and he told me i added too much detail and some other things so i wrote it down and am keeping a note of it to remind me to improve on that next time! (i got top of my class though so i didnt mind. still kind of pissed i added too much detail though)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ participation

participate! ok im saying this as someone who still struggles with social anxiety a fair amount but if u wanna get higher marks and get on good terms w ur teacher i 100% recommend this. i don't do this in every class but i do it where i can and when i'm confident in my answer, and it's really intimidating at first but what i did is i did it first in the classes i felt most comfortable on and continued from there. it gets easier every time i swear, and nobody's judging you; they'll forget about it after five minutes. plus, what would they be judging you for? being smarter than them?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ prioritising ur health

this is mentioned a lot in these types of posts but if you're tired or burnt out or overworked or just feel like you need to take a break then do. do the best you can and compromise like i said earlier if you need to, just make sure u are prioritising yourself over anything. <3

inspo ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

my notion ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

i also really recommend this layout by @honeytonedhottie, she's amazing go follow her

lots of love! <3

#girlblogging #it girl-ism ୨𖹭୧ #academic 🎀 #wonyoungism #pink pilates princess #it girl #dream girl #dream life #thewizardliz #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #law of assumption #studyblr #study blog #pink academia #light academia #student #study tips #study motivation #study aesthetic #girly thoughts #that girl #it girl energy

[frogchiro]

hi me again i know its not eremites but my brain has been HAAAUUNNNNTEEED by omegaverse and COD i just know for a fact Ghost n Price share a role as "leader" of the pack, more Price than Ghost (warrior cat brain: DEPUTY GHOST *WACK*) and yes the entire pack takes care of their sweet omega but they feel the most weight of keeping her happy n healthy :<< Ughehrgrgrgrr Ghost is a silent lover, (this can really apply for annnnnyy au im just barfing my brain out here) brushing your hair out of your face as you sleep, cheek smooshed against your pillow. Oh my god you know that man would invest in silk pillow cases if you mentioned that silk is better for your skin n hair. That one stuffie you can't seem to sleep without, it never seems to get dirty, you don't think much of it. That's cause Ghost brushes it out for you, making sure theres no limp neck syndrome either (basically the fluff gets separated from body n head leaving none for neck) mention that you like a certain snack? or found a childhood snack you had but could never find after a certain point? at least 5 of them in the cupboard, 2 if they come in big packs.

John loves to spend time together with his sweet girl, he doesnt often have the time for it but when he does he loves to savour it. Loves Loves Loves being able to have you on his lap, a cigar in one hand, the other on your waist and a whiskey on the table next to his recliner. Memorizes your routine, if you have somewhere to be that you have to wake up for, he wakes you up, very gently. Kisses against your shoulder, traveling to your face. Kissing your cheek before turning you onto your back, just admires your relaxed face before he whispers your name. ASS!! GRABBER!!! grabs your ass, sure here n there he'll greet you with a gentle spank but he. grabs. ASS. He memorizes your coffee order too!! He may tease you a bit if it something like, 80% cream, 12% sugar and 8% coffee but still. sniffle snorgle so sorry for the long ask snifhghgrngr i love them. and i LOVE your blog, been following for a super long time, found you from pierro tags and just been obsessed. Take care of yourself okay?? MWAH (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

AHHHH THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS DARLING *MWUAH* I'm really glad you like my humble little blog so much and stick around for such a long time <3

I'm gonna go with omegaverse with these again bc I'm obsessed :<

And yes yes you're right!! Alpha Si is a silent lover but he's so expressive when he wants to be! If you're close enough you'll see all the little things; ticks, micro expressions even with the balaclava and/or mask, the little noises like chuffs or rumbles, everything! It's like a whole new world opens up and that's when makes being mated to Ghost beautiful <3

And he can be surprisingly clingy and touchy too! Definitely not right from the start but give him time and soon you'll have a 6'3 baby clinging onto you. What he may lack in verbal communication he compensates with physical affection and little noises; he will literally purr like an engine and make little chirrups in answer to your own as you nuzzle and preen each other in your nest.

Another thing about him are his surprisingly strong nesting instincts! He never really got to make a nest, or rather felt safe enough to do it. With his past, his father who always mocked him for nesting it never felt right until he got with you. Will take up the whole bed and literally roll in it so it's covered with his scent and pheromones and let out a pleased rumble when he finally deems his den good enough and safe before dumping you in it <3

Alpha!Price on the other hand loves quality time spent with you <3 He's much more verbal with you than Si and is quite touch himself in the privacy of his office or den, will always try and keep a hand on you and never let you out of his sight. He's the oldest of the alphas, much more mature and secure in his position as head alpha but will bellow and growl like crazy if he went out for a second out of the den to check up on something and upon returning he notices that you're not there anymore only for you to return from the bathroom confused what's all the commotion about.

Would never admit it out loud but he loves loves loves scenting you! Especially if you're on base with him. John has a strong masculine smell that screams 'ALPHA' in the most pleasant way; will make you go weak in the knees just from a whiff <3

Likes to rub on you when you're laying in your nest at night, his face shoved right into your scent glands and your delighted giggles bring him immense joy as he tickles you with his beard <3

#i'm fucking combusting #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john price

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Can you do Jeff, Ben, Liu, Masky, EJ, and Toby with a child experimented reader? Like they have scars and there wrists are swollen from being restrained, and everything? 

𝕀'𝕞 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕘𝕦𝕪𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕦𝕡 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕗𝕗/𝕝𝕙

ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕘𝕠 𝕥𝕠 @𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕤-𝕟-𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖!! 𝔾𝕠 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜!

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕠 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘!!

Jeff the Killer

He's a total insensitive asshole at first

"God damn kid, the fuck happened to your wrists? You cut yourself or somethin'?"

When you start sniffling and crying he knows he's fucked up

"Oh shit, wait hey I-I didn't mean it!"

One 3 hour long lecture from Slender and EJ later about how you do not in fact, cut yourself, you were held as an experiment for your entire life, he feels like he's come out a changed man

He is too much of an asshole to apologize, but he will try to make it better by initiating small talk

"You know, I was kind of an experiment too in a way"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean you know, I definetly didn't have it as bad as you but when I was growing up, my parents would force me to do things just to see how i'd react. And you know, how I look now is kind of a result of that"

You definetly don't like him after that, but you feel a little better

Jeff is an acquired taste for most people

No one just likes Jeff when they meet him LMAO

But as he continues to try and relate to you, you can commend him for trying

You still don't like him that much, but he's alright

Ben Drowned

He doesn't even mention it

He notices your scars and stuff, yeah, but he doesn't bring it up

1, he doesn't care enough to ask

2, he doesn't wanna make you upset

But sometimes, it's the guy that's too busy playing video games to actually listen to what you're saying that people trauma dump on

Which he doesn't mind

He's not a gossiper, and he forgets everything so chances are, if you tell Ben something, he's taking it to the grave

Er...second grave???

So as you sit there, telling him all you endured, he just sits there quietly

Maybe occasionally popping in with a "Damn that's crazy"

He probably isn't listening im sorry

Or maybe he is idk

The only way to really tell if he was is if months later, you mention something offhand and he's like

"Oh yeah I remember that. That's when a little bit of your skull was removed, right?"

And you'll just look at him like 'you were actually listening????'

Homicidal Liu

Liu, like Ben, notices but doesn't say anything

He and Jeff had a similar childhood, but even if he didn't, he still wouldn't risk bringing up trauma

But sometimes he gets a little concerned

Like if your wrists look a little more swollen than usual, then he will ask if he can see them

And he'll carefully look them over before getting an ointment that's supposed to help with swelling and rubbing it on them

He also has a lot of scars, so he gets the insecurity that comes with them

If he notices you covering up your arms or neck or wherever, he will offer one of his cardigans or scarves

And he will help adjust it so that it fits on you just right

Once it's on he will tell you how amazing you look

And if you really wanted, he'd let you keep the stuff he gives you

Or he'd go out shopping with you for something that better suits your style

Whichever you want, really

Eyeless Jack

He's probably one of the first people you meet when you get to the manor

And probably the one you see the most often

He is tasked with giving you your daily medicines, checkups, etc

He understands that a hospital room probably will bring up some trauma for you, so if you want to do your checkups in your room or somewhere else in the manor, he'd allow it

Really all he does is put lotion on your bruises, anti-itching ointment on where you were bound, cleaning and bandaging wounds, cleaning your scars, and giving you any medicine you might need

After that, he reminds you to be careful around your bandaged areas, and to try not to itch where he put the ointment, and then you're good to go

If you want, he'll give you a candy of your choice and a sticker

You do have a designated therapist, like all other members of the manor, but if you wanted to open up to him too he'd be ok with that

You opening up about your experiences also helps him give you the right medical treatment

And he assures you, that he and every other medical professional in the manor will never treat you how you were treated then

Of course, he understands that overcoming trauma is a process, and especially with medical professionals in your situation

But he will continue to accommodate whatever you need in the meantime to make you feel more comfortable

Toby

Toby from the beginning makes it clear that you can talk to him anytime you need

He loves helping people feel better, and would love to help you feel better

So if you do decide to open up to him, he will show you his own wounds and scars to make you feel better about them

He also helps you see that taking your medicine is cool and radical

(Take your meds kids, they're there to help you)

He will accompany you to the medical wing when you are finally able to go into hospital rooms

He wants you to feel safe, and if you need a break, he will be there to comfort you

He will also let you come with him when he needs to go to the medical wing, just to show you that everyone needs medical help sometimes, and that it's not scary here

He will let you touch his bandages so that you can see it's completly normal and helps your body get better

He's definetly the best to have around for medical reasons

#creepypasta #slender mansion #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #ticci toby #jeff the killer #ticci toby x reader #jeffery woods #jeff the killer x reader #ticci toby x you #ticcy toby #jeff the killer creepypasta #jeff the killer headcanons #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack creepypasta #eyeless jack #homicidal liu x reader #liu woods x reader #homocidal liu #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned x you #ben drowned headcanons #ben drowned creepypasta #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned

[pansy-picnics]

Sorry but your recent artwork has me thinking about parent Varigo and I have to dump my thoughts somewhere. I feel like, if they actually had a kid it would be really emotional for them but in different ways. Varian finds out he’s pregnant and is a little scared at first, but he actually adjusts to the idea pretty fast and is excited about it, because he’s in a good place now and has a good support system. He doesn’t have to worry about his family judging him, he knows they’ll still see him for who he is. Hugo on the other hand is terrified. But not because he doesn’t wanna be a dad, he’s pretty excited about that, he’s just really scared that Varian is going to get sick from the pregnancy, or that the whole experience is gonna be too much for him. He feels like this is just another thing he’s “putting Varian through” because he’s still not quite over the guilt of his betrayal years ago, and now it’s coming back to haunt him. They work it out of course and Hugo realizes that it’s gonna be okay and that he also can depend on Varian’s family for support because they’re his family too. Now I’m emotional. Anyway I love your art <3

AUGHHHH YEAH YEAH THIS IS SO REAL!!!!! i love plots like that fr, their characters are so fun to explore😭😭😭 Honestly? i think in the right circumstances hugo could be a deadbeat dad. like he could just straight up leave bc he’s paranoid varian or the kid would get hurt or he’d put them in danger or something. he’s the kind of guy who’s always Running! like i could think of scenarios where he’d run away on their wedding day too. those are both horrible extremes SORRY FOR THE ANGST I JUST THINK IT’S NEAT.

i think hugo’s always WANTED a family but its something she’s always viewed as unachievable, mostly bc of the shitty living situation hes been in for most of his life. she could barely survive on her own and she’d never want to drag someone else into that yk? and she’s still scared of that commitment even after she moves into the castle, bc what if she DID have a kid and then something happened and she couldn’t take care of them anymore, or she ends up on the streets again….and what if she just ends up abandoning them? what if she’s no better than the parents she never even knew? it’s like, obviously she wouldn’t do any of those things or be in those situations but she has….a Lot of anxiety around it for sure. but i also think that she tries to adopt literally every orphan she and varian see. she LOVES kids as much as she pretends she doesn’t and its very obvious….she just hasn’t really had the privilege to be able to think about it until now.

varian…i think he goes either way, he doesn’t really plan to have kids but he’ll kinda learn to adjust to whatever, he’s also just a very family oriented guy so he’s definitely not opposed to that kind of role. in my head they usually adopt bc i think varian like, Hates anything related to the human body at all so even disregarding the gender dysphoria pregnancy is SO gross to him. idk why i just think he’s silly like that. hell make bombs and poisonous chemicals but he remembers people have organs and he wants to throw up. i’m not opposed to the idea of them having biological kids at all though…especially considering all the art i’ve already drawn for it’s us against the world LOL. personally i think even if he weren’t opposed to the idea he’d be miserable the entire time, and not even like in a serious way necessarily he’s just REALLY mad that he can’t work in the lab anymore. he’s pissed about EVERYTHING, actually. he’s bored and he’s tired and he can’t work and he feels like shit and he doesn’t really have any other hobbies either. his whole life and routine has been completely fucked over for nine months and SURE he loves the kid and he’s excited but like why does it need to be in there that long. why can’t it just come from the stork or something. 🙄/j

i think he might pick a few fights with hugo bc of it, just because he’s so overwhelmed and emotional and doesn’t know how to handle it, but hugo’s really understanding; also they’ll honestly take any kind of treatment from him because they’re like, “Yeah i probably deserved that”. which varian does NOT like btw and always gets on his ass later to stick up for himself more while also in tears apologizing for yelling at him

idk i just think them as parents would be Sooo silly. neither of them have any clue what they’re doing. dude if those two had a baby? Dude can you imagine? varian’s sooo fucking sheltered i think he’s only interacted with like, 2 babies in his entire life. quirin stays with them for tje first few weeks bc varian literally just has NO clue what he’s doing and is crying to him all the time. and hugo like, has an idea of what to do but he’s also SUPER paranoid. they’re both just staring at the kid while they sleep not so much out of adoration but because they’re just terrified they’ll stop breathing at any moment. you cant convince me that either of them know how to change a diaper. They’re gonna bring out like full lab gear. like the gag where the dads will pull out full hazmat suits for the diaper change. That’s them idc

ruddiger is also SO protective of their kids from the moment they’re born, like he jumps up into the crib and snuggles up with them and they always IMMEDIATELY stop crying. olivia is the opposite. she’s kinda like a toddler who just got a new sibling she didn’t want. shes pissed that she isn’t getting hugo’s full attention and keeps being a brat about it. hugo’s just trying to calm down his baby and olivias glaring at him while she’s about to push a glass off the table

yeah idk i. have a lot of thoughts abt them too they’re so beloved to me

#tangled the series #rapunzels tangled adventure #vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian and the 7 kingdoms #varigo #tts headcanons #varian #vat7k hugo #pansy rambling again #ask #tangled ask #hugo rottewange

[whimsical-roasting]

Jamie comforts you after a long day (pt 1)

okay so this was meant to be entirely nsfw but tumblr has a character limit (tf??)... haven't written Jamie in SO long..

if it sucks - close ur eyes?? if it's good - tell me cause i have a praise kink <3

You come home after a long day following an already long week…hell, it’s been a long fucking year, hasn’t it?

Technically, this isn’t your home cause you’re on Jamie’s boujie couch, eyes closed and head resting against the back. Gotta admit shit’s comfy. You got in with your spare key and dumped your bags and stuff by the side of the couch

You just need a moment…just one fucking minute where your body and mind aren’t moving. You don’t even know where Jamie is, but he’s definitely somewhere in the house. You tell yourself that you’ll get up and look for him, just maybe after 2 minutes

You honestly don’t need to wait long because you hear the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs. You call out a tired “Hey!” and keep your eyes closed... You don’t get a response, and honestly, for a few moments, you’re too tired to care, but just as you’re opening your eyes, Jamie’s in front of you

“Hey, love”, he murmurs with a small smile as he sits next to you, one leg under himself and body tilted to face you

His hand is stretched out to you, holding a glass: ice cold water. You get an involuntary smile, accepting the glass and instantly bringing it to your lips. That first crisp taste of liquid goodness genuinely makes you swear this shit must be medicinal.

Jamie’s index finger traces the wet stain made on your pants from the droplets of condensation that fell from the glass. He doesn’t say anything for a second, just observing your state. He’s come to know the different things you have on your plate - your work, academic shit, the schedule that never seems to be on your side, not giving you a bloody break. 

But with his training, matches, and social obligations, as well as your own workload and energy levels, there’s been little opportunity to deep dive into how you’re holding up 

“How’s stuff?” he ventures out, studying your face. Honestly, the way you inhale deeply, like your body is trying to gear up energy just to respond, makes him frown

You set the glass down on the coffee table and turn to face him. “Stress isn’t exactly what I’m feeling..” you start, trying to make sense of it yourself. Jamie’s fingers are tracing circles on the inside of your palm as he waits for you to continue

 “It’s like- like- ugh fuck me… it’s like I’m so busy and tired! Million fucking things to do and apparently I’m the only one who can do em… And god, I spend my entire time taking care of others and handling shit! I like it, and I’m good at it - don’t get me wrong, Jaim - but fucks sake.” You start ranting, heavier on the cuss words because what else is gonna convey the weight of everything?

Jamie opens his mouth to speak but closes it when you continue

“And my roommate’s a grumpy little sh- ugh, no, it’s not that bad. I mean, if you’ve dealt with Roy, then I can’t complain about em… I’m just not used to angry people all the time. It’s like fucking-” your eyes jump around the room, trying to put into words what it’s like “-eggshells! Walking on eggshells! But forget it, that’s not even a big deal… it’s just another thing,” you mumble with a huff.

Jamie doesn’t like how you’re so dismissive. He’d jump in and tell you that it does matter, and if your roommate is even an ounce like Roy, then that must feel like shit. It took Jamie a while to adjust to the way Roy’s anger was when he first joined Richmond, and that’s just the locker room. Fuck, imagine that type of energy in your living space. Jamie debated how he could beat that roommate up in a way that wouldn’t cause you problems, but his thoughts ceased fire when you admitted the final part of your frustrations

“AND, we haven’t had... Yknow…” Your initial awkwardness around the topic catches his attention, but a smirk makes its way onto his face once he realises what you’re referring to. 

“I’ve just been exhausted, and you’ve been busy…but god, I need some…some... Fuckin hell, I need sex. I miss our sex. You’re so fucking good at it too,” you grumble the last part quietly and Jamie just snickers

You glance at him, and that stupid smug smirk on his face makes you wanna kiss him stupid. Is this asshole really amused by your suffering? And why the fuck does he look so hot whilst being so??

“Babe.. just-” he debates saying ‘calm down’ but come on, even he’s not stupid enough to say that to a woman. Instead, he smiles softly and grabs your hands. Ducking his head, he kisses your knuckles, then your palm, and then your inner wrist before glancing up at you.

“You’re overworking yourself, and you know that, love,” he sighs and continues, “Just cause we both know you’re more than capable of it, dun mean it’s a good idea… maybe you’ve got too much on your plate, and the only thing you feel is exhausted.” 

“Also, babe, we’re gonna fuckin address the roommate shit, so don’t think you’re brushing that off,” he gives you a knowing look as you shrink a bit into the couch. 

Not liking the (loving) scrutiny of his eyes, you defensively push back, “So you’re just gonna ignore what I said about the sex thing?”

This causes Jamie’s eyes to light up, and that stupid smug smirk returns to his lips. “Nah, never said that. Just wanted to be a proper gentleman and address me girlfriend’s problems in order.”

You roll your eyes at him, but it’s clearly loving… when it comes to Jamie, all your looks are loving…mostly.

He grins at you, “Now, onto the real issue,” and you shoot him a deadpan, unamused look that causes him to bark out a laugh. 

“I’m joking!” he holds his hands up defensively.

He reaches over and brushes your hair behind your ear, looking you in the eyes. “You need to switch off that beautiful brain of yours. And you need somebody to take care of ya for once.” 

All you can do is blush and nod cause he makes a good point; you do need that, and more importantly, you crave it. 

(go to part 2)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso x reader

[nobody-for-sure]

Language Barrier

For those of you who haven't cracked the code yet: as of the last chapter, there’s now two (one for each country’s language). However, as a reminder for everyone, I maintain that the story can still be easily read and enjoyed with only context clues. If you're feeling frustrated trying to crack it, take a break. A fic about a language barrier where you had to know the language would be pretty pointless, wouldn't it?

Chapter 15

(~2.7k words, see chapter list here)

You may have fucked up.

Correction: you definitely fucked up.

The good news is that the teleport waypoints do, in fact, teleport you. Which is cool. Very neat. That means they weren't just a convenient game mechanic for the traveler. Good to know.

The bad news is that you apparently can't control where they teleport you, because when the blinding light fades, you're most definitely NOT in Liyue Harbor.

Fuck, go back. Quickly, you turn to the new waypoint beside you and press your hand against it. "Take me to Wangshu Inn!"

In an unsurprising turn of events... nothing happens. Nevertheless, you keep your hand pressed to the device, waiting. Lag? Is it lag? It took a few moments to activate the first time around, so maybe you just need to be patient.

Minutes pass, and your hand falls to your side. Why is this my life??? In what universe do the teleports only go one way? Are they one-time use? What a rip-off! You consider trying again, asking for a different destination, but you think better of it. It didn't even take you to the right spot in the first place, so you'd better not give it the chance to dump you somewhere worse.

Speaking of... where am I, anyway? You take a long look around. Unfortunately - likely due to the world being bigger than the game - you've been finding in your travels so far that nothing looks exactly the same as you remember it. Nevertheless, you try to stay calm and think things through rationally. (Not doing so has already been your downfall more than you'd like to admit.)

The air is thinner here, and foggy, so you deduce you must be in the mountains somewhere. It makes you thankful you didn't get transported to Dragonspine, at least; you're definitely not dressed for that. You don't think you've left Liyue, either. Not that you would recognize Fontaine or Natlan if you saw them, but the few scattered trees and vegetation seem to fit the bill. Thinking back to the game, you close your eyes in concentration. If I remember correctly, there were some pretty large mountains right next to the harbor. One of them had a waypoint, didn't it? That must be where I am. It's definitely not what you had in mind, but it's also the most logical option you can think of.

You sigh. At least I'm close. Now I just have to figure out a way down. From there, you'll find a way to get a message to your traveling companions.

You give the waypoint a withering glare. Still, could it really not have dropped me anywhere closer? And what's with the indefinite cooldown all of a sudden?? Muttering under your breath, you pick a direction that looks vaguely familiar and start walking. Hopefully, your reception in Liyue will be smoother than it was in Mondstadt... though your misfortunes in the land of freedom were entirely self-inflicted to begin with.

When am I going to stop making life harder for myself?

The mountaintop is hilly, and at first, the fog makes it difficult to see too far ahead. But you're in luck: after several minutes of walking, the fog starts to dissipate, and you can see a cliff edge ahead. Perfect. You can scope out your location and see if you can spot a way down - perhaps there'll even be a nice, gentle slope with a pathway leading straight into the city.

Yeah, right.

But as much as you weren't expecting that to be true, what you see instead comes as even more of a shock.

The sides of the mountain are steep craggy inclines as far as the eye can see, and that's the least of your problems. You're nowhere near the harbor. In fact, you're nowhere near much of anything. Not Qingce, not Mingyun, not even the Chasm, which appears to be the closest thing to civilization in the distance. You know where you are now. The three dreaded trial towers of Tianqiu stand tall across the gorge. No wonder your surroundings seemed vaguely familiar: back when you first pulled Xiao, this was the waypoint you used every day to get to the Primo Geovishap.

But how in Teyvat does 'take me to Liyue Harbor' translate to this?!

...Wait a minute.

You backtrack for a moment. Xiao. I can call Xiao!

You feel much better about summoning the adeptus now that you're actually in need of his assistance, rather than just to say hi. "Xiao!" Despite the situation, you can't quite conceal the tinge of excitement in your voice as you speak the yaksha's name. There's a moment of silence. You hold your breath in anticipation. And then:

"Biat ye, ika! Kundala kucha unu!"

If you had a table, you'd flip it. For the first time, you do recognize the language being spoken. Who would've thought it'd turn out to be a bad thing?

You wheel around to see two club-wielding hilichurls, a geo samachurl, and - by far the most menacing - a rock shieldwall mitachurl almost twice your size. And, in yet another dissimilarity to the fanfics, they do not look happy to see you. Frantically, you think back to your daily commissions with Ella Musk. "Um. Olah?"

The mitachurl charges.

You leap back from the ledge. The last thing you want is to get knocked off and fall to your death. The mitachurl zooms past, missing you by a hair and grunting as it skids to a stop itself, adjusting its shield. The hilichurls are right behind, waving their wooden clubs in a frenzy. They're less formidable, but they have numbers in their favor: when you move to dodge a blow to the head, the other manages to land a heavy hit on your upper arm. You stumble backward a couple steps, cursing. It's not bleeding, but it will definitely leave a nasty bruise. "Xiao!!" Where is he?!

...Oh, wait.

He probably can't understand that I'm calling him, can he?

Fuck.

When you regain your balance, you turn around and make a desperate dash back for the waypoint. The ground rumbles, and rocky spikes shoot up from underneath you (courtesy of the samachurl, no doubt). You skirt around them, and they crumble, but you can hear shouts in hilichurlian behind you. You put on a burst of speed. Soon, the pounding of your heart and the panting of your breath drown out all other sounds.

That's why, when you crest a slight hill, you let out an unholy screech as yet another masked figure appears in your field of vision. Immediately, you swerve the other direction, but you barely move another step before a firm hand clamps down on your shoulder.

"Uwoug. You'll xgovxxo more of them."

You do a double take, and your heart nearly stops in relief. "Xiao," you breathe.

It's hard to tell if it's because of his temperament or not, but the adeptus doesn't seem very happy to see you.

He came to your rescue, there's no doubt about that. Once you realize it's him, you feel safe enough to risk a glance over your shoulder at your enemies. But they're simply... gone. All traces of them have vanished completely, as if the attack existed purely in your imagination.

Obliterated, your mind supplies, in a mixture of fear and awe. You've never been gladder that this is not an imposter au.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, though, your arm is roughly grabbed. "Hey!" you exclaim out of reflex, and the masked face snaps to yours so quickly that you instinctively shut your mouth. It could just be the eerie glow of the eyes, but you somehow get the feeling that he's glaring at you. When you don't say anything further, he makes a derisive noise and turns around. However, as he drags you to a nearby cave, removes his mask, and pins you with a piercing golden stare (that's even scarier than the mask, honestly), it's hard to tell where you stand with him.

"What are you doing?" he asks sharply.

The question roots you to the spot, not because of its content, but because it feels like forever since you've heard an entire coherent sentence from someone. The fact that it's being directed at you angrily by one of your favorite characters is secondary. It takes you a minute to absorb it, because inside your head, you're already celebrating. I was right! Xiao's at level seven! My friendship level theory was right!

The adeptus is not in the mood to wait for your celebration, though. "Vubwro," he says sternly. "Why are you here?"

You blink. "Ah- sorry. Um- by accident?"

He furrows his brow. "By what?"

"...accident...?" When the crease in his brow only grows, you realize he must not be able to understand that word. "Oh. Well, I tried to use one of the waypoints to get to the harbor, but it didn't work. Somehow I ended up here instead."

You expect him to maybe sigh or call you an idiot, but he just shakes his head, expression unchanging. "Not that," he says, sounding irritated. It's a sharp contrast to the way everyone else has spoken to you. "Why are you back?"

The question seems to hold a certain gravity. Your excitement fades. "...Back?"

He gives a single nod. Your chest tightens, and the ominous feeling you've been getting recently returns in flash. "Um... I don't know what you mean," you admit slowly.

"What?" His gaze narrows even further, and he opens his mouth before closing it again. "Xyob here," he says brusquely, before vanishing.

Numbly, you lean against the cave wall, turning the question over in your head. 'Back'? What does he mean? I haven't been here before. ...Moreover, the way he's acting... could it be...? You gulp.

Several minutes pass before there's a flash of pale green light, and the yaksha appears before you again. Before you can say a word, he sinks to one knee and bows his head. "I udykapaso. It's an varal to make your ugroxryoetgo, Your Grace," he says coolly.

You can barely make heads or tails of the fragmented sentence beyond 'Your Grace', but the complete reversal in attitude is enough to leave you gaping. "...What?"

"Which xvos did you not hroxwvuhre, Your Grace?" he says patiently, without raising his head. His tone exudes a strange sense of neutrality devoid of its previous emotion. It's... unnerving, to say the least.

"Wait. No, wait. What? What is this?? Who are you, and what did you do with Xiao?"

"I am Xiao, Your Grace."

"No, no. Where's that other guy I talked to? The one who was mad at me? That was Xiao."

"...That was me." You notice he doesn’t deny the part about being mad.

"...Are you actually a whopperflower?"

"Am I a what?"

"So you are?!"

"No, I am not," he says firmly, and this time you catch a familiar rough edge in his voice. So it is him.

"Then what's with all... this? Why are you so calm and... nice all of a sudden, when you were definitely not happy to see me before? ...Also, stand up."

He does. "It is krylxar to rvugrag yourself with, Your Grace. I was runoxwyq."

You purse your lips. You didn't understand much of that, but your mind is too preoccupied to try and break it down. You're almost scared to hear the answer, but you want... no, you need to know if it's a possibility. "...Did you think I was someone else?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment. Xiao folds his arms and gives you a long, searching look. "No," he says finally. "I could never." His words hold no hint of insincerity or falsehoods.

Your brow furrows in confusion. "Then-"

"I will not be krynousw more on this," he snaps.

You raise your hands in surrender. "Okay." Whatever is behind his sudden change in demeanor, it's obviously a touchy subject, and you would never force him to tell you. You've heard all you needed.

An awkward silence falls over the cave. You have no idea what's going through the yaksha's mind, but for your part, you're trying to piece together everything that's happened since your first encounter.

The way he treats you is undeniably different than the others you've met so far. Is it a Liyue thing, or an adeptus thing, or a Xiao thing? First brash, and now more formal... yet still lacking the unquestioning respect and adoration of Mondstadters. Most baffling is the fact that he claimed to know who you were the entire time. You believe him - but you have no idea what to make of it. Nor were you expecting these sorts of complications right off the bat with the first person you can (almost) properly communicate with.

It's painfully ironic: the first one you can comprehend is the one you understand the least.

You sigh. You don't know how you were expecting your first meeting with Xiao to go, but like every other part of your journey so far, this definitely wasn't it. You can't begin to fathom what sort of relationship the two of you have. It doesn't seem to be a good one. Maybe something's different for characters you've built and travelled with - which would explain why you had a different reception in Mondstadt - but you can't think of what or why it would be. It doesn't seem like he's about to tell you, either.

At the very least, though, no matter what he might be hiding, he didn't hate you enough to leave you at the mercy of the hilichurls earlier. You owe him for that. "Thank you for coming to help me."

He exhales and gives a slight nod before turning to face you fully. "What are you doing in reiuem xwvon?" he asks, more calmly than before.

"In where?"

"...Here."

"Um, that doesn't really- never mind, not important. I think I mentioned this earlier, but I'm not here on purpose...... you look confused."

"I can't hroxwvuhre half of the whvab you say," he responds bluntly, reminding you of your glaring communication problem. "Try using vupsqyw ones."

"...Using what ones?"

"Vuywou," he says, and when you shake your head, "Small."

"Small ones?" Small words? You turn this over in your head for a moment. Breaking it down, you feel like you've actually been able to understand a majority of what he's said, but he's right. Most of the words you recognize are short and fall into very basic English. Alright, then. You can work with that. It's hard to say exactly where friendship levels draw the line, but better Razor language than sorry.

"Okay," you start off, "I did not try to be here." You give him a questioning glance, and he nods for you to continue. "I used a... thing. I tried to go to the-" you pause, debating whether 'harbor' falls into basic English and deciding it probably doesn't- "...place. Not here - place with water and boats." He shakes his head in confusion, and you wave it off. "I tried to go to a place, but the thing took me here. I don't know why." Stupid waypoint.

The adeptus takes a minute to absorb this information. "Which... thing did you use?"

A lightbulb goes off in your brain, and you squat down, tracing your finger in the dirt. "This thing."

He seems to be trying hard to hide his exasperation when he repeats, "Yes. Which thing?"

"Which one?" Does it matter? Well, for all you know, it does. "Uh, the one at Wangshu Inn."

"Try again."

"Um... the one at the hotel? No? Okay... the one at the place, with... the food you like?"

Xiao bristles, and for the first time - if only for a fraction of a second - you get the strong sense you know what he's thinking. If you showed up, he had expected to meet you there. "You were there? When?"

"Just now."

"How?"

You shrug. "I came with people. From-" you sigh- "place."

He mulls this over, narrowing his gaze. "If you didn't try to be here, why did you not go back?"

"Because I can't. That's why I was hoping you could help me," you respond. "The thing here didn't work."

At long last, you've been able to steer the conversation around to the reason you summoned him in the first place. Moreover, the act of conversing itself has been going a lot better now, if you do say so yourself. This is progress. This is good. It's a great feeling, like you're finally making some headway through the chaotic mess you've found yourself in.

And then the yaksha brings you crashing down again.

"Then you can't leave."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #genshin xiao #lbbynfs

[mimzaucracks]

First post on sideblog, let’s goooo!

Image ID 1.0: The uppermost image is an image dump of rendered sketches of a ROTTMNT: The Movie AU version of Renet. She’s a young black girl, about the same age as April in the film, and she shares a striking resemblance to her, short for Renet’s hair being bleached blond. The drawings included in pictures described later, and in the bottom left corner is a photograph of the pencil sketches from a notebook. The text in the image reads:

Renet (ROTTMNT MOVIE AU)

- F!April’s daughter

- Master Michela[n]gelo’s protégé

- Got sent back before Casey but got stuck in limbo; emerged after events of the movie.

- Possibly a clone of April

(End ID)

I was rather disappointed we got another Casey as the MC in the movie instead of her, so it got me wondering if she could fill the same role as him. In my opinion she can, and that birthed this AU idea. Her being Future April’s daughter and Mikey’s protégé fit too perfectly, so I would actually have her be Jr.’s old childhood friend who was missing for many years (in limbo), so both of them are happy to see each other again in the present new timeline.

Regarding the “possible clone” comment: Many headcanon Casey Sr. either finding Jr. in a dumpster somewhere and adopting him, or that she asked Draxum to clone her. I’ve never really subscribed to either, since he does look very similar to her (which makes me think they are biologically related), but his temperament is basically the complete opposite of hers (which refutes the clone theory in my head). I always just assumed Cassandra had a boyfriend too irrelevant to mention in the show, even long before the movie released. I figure he’s her biological son, but he inherited his father’s temperament (and his mother’s looks). That being said, I’m willing to apply the cloning idea to Renet. I cannot picture April with a man, ever, so I can see her demanding Draxum clone her to give her a daughter. Maybe the kinder side of April’s personality is stronger in Renet since she grew up in an environment where kindness and hope are the only things keeping a community together and its members sane. Maybe she even adopted some of her other mom’s (Sunita’s) traits, who knows?

Image ID 2.1: A 3/4 view of Renet’s head, drawn in a style very close to the show’s/movie’s. She’s looking forward, away from the viewer, smiling slightly with a little of her teeth showing. She wears her blond hair in a ponytail like April did in the show’s finale arc, and she has a blue headband and a decorative silver tiara resembling a clock (10, 11, 12, 1 and 2), which bears a slight resemblance to the Statue of Liberty’s crown. Her cape is the same shade of indigo as her headband, and the cloak’s collar is majorly oversized, revealing her neck. She has an earring in the shape of an hourglass. (End ID)

Image ID 2.2: A fully rendered illustration (not in the style of the show/movie) of Renet and a teenage April from the end of the movie in front of a sunset. They are standing in profile towards each other, with Renet on the right, holding April’s hand in her left and her time sceptre in her right. April’s expression is slightly confused whereas Renet’s is tender and happy. A small speech bubble reads “Hi mom.” Renet’s chest plate/plastron is brown/dark orange to mirror Casey Jr.’s teal, showing her connection to Michelangelo, much like Casey’s shows his connection to Leonardo. (End ID)

I’m not entirely sure on her cloak’s exact design yet. If you look closely at the pencil sketch of her body, you can slightly see Donnie’s Genius-Built Apparel ‘D’ logo on her sleeves. I left it out of the illustration with April by accident, but I’m not sure whether I necessarily want his logo in those spots on her cloak. Maybe it’s at the bottom of the tail? I’m also not sure whether I want it to have those glitter-esque particle effects from the bust drawing; it’s not really a design element in-canon. Although, I do find it very pretty.

#mimjan draws #mimjan rambles #art and text-based post #first post on this blog #rottmnt au #canon-based au #rottmnt april #rottmnt renet #she was so snubbed fr #I love Casey Jr as much as the next person #but come on! did we really need two? #Cass is my once and forever main ‘Rise’ Casey #they can share that title #I really just wanted to see their take on Renet more

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: How it Started, How it's Going

Additional entry for the "things that changed" prompt because I will take any chance to dump OC lore on everyone and that is a threat lol

(Slight content warning for very vague mentions of abuse)

Chimalus and Nadia

How it Started

Chimalus and Nadia actually met briefly when they were children.

Chimalus, though a far cry from royalty, was the firstborn of a small but wealthy noble family.

Their father was the type to always find a way to hobnob with those in higher power. If he wasn’t throwing a party himself, he was attending someone else’s fancy gathering… and dragging his child along with him.

Chimalus and Nadia both decided to escape a fancy event at the Prakran palace at the exact same time.

And so the two of them wound up accidentally enjoying a moment on their own private balcony.

It was awkward at first, but Nadia was eager to have someone listen to her talk about anything other than the endless fancy-party small talk, and Chimalus was only too happy to listen.

The two of them could just be kids, and it was a beautiful moment for them both.

Sadly, both of their lives fell through many, many dark twists and turns after that party.

And yet, somehow, those twisting paths led them both to Vesuvia.

How it's Going

Chimalus’ life was actually better after waking up in the life of a (relatively) ordinary shopkeep instead of the first in line for head of a noble house.

Their father was the picture of corrupt nobility, obsessed with power in any form over all else... including the welfare and wellbeing of his child.

He actively caused a lot of harm.

But now Chimalus has been given the chance to leave all of that behind.

Learning to be a person again with Asra meant that they actually had someone who encouraged them, who helped them find and pursue their own interests, and actually showed physical affection.

This was one of the biggest things that Chimalus was able to share with Nadia when the two of them finally met again.

Without even realizing it, they did exactly the same thing they had done during that party: they treated her like a person instead of a Countess or Princess.

Now Nadia and Chimalus take on everything together, from the biggest problems in the city to the much lower-stakes but equally challenging book club debates.

Perhaps someday one or the other will remember the moment that started it all.

But either way, in each other they found what they had both longed for as long as they could remember: being together as equals.

Meleia and Asra

How it Started

Meleia had always been an outcast. Even before she moved to Vesuvia.

Living and working with her aunt only made things more difficult.

Meleia came from a very distant place, somewhere literally off the map, and she was forbidden from talking about her past.

Between that, and her foreign magic utterly clashing with her aunt’s magical style, and her general lack of knowledge about Vesuvian culture, she felt trapped and alone.

And then she met Asra.

Asra happened to be in the right place at the right time to help her out of a sticky situation in the market just before the whole “stuck in the same spot during Nadia’s procession” thing happened.

They found kinship in each other, a pair of outcasts with magic they weren’t entirely sure what to do with.

But what had really amazed Meleia about Asra at the time was his willingness to actually help her out. To listen to her.

Even though the fleeting moments at the annual Masquerade were the only times they were “allowed” to run into each other, there was such a sense of hope and relief when they were together.

Her life significantly improved when her aunt eventually moved out of the shop, which let Asra visit much more often.

He helped her learn how to control her magic better.

But their relationship, as much as it was built on trust and sharing their mutual curiosities, was always veiled underneath secrets.

Meleia couldn’t talk about her past. Asra didn’t want to burden her with his.

And Meleia couldn’t explain-- not because she wasn’t allowed to, simply because she didn’t know-- why she never quite managed to control her magic.

Still, it was wonderful to have Asra by her side… until the night of that fateful argument.

How it's Going

It was tough at first, after waking up.

Meleia always felt a little guilty that Asra was so often the one taking care of her, and she longed to take care of him in return.

But now things are better in nearly every way.

Finally, finally, the two of them are exactly where they need to be.

Meleia has someone she can truly be herself around.

Asra has someone both to support him and to help him soldier through the more difficult choices and parts of life without slipping away.

The two of them have a deep understanding and trust of each other. Misfits have to stick together, right?

There are no secrets between them anymore, and ever since Meleia discovered the truth behind her resurrection and her new body, Asra has been more determined than ever to help her reclaim her past.

In all honesty, her new body helps a lot with magical control: one thing they did find out was that Meleia’s parents were both incredibly powerful magicians with two very different styles, leaving her with almost too much power for one person to handle alone. Having the borrowed body of an Arcana grants her the strength she needs.

The rest of her life remains a mystery… so far.

But whether they uncover it or not, Meleia and Asra will always, always have each other. And their friends. And Meleia found her familiar. And Asra found his parents.

They both have a family now, both with each other and beyond. And Meleia finally has a place-- and a person-- to call home.

#vesuvia weekly #things that changed #oc lore #oc info dump #arcana fan apprentice #fan apprentice #apprentice chimalus #apprentice meleia

[strid3rofthen0rth]

Everest Quercus

A bone shuddering thud, immediately followed by an electric sting racing up through hands and arms.  The pause, surprise and awe that it did not go.  A glance filled with ill intent.  The creak of stained, heavy leather gloves.  Panting.  A deep breath and a little bounce, like a fighter waiting for the bell.  Finally, another swing, all the way from the toes, and Ker-rack!

There it is.  Now we're splitting some wood.

Splitting firewood is about the most rewarding work I can do on a cold winter morning.  The smell of cleaved hardwood mixed with sweat has been a touchstone for me since early boyhood.  Nothing conjures happy images of my father more quickly or completely.  My parents heated with wood for most of my childhood, as do I, so I continue to split.  Concerns of climate change not withstanding, there is comfort to be found in putting up for winter.  Canning, pickling, and splitting wood that we may emerge from the frigid dark once again, alive and raring to go.

It all began back on Maple Avenue.  I'd been an apartment dweller for my entire life, six years young as it was.  To suddenly have my own yard to dash around in, my own trees to climb, my own garden from which to swipe peas and brussel sprouts, was a gift from on high.  Then one fine autumn morning, a huge truck appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and dumped a massive load of white oak right in the center of my playground.  Another load soon followed.  Everest Quercus, a towering mountain of firewood.  Limbs longer than I was, rounds taller than I, heaped and tangled across the yard.  There were bugs under the bark and mud torn up from the yard.  It was the greatest thing I'd ever seen.

Choosing to invoke the selective hearing granted to all children when parents warn against taking certain actions, for days I clambered over and around it, sprayed the garden hose on the top to see where the water would come out, pried and pulled to see what was in there.  My jungle gym and fort, gateway to imagination, and the beginning of my first big adventure.

Soon enough, men I did not know arrived to help my father break down my fort.  They wielded chainsaws and cant hooks, wore long wooly beards over flannel shirts and pants so dirty my mom would have never let me be seen in them.  And they swung splitting mauls.  That sound of splitting the logs into burnable chunks -- half fastball jumping off white ash, half crunch of hard snow under foot.  The action, the dynamic nature of it all, was intoxicating.  I remember thinking there was a certain gravity to this new situation, though I obviously couldn't verbalize that thought at the time.  Something big was going down, and I wanted in.

So Dad would set me up with a stubby little end cut, the easiest piece to split, and start a wedge for me.  Wedges are often used in conjunction with a standard maul on rounds that are too big for the splitting maul.  And with six-year-olds.  He'd hand me a little two pound hammer -- I remember it now, a blue Estwing -- and I'd tink tink tink away at that wedge until I'd made my little split.  Or until I got tired or bored, just as likely.

I had to choke up on that hammer quite a bit with my little pink paws, and somehow, whether through exuberance or inattention, I finally managed to mash the tip of my right pinkie finger between the face of the hammer and top of the steel wedge.  I remember I cried at the sight of my own blood.  I remember my mother hovering somewhere between harried, concerned, and angry on the drive to the hospital.  I don't remember how many stitches I got, but they followed the blackened nail around the tip of my finger in a perfect tiny crescent, and I was chin-jutting proud of that in the days that followed.  I'd earned my stripes.  One of the boys.

That run to the ER aside, splitting wood has been generally good to me.  It's one of the times you can stand outside pouring sweat, the mercury burrowing below zero, icicles clinging to your beard, and not have to worry if the rescue plane is going to find you in time.  I like to unbend my back every once in a while, and lean on the maul.  Think about pioneers and lumberjacks and other manly stuff.  To feel muscled and strong, robust against the cold.  Like I actually have my shit together for once.  It's a chance to slow down and workout at the same time.  And if you practice long enough, you can ring the bell every time at the carnival, and win your girl a Bon Jovi mirror.

Some woods are more testy than others.  There comes a point in almost every session involving big wood when you are forced to decide whether or not you can carry on.  You have your wedge started in a huge round, probably for the second or third time.  This guy has decided to test you, deflecting your best attempts to cleave, stack, and burn.  You begin with some slightly tentative swings, making sure the wedge is driven, and all is right with the world. 

Now it's time to bring the pain.  You coil and bend, storing all the energy to be released in one massive effort. Getting your feet set, you begin that big power swing, the best one in your arsenal.  Knees, hips, shoulders snap into alignment as your fists slam together at the end of the handle, the head of the maul wails down squarely on the wedge, all the force you can muster behind it.  PING! 

Nothing... until, after a few moments heavy breathing, you begin to hear the faintest crackling.  The frozen fibers beginning to give up their bonds.  And you know, this beast will fall like all before him have.

It always amuses me when you see the leading man in a movie, lantern jawline and not a hair out of place, at his gorgeous log cabin, splitting up perfectly dry and straight pieces of maple for the fire.  They merrily crack and fly apart with barely a touch from the axe or maul.  You'll never see him sweating and cursing, trying like mad to extricate the maul from a gnarled hunk of burr oak.  It's Hollywood, where the girls are plastic and all the firewood is kiln dried.

Fir and pines are a walk in the park. They fly apart with happy ease, the chosen favorites of Instagram wood splitters everywhere. Hard maple, frozen, is among the most satisfying to split. It requires effort, but it will come apart, and the sound of a good swing on maple rings out clean and pure.

Among all woods, elm is my nemesis.  Like many of us who carry the maul and wedge, I can spot it in a wood pile from fifty yards.  Mocking me.  Daring me to even try.  I'm sure there are more difficult woods to split.  Ironwood can give you a backache just looking at it, so heavy and hard.  Shagbark hickory, with all it's armored bark as a warning, will test your shoulders and your will.  Black cherry strikes fear in the heart of mortal men.  But that stringy elm so tirelessly indefatigable.  So unrelenting in it's ability to hang together.  It seemingly wills itself to remain unbroken, the Nelson Mandela of the wood lot.  Many a wedge have been lost in a round of elm, waiting to be freed by the addition of another wedge.  And then another.  Until you find yourself berating an inanimate hunk of cellulose like a homeless wing nut cursing the weather and hot dogs on a street corner.

Swinging with precision is usually more important than swinging hard.  A few stretches before you get going will prevent a lot of soreness, even if you do look like a goober doing yoga in a flannel shirt.  Burn the elm in a campfire so you don't have to break it down as far.  And wood gets heavier as you age.  A lot heavier, but the pull of the wood lot is real, the desire to swing away, so we keep on going, chasing that perfect swing. 

#my writng #repost #since we're talking about splitting firewood

[holycryptid]

Nightcrawler

Bruce Wayne/Batman x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 6.3k

Tags/warnings: descriptions of blood/injury, angst, allusions to sex, groping/touching, descriptions of medical treatment (suturing), fingering/pussy play, explicit language, unrequited feelings (let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: Bruce confronts his feelings after you put him back together. Again.

Notes: wrote this all the way back in 2020 right after the first trailer came out…found it sitting in my computer files and figured i shouldn’t let it go to waste! since it was written before the movie came out, please excuse/forgive any inaccuracies regarding the batsuit, terminology, setting, and characterization (and the painfully amateur writing) 😣 

The cave is always a little too frigid for your liking. 

Especially when it’s already well into the late hours of the night—a time you definitely shouldn’t be awake. The long fluorescents buzz and highlight the metallic sheen of everything, while still piercing through any inch of unguarded darkness in the gloomy room.  

A light breeze swirls around your huddled figure every so often, and the rhythmic sound of water continuously dripping onto floor somewhere echoes throughout the quiet, isolated space. There’s still some changes and additions that need to be made to the current set-up he has, but it does the job for now. You don’t bother taking note of what needs to get done—you’ll probably forget it all an hour from now anyway.  

You let your head roll back onto the chairs headrest, and your eyes skim over the time at the bottom of one of the monitors screens. 

3:43am. It’s been almost four hours—you always wait. 

You wait even though he tells you not to, and even though you know you maybe shouldn’t sometimes. But you can’t help it. It’s habit at this point. You’re down here at 10pm on the dot. Daily. 

You don’t need to be, but you are; it’s tradition for you to be part of his prep and routine before the nightly endeavour out into Gotham, even if you just sit and watch as he slowly works his way into the suit piece-by-piece, fiddling with various tech accessories that you don’t even know the names of yet.

You try to pass the time by organizing and sorting his skewed files, papers, and small pieces of armour that have been damaged beyond repair—meticulously placing them in their rightful spots on the seemingly never-ending line of desktops, shelves, and hidden drawers. 

But mindlessly arranging anything and everything only lasts for so long before there’s nothing left to do but sit. And think. And then sit some more.

Not knowing how long you’ll be rolling around in one of the padded office chairs for is one of the prices you have to pay for caring too much, and he reprimands you for it, even as you furiously dump an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol onto his body, and he never shows that it affects him in the least. 

He’s stubborn. He’s stupid. 

Your eyes wander along the blank stone walls as you slouch further into the chair, stopping when you see the time again: 3:47am. 

You let out a heavy breath through your nose as you repeatedly click the tip of a pen in and out. You push yourself around in slow circles with the toe of your foot, letting the spinning room distract you for just a few moments just to pass another minute at least.

This isn’t necessarily part of your job. He knows that, and you definitely know that. A lot of things have changed with your workplace duties, clearly, as you notice some earlier pieces of his armour piled in one corner of the room.

Unsurprisingly, things have…happened here and there. It’s becoming a more common occurrence, but it feels circumstantial and…convenient. Maybe it’s all meant to happen at this point. You think about it often enough—too often. Enough to make things awkward for yourself sometimes.

Another anxious glance at the leering clock: 3:51am. “This is fucking ridiculous,” you reason with yourself, getting up from the chair and tossing the pen on the desk. 

You resort to pacing around the grand floor space, now closely watching the entrance and exit as you circle by. All you can do is wait—

And just as you turn your back to the computer displays and monitors, the clocks turn to 3:59am. 

You cut back sharply to begin another circle, and there he is. Four hours later. Alive.

The broad shadow makes your heart stop for a split second, but the only physical reaction you have is your knees locking, keeping you in place and giving you no choice but to stare at the familiar, broad outline of him.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Bruce.” It slips out, a little rushed and aggressive, but you mean it. He knows you well enough to not take any literal offence from it.

Your harsh acknowledgement prompts him to walk in further.

“Yeah, you said that last time,” he points out casually, sauntering into the blinding lights with calm steps, coming around to the front of the desks.

You observe his gait with a hard stare—you take notice of how he hesitantly bends and twists at the hip when he leans back to rest against the edge of the metal desk, rolling his head back until his neck pops with a relieved grunt. 

He’s already got the cowl, cape, and gloves off, so whatever the problem is, it must be worse than what he’s playing off, as usual.

And then you see the issue. “Do you need help with that?” You point at his stomach and drop back into the chair, deflating with concern. 

Your alert eyes study the suit, looking at the damage. 

“With what?” he counters, seeming unaware—avoiding; yet his dark eyes confidently meet yours as he rests back on his hands, trying to find some comfort and seem unbothered by whatever desperately needs your attention underneath the sturdy armour. 

A very thin layer of blood has seeped through a small displacement in the suits plating, soaking into the tri-weave fibers that cover the titanium. You roll your eyes and scoot back to a shelf where a med-kit sits, one that you put together specifically for nights like these, which is every night.  

Positioning yourself back in front of him, the chair brings you to the perfect height to get a good look at the impairment. You can already tell it’s a knife wound just by the location. It’s at the perfect height. It cut perfectly in-between the overlapped layers of plating, perhaps the biggest flaw the suit has. You’re sure he’s aware of that now.

You inspect it briefly, tugging up on the bent piece slightly to see the amount of blood beneath. He takes a deep breath as the dense pressure is relieved from the tender area. 

“Shit—” he breathes in relief. You’ve only heard that clipped tone slip out of his mouth on very few occasions, one of which was barely a week ago, yet you still tense at the vivid memory that you never really want to let go of.  

He’s not one for reminiscing, but unfortunately, you are.       

“It’ll only be a few stitches,” you say gently, letting the plate mold back into place softly. You tap the hard armour pointedly. “Take it off.”

You flick your eyes up to his—the black paint has smeared around just a bit more compared to when he smudged it on with no real technique earlier.

You’ll help him get it off later.

He brings a quick hand through his damp hair and starts unclipping the few clasps hidden on his shoulders and chest. One by one, the durable pieces are detached, and you carefully place them off to your right as he hands them over.

“Can you get the one in the back?” He motions over his shoulder. You nod and mumble a thoughtful ‘mhm’ as you both push yourself onto your feet again.

He turns his back to you, leaning forward on his palms and presenting the last clasp that sits in the middle of his spine. You know he can reach it, you’ve seen him do it before. You flick the clip, carefully pulling away the last plate. He physically relaxes his already tense muscles as soon as the extra weight is removed.

“I don’t know why you do this every night. It’s not worth it,” you confess while rummaging through the med-kit for a needle, surgical thread, topical antiseptic, a gauze pad, and a self-adherent bandage wrap to hopefully hold it all together.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as you carefully lay out the supplies next to him on the desk.

“I have to…” he whispers, trailing off, but you catch it, shaking your head as you thread and ready the needle with severe concentration. 

“Turn around, please.” He shifts back to where he originally was without a word, leaning back against the cool steel with hesitation once again.

You grab the bottle of antiseptic and apply a generous amount onto the pad, delicately holding it as you take a seat in front of him once again.

“Are you sure you wanna stand for this?” you grimace. The hot sting of a sterile compress isn’t the most enjoyable sensation to experience, especially while bearing weight.

He looks down at you, looking rather uninvolved with the priority. Dazed and distracted; something that could be mistaken for the potential amount blood loss, but the gash isn’t big enough for that possibility. 

This is something you’ve seen more often than you’d like to.

“Just get it done,” he starts, “You know I can handle it.” He dismisses the option, letting his head roll back with a deep inhale as he waits for you to start.

You say nothing in return. Carefully balancing the compress in one hand, your other cautiously pinches the soft, spandex material of his base-layer shirt. It fits comfortably, hugging tightly around the curvature and muscle of his body, improving his movement in the suit.

The shirt is slowly pulled away from his stomach. The thick blood sticks around the tear in the fabric, making it peel away instead. You drag it halfway over the rest of his lower abdomen, pulling and letting it bunch up tightly, staying isolated from the torn skin below.

You stare at the ugly cut for barely a second before you quickly dab the antiseptic around, patting it into the irritated, puffy flesh and watching it fizzle with each pull back.

Sometimes, you feel like he likes the pain. Like he purposefully seeks out the discomfort of an incapacitating injury in hopes of suppressing the turmoil of concern…worry…love… 

It gives him something else to focus on instead of the sorrowful emotions that avoiding you doesn’t seem to fix. It’s only been making it worse, and things are beyond saving now.

Your free hand gently rests against the burning skin of his waist, and his head drops forward at the surprising contact.

“Calm down. It keeps me steady,” you chuckle, shaking your head lightly.

He hums thoughtlessly in response, unconvinced with your excuse, maybe. 

There’s that sudden anxious tension in the room from nothing but a fleeting graze of fingertips. The uncertainty of who’s going to make the first move this time.

You do one more press and then pull the soaked pad away, examining your progress before discarding the bloody material.

“It might only be four sutures or so,” you determine while gently squeezing the inflamed edges closer together to try and gauge the amount of work needed.

He inhales sharply, tightly gripping the rim of the desktop. “Well, the faster you stitch it, the faster I’ll be able to—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” You cut him off with a harsh but accidental hard squeeze of the torn flesh, making his words die in his throat with a groan.  

That wasn’t something you really needed to hear right now, let alone think about as if he wasn’t just bleeding out in front of you only minutes ago. 

You know how that sentence ends; you’ve heard him say it more times than you’d like to admit, but you can’t let him have his way tonight.  

You glare at each other for a moment. Your eyes hold a tired frustration behind them, but his hold a different kind…something that is able to get you to do whatever he says, something that makes you giddy with anticipation, and something that makes you feel just a little more alienated afterwards.

“You can’t lie to yourself anymore,” he says instead.

You laugh coldly. “Well, neither can you. I’ve stopped doing that a long time ago. You should try it sometime,” you counter, snatching the threaded needle with anger while maintaining your unimpressed gaze.

He sighs, messing with his drying hair again as you begin suturing quickly—not so you can get to what he was alluding to, but the opposite. 

For once, you don’t want that, and you don’t want the burden of sadness that comes with it.

But it’s so…tempting.

He gave himself away. You haven’t. And of course he’s leaning against the very spot you were pinned down against a week ago, feeling the contrast to the emotions you’re feeling now: excitement, passion, comfort, love—

It puts you into a conscious daydream for a moment. But you’re awoken from it when you feel his body jolt suddenly. You see the needle poking into the tough muscle of his side instead of the spongey cut.

“Shit— sorry,” you mumble, shifting your focus back to the final suture and looping it through itself securely in a rush.

Seven stitches in total, you notice. You were close.

You grab the bandage wrap and press it firmly over the closed wound before snaking it around his back. You’re able to get two layers from it; the pressure should stop any possible bleeding, but he always manages to tear it open anyway. Sometimes you think he does it on purpose just so he has a good excuse to see you.

“Done,” you sigh, packing up the med-kit and rolling back to its shelf.

You stand from the chair and go to make your way to the exit without another word, not interested in any other interaction tonight. Well, that’s what you hope for, but you’ve learned that he will never let you go peacefully.

You go to pass by him mindlessly as he’s carefully pulling his shirt back down, but he manages to grab ahold of your sleeve quickly when he sees your destination. The effortless pull makes you skid to a stop, twisting back towards him with your inverted momentum, almost smashing your face in his chest, but you stop yourself with your forearm.

He holds onto you tightly, with a purpose, as you share a moment of mutual hurt and resentment. His dark eyes, the opaque paint making them look just as black in the hazy lighting, search your conflicted ones desperately.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” he asks quietly. There’s no demand behind it, seemingly afraid it’ll scare you away. 

His face softens, perhaps relief from asking. He’s never had to before.

You furrow your brows together in shock, dumbfounded at his apparent stupidity in this continuous situation. You scoff lightly at his rather domestic request. “Why? So we can just dance around the truth like always?” Your voice never raises in volume, but your tone gets harsher as you continue.

“So I can hope that maybe you’ll come to your senses and fucking realize that I lo—”

The hand he had wrapped around your arm moves to the back of your neck before you can even say the word or finish your passionate rant. He promptly pulls you right to him, his deft lips quickly doing the much-needed apologizing in that moment. 

It’s feverish and assertive, seeming out of place in the cloud of desolation and melancholia…yet you don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

He knows you’ve needed this. Not the rushed, messy, convoluted kisses that come from your desperate fucking after a hard night or a close call, the ones that seem to happen almost by accident, by pure circumstance. There’s just always something missing…

Fervour. That’s what you feel now—that’s what you’ve wanted from him every single time he took control of you with ease for the night. You’re never able to make it back up to the manor either.

You shudder slightly when his hand moves to your jaw, gripping it firmly as he slides his mouth against yours consumingly, sucking your lips gently and teasing your tongue with his cautiously. You moan when he deepens the kiss further, letting his tongue fully overlap yours with a practiced versatility. It subdues you, inviting him to give and take as he pleases. 

Several whimpers fall against his lips as you stretch onto your toes to meet his height as best as you can, trying to get more even though he’s already giving you plenty. It’s pensive. Each movement thought out and executed with a purpose, something that you can feel has a very clear destination in his mind.

You let him maintain authority, let him kiss you with a force that could bruise if he didn’t soothe the pressure with his soft tongue occasionally, dipping it back into your mouth quickly after. Your taste seems insatiable to his starved soul.

It all draws you in further, and your hands find themselves grasping at his shoulders instinctually when a forceful hand snakes through your hair to gain better control of you.

Your mouth feels a little numb and swollen from the welcome force, and he pulls away hesitantly when he feels your soft touch finally rest at his collar delicately. He barely lets more than an inch get between your lips, and you can feel the reluctancy in his movements as he pulls back. 

You open your eyes slowly and see his sombre expression—more sombre than usual. The sorrow in his eyes and the agony on his brow is enough to force you to speak up first.

“I wish you told me months ago,” you whisper, lightly resting your forehead against his own as you wrap your arms around his neck, confident that he won’t pull away like he has before.

He looks longingly into your forgiving eyes, taking his hands and sliding them down to your hips in solace; an abrupt switch from from their dominant spot around your face. You understand the conflicts he has to live with. Most of them are caused by his vigilant habits in the night, yet you expected everything outside of that to still be easy for him. 

Unfortunately, trauma picks and chooses its victims at random.

You find yourself looking for words. Maybe for the moment you realized he was different, when he changed.  

“I wish it wasn’t so hard for you, Bruce.” You try to comfort him, provide some ease for his always anxious mind.

He squeezes your hip, silently reassuring you that it’ll be fine, that it won’t kill him.

“I wish it wasn’t so hard for you,” he retorts in an indignant tone, irritated with himself. 

He regrets all of it. Most of all, he regrets making you feel unloved. The nights where he used you as a release, when he would act like nothing happened, when he would unconsciously ignore you, and when he ultimately closed himself off in the end.

“It wasn’t fair. It was…selfish,” he finishes forcefully, taking a quick breath to regain some composure.

“I just don’t want you to be part of that life,” he admits tentatively. 

You can see he’s telling the truth. The way he doesn’t meet your gaze again. He does it to avoid the confrontation that comes with honesty.

You pause to take in his confession, closing your eyes for a moment with relief, but his tone is like a bullet to the heart. The dejected feeling of you possibly not wanting to be here with him in this moment.    

“‘That life’?…You mean your life?” you reason, sounding surprised with his absurd claim. 

You’d think that having done this religiously with him for a year would make him think otherwise, regardless of your acts together. You always showed up no matter the circumstances or emotions.

He pushes against your hips lightly, making some space between your bodies, and you shuffle back without hesitation. You let your arms fall away from his shoulders, and he does the same as you distance yourself.

“My life is your life,” he explains. “What happens to me affects you, why can’t you see that?” His face falls slightly. The realization of you not knowing you’re significant enough to be considered part of his life is…heartbreaking. 

There’s so much you could say to that.

You let the silence linger briefly. “Maybe I’d be able to see that if you weren’t afraid to be in the same room as me,” you say, voice quiet as you test your reasoning.

You don’t want to start a fight. You just want to understand. You want to know why.

You notice how he hesitates when around you, and not in a flattering or complimentary way. It’s avoidant, scared, and even worried. Worry of confrontation.

He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around his stomach in comfort, carefully avoiding the fresh bandage. 

“I…I’m not…scared. I’m—” Batman doesn’t get scared from feelings, but maybe Bruce Wayne does.

“You’re unsure,” you finish for him. His eyes meet yours with a sense of hope that you’re understanding.

“I just…don’t know how to go about…all of this,” he motions between you with a flick of his hand. 

All of this…meaning—

“Love?” you try, making it more of a rhetorical question.

He presses his lips together in surprise before offering a firm nod. He doesn’t trust himself to say it. It’s hard to wrap your head around. It couldn’t just be that, it had to be something more problematic? Complicated? 

But yet, it all makes sense because he’s him—he doesn’t necessarily do romance; there’s no time. You know that. You’ve seen how he is, nothing but a fleeting moment in the night to most, even to you. 

It all clicks, and you rub your face in relief and exasperation. You can’t blame him for it all. You can for some, of course, but a relationship needs communication from both. It can’t be a one-person effort, but that’s what it ended up being.

He was just trying to protect you. That’s all someone can really ask for, but the execution wasn’t right. He abandoned you emotionally to protect you physically, and that’s not the right balance.  

“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth at the beginning? So I wouldn’t spend all this time thinking I was doing something wrong,” you pleaded, stepping closer to him again to pull an answer from his huddled form.

The closer you get, the higher you have to tilt your head to hold his gaze.

He looks right back, overwhelmed. “I didn’t know how to say it…I didn’t know if you felt that way. When I realized you did, I thought it was just…too late,” he admits, stuttering briefly at the end.

It was clearly hard for him, too. But was it not apparent that you were waiting? For him. For anything.

You look down, nodding your head in understanding. “I don’t think I could’ve made it any more obvious, but lust can be confused for love, so I understand.” You were serious, but some sarcasm slipped through at the end.

Lust is deadly; it will bait you, hook you, and then drag you under it’s pleasurable and irresistible cloud of euphoria, disguised as the domineering man in front of you.

“At least you know now,” he says, matching your tone. 

He straightens his posture and locks his cold stare onto yours momentarily, searching for something he still can’t seem to find. 

Giving up, he turns to collect each piece of armour you set aside, and he busy’s himself with meticulously putting it back in its rightful spot for tomorrow.

You watch him with surprise, but there’s no anger at his dismissal. You feel relieved. Relieved that you know. You don’t expect things to be normal right away, not with him. 

You know he’ll come around, but you can’t help but ask a prying question just to entertain your already validated thoughts. And to keep him talking. There’s still so much you want to know.

“So…” you start lightly. “You said you weren’t sure if I was interested at the beginning,” you say carefully.

He stops moving the instant he hears the curiosity in your tone. He turns back to you slowly, an amused expression on his face. Shit—

You hesitate when you catch his look, but continue cooly. “So, if you didn’t know…then why did you keep, uh…” You lose your words, too afraid to be so blunt and direct about your past endeavours.

It seems taboo to discuss it while not in the moment itself. Sometimes you wonder if it’s just a dream. Too good to be true.

He raises his brows knowingly as you trail off, entertained with your hesitation and embarrassment.

“Why did you— why did we continue…”

“Fucking?” he finishes for you bluntly, a small smile playing on his lips, yet it’s devoid of genuine humour. It screams danger.

He chuckles when you nod your head wordlessly. “Like you said, lust is confusing. You can never seem to get enough, and I don’t think I wanted to.” He pulls the sleeves of his tight-fitting shirt over his forearms, watching you carefully as you consider his words.

His tone was suddenly light, confident. He could feel that you were walking the fine line of giving in or leaving without another word. 

“I’m not trying to persuade you into doing anything, if that’s what you’re thinking about,” he clarifies softly when he sees your eyes dance across the floor rapidly.

You laugh lightly, glancing at him reluctantly. “I’m not, but you wouldn’t have to, anyway,”

That makes him narrow his gaze in question. 

You raise a brow in response. “What?”

He glances over his shoulder at a monitor, very obviously reading the time: 4:29am.

And you realize exactly what he’s doing. Why would time matter unless you were to suddenly become busy. Tonight was on the shorter end of time spent putting him back together, and you never fall asleep quickly or peacefully anyway…that’s if you were to attempt it or even make it that far.

You watch him speculatively, still mindful that he’s injured, and probably very, very sleep deprived at this point, even though you can never say for sure.

He doesn’t sleep much. You seem to be his biggest distraction.

He twists a dry strand of hair between his fingers as it’s brushed back from his face, black eyes full of self-assurance as he turns to you for what will be the last time tonight.

“You think we can make it back to the manor?” His relaxed yet serious tone startles you, making you consider the options quickly.

Hard and cold floor, small and cold desktop, small rolling chair—none are ideal, but you’ve made all work before…when he didn’t offer another option, mind you. It was never momentous enough to have taken place outside of the cave. But the manor is…farther. There’s a buffer you don’t think will be beneficial. 

Who fucking cares—

“Here seems to work just fine,” you quip nervously. You haven’t taken notice of how your legs have gotten…shaky. 

There’s a burning heat between your thighs, an ache that blazes bright from anticipation and just him. Just knowing what’s to come. It feels like you’ve done everything imaginable at this point, but that doesn’t lessen your excitement. 

He gives a small smirk that fades just as fast. “Figured you’d say that,” he finalizes. 

Stepping back to you with graceful movements, you’re chest-to-chest again in an instant. He glides a delicate finger up your neck, hooking it under your chin and tilting your gaze to his intimidating one.

“Tell me what you want.”

You desperately want to say ‘anything’, but you know he won’t settle for that. 

You get lost in your thoughts, thinking of the possibilities you can choose from, and he waits for your answer patiently.

“A week ago…when you came back with a torn rotator cuff in y-your shoulder—” you stumble through the sentence but never break from his studious eyes.

“You, uh, didn’t pay any mind to it even though you definitely should’ve, and you had me down against the desk,” your voice turns to a whisper as you recount the events—as vague as possible to save you the embarrassment of being too vulgar in, perhaps, an irreplaceable moment.

As soon as you finish, you swear you see a flame flicker in his eyes. The same one you feel grow stronger in your cunt at the same time. Your knees almost buckle from anticipation, and he can only make it worse from here.

“That’s…a good choice, even though it was kind of impersonal,” he ponders, clearly running through the events of that night.

He’s not wrong. He kept your chest pinned tightly to the surface of the frigid desk, taking you from behind. No hand-holding, no kissing, no eye-contact, no nothing. 

You went on to figure that it was better—easier for him that way. You never seemed to mind anyway.

“That’s nothing I can’t fix,” he mutters, finishing the thought; already set on an alternative for both of you.

Your brows pinch together, curious of what he means exactly. But you don’t have much time to think about it.

His hands quickly curve around your jaw, keeping you still as he swiftly interlocks your deprived lips again. It’s zealous and luring, pulling you even further under the crashing wave of temptation and craving.

The soft joining of your mouths makes your stomach jump with exhilaration and eagerness, clawing your hands into his hair with a gasp of bliss as he grabs your waist just as hard in response. You let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling brave enough to gently bite at his bottom lip as his warm, encompassing hands slide under your shirt.

He barely lets you break for air, delving back into your mouth just as fast as he left it to reposition. The intensity of the heavenly moment builds its tempo, and you find yourself pushing against his chest. Not to pull away, but to try and push him towards the cold, awaiting desk behind his wide shoulders.

You manage to get a single word out in between the consuming and now sloppy kisses he offers. “Bruce—”

He hums contently as he swallows your thoughts, connecting your tingling lips forcibly. He’s too fixated on the passion. He wants it to last forever, but there are more demanding impulses that will be tended to first.

“Bruce,” you gasp when you break apart again reluctantly. He notices the calm assertion in your voice, and only slows the onslaught of kisses enough to reply.

“I know,” he soothes your neediness, now delicately pressing his greedy lips to yours repeatedly in understanding. The heartfelt action controlled by nothing but spirited lust.

His hands glide back up to your jaw, cradling your face in comfort as you twirl the long strands of hair at his neck between your fingers. Heavy breaths cloud your already tangled thoughts, leaving him to take the lead again. 

He gives you one last intense taste of him, stroking his tongue teasingly over yours, firmly capturing your lips together in the process with a pleased moan. You’re almost chest-to-chest, a minute sliver of space keeping your bodies just distanced enough to not completely lose what little control both of you have left.

He’s taken note of how tight your thighs have been pressed together, and how your breaths are becoming shaky with each passing second he uses to dominate your mouth.

You’ve taken note of how his tactical pants, in fact, can’t hide his very prominent arousal for you, and how you can feel the warmth finally releasing from his exerted and thoroughly worked muscles. The heat seeps through his shirt and goes directly to your body, making you shudder when you feel the change in temperature.

You draw in a breath when he finally pulls away. His obsidian eyes wild with excitement and dominion. You’ve seen this look a lot, and you’re ready to hop on the desk without another word.

He floats his eyes down your body observationally, but you don’t notice. All of this is a lot slower than you’re used to. Well-paced. If it were any other night, you’d be on round two by now at least. You’d be whining with pleasure, shaking from release and overstimulation, dripping around his cock as he buries himself as deep as your cunt will allow, over and over until he simply feels better. 

He was always generous with what he gave you.

You press a hand against his chest again, and he moves this time. Taking a  long stride back, he tries to conceal an amused smile as you push him toward the desk. Your eyes light up when you see the knowing and teasing look on his face.

A quiet laugh rumbles against your hand. “This isn’t how it usually goes…” He smiles lightly.

You smile with him. “I never said it’s gonna stay this way,” you challenge, your eyes twinkling with mischief. 

You never take charge. You never dominate. He’s more well-versed with it, and you won’t dare to try to match his competence. 

The backs of his thighs bump the rounded edge of the desk, and your stomach jumps with elation when his index finger instantly hooks into the waistband of your pants, pulling you just a little closer.

But he leaves it there. He slides it side-to-side along the hem, gently caressing the sensitive skin of your lower stomach playfully. You look into his eyes as he casually continues the slow motions. 

Your eyes flick down to his hand instinctually, out of pure reflex, and you watch his finger disappear further as he smoothly twists his wrist, palm resting against your lower stomach momentarily before his shoulder shifts too…angling his hand to travel down. 

His fingers graze lower, creeping to a spot that so easily welcomes him. 

One of your hands grabs onto his shoulder, simultaneously steadying yourself with a gasp as you bring your faces closer again. He gives a fleeting, comforting kiss, not leaving much behind.

His towering height makes it easier for his hand to reach its destination all too quickly. And when a careful and precise finger slips in-between your folds, your eyes close in anticipation and with the thought of relief.

Your minor reaction makes him smirk. Thankfully, for him, you don’t see it.

It’s sad just how wet you already are, but it spurs him on. He let’s his fingers explore, alternating between rubbing you and slipping a single digit inside, only doing so to gather your arousal to rub across your clit smoothly. 

A quiet moan gets caught in your throat as he repeats that process a few times, building you up and teasing you onto the edge continuously. 

“Mm— please, f-fuck—” you whimper, fisting the shirt in your grip on his shoulder. 

You don’t need to finish that sentence for him to know exactly what you mean. He needs it, too. His tactical pants have become increasingly uncomfortable.

Your plea makes him apply more pressure to the slow strokes he gives your throbbing cunt. You all but drip onto the two fingers that glide over your aching clit and back to your slick entrance, occasionally giving you what you want. 

He pulls them slowly in and out of you, making sure you feel them nice and deep before he drags them against something that makes you pant with desperation. Your eyes remain shut, brows pulled together tightly as you focus on the sensation of his intent touches, but he watches your face appreciatively, analyzing your pleasure with each movement he makes.

A particularly harder jolt of his fingers up into you makes you choke, caught between a gasp and a whiny moan. That makes his eyes drop to where his hand disappears.

He hums in satisfaction. “Is that the spot?” he questions with a mocking tone, knowing full well what the answer would be. “I think it is…” 

You nod your head quickly, eyes reopening ever so slowly to meet his. 

His eyes are full with devilish aspirations, and your knees almost give out when he roughly thrusts his fingers back in again for a final time. You let out a small cry of bliss and dissatisfaction when he slips them out of you, wiping them off on his pants carelessly. 

You were decently wet before, and you are definitely abundantly wet now.

“I think you need to lie down.” He sounds concerned, but you know it’s just for show to make your heart pound harder.

He takes your hand from his shoulder, holding it securely as he shuffles your bodies around, putting you in his place and himself in yours. Now your thighs rest against the desk, and he crowds you against it.

“Lift your arms,” he says cooly, observing your dazed expression with care.

You raise them, and he pinches the hem of your shirt, delicately dragging it up your torso and over your head with caution. He tosses it on the chair off to the side.

Your eyes catch the mangled slash at the bottom of his shirt again, and you quickly reach for the thin material. 

He doesn’t question your intentions, letting you maneuver the thin fabric over the bandage, his chest, and extend onto your toes to pull it over his shoulders. He peels it from his arms, and your hands can’t help but wander across the firm muscles that stretch around his entire body. 

The power he holds within him—the Batman—is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen. It was terrifying. It was unbelievable, the things you’ve seen his body do. And he would continue to push his limits.

#batman x reader #the batman x reader #battinson x reader #battinson x you #batman x you #batman imagines #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagines #robert pattinson x reader #the batman (2022) #bruce wayne #the batman #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #battinson imagines #long post #long fic

[sillybayo]

Viewing Revolutionary Girl Utena from an Aspec (mainly asexual) Lens

Some notes before I begin;

-This ramble/essay/whatever contains discussions of CSA and objectification (specifically towards a brown little girl, which contains racist implications). I mean, its quite obvious considering the show I'm talking about, but I still think this is an important warning. Also, please remember that the majority of the characters in utena are 13-17. While I don't mind a deeper discussion into their sexualities, desires, events, etc. etc., you need to remember that they're still children, and such topics need immense maturity. Please don't leave comments that sexualize the characters. It will leave me heavily disgusted.

-This is written under the assumption that Adolescence of Utena is an alternative universe, rather than a direct continuation from the show. This means that I don't think the characters in the movie remember each other nor the events from the show, and have a complete fresh start in all of their relationships.

-I'm not saying that these are the only possible interpretations or meanings, thats far from the truth. Its more so, "This event is because of this, but I also think its because of this on top of that." I just want to share my headcanons, as I think they make sense and want to give others a different perspective.

-I've only finished the show during the spring of last year, and I'm in the middle of a rewatch (somewhere in the black rose arc). I apologize if I misremember things, forgot something, or state something that lacks clarity.

-I'm perfectly aware that asexuality is lack of sexual attraction, and doesn't exactly mean that you don't enjoy sex. However, I'm using asexual (and other identities I mention here) as a general term containing both preferences. Absolutely no shame towards my acespec sex lovers, y'all rule the earth >:3!

-This is purely a thought dump, so I apologize if topics tend to bounce around, not make any sense, and/or the lack of proper episode references (like saying "when Utena and Anthy did a silly goofy dance", instead of "on episode 17, so and so"). This is really just for fun :3! I wanna put my ideas out there and want to talk about them with more people.

Now with that out of the way, I want to share why I think Utena and Anthy are acespec bambi lesbians. Lets get started ^o^!!

I'll start with Anthy. Throughout the entire franchise, she has been seen as an sexual object. In the show, this is less obvious until we're further introduced to Akio, since when people own her, shes seen as a key to revolutionizing the world, and going up to the castle illusion above. The farthest we see more romantic or intimate scenarios with Anthy and the duelists (other than Utena, of course), is her and Saionji exchanging diaries, and Mikis crush with misogynistic seasonings throughout.

Back to the topic of Akio though, he has been forcing her into sex for who knows how long, to the point where its her duty. She has only been an object to anyone and everyone she meets. Someone to project desires onto. Even Utena has accidentally done this (though it was far more tame, as she simply said Anthy wants more friends, when she, too, is lonely herself).

In the movie, this becomes much more clear. The way Saionji rubs her face, the way Touga talks about her, how Utena asks "Is this what the rose bride does?". The things she does for Akio has expanded to duelists. Once again, it has become her duty.

This is further proven when Utena and Anthy lay in bed after the first duel. She touches her, even without prior consent. Ever since I first saw this, I didn't think it was a sign of attraction, but rather, that Anthy just assumed that was what Utena wanted. This isn't the only thing that Anthy does without asking or talking it out first. She enters Utenas dorm room, she looks through her clothes. She now belongs to Utena, so she must prepare for her usual task.

So then, what if, with all of this in mind, that Anthy doesn't like sex at all? This follows the similar concept of her being a lesbian, since shes only forced to be with men, and has shown no genuine interest nor happiness towards any of them (well, not concept, as she is a canon lesbian, but you get the point).

Theres also a scene in the show where she implies that she didn't enjoy intercourse with Akio, in which he replies "Why must you torture me?" (once again, I apologize if I remembered this wrong). Theres obvious reasonings for this. One, hes her adult brother, two, shes a lesbian, and three, this is rape. But considering what I stated above, Anthy possibly being asexual is another reason.

Meanwhile, instead of being forced into romance and sex with other duelists, with Utena, theres always this more calm and comfortable air. Of course its because Utena actually cares about Anthy, and duels for friendship and love alone. But neither of them suggests sexual intent towards one another. Theres this emphasis on pure romance and patience, compared to other intimate relationships in the show and movie (keep emphasis and comparisons in mind!)

Although, Anthy could also easily be seen as demisexual, as she always chooses Utena in the end. Personally, I view the ending of the movie as nonsexual, as the removal of clothes being more about breaking out of their roles in the story, and the kissing being them finally being comfortable with their love for one another. Once again, thats just how I view it though. But Anthy growing a trustful bond with Utena is something a lot of demiaces can relate to. She can even be demiaro! Thats another wonderful read into her arc. Generally, I personally don't think Anthy is allo, and watching the franchise with amatonormativity and allonormativity in mind just doesn't feel exactly right, y'know?

Moving onto Utena, I'll be talking more about particular emphases, and how Utena acts towards sex compared to other characters in the show. Showing how one character stands out compared to all of the others, even subtly, is a writing tool often used in queer storytelling. For example, how all of the girls in monster high are boy crazy, except for Clawdeen.

Whenever Utena is put into a situation that implies sexual intimacy, shes shown to be uncomfortable. Like when she bdoyswapped with Anthy, and Saionji pulled her aside and removed a part of his clothing (only to reveal a diary though, thank goodness). When Touga constantly played with her hair or got really close to her. When Akio made continuous advances towards her, trapping her in a kiss, and eventually raping her. All of them show her either being terribly displeased, or groomed.

But she enjoys the idea of sex with girls, right? No, it doesn't seem like it. In the movie, when Anthy touches her, she immediately backs away and is clearly distressed. When she has to pose nude for a painting, she hesitates and clearly doesn't want to reveal herself, even though the task is nonsexual in nature. You could turn to the ending of the movie and say that shes interested, but I've already gave my personal thoughts on that.

Characters like Shiori, Kozue, Touga, Saionji, and Kanae, compared to her, however, don't mind about such things at all. Though for them, it could easily be read as trauma response, especially Touga. This is one of the many ways that Utena stands out instead of fitting in with the rest, and why I heavily believe she is not only asexual, but also caedsexual, akoisexual, and sex repulsed.

Andd that should be the end of my ramble! I hope you enjoyed peaking into my silly little brain. Rgu means a lot to me for many different reasons. It helped me become more comfortable with being a lesbian. It helped me figure out my gender and my relationship with it. It helped me process the trauma I was going through at the time. It improved my writing and analytical skills. Its truly my favorite show of all time, and I'm so glad I decided to watch it. My ramble may not be as metaphorical and deep as all of the other utena essays out there, but I had fun writing this :3. And to the aros, aces, and lesbians reading this,, I love you,, mwah <3

#rgu #revolutionary girl utena #utena #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya #tenjou utena #himemiya anthy #shoujo kakumei utena #sku #adolescence of utena #asexual #asexuality #ace #ace pride #acespec #aro #aromantic #arospec #aromanticism #aspec #aspec pride #aspec community #demisexual #demiromantic #demiace #demiaro #caedsexual #akoisexual #sex repulsed #whoa thats a lot of tags

[everlasting-rainfall]

Hey, what are the Vinsmoke boys like in the Pages au?

Ok so I’m pretty sure that I know who is sending me this but I’m not going to say anything just in case my memory is playing tricks on me

But seeing as how I personally feel about the Vinsmokes, I’m going to do Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji.

Also I’m sorry that it took me so long to get to this as I have to be directly in the mood to write this sort of thing

Anywho let’s get into it, shall we?

!-MINORS DNI-!

!-Trigger Warnings-!

Delusions, Kidnapping, Raiding, the Vinsmoke Boys being the Vinsmoke Boys, S*xual Punishments, Overstimulation, Masturbation, Yandere

!-Trigger Warnings-!

!-MINORS DNI-!

So we all know the Vinsmoke Brothers. They’re big, scary, and tough as nails with little to seemingly no capacity for any kind of emotion so it’s really a wonder that they picked up your books in the first place.

I’m going to say that Yonji was the first one to take a look simply because of the hot girl on the cover who was making a rather sexy looking expression as her love interest loomed over her from behind.

In actuality, that sexy expression was the MC looking somewhat terrified of her new partner but it’s not killing his interest any time soon.

He buys it while probably finishing up some kind of work somewhere or just takes it because it’s likely that he doesn’t care then once he’s finished up with his princely paperwork for the day. He heads to his room and starts reading the story.

The man almost put it down at first as he found himself bored by the mutual pining but then the “third love interest” walks onto the scene, a prince whose described as wearing green, red, and blue. He is instantly more interested especially after the prince nearly forces the MC into a relationship with him after kidnapping her.

He is completely rooting for this prince character so much that he practically shouts in happiness whenever the guy enters into a scene although if Yonji had paid attention then he would realize that the prince is the villain of the story who kidnapped the MC.

But of course, he can’t just spend the entire day reading so eventually he has to get up and take care of things but once he’s done. He is rushing back to his room to continue reading and don’t think that Ichiji and Niji haven’t noticed because they do.

Yonji has no reason to want to keep this for himself at the moment so he shows his brothers what he’s been looking at and practically info dumps to them about the contents of the book. He’s of course describing it in his own distorted way so ”The prince is the guy that the MC is going to marry, he’s the best choice! Because she loves him!”

After a while of info dumping, they start to get a bit curious so they decide to steal Yonji’s copy from him and take a look until the servant that they sent out to get copies for them returns.

It’s safe enough to say that in that amount of time, they’ve wound up completely hooked on the story albeit only to watch as the marine and pirate love interest are absolutely wrecked by the prince so he can have what’s rightfully his.

To say that they’re invested too is an understatement as Niji is commonly speeding through his princely duties to get back to reading the story while Ichiji is just bringing the book everywhere with him to take quick looks at it throughout the day whether it be during meal times, during princely duties, or even while training.

Also I hope that you didn’t write any sort of steamy scene between the prince and the MC because lord knows that Niji is going to shamelessly start rubbing to the thought of it like one hand is turning the pages to continue while the other is stroking his cock.

Ichiji and Yonji would never stoop to that level though... They’ll go to their rooms and masturbate to the idea of the MC being ruthlessly fucked by the prince even if you didn’t write the MC being fucked and it was simply a close call...

Also I’d say that chances are that all three of them during their fun will probably start to imagine themselves in the places of the princes in the stories. Pushing the MC into the mattress and fucking her in all sorts of positions as she screams out their name specifically and covers their cock in her slick.

Niji imagines holding the MC up by her thighs and thrusting up into her, he imagines her crying out his name with tears in his eyes and pleading him to go slower but him grinning to himself and going much faster instead. Probably teasingly asking “This is what you wanted, right? Don’t complain when you wanted this~” Maybe throw in a few shocks here and there to make her walls spasm a little around him until he finally cums deep inside of her but lord knows that he’s not stopping there as he’s going to keep fucking her until he finally decides that he’s been satisfied.

Ichiji imagines taking the MC to his bed chambers and putting her into a mating press where she would cling to him and leave scratches down his back that would only encourage him to go harder and deeper. He imagines himself talking about how he wants to fill her and watch her belly swell up with his children only for her to beg him to pull out but he doesn’t listen and instead with one last big thrust, he cums deep inside of her and spends the rest of the night plugging her up with his cock.

Yonji personally imagines saying that he isn’t hungry at dinner time and going to his room where he had tied up the MC, he licks his lips at the sight of her and tells her that he skipped dinner so now she has to feed him. He would eat her out for hours on end making her orgasm over and over again on his tongue until she’s crying from the overstimulation that she’s feeling. But he isn’t entirely cruel as once he’s had his dinner in the form of eating her out then he plans to give her a proper thank you... A thank you that involves even more overstimulation as he leans over her and fucks into her in the doggy style position...

Yeah, their mid masturbation fantasies are detailed and they have no shame about it at all...

But as nice as the story is, all good things have to come to an end at some point because at the end of the day... The prince was the villain of the story and no delusion can change the source material...

So when the MC is rescued from the wedding just before she can say “I Do”, the three of them feel the anger coursing through their veins but nonetheless they stay hopeful... The prince will come out on top and wreck the Marine and Pirate, right?

Wrong! And now there are three very angry princes who just witnessed the worst possible outcome in the story!

They hope to see the prince again that he would come back at the last second but in all of the books after that, he’s completely disappeared with no signs of ever reappearing and not only that but they find that in the last book, the MC gets with the Pirate/Marine!

It is absolutely safe enough to say that all three of them are absolutely pissed about this…

They can't believe that the MC not only completely abandoned the Prince for those two low life’s but she even had the nerve to act like the Prince never even existed in this first place in the ending!

It was unacceptable, horrible, downright disgusting! And most importantly completely unforgivable as well…

Ichiji thinks about finding the author and forcing you to change the story so the Prince who was clearly the best option would win and his brothers agreed with these terms as they nodded along deciding that this was clearly the best course of action

They looked at your books and found not only your full name on the cover but your mailing address as well on the back of the book, it didn’t tell them exactly where you were but it was good enough as it did tell them what island you were on

All that was left to do was go and find you

Their arrival on the island was met with quite a lot of shock as “Holy shit, it’s Germa 66!” and everyone quickly getting out of their way

They might be here for one thing but I feel that they are impatient so if you’re island has some kind of problem like it has a corrupt ruler, maybe there are pirates, bandits, or whatever then they might deal with that real quick so they can demand you as payment for their help

And if there isn’t then they can always have some soldiers raid the island to look for you and bring you to them or they could just look for you themselves and drag you back to Germa before you even knew what hit you

No matter what they decide to do though, it all remains the same and you’re dragged to Germa and made to stand before the three of them like you’re some criminal who fucked up big time

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you just plead for them to not hurt you and to please let you go home as you don’t know what you did and they say that they’ll allow you to go home if you write a new story for them, one where the Prince wins the MC

Very understandably, you’re incredibly confused but there’s not much that you can do so you agree to it then proceed to be locked inside of a room with little else other than a bed, bathroom, a closet, and a desk with writing supplies

You’re there for weeks with routine visits from the prince’s usually separate with occasionally two of them showing up at once and very rarely all three of them showing up at once

Ichiji typically forcing you to sit in his lap as you write which wouldn’t be that much of a problem if he didn’t somewhat try to cop a feel on you when he did by letting his hands drift to the insides of your thighs then refusing to move them

Niji would usually show up before you woke up as sometimes you would wake up staring at his chest which was sometimes clothed and sometimes not, he sometimes had his arm over you and it always hard to tell if he was actually asleep or not because of his sunglasses

Yonji only really would show up during times when you were brought food as he would want to eat with you, he would sometimes try to talk with you and would get visibly upset if you ignored him especially if he was trying to ask you a question

As the days passed on and the book neared completion, you found that they were starting to become more daring with you like Ichiji attempting to rub at you through your clothing as you sat on his lap or waking up to Niji attempting to slip your clothes off while you slept in preparation for something you didn’t even want to think about or even Yonji completely shamelessly asking to eat food off of your body which usually entailed him licking things off of your private areas

Their visits were starting to become more and more frequent as well so you feared what they might do and attempted to ask the King himself, Judge Vinsmoke to be let go early but he refused and you knew that he had would tell the three of them when they were finished with their Prince duties

You rushed as fast as you could to complete the book but just as you finished writing the “D” on The End, all three of them entered into the room at once clearly having been told what you tried to ask Judge for

To prevent suffering a punishment from them, you attempted to tell them that you had finished the story and you could leave but they didn’t listen as they took one look at the story and pulled you out of your chair

You were thrown onto the bed and bounced a little from the collision, they surrounded you on all sides with Ichiji being at your right, Niji at the left, and Yonji standing at the foot of the bed. You were terrified to say the least

You attempted to stutter out that you had a deal and it was time for them to let you go only for them to laugh at you

“Why would we ever let you go after you tried to back out of the deal early?”

“I think she deserves a bit of a punishment for trying to go behind our backs… What do you think?”

“I think that sounds great but she had better do everything that her princes tell her…”

It was after that is when they pounced on you, clothes were quickly discarded and thrown about the room as you were viciously fucked by all three of them for the entire night

Your body covered in sweat, tears, and cum as they took turns abusing your holes alternating cumming deep inside of you and on you

The overstimulation from them was far too great to the point where you couldn’t even hear them refer to you as the name of the books MC instead of your actual name

You had no clue how long they planned on fucking you for but with you placed onto your hands and knees with Yonji underneath you thrusted into you with his cock while his mouth played with your nipples while Ichiji was leaned over from behind biting at your neck as he thrusted into you as well making it double penetration and Niji sat on his knees in front of you thrusting into your mouth making you give him a blowjob

Even with all of this, you knew without a doubt that you were never getting away from them

#male yandere #yandere #yandere germa 66 #Yandere Ichiji Vinsmoke #Yandere Niji Vinsmoke #Yandere Yonji Vinsmoke #pages au #minor dni #the rain talks back #read the trigger warnings #reader insert #reader insert smut #yandere one piece #yandere smut

[nikolai-alexi]

For @jegulus-microfic Prompt: Coffee WC: 638

“Kaleidoscope”

Tags: black brothers angst™️, very small mention of Walburga Black’s A+ Parenting, this is a very one sided conversation bc Reg is terrified of communication, there’s lots of metaphors in here bc Reg is dramatic as hell

“I made a kaleidoscope when I was six,” he says out of the blue; there’s no warning to his words, no context, no clues as to why he’s chosen this to talk about or where he’s going with it.

James doesn’t mind though. He’d listen to Regulus speak for hours, even if he didn’t understand a word. It’s a rare treat to hear Regulus speak with words that are entirely his own, and not ones sharpened and crafted to slip between the metaphorical rib cage of his, often unknowing, conversational opponent.

“I made a kaleidoscope out of a kitchen paper roll, crystal beads I stole from Bellatrix and Narcissa’s Yuletide dresses, pieces of a shattered mirror, and parchment that I shaved down with a penknife I shouldn’t have had, but did anyways.”

James just hums. Regulus feels it reverberate through James’ chest and through his own, and it’s a comforting thing, but he’s endlessly grateful that he doesn’t have to look James in the eye for this conversation.

“It took me days to get the parchment thin enough for the light to refract, but I left it on the study desk accidentally, and Kreacher threw it into the rubbish,”

James’ hand stutters for just a moment where he runs his fingers through Regulus’ tangled curls, gently — oh so gently — picking apart each gnarled knot.

“I was six, and couldn’t bare the thought of letting all that hard work go to waste, so I pulled it out of the rubbish bin. Someone had dumped coffee grounds into the bin, and it stained the parchment,”

James can see the disappointed pout on a chubbier, softer, six year old version of Regulus in his mind’s eye, and he has to try very hard not to laugh at the image.

“I was devastated, of course, but refused to accept that my hard work was destroyed, so I used it anyways. And it was magical. I’d lay on the floor of my bedroom staring into this haphazard disaster of a thing for hours, turning it this way and that way, changing the patterns and colours depending on where I pointed it,” Regulus sighs wistfully, “The stains that I’d been so devastated by had served to alter that light refraction even more, casting shadows and changing the way the light touched the shards. There was nothing more I loved that lying there and just existing amongst the world of light and colour and shadow that I’d created.”

And ah, there it is. James has an idea of where Regulus is going with this.

“The coffee grounds being thrown in the bin over my piece of parchment was an accident, but it was exactly what I needed to alter this perfect reality of peace and brightness for myself.“

It’s silent for a long time. Neither of them say a word. All that moves is their chests in tandem as they breathe the night’s air.

“Those stains never moved on the parchment. The light changed the way they appeared, but the coffee stained it exactly where it fell. Sometimes I wonder if that moment wasn’t a foreshadowing for my life, where Sirius is the light bouncing off the mirror and beads, and I’m simply the coffee covered parchment that stays stagnant unless manipulated into moving.”

James’ heart cries at that image, but he understands Regulus’ words. He doesn’t know the answer to Regulus’ unasked question; Merlin how he wished he could give him that answer though.

“I wonder how my six year old self would feel,” Regulus muses, sadness dripping off his words, “if he knew somewhere along the lines of growing up too quickly that I can no longer see that rainbow of light anymore. I wonder what he would say if he found out I could only see the shadows from the coffee stains.”

#jegulus microfic #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #marauders era #sirius black #the fact that I kept this under 1k words is astonishing to me

[super-secret-clown-corner]

catching up on the kabsmp videos rn and i'm having normal person thoughts as usual anyway did you guys ask for a crazy ass idea on where i think the storyline is gonna go because i have a crazy ass idea on where i think the storyline is gonna go (this is gonna get long sorry in advance)

In Which I Lose My Mind Over Some Guy's Minecraft Persona In A Goofy Ahh Lore SMP

cover image for sillies

So. Hear me out. Clown is still the overarching villain of the series. Whatever's happening with Kyle and the void is still """""important"""""" n stuff, but (totally not because i'm biased or anything (i totally am)) that's all a red herring covering up the real threat. The idea I have rn is that Clown is biding his time and finishing up whatever research he had on the void, then when Kyle is defeated, he's gonna swoop in, take the void for himself, and become basically unstoppable which'll lead into season 3 or smth.

Bits Of Info That Makes The Pepe Silvia Meme Cover Relevant

Time to be insane and dump every single bit of potential evidence on why I think Clown's a bigger threat than the others think he is, starting at the very beginning (i'll try to keep this as chronological as possible but i'm busting my brain trying to piece everything together i watched this so out of order at first).

First, obviously, is the whole him killing Pyro bit and betraying him to get to Rae, then killing everyone in the commune. hoWEVER bro just casually tore open a portal to the nether and back and none of the other people in the group can do that. It's kinda hinting that Muu knows how to make portals but other than that the original s1 group has been stuck there since the start (which maybe suggests Muu isn't from this dimension also but that's another thing to unpackage).

a side note here: lincu came from an end portal that clown made for maddy and they NEVER BRING THAT UP AGAIN????????? WHAT

In the Pyro POV that came after that, it was heavily suggested that Clown was originally a conqueror or insanely destructive pillager (not the actual mob) (like come on, "bow before the scythe emblem" or whatever the words are? just write your name in the book you're practically screaming it at this point). Then, when Branzy showed up in that cameo episode, he didn't shut up about how Clown destroyed entire villages and killed a fuck ton of people (i will scream more about this point in a second 😁).

In the Season 2 opener animatic, he dropped his manipulative buddy buddy act the moment the void appeared, stabbed Kaboodle, and fucked off. He was also shown going full aggro on Magic, trying to get information about the void from her. A little while later, he's shown reading books on the void and finds something "perfect" for whatever he's planning (brain explosion).

Looping back to the Branzy cameo, it was revealed that he, Branzy, and Ashswag worked together in a laboratory somewhere in a different dimension researching and experimenting with portals. Ashswag said that Clown pushed him into one they made, which resulted in him glitched out and broken (WHICH OPENS UP ANOTHER CAN OF WORMS ARE THEY SUGGESTING THAT THIS IS ALL ACTUALLY JUST A SIMULATION/GAME LIKE HOW MINECRAFT ACTUALLY IS???????????? holy shit if i think about this for too long i'm gonna have another huge scream fest again).

and THEN in the most recent one as of today (aka A New Issue) it's revealed that Pyro had his suspicions that Clown is otherworldly and unnatural. Bro casually soloed a 100-Piglin invasion. I already had the thought of "oh yeah this guy's definitely not from any of the three dimensions" but the only contradictory thing that popped up for that was he and Pyro used to live together for a bit with the Waste Walkers. HOWEVER with this new information that Clown was just this anomaly that popped up periodically in their group, he's practically screaming that he's not from any of the three dimensions.

BASICALLY. I'M VERY NORMAL RIGHT NOW.

i love overcomplicating silly lore as a pastime

#hello lifesteal fans on my blog go watch kabsmp also 👍‼️ #the guy in the cover image (besides tiny clown) is my silly jester oc goober #(i've been posting him a lot on my mainblog) #(i'd advertise but i want to keep them Separate As Hell) #he can be this blog's mascot as a treat #kaboodlesmp spoilers #kaboodle smp spoilers #kaboodlesmp theory #i hope these tags exist and have been used before scream cries #the jester speaks #the jester's writing #long post #yeah you know what? maybe i WILL character maintag to spread kabsmp propaganda #clownpierce #mwahaha