#I have been dead for a while and working on this for months

[moody-alcoholic]

Part 2 as promised.

Part 1

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, assault, mentions of SA, torture, suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort.

_____________________

Ghost flicks the ash off his cigarette. 

“Do we know who we’re looking for?" Gaz asks. It's a pointless question. They know who they’re looking for. You’ve been mentioning a guy at work who has been getting a little too handsy. 

You were going to confront him in the new year with your boss. You didn’t want to ruin anyone's Christmas, now yours is ruined. 

People are starting to leave the office building now, it’s just past midnight. They watch in silence concealed in the darkness down an alleyway a few buildings from your workplace. Maybe this was the alley you were found down. It’s dark and cold, the businesses are all closed, it would have been easy to coerce you down, it makes his stomach drop. Someone hurt you, he hurt you. 

“Should have taken care of this sooner.” Gaz says. Ghost just hums watching as the lights in the buildings go off. The last few people are filtering out the building. Ghost straightens up flicking his cigarette but to the floor. 

“That’s him.” Ghost says, blowing out the smoke before reaching up to pull the familiar balaclava down over his face. 

_____________________

When the police arrive you feel somewhat sober. Your body is sore, your head throbbing. Seeing them walk in with all their gear makes you nervous. All of a sudden you feel like you’ve done something wrong. 

Johnny never leaves your side, he holds your hand stroking it with his thumb while the female officer asks you questions you don’t know how to answer. You still can’t remember what happened. You can piece it together though, you can tell by the hushed voices and the somber looks from people. 

The worst is the pain, the ache in your body every time you move, the bruises hurt the most.  Sometimes Johnny runs his fingers over them, his eyes going dark and he lets out a sigh. John stands at the end of the bed still, his gaze never leaves you unless someone enters the room. You just want to go home. 

The most embarrassing part is when they have to take pictures of your injuries. Your swollen eye is now turning black and blue. There’s bruises around your neck, talking hurts, swallowing’s worse. The nurse gives you more painkillers but it just makes you feel sick. 

John talks with the officers and the nurse after they’re done. Johnny tries to keep your attention on him. You feel embarrassed, the nurse said they did a rape kit, you don’t even remember that, the police need to take it for evidence. That makes silent tears come, you can’t stop them. 

“C’mon, none of that love.” Johnny says reaching up to brush them away. 

“I want to go home,” you sob. 

“We’ll be home soon, promise,” he smiles. You want a shower, you want to scrub your body clean. You feel dirty, your stomach is turning as your mind wanders to the unthinkable. You hope you never remember what happened, you fear you won’t be so lucky.

_____________________

Ghost’s fist meets his cheek, his nose is broken, his jaw will be next. Not now though, now they need him to talk. 

“Price says he’s on his way.” Gaz says as he walks back over to him. “Asked you not to kill him.” Ghost just grunts. 

Ryan, that's his name. You never mentioned that to them, you didn’t mention much just that he was making you uncomfortable. Gaz was right they should have dealt with this sooner. They shouldn’t have let you go to the party alone. Even before you left you had reservations. 

Ryan hasn’t said much. He was very drunk when they picked him up. He seems pretty sober now, he’s scared. 

Good, he should be.

Ghost wonders if you were scared, when you were assaulted. It doesn’t seem like you remember much, for your sake he hopes it stays that way. 

The door to the secluded warehouse opens, the sound of slamming metal echoes in the space. John bought this place a few months ago, used to store scrap metal. The place still smells of rust, but it’s outside the city center, it’s quiet and that's all they need. 

Price walks over coming out of the darkness. He doesn’t say a word, just takes in the scene. Ryan looks up, his eyes glued on the new person walking up to him. Price grabs the back of a chair and places it in front of him before sitting down. 

“Ryan, right?” He asks. The man nods. “Had a good night? He doesn’t move. 

“Do you like your job?” He nods again. Price leans forward. “So, let's have a chat about what happened tonight.” 

“Nothing happened tonight,” he says, swallowing hard. Price smiles at him for a second before sitting back up.

“Let’s try that again. What happened at the party?” Ryan looks confused for a second. Blood is still dripping from his nose, Price sighs this is going to be a long night. 

“Wait, is this all about her?” He asks looking up past Price at Ghost. “Look I don’t know what you think happened but she came onto me.” 

Price hums his hands gripping his thighs before getting up and moving the chair away. “Thing is, I just don’t believe you.” Ghost steps back over to him. 

“I’m telling the truth.” He pleads. 

“Nope, try again.” Price says. Ghost’s fist crashes into Ryans face. His head snaps uncomfortably, he spits blood coughing. 

“So what happened at the party?” Price asks again. 

“Who the fuck even are you!?” He shouts looking round at the 3 men standing in front of him.  

“That doesn’t matter.” Price says, Ryan scoffs spitting again. 

“Why do you care?” He asks, looking around at everyone. 

“It’s a simple question.” Price says bending down so his head is level with his face. “We can be here all night. Or you can be honest with us.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, there’s a shake in his voice. The adrenaline and alcohol pumping through his system is filling him with confidence. They have to break that first. Price sighs moving back to stand with Gaz. 

This time Ghost’s fist slams into his stomach. He buckles over in pain, crying out as he pants. Price doesn’t wait, striding over to him grabbing his hair, pulling his head back. 

“Okay, okay. But she was drunk!” He shouts, trying to fight Price’s grip. His arms and legs are tied to the chair. Price doesn’t let go of his head holding it back as far as it will go. 

“No. Try again.” Price says through gritted teeth. 

“I didn't do anything!” He says between breaths. Price looks up at Ghost and nods, Ghost unfolds his arms going back over to the car. 

“We can make this very uncomfortable for you. All we need is the truth.” Price says, pulling his head again. 

“I don’t know anything.” There’s a whimper in his voice, a crack in his confidence. They're getting there. Price forces his head straight as Ghost comes back over to them twirling the knife in his hand. Ryans eyes go wide, his arms and legs pulling on the restraints. Price keeps his grip firm on his head forcing him to look at Ghost’s hulking figure moving towards him. 

“Last chance.” Price says. Ryan doesn’t say anything, his eyes still locked onto Ghost. 

“I-I didn't-” He sucks in a breath of air swallowing. “She was drunk!” 

Price sighs, shaking his head. He looks up at Ghost, he can see the disgust behind his lieutenants eyes. 

Ghost plunges the knife into his thigh. Price lets go of Rhyn’s head as he screams.

_____________________

John left almost an hour ago. Johnny recommended a bath instead of a shower, so you could soak and warm up. He gets in the bath with you pulling your back up against his chest as you sit between his legs. The bath was a good idea, the water is almost too hot but you don’t mind. 

It feels good to be in Johnny’s arms. He helps you rub soap over your body. He’s gentle, pressing kisses on your shoulders avoiding your neck. You sigh, relaxing back into him. Your head is still stuffy, it feels like you’ve been run over by a truck. 

“Where is everyone?” You ask. 

“Out, they’ll be back soon don’t worry.” He says his voice is warm in your ear. His arms squeeze you closer to him. The memories of the night seem to be just out of reach, you remember a face though. 

“I know who it was,” you say your voice catches in your throat. 

“Shh, we don’t have to talk about it.” His hand comes to push hair behind your ear. You smile, you don’t want to talk about it but maybe it will help. 

“I have work tomorrow.” Your stomach sinks. The thought of going back to that place with him there. Having to spend the days avoiding him, brushing off his hands as they squeeze your ass or his fingers press against your breasts. You were going to talk to your boss about him in the new year. 

“No you don’t, don’t worry about anything.” He says kissing your shoulder again. You shiver, the water has lost its heat. Johnny shifts pushing you forward. 

“C’mon let’s get you into bed. You’ll feel better after a good sleep.” You don’t know if you believe him but he gets out the bath leaving you alone and cold. You feel dirty, used. You feel panic rising in your chest. As soon as you hear the door to the room open you lay down in the tub closing your eyes and holding your breath. 

Your mind goes back to the alley, it’s like flashes in your vision, the dump trash bin you’re uncomfortably bent over. A hand over your mouth then round your neck. The pain, the pain is unbelievable. You don’t remember how it happened, how you ended up there, the next thing you remember is a party of drunk women finding you. Then the paramedics showed up. 

Your lungs burn but you don’t care. You deserve the pain. Hands grip your arms pulling you up out of the water. 

“Christ love,” Johnny says, holding you against him as you pant sucking in breaths of air. The panting turns to sobbing. He reaches, pulling the plug out the bath and picking you up in his arms. 

“I know, love I know.” He takes you into the bedroom putting you down on the bed. You pull your legs up to your chest. Johnny dries you, rubbing you down while you sob. He brings pyjamas over, he helps you change, pulling the fresh clothes on you. You still feel dirty, maybe it will always be like this. You don’t want it to be like this.

“It hurts.” You say as he climbs into bed behind you. His arms wrap around you pulling your back against his chest. 

“You’re okay lass, you’re safe.” He kisses the top of your head. It’s not, it's not going to be okay. You just hope whatever the others are doing they’re safe. You miss them, you want to see them again. You want everything to go back to normal 

…

Simon crawls into the bed with you and Johnny. You’re asleep on Johnny’s chest. He shuffles up against your back wrapping his arm around you both. His hair is still wet from the shower. He kisses the top of your head. Johnny stirs feeling a hand grip his hip. 

“Did you get him?” Johnny asks, his voice still sleepy. 

“Yeah, we got him.” 

_____________________

[norapretzel]

I wake up in my bed. My room is the darkest it has ever been, and I cannot find my phone to turn on my flashlight. I stand up and make my way towards where I know the light switch is, when I find it, it does not work. I open my door.

I walk into the rest of the house. The house is the darkest it has ever been. It is silent, I cannot hear anyone. I try to call out up the stairs, but my voice does not make noise. I start panicking. I try to scream as loud as I can, and try to run for my parents bedroom. I make it up the first set of stairs to the living room.

I wake up in bed. My room is the quietest and darkest it has ever been. I know I'm dreaming now, and despite the fact that I hit the point of lucid dreaming, I cannot wake up. I roll out of bed, trying to scream, to speak, anything. My voice makes no noise. This time, I make it halfway up the stairs to my parents room. None of the light switches exist anymore.

I wake up back in my room. My room is still pitch black, and my bed makes no noise when I roll over. This time, when I call out, I make a tiny noise. I can hear someone upstairs. I believe I'm out of my dream as I stand up and walk towards the door. As soon as I grab the handle-

I wake up in my bed. My room is pitch black and dead quiet.

I will be stuck in this loop for a long while. Sometimes I will find my dad, but I'll wake up right after asking him for help. Sometimes I won't even make it out of bed before I feel my eyes open again and I'm back in it. It is the only nightmare I get stuck in now. I grew up with night terrors and learned how to either change genre of dream to reverse the terror, or wake myself up. Usually, all it takes is maybe like 10 seconds of nightmare time for me to go full lucid and wake myself up.

Sometimes, when I "wake up" in my bed in this nightmare, I try so hard to pry my eyes open. I can feel my real eyelids flutter but nothing can wake me up. My current record is about 17 loops before the dream let me go. By the end, I know I'm stuck in a dream, and no matter what I do I can't even change the smallest detail.

When I finally wake up, in my real bed, the first thing I do is turn on my lights and leave the room. Depending on the time, I sometimes go finish sleeping on the couch in the living room.

This is now my only nightmare, and I have it about once a month on average, sometimes more. I have learned how to end every reoccurring nightmare except this one, and usually lucid dream now to the point of changing dreams whenever I get bored.

There is never anything else in the house with me, and the only person I have ever seen is my dad, but he doesn't always appear, and he never can help me, if he tries I just restart the loop again. I can no longer sleep in the dark without white noise or another person with me, because waking up to a silent dark room now gives me panic attacks.

These nightmares started about 4 years ago I think? And are only ever in my current bedroom of my current house.

rb with your most common recurring theme in your nightmares. mine is pregnancy

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Why Is Misdemeanor Of the Heart's Reader...

White Coded?

Yep, I said it. Come, take a seat and get cozy in the Fox Den while Mamma Kit answers some questions.

CW: Discussions of race and racism in a historical context and me being a wordy ass bitch

I've seen some discourse around Human!Alastor readers and writers and have gotten some of these questions myself over the last few months.

Firstly- I am white. I'm so fucking white that I use SPF 100 sunscreen. I grew up in Alaska. The history I learned growing up wasn't African American history; it was Alaska Native history. I didn’t learn about how we fucked over African American people in America’s early history. Instead, I learned how we fucked over the villages of the land I was raised on.

Why does this matter? The current accepted fanon for Alastor's human life is that he was a Black or mixed-race radio host who died in 1933 and reached his mid to late 30s or 40s. We know he had a successful career and was also a serial killer. He favored jazz, and rye is his drink of choice. He exists somewhere on the ace spectrum.

Time for a little math. Let's go with the middle ground—he was 40 in 1933. That means he would have been born around 1893. Let’s assume his mother was 25 when he was born. She would have been born in 1868. Using the same age for her mother, Alastor's grandmother would have been born in 1843. Remember this—it’ll matter in a minute.

For MisD and all of my human Alastor writing, as well as the works of many other human Alastor writers, we approach Alastor's life through a historical lens. I, like many others, enjoy exploring a time period rich with change—dynamic and vibrant with energy, money, and hope.

What does this mean? This means Alastor would have faced significant amounts of racism. Being Black, mixed-race, or how well he could pass as white would all drastically impact his life. It affected what opportunities he had, the education he received, and how laws were applied to him.

Ready for a history lesson? The Emancipation Proclamation was issued by President Abraham Lincoln on January 1, 1863. It declared all enslaved people in rebellious areas of the United States to be free. Alastor's grandmother—based on the ages we used earlier—would have been a 20-year-old woman at that time.

Alastor would have been raised by a first-generation free woman. He likely wouldn’t have had access to public education, instead being taught in group homeschool-like sessions by those who had learned to read and write.

If he was mixed-race, he would have faced significant discrimination from all of society.

The Civil Rights Movement in the USA didn’t begin until the mid-1950s—a full twenty years after his death.

The reality is that we don’t know a lot about the Black experience during the early to mid-1900s. Much of this history wasn’t recorded by (white) historians. Instead, it was passed down through stories from parents to children, and so on. Only now are we starting to uncover and listen to the histories, stories, and experiences of Black Americans during this time period.

Remember how I mentioned at the start that I’m white as fuck? I don’t have grandparents I can go to and ask about the Black experience when they were children. First—my grandparents are all dead, and second—they were somehow whiter than I am. Their perspective wouldn’t help me because it isn’t my family’s story to tell.

What I can do is look at what we do know, listen to the voices of Black Americans who are finally being allowed to share their stories, and reflect that in my version of human Alastor. I can spend the time to research and learn. For instance, Alastor would have been ahead of his time—the first Black radio host was in 1929, a man named Jack L. Cooper from Chicago. He hosted the first Black-produced weekly variety show and showcased Black entertainers.

I can listen to stories of how mixed-race men were afforded the privilege of their lighter skin as long as they were useful to their white employers, only to be scapegoated the second anything went wrong. I do my best to reflect these stories in Human!Alastor's experiences and behaviors.

Why A White Coded Reader? I cannot even begin to hope to understand the Black American experience as it is now, let alone how it was in 1922, when MisD is set, or in the late 1910s, when my other Human Al fics take place. What I can understand on a deeper level is the white woman's experience, the experience of poverty, the experiences of abused women, and what it’s like to view the Black experience from the outside looking in.

And so that is what I try to highlight with my Human!Alastor fics. Yes, when I’m writing a Human!Alastor fic that deals with racial, class, and social politics as one of the themes to be explored (such as MisD), the reader is coded as white. It is through a white reader that I can have conversations with Alastor about why he feels he has to be perfect, why he straightens his hair, and so on. I cannot do proper justice to these feelings on a deeper level from a Black perspective because I can’t even begin to hope to understand it.

I cannot truly understand what Alastor’s Blackness would mean to him or how he would feel about being mixed. However, I can learn and understand how it impacted his life from the outside looking in. This is what I strive to do—to shed light on what Alastor’s accomplishments would have meant and how much his mistakes would have cost him.

I would love to see more Black writers in the fanfic space, especially within the Human!Alastor space. I would also love to see fewer readers written as blank slates. The Black experience in America and other white-dominated cultures is still not spotlighted often enough, both in present-day and historical settings.

These are stories that need to be told—perspectives that need to be explored, seen, and heard. However, they are not my stories to tell. Personally, until I am far better educated on the matter, I feel it would take away from these stories and be disrespectful to the lives of the very real people who lived them if I were to write from a perspective I cannot hope to understand.

I will continue to strive to write readers as racially neutral as often as the plot allows. However, I also ask that readers respect that, when the plot deals with racial, social, and class divides in a historical setting, if the reader is coming from a place of privilege, their skin tone is often the reason for such privilege.

Of course, I encourage readers to suspend disbelief and insert themselves into the fic regardless of their personal skin tone. I write from a historical setting, but as readers, you can imagine a set of historical laws or circumstances that allow for the same dynamics without requiring a white reader.

Can I do better? Absolutely—we all can. We’re always growing, improving, and learning. I was blessed to be raised in one of the most diverse places in the country (over 45 languages were spoken fluently at my high school). However, since leaving, I’ve struggled with the realities of having that bubble burst—not that Alaska was without racism.

I always welcome respectful discussions about the themes in MisD and all of my fics, as well as the reasons things may be portrayed the way they are. I prefer to write dark content, and with that comes the opportunity to educate and shine a light on topics many people avoid discussing. I simply ask for respect in return for the respect I give.

Much love, Kit

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 2

Part One

Note: Big things happens in this continuation.

word count: 1542

Ghost still remembered how you were standing on top of the building when you shot the tracking bullet into his shoulder. You didn’t aim to kill, maim? Sure. You don’t take lives. You just run from others and keep them tagged for as long as possible to know where they would be. You didn’t care if they were special operatives or the Queen of fucking England. No one had the right to have you or own you. Ever. 

“I still remember how Price thought you were seeing things.” Soap snickered, “I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, whatever it is, just produced a strong smell of vinegar and my nose is hurting.” Gaz complained, whined, even. Your makeshift solution is working to your advantage. Even if it's drowning your dirty, grimy baggy clothes under hot water and white vinegar. They’ll end up trying again quite soon.

As you got changed into clean clothes, your naked body came into the view of the door window. Which to Soap? It was like he hit the fucking jackpot. Watching you pull on medical scrubs. Soap saw your back tattoo, “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.”

Soap yanked Price over to take a look at your tattoo. His hunch told him something, you weren’t just anyone, and you weren’t just a random omega the General wanted to contain. ���I don’t think we know nearly as much about her as we think we do.” Soap told him, dragging him to the window and shoving the binoculars into Price’s hands. 

Gaz remembered your herbal cigarettes, the lavender burning and how Price would try to scold you for your habit. “And what? Leave you smoked up like a bastard in heat or somethin?” you told Price. Breathing lavender scented smoke into Price’s facial direction. Dodging his attempts to snatch the cigarette from you.

Price, at the time, growled, “What is with you? You’re slipperier than a greased-up pig at a county fair, and more elusive than the fucking Loch Ness monster.” The spunk you had before? Increased tenfold. 

“Look at you, tripping over yourselves still, fucking alphas who can’t track for shit huh?” you taunted with your walkie-talkie you found in the office. “Round And Round It Goes... Where It Stops, Nobody Knows. Round and round you go, when will I stop? Nobody knows.” 

You grabbed your stuff, and you left really fast, “Tell your mother I’ll fuck her soon.” you spoke into the walkie-talkie. 

“We’ve got to get to her before she’s gone. She’s a fucking ghost, we’ve been tracking her for months, and she’s always one step ahead of us. This might be our only chance before she disappears again.” Price told them. Soap was too distracted by the fact you flash banged him with your gorgeous fucking tits. 

Which Price had to admit? A smart thing to do when you’re dealing with four hungry, aroused alphas on your tail. Your tits were a flash beacon even after you headed out of the room with your gear. The limping of your leg and once soap has you in his grasp again? He wouldn’t let you go again. 

Crawling through the ventilator shaft, until you were dragged out by your feet by someone strong enough to get you out of there, and his deep voice hitting the base of your skull like a drum. 

Dragging you from the vent, one swift tug at a time. Before long, you were carried over to Price and Ghost. With Gaz stalking right behind him, intensely staring at you from behind Soap. He had you draped over his right shoulder and your belongings in his other hand. While Gaz carried your sniper and bone knife. 

Once Price taken a closer look at you, removing your shirt and replacing it with a clean, warm, dry shirt. As Price looked for one suitable. 

Soap’s eyes widened as he recognised the tattoo. He’s seen it once before. It’s an incredibly specific tattoo. Only one person he knew of had it. Someone who was thought to be dead. Yet here you were. Very much…..alive. Running around like a scared rabbit. Soap’s heart is racing. 

He knew you weren’t going to go with them quietly. Not with that tattoo.

“Guys, I think we might have stumbled upon someone important, she’s not what we thought she was.” Soap whispered to Ghost outside the medical examination room. 

Ghost looked at Soap sceptically, “What do you mean, Mactavish?”

Soap took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, “The tattoo on her back. It’s not from a book, it’s from a person. The person who had it is... or was... a legend around these parts.” He paused, his eyes searching the room as if he could see through the walls. “Her callsign was Venom, one of the best snipers the military had, until she disappeared. She was thought to be dead after her last mission, but if this is her... she’s been hiding here all along.”

Price’s eyes narrowed as he digested the information. “Venom? That’s a name I’ve heard before. If she’s who you think she is, then she’s worth more than gold to Shepherd. We can’t let her go.” He turned to Gaz, his voice low and commanding. “Keep an eye on the exits, she’s clever. We don’t want her slipping away again.”

Still processing the information, his gaze sharp and calculating. “If that’s true, then we might have a bigger problem on our hands. Get a clearer visual, Soap, and make sure it’s her. We don’t want to spook her before we get a good look at her face and confirm her identity.”

Soap nodded, his eyes glued to the small window in the door of the medical examination room. “On it, boss.” He whispered back, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. Venom was a legend, known for her sharp-shooting skills and unyielding spirit. If she had indeed survived, she would be a powerful ally or a formidable enemy.

Then she would be you, wouldn’t you? When he saw your face? Soap held the new photo with the one they have. They were a perfect match. You were indeed ‘Venom’. A legend from their annals of history straight into his sight. 

He felt his cock thicken, a growling in his chest, his animalistic instincts were now coming to the forefront.

“It’s her, boss. No doubt about it. She’s Venom. I’ve seen that tattoo before, on the back of the woman who trained me.” Soap said with a mix of awe and fear. “I don’t think anyone is crazy enough to be out here for this long. 

Price's eyebrows furrowed, “Venom… I thought she was dead. General Shepherd killed her.”

“So did everyone else,” Soap replied, “But she's very much alive, and she's in heat. We need to handle this with care. She's not going to come quietly. Or willingly for that matter.”

Price nodded in understanding, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation.“Alright, keep an eye on her. She's a ghost for a reason.” He turned to Ghost, “What do we know about her other than that she's a damn good shot?”

Ghost's eyes narrowed as he recalled the intel he had read, “Venom went dark after her last mission. Rumour has it she took out a high-value target that was off-limits. Her disappearance was sudden, and her file was sealed tighter than a drum. If she's the one in there, she's got a vendetta with someone or something, and it's not us.”

“But she's in heat,” Gaz pointed out, his voice thick with the same primal need Soap had felt earlier. “That….. That changes things completely.”

Ghost nodded, his voice a low rumble, “It does. She'll be more… vulnerable. Hesitant to trust.”

“Vulnerable or not,” Soap said, “We can't just barge in there. We need to earn her trust”

“But how? She’s not going to listen, and she’s stubborn like Price.” Gaz said, stroking his jaw, contemplating their next move.

“You’ve been out here the entire time?” Price asked you, both in awe, frustration and a little admiration in his tone. “You’ve been living out here alone all this time?”

“You make it sound far harder than it actually is. Did General Shepherd let you think that, or are you really that stupid enough to think it?” you answered. “With the right kind of knowledge, you can go far and wide. Took out the tracker from my neck, day one, surprised you pups are still working for that bitch.” 

General Shepherd. You were at odds with him from the sound of things. Whether that was a good thing or not? Another thing entirely. Another thing which now had to wait until they had you removed from this ancient building. Regardless of whether you wanted to leave it or not.

“So are you workin for him or what?” you growled. 

“That’s none of your fucken business.” Price snarled at you.

“I think it is and you’re going to tell me regardless of what you think or how you feel about it too.”

[nimrochan]

Girl, you’re spewing so much BS you need to eat toilet paper.

Blaming Trump for the rise in antisemitism when he was elected two months ago - you’re joking, right?

https://www.usnews.com/news/world-report/articles/2024-10-07/report-antisemitic-incidents-reach-record-high-in-year-since-oct-7-attack

There are TONS of sources, you can google it. You can even ask any Jew, they’ll tell you personal experiences.

We lost 1/3rd of our population to genocide only three generations ago, and then suffered the worst terrorist attack since Israel’s inception, and the world’s response was to celebrate while Hezbollah and Hamas commenced to send us hundreds of rockets a DAY? And your response is “der der stop complaining.”

And even before that, Israel was/is the most terrorized country in the world behind Somalia (I don’t see you advocating for Somalia). It’s not a coincidence that the only Jewish country in the world is among the most terrorized. We’re also a minority in an Arab-majority region, unlike in the West where both are minorities. So yeah, sorry not sorry for vocalizing on our own behalf’s.

Have you had to run into bomb shelters multiple times a week? It must be sooooo nice forming your little stupid opinions in the safety of your rocket-free home. Why aren’t you demanding that Hamas stop sending rockets from civilian areas?!

If country A bombs country B, then country B is going to bomb back. Israel is not acting more evil than any other country prioritizing its own citizens.

You want to talk about shit that doesn’t make the news? Look up the Palestinian bus bombings and suicide bombings in the 90’s, and Palestinian stabbing in 2015.

Look up Palestinian indoctrination of children by UNWRA;

Look up Hamas torturing their own people;

“Oh but genocide”- the Gazan population literally grew FASTER than the world Jewish population, so no, there’s never been a genocide.

“Marginalized refugees-“ Palestinian leaders have been offered land 5 times, include one deal for 80% of Israel, and they said No because they don’t want to live next to Jews. Before the attack, Israel also offered citizenship to up to 2000 Palestinians a year, work visas for 150K Gazans (now ruined by those who used it to scope out areas for the attack), and food/water/electricity to Gaza.

“But since October 7” - the combatant-to-civilian ratio has been 1:1-1:2, incredibly low when you consider that the average ratio for a dense urban area is 1:9.

“But the bombings” - the IDF goes out of its way to warn people before they bomb areas that have been made into military targets by Hamas for the purpose of attacking Israeli civilians.

Israel has never, since its inception, sent an unprovoked rocket or attacked first.

3000 Hamas killed 1200 civilians in ONE DAY. In over 400 days, the IDF has not violently killed that many people a day - that would add up to half a million. Except there aren’t 3000 IDF soldiers in Gaza, there are 300,000. You do the math.

You know what else Jews/the IDF haven’t done? Drive dead naked women around Israel to celebrations of music and candy with their kids, like Hamas did in Gaza on October 7;

Such brave resisters /s

“But COLONIZERS” - even if that were true, that’s not an excuse for terrorism. Entire countries like the US, Canada, and Australia are almost completely colonized. All of North Africa has been colonized by Arabs, you don’t see them launching terrorist attacks against Arabic nations.

You want to “What-About” me? You know what else doesn’t make the news? 2 million dead Sudanese - that’s the entire Gazan population. Where are your passionate, fervent marches for them?? Where’s your stupid fruit emoji for them??

1.8 million tortured/killed Chinese Uyghurs?

Millions of people tortured and killed in North Korean concentration camps the size of Rhode Island?

300,000 dead Syrians?

300,000 dead Yemenis?

The 600 unarmed villagers in West Africa gunned down by Al-Qaeda?

No Jews no news

Just admit that you’re jumping on the virtue-signaling bandwagon because you’re inherently a massive antisemite and you don’t actually care about marginalized groups.

an incomplete list of hate crimes in the past fourteen (14) days against jews not in Israel, in no particular order

A shul was defaced with swastikas (Minneapolis, US)

A shul was firebombed (Montreal, Canada)

An ATM dispensed antisemitic banknotes, complete with 'Fuck Jews' (Sydney, Australia)

Swastikas at public high schools (Virginia, US)

Antisemitic stickers at the Boston University Campus ("spreading" from Harvard)

More antisemitic grafitti (Indiana, US)

(or maybe 12) 5 antisemitic attacks in Zurich (Zurich, Switzerland)

(or 13) Swastika grafitti in Pittsburgh, where I live (Pittsburgh, US)

(or 14) A car burned and grafitti sprayed in another antisemitic attack in Australia (Australia)

(or 15) That Melbourne arson attack (Melbourne, Australia)

(or 16) Jordan Acker's home was vandalized (Michigan)

(or 17) The San Francisco Hillel was vandalized with antisemitic grafitti (San Francisco, US)

(or 18) An Israeli in California was wounded after someone DROVE A FREAKING CAR INTO THEM (California, US)

(or 19) Someone intentionally cut off the peyot of a Jewish boy in New Jersey, akin to ripping the hijab off a Muslim woman, only it takes a while for her to get another hijab (New Jersey, US)

Mind you, as far as I know, this was a relatively typical two weeks. Goodness knows there were many more that went unreported. And many of these were basically unreported in the non-Jewish news, because no one really pays attention unless it's something big, like arson. Imagine if some tailor destroyed the hijab of a Muslim girl after saying not to, as her mother begged for him to stop. National news, right? But if it's a Jew - no one cares.

But tell me more about how antisemitism isn't a big problem and I shouldn't worry again.

[avelera]

hi! first off, i love your arcane meta, especially the jayce characterization and hextech details. you get it.

now second, (and feel free to ignore this wall of text for any reason):

if you're in the mood to talk about meta, i'm curious to hear your take on one season 2 thing that i've been scratching my head about

how much does post-anomaly jayce know about the future? my initial impression was that wizard viktor only told jayce what we see onscreen, and jayce was kind of improvising and trying his best without detailed knowledge of future events.

but some lines ("we're meant to lose this fight") and a comment from the artbook (post-anomaly jayce wearing armor bc he knows there is a battle coming) imply that he knows more than he lets on.

what's your (watsonian) take of jayce's knowledge of the future in season 2? is there any detail in the show that sheds some light on this?

i think jayce knowing or not knowing about certain events really recontextualises some scenes. is he following his own or wizard viktors plans? is he suprised about the events of act 3? i've been rotating this in my head but i'm not sure what interpretation i prefer.

Thank you so much!

As for your question, it's a really interesting one!

Unfortunately, I do think I need to start the answer with the Doylist one:

Jayce knows as much about the future as he needs to for the plot.

I think this is important to note because it informs an understanding of their choice not to show us him getting an exposition download of everything Wizard Viktor has worked out over the years as to how exactly Jayce can thread this needle of saving Viktor at exactly the right time.

Because, in theory, the amount of optimization could be infinite. It could get all the way down to, "Jayce needs to be scared into falling into this exact pit and spending no more than 3 months there because that gives him the suffering needed for his plea to Viktor to be heartfelt and informed by similar suffering, but not so long that Jayce goes insane from isolation."

Or even things like, "Ekko needs to go to the Happy Zaun universe or else he won't have the sympathy needed for him to prevent Jinx's suicide and without her present at the battle, one of Herald Viktor's mind-control arms snatches up Ekko too soon rather than grabbing Jinx instead, so he's not there to buy Jayce's those critical extra seconds for his appeal to True Love and also put a bomb in Herald Viktor's face."

That said....

I admit, part of me still sort of wishes that Jayce had been the one to go through multiple realities of optimizing, just because I think it answers... a few more questions? Like how did he suddenly get so comfortable with killing someone like Salo, if he wasn't fighting in other universes? Why does he look so aged if only 3-6 months passed? How does he know things like how exactly to get to Viktor's commune and the fact they're going to lose the fight, etc etc etc.?"

I think it would have been cool and very fitting for Jayce but I will admit, the story we got covers all of this too.

Jayce's aging could easily be the product of extreme hardship (I wouldn't be surprised if the animators referred to images of people who have been, say, stranded on desert islands or prisoners of war for long periods to inform just how much Jayce's face muscles wasted away while he was there and just how much extreme hardship can age you because it can be extreme even within a few months and between pain, starvation, dehydration, and magical gangrene, Jayce was going through it).

Jayce's comfort with the idea of killing Salo could just be a product of his hardship (killing and eating lizards with his bare hands lol yuck), or of understanding that assimilated people are already dead, effectively, and to stop that future he cannot hesitate at all. Also, maybe he just fucking hates that guy, which would be pretty understandable after Salo voted to banish him back in 1.02 and also is very funny to me, personally, that he was just a little more comfortable smooshing that particular Councilor than he would be literally anyone else.

And this is were I get to your question: how much does Jayce know? Presumably, if we go Watsonian, whatever Wizard Viktor believed he needed to know to actually thread this needle, because there's probably information he doesn't need to know too.

For example, Jayce might know:

He cannot let a Cultist get back to Viktor with Hexgems. Salo needs to go. Who knows what this prevented but I can easily see how Viktor having more power right now to prolong his healing/assimilation would be a bad thing regardless. Also just... having Salo at all as a potential power player that Viktor could work through.

He knows where the commune is. In theory, he probably could just ask someone in Zaun too I mean, I doubt it's a secret, and narratively we don't need to see that.

He knows he cannot under any circumstances let Viktor talk to him once they're face to face. He can't even look at Viktor after Viktor knows he's there. There's a heavy implication that if Cult Leader Viktor so much as smiles at him, Jayce will fold, if we believe the little flash of memory of Jayce remembering him smiling at him isn't just Dead Wive Vision but is actually Anomaly Future Jayce warning him about what happened to him to lead t that point, which I think is a baller theory.

He can't give into Viktor, ever. He can't let Viktor touch his forehead before the right time. Jayce fights like mad to get away from that robot once Viktor decides that Jayce will be his partner again or else.

He knows he needs to take all the Hexgems out of the base of the Hexgate, but is it to stop Viktor? Or is to buy a few extra seconds while Viktor plugs them back in again so that Ekko has time to wake up? This is the sort of thing where Wizard Viktor might know the real reason for something but doesn't need to get that granular with why because it's about buying time, not actually preventing the Herald from grabbing the Anomaly.

By the way, I have a theory that one reason Jayce needs to get the gem burned into his wrist is because there's universes where his bracelet gets cut off and he loses the gem so Wizard Viktor is like, "This is gonna suck, but you really need this thing embedded in your flesh so it's there at the right time." Though, it could also be so he can engage the magic in his Alt Universe hammer. Still, I am a little sad that it's not an effect of Jayce universe hopping where some battle got it burned into him, because that was my original theory and I'm still very partial to it.

Jayce knows that he has no chance of winning the fight, he just needs to survive it. Once he gets to the top of the tower, once he grasps the hammer, it's all over. From that point on, the only thing he can do is have faith and get his big Power of Love speech ready, that is his only chance.

As for what Jayce is surprised by, I do think he might have been told information but not shown it necessarily. I am still really sad we didn't get a visual of what Wizard Viktor told him but, at the same time, one of the fun parts of Arcane is that it doesn't spoon-feed us, which gives us the chance for discussions like this, so wanting that scene is me being a Jayce addict not because I think it would necessarily strengthen the story.

So I think Jayce doesn't know what Machine Herald Viktor looks like. It's possible that Wizard Viktor doesn't either, because that didn't happen to Wizard Viktor, he didn't get slowed down at the commune, Jayce probably joined him there and probably didn't fight him at all, there's a strong hint that Anomaly Universe Jayce surrendered to Viktor at the top of the tower (the explosion marks around him are behind him, which implies that the force of his conversion might have been in front and willing, like he was kneeling before his king, and we don't have the top of his head to know which direction the fingerprints are positioned in).

So basically, Machine Herald Viktor is a product of Viktor needing Singed to regain enough power to go get the Anomaly, which Wizard Viktor didn't need to do.

It's possible that Wizard Viktor doesn't know about Ekko, he just knows that something outside his awareness has to happen for MH Viktor to be caught off guard, and as MH Viktor says, "That device cannot be," he cannot in his infinite knowledge account for what happens in a world where Hextech never got beyond its infancy with Jayce and Viktor at the helm.

So, at a certain point, there may have been things that Jayce and Wizard Viktor just had to rely on faith to come about too.

But it's way more fun to speculate because I think we'd be punching holes in it instead of speculating on it if we had been given this whole download.

Hope that answers your question??

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns. 

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon. 

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who? 

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious. 

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note. 

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally. 

Obviously. Shanks picks it up. 

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on. 

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. 

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon. 

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores. 

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back. 

The gifts keep coming. 

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything. 

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital. 

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity. 

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. 

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.” 

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind.  “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips. 

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles. 

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush. 

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter. 

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children. 

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it. 

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp. 

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even. 

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed. 

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang. 

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food. 

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance. 

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon. 

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears. 

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core. 

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it. 

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace. 

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone. 

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs. 

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.” 

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions. 

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you. 

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other. 

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench. 

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game. 

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts. 

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum. 

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile. 

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle. 

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan. 

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench. 

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention. 

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever. 

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park. 

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips. 

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic. 

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor. 

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you. 

So that’s where you’re headed. 

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace. 

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything. 

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city. 

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly. 

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again. 

Fucking heart, what a useless organ. 

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off. 

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual. 

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot. 

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her. 

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Wipper snipper

Oh boy! Thank you so much for the tags, @hikarimeroperiddle and @riverxsong-ao3~ ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Most of the things I've been working on lately aren't shareable yet (holiday giftfics and FTH), so here's a snippet I've been debating including in the ace ABO fic (complete, but not really complete). I'm not sure if this is the direction I want to go, and even more uncertain whether that fic's readership would be comfortable with it, so this may be the only time you see this:

Harry’s asexual, not dead. He can recognise that someone is attractive in the abstract, even if he has no intention or desire to do anything about it. He occasionally masturbates (like, once or twice a month, maybe) and it feels fine. It's just the idea of bringing someone else into the mix makes him lose interest faster than Ron when all the sandwiches are corned beef. But sometimes... Sometimes, he looks at Tom and feels things he never has before. “Do you ever think about it?” he asks, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. “Do I ever think about what?” Tom mumbles in reply. Whoops. He had been closer to sleep than Harry’d thought. “Oh god, sorry, don’t listen to me. I’ll leave you alone to rest.” Tom rolls over so he’s pinning Harry’s left shoulder to the mattress with his warm, boneless weight. “Hmmm, no, you woke me up, now you have to explain,” he says into the crook of Harry’s neck, hot breath on skin making Harry shiver. “What’s on your mind?” He can’t predict how this will land. “Uh. Sex.” He can feel how every single muscle in Tom’s body goes tense from where they’re pressed together, but if he couldn’t he wouldn’t even think Tom had heard him. “What brought this on?” Tom's voice is a little more alert, but still soft and even. “I’m not exactly sure," Harry says, tongue sticking in his suddenly dry mouth. “I just. I think, if it was with you, it’d be okay.” Wryly, Tom says, “Why Harry, you old romantic, you.” Harry huffs. "Shove off." After a few moments of silence, Tom adds, “To clarify: are you asking to have sex with me, or are you offering to have sex if I want to?” “Uh. The latter.” “Hmm.”  Harry can’t help but feel he gave the wrong answer. [...] “You figured out my devious scheme: spend ten years wooing you – while living and sleeping together, and being mated for six of those years, mind you–" "Oh, for Merlin's sake–"  “No, no – the truth finally comes out,” Tom says with sleepy melodrama. “I always knew you were only with me for my body.” Harry grabs a stray pillow and thwaps a chuckling Tom on the head with it, letting loose a relieved laugh of his own.

No-pressure tagging @chaos-bear, @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger, @thefangirlibrarian, @floatingdandelionseeds, @tommarvoloriddlesdiary, @known-concepts, @mosiva, @liquidluckandstuff, @kippipies

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

[hannahbarberra162]

Yes, I have a lot to work on. BUT ALSO mean Marco. So. I'll pop it on Ao3 later as an OS.

It's fun to be mean.

TW: DEAD DOVE, NON CON, mean mean Marco, Victorian asylum AU, medical mistreatment, forced exhibitionism

The clacking of shoes on the tiled floor made you perk up your head as far as it would go with the restraints. You’d been defiant that morning and had bitten the orderly when he tried to feel your breasts during your morning “treatment.” You regretted your actions - the orderly had then stripped you down and dressed you in a medical gown before putting you in full restraints to the narrow hospital bed. Your arms and legs ached from being stretched in the same position for so long and your neck was bound to the bed as well, making looking in any direction other than up difficult. You had a gag in your mouth to ensure you didn’t bite anyone else and it was making your jaw ache while drool pooled in your mouth. You’d been staring at the blank white ceiling for hours, finally feeling like you had the “insanity” that your family claimed was your ailment.

You’d been in the asylum for months - or so you thought, it was difficult to keep track of time from your windowless room. Your family had wanted you to marry Marco “the Phoenix” Newgate, the handsome doctor who ran the asylum. He had gotten his nickname for being so skilled in medical treatment that he’d brought many patients back from the brink of death. Marco was from a large and wealthy family, the first son of the Newgate magnate. You didn’t care, there was something in the doctor’s eyes that gave you pause, some base part of your reptilian brain telling you to run. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a predator and the hair on the back of your neck rose whenever he kissed your hand chastely. Your parents accused you of having hysteria for not wanting to marry such a well respected, handsome and intelligent bachelor. Ever the gentleman, Marco “The Phoenix” said he would honor the original arrangement, that he would see to your treatment personally in his own luxury sanatorium. Thus your family had checked you into the sanatorium against your will and he’d been tending to you ever since.

Society was abuzz with how kind the doctor was to love someone as silly as you, how incredibly lucky you were that the blond doctor would make you his wife after your illness had concluded. There were more sordid whispers that the doctor was a skilled lover, that he was a veritable angel in bed. But you knew better - you knew the doctor was a demon sent from hell. You hated seeing his half lidded eyes as they watched you succumb to his treatments, his very presence made your skin crawl. There was nothing to do - you were stuck in the sanatorium until he said you were mentally fit. And you suspected that day might never come. 

Still, you held onto a naive hope that the sound was the nurses coming to check on you and give you a sip of water. As the reverberating sounds of chatter reached your ears, you heard the low voice that made an unbidden shiver run down your spine. Closing your eyes, you held on to one last shred of hope that they’d continue down the hallway to torture someone else for a change. The jingle of the door handle had your heart beating faster and faster as the creaking door opened. 

“Which of course, brings us to the patient here yoi,” the doctor said, speaking only to his medical students. He rarely spoke to you directly in front of others, preferring to talk to you during your personal night treatments. Your nipples hardened even as you tried pulling against your restraints in vain. He had you trained well, one of his best and most responsive patients, he said. He always said it was a shame that you had to linger in the Psychiatric Hospital with how lovely you were, but he simply couldn’t release you until your hysteria had cleared. 

Walking closer to your bed, the doctor pulled a stool to the front of your bed and snapped his fingers to the orderlies who had come into the room with him. You tried to stop the whimper that left your throat as they adjusted your bindings so your legs were in the stirrups attached to the end of the bed. You’d tried fighting at this point many times before but the only effect was the further tightening of the straps on the stirrups, securing your legs in an even harsher grip. Doctor Marco turned the crank to the stirrups, opening them as far as they would go. Your already aching legs protested sharply but you didn’t make any noise; you knew from experience that the Doctor didn’t appreciate it when you did. Cold air hit your bald pussy as Marco hummed in approval.  

Sitting on the low wooden stool, Doctor Marco slotted himself between your now open legs, your bare pussy on display to the assorted medical students crowding around him. You’d been shaved personally by Marco to better allow the students to see your anatomy, he said. Even though this treatment had been given to you many times before, shame brought a flush to your face as you heard Doctor Marco snap gloves on his hands. At least you could only stare up this time, you didn’t have to watch the medical students become engrossed in your torture.

“Unfortunately this patient has to be completely restrained due to her temperament. She was brought to the hospital a few months ago by her family, her hysteria causing her to be completely unmanageable. And who can tell the group the cure for female hysteria yoi?” the doctor asked. You already knew the answer, you’d heard parts of this lecture many times over. 

“Yes?” the Doctor said, indicating a student who had raised his hand.

“Prophylactic enemas?” one student answered, making your shudder. Doctor Marco ran a hand down your thigh as a means to soothe you but it only made you quiver more.

“No, though this patient does receive those as well to induce colo-rectal compliance. Any other answers?” Doctor Marco asked the assembled students. You heard no other students speak and Doctor Marco sighed, causing your panic to rise immediately. You tried to close your legs out of instinct for what you knew was coming, but Doctor Marco slapped your inner thigh.

“It seems your professors have been remiss in their classroom instruction yoi. But that’s what practical rotations are for. The patient needs to be brought to repeated orgasm in order to quell her hysteria. Observe,” the doctor said, bringing his hands closer to your cunt. You whined and tried to move away but were so tightly bound there was no movement you could make to shift from the Doctor’s wicked hands. 

“You see, she is already moving in an attempt to avoid treatment. Many patients with hysteria behave this way but you can guide them back to health with a firm hand,” Marco said, punctuating his sentence with a slap to your pussy. “Don’t feel the need to be soft with them, poor handling is what got the dears into this mess in the first place,” Marco said as he spread your pussy lips apart and held them in place with his long fingers. Marco hadn’t done anything yet but your body had been through this procedure many times before and just the touch of his finger was enough to start your body’s reaction. You started to get wet, your slick pooling at the top of your thighs.

“As you can see, moisture is already dripping from her body to prepare for the cure to her ailment. This patient is particularly responsive which is why I prefer for medical students to observe her. Now this,” Doctor Marco said, pinching your clit, making you yelp, “is her clitoris. It contains the highest concentration of nerve endings in the female body. And most physicians believe that the fleshy nub is the sum total of the clitoris - but that is not the case. It actually has a larger area than that, spanning around the clitoris in an almost circular formation, though you will always get the best reaction from touching the clitoris directly.” Marco began stroking your clit with his gloved fingers, taking moisture from your leaking hole before continuing his ministrations.

“You may have noticed I used her own fluids as lubrication. That is preferable and we will get to the vaginal canal momentarily. For the moment, watch and observe.” With deft fingers, Doctor Marco began rubbing your clit in a practised fashion as he had so many times before. He knew your body like it was his own, playing you like a violin. He stroked with consistent pressure, rubbing you in small circles to the rapt attention of the students. You mewled against your will from behind the gag, small cries spilling from your lips as he continued to tease you. Your humiliation grew with your wetness as he continued to play with you to the endless intrigue of the students.

Doctor Marco was keeping you primed but never quite achieving release as he once again turned to his students. You tried to move your hips towards his hand in hopes of ending the session but the Doctor simply stopped stroking you, leaving only the hand still holding your lips apart.

“There are many potential treatments available at this juncture - you can bring the patient to the brink of orgasm but deny it at the last moment. This is effective as behavioral modification in addition to relieving hysteria. I once kept this patient engaged but unable to orgasm for five hours and at the end she was most agreeable to anything I suggested.” You shuddered as you remembered the event, you had cried and screamed for hours, begging for relief, for the doctor to stop, for God to strike you down from above, for anything other than the Doctor’s hands and mouth. It was brutal but luckily Marco saved it for those times when you were “non-compliant,” and “defiant.” You hoped today’s treatment didn’t include the same.

“You may also wish to cause several orgasms in short succession. This is likely to cause immediate distress to the patient but positive long term results. It is also a much shorter treatment duration than withholding orgasm which can be useful if you need to treat many patients. Today I’d like to demonstrate this technique for your edification.” Tears pooled on your lash line as you heard the announcement. You had been praying to any god that would listen for one orgasm at the hands of the doctor, the shortest treatment he gave you. Marco began stroking you gently again, this time pushing two of his thick fingers into you and bending them. Your toes curled as he forced your reaction.

“You can tell she is eager for release from her keening noises, the constriction of her vaginal canal, and the curling of her toes. If she were a better behaved patient you would be able to hear more of her lewd sounds as well. It is possible to see the constrictions from the outside but in clinical practice one should feel it manually yoi. Would anyone like to volunteer to identify the sensation?” You paled as you heard the Doctor’s question - this was something new. He’d never allowed the students to touch you during a treatment before. In your heart you knew this was retribution for not kissing him back the night before during his private session. But there wasn’t anything you could feasibly do to change the outcome of your current situation.

“You yoi. Come forward,” Marco said, handing a glove to whatever student he had selected. You heard another glove snapping on and short, limp fingers begin to prod at your opening.

“That’s it, push inside, she’s ready,” Doctor Marco instructed, the hand surging forward. The student was clumsy, nothing like Marco’s long skilled fingers. You felt multiple hands on you as Doctor Marco began stroking once more while holding your pussy open on display. The student was bothering you, pushing too weakly and inconsistently for you to enjoy the sensation. You whined in pain as he jabbed you with a stabbing motion rather than the smooth thrusts of the Doctor. Despite the jerks of the student’s hand you could feel yourself moving towards orgasm once more as Doctor Marco gave your clit more focused attention.

“Can you feel her canal gripping you?” Doctor Marco asked the student as he applied more pressure to your clit. After another moment of clumsy fingers moving about in you, Marco removed the hand of the student from within you. You sighed in relief as the painful sensations ended.

“No, no, you need more practice. You are showing hesitancy yoi. You need to remain in control, you are the doctor and she is the patient. Do not give her quarter to defy you. Allow me to demonstrate, this time using three fingers rather than the two from before. She can be quite wanton, you have to ensure she is satisfied,” Marco said, replacing the student’s fingers with his own. His large fingers stretched you as he worked them into you, pushing and curling his middle finger. You mewled loudly as he brushed your sweetest spot over and over again, still playing with your clit all the while. Panting, you felt the tension in you rising as you were brought closer and closer to orgasm, the students taking notes on your flushed form and leaking pussy. 

“I am stroking her Grafenberg spot, hence her intense reaction yoi. The clitoris can be stimulated simultaneously to produce orgasm as you'll see in just a moment. Come closer, I believe this patient is nearing their precipice.” You heard shuffling feet moving towards you as you strained against your bindings. Marco was stroking inside you with every pump of his fingers and rubbing your engorged clit, bringing you to close yet another unwanted orgasm. The loud squelching sounds of his fingers drowned out the murmurs of the medical students as they watched you curiously. 

“You can see her lubrication is increasing moment by moment. Her muscles are tense and she is straining against her bindings, those are all signs to look for. Ah, here she goes. Watch, I’ll give her a little spank and she’ll orgasm.” With that Marco slapped your clit and as if on command, you came around his fingers, screaming from behind your gag. Your vision went white as he continued to stroke and pump within you as you came, dragging out the sensation as long as possible. You were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath as he removed his fingers. He parted your lips again, rubbing at your engorged clit with his thumb. You whined and started crying, the sensation too raw and close to your previous orgasm. 

“See how compliant she is? She has become increasingly docile and relaxed after many such treatments. Right now we are not letting her rest, she will be brought to another orgasm shortly by my hand,” Marco said, looking down at your face. He noted your tears with a smirk, reaching for your face to wipe them away. Unable to move, he brushed away the tears before taking your face in his hand.

“Perhaps later we can have a practical lesson and you students can take turns giving the patient her treatment under my supervision. Wouldn’t that be lovely, dear?” Marco said, addressing you directly for the first time. You looked up into the Doctor’s heavy lidded eyes, fear clouding your expression even as another orgasm built within you.

“Yes, she’s quite a needy patient. She will need many more treatments to ensure her mental health returns. Isn’t that so darling?” Marco said, looking you in the eyes. 

“But I have personally dedicated myself to healing her. She can stay in the asylum for treatment as long as she needs.” 

[ink-stainedkiss]

Hitoshi Shinsou Headcannons ꩜

Boyfriend!Shinsou who lives for taking naps with you. Shinso is naturally tired and sleep was a normal thing, but when he found you, it stopped being just a routine. He looked forward to cuddling up, holding you, and listening to your heartbeat. It was the closest Shinso could ever get to peace.

Boyfriend!Shinsou who only lets you and himself hold his cat. He’s always been protective over her since she was a tiny black kitten found cowering in an alleyway. Because she was a rescue, it took a while for her to warm up to anyone, but after lots of months, Eclipse adored Shinso. However, Eclipse’s hesitance toward new people made Shinso slightly nervous to introduce you too, but as he was explaining her behavior, the cat walked right up and purred against your legs, like there was no sign of the hissing fluff ball Shinso had to tame so long ago.

Boyfriend!Shinsou who realized he loved you when you confessed you never found him or his quirk scary. The day it happened will always hold a special place in his heart and he wishes he could relive it over and over.

You both sat atop a small building in-ground beta. You had asked Shinsou to be your training partner for the Sports Festival, which he was utterly shocked to hear, but the work paid off. You both had grown closer and maybe it was just the calming sight of the sunset, but Shinsou felt he could trust you.

“Why would nobody say that? You’re going to be an amazing hero someday.” You said truthfully. Shinsou watched you, trying to find some sort of humor or tease in your tone, but you only stared back with the purest of sincerity,” Do you not think…” he stopped halfway, unsure if asking you this would make you see him different,” Not think what, Shinsou?”

He sighed, turning back to the sun,” Do you not think I’m scary?” Shinsou waited for the hesitance, the words that let him down easy, but he knew the truth. Oddly, Shinsou didn’t hear anything, except for the sound of your giggles,” Is this because of those assholes in your middle school who framed you to be a bad guy?”

He was completely confused and he wasn’t sure if you were mocking him. You shook your head, wiping away a tear,” No, Shinsou. I’m not afraid of you and I never will be.” You confirmed,” I know what your quirk is, but I never believed you would use it for bad. I’m sorry you had to grow up worrying about that.” Your giggles calmed down and you faced the violet-haired boy,” From what you've told me, I know there isn’t any villain in you, so stop thinking people only see the bad in you.”

You stare into his dark magenta eyes and it feels as if the world around the two of you is silent,” Cause I definitely don’t.” It was probably just from the sun, but at that moment, Shinsou saw this light emitting from you and he swore you never looked prettier.

Boyfriend!Shinsou who sometimes uses his capture weapon to get you closer to him or to drag you back if you walk away. He finds the little squeak you let out adorable and during patrols, if it’s pretty dead, he’ll wrap you up just for fun. Also, don’t think that getting angry will make him let you go, cause he’ll just keep calling you hot or cute as you demand to be released.

Boyfriend!Shinsou who really doesn’t have a care in the world if you asked to do his makeup/nails/skincare. He will sit there quietly, occasionally adding comments as you work. Most of the time he’s distracted by your concentrated face.

“Toshi?” You called,” Toshi.” That gets him out of his trance fast enough. The boy blinks, giving you a questioning look,” What?” You give him a disapproving glare,” Did you even hear me? I asked you to turn your head like five times.” Shinsou has only a second to play off his embarrassment, it’s not his fault you’re so gorgeous when you’re focused,” Sorry, just thinking.”

You continue to apply the sticky facial mask, humming in curiosity,” About what?” You lean back, letting him turn back to you. He gives you a lopsided smile, his eyes scanning your face,” You.” You rolled your eyes, mouth open to give him a cocky response, but the boy swooped in, stealing your lips against his. While it’s a loving gesture, you push him off of you as you feel the cold mask rub against your face,” Toshi!”

But he wasn’t having it, completely forgetting the skincare as he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer.

Boyfriend!Shinsou who takes mental notes about everything you do or use. Everything. From hair care products to your order at restaurants. You don’t need to tell him what brand of shampoo to get, because he already has it memorized. He watches you constantly, and though it sounds creepy, he’s only trying to learn more about you. (Even if he’s pretty sure he knows more about you than you know yourself.) Not only the items you like but along with places and experiences. He took you out to a cafe once and he noticed how relaxed you look, so that became one of your favorite spots. He understands how you despise the subway trains, how your nose scrunched at the smells and how you clung to him the entire time. Let’s just say that was the last time you ever stepped foot on a train.

[eclecticwitchandpaganjean]

Deity Information: Hekate/Hecate

Now that I have established this blog, I feel I should start talking about deities for those who are looking to worship. I was torn between my three patrons: Bastet, Hekate, and Hestia; however, since Hestia didn't mind Bastet and Hekate going first, I tried to narrow my decision but truth be told, I was conflicted. On one hand, Bastet is my soul mother and I should honor her; however, on the other hand, Hekate is the goddess of witchcraft and a teacher of witches and thus should be honored on a blog about paganism and witchcraft and thus I used a decision wheel to decide.

Now before I get too far into this, I use the spelling of Hekate with a K instead of a C since the later spelling only became popular due to William Shakespeare's play Macbeth.

There are many accounts of who Hekate's parents are; however, I follow the belief that she is the daughter of Perses: Titan of Destruction, and Asteria: Titaness of Falling Stars and Divination.

Hekate: who is the Titaness/Goddess of witchcraft, poisons, ghosts, the night, the moon, the crossroads, and on some accounts: the goddess of boundaries, walls, and doorways. In Greek mythology, she was often seen as Chthonic Deity (deity associated with the dead) and an Oikos Deity (deity associated with the house and home).

After the Titanomachy, Zeus rewarded Hekate's loyalty, regardless of her father being on Cronus's side, dominion over Land (Underworld), Sky, and Sea regardless of Poseidon or Hades'es say so.

She does have the title as a mother as she has a few children as well: on some accounts, she is the mother to the goddess/titaness Circe: Goddess/Titaness of potions, sorcery, transformation, and enchantment, the demigods: Aegialeus - also known as Absyrtus - (King of Sicyon and Argos) and Medea (demigoddess witch known for repelling evil spirits in the story of Jason and the Argonauts, and known for murdering her own children to get revenge against her husband)[Also the slayer of her brother Aegialeus], and The Monsters: Empusa and Scylla (although before she was turned into a monster by Circe).

She is given the title of midwife as some say that she resided over the birth of Zeus himself and helped Rhea convince Cronus that the rock he was eating was baby Zeus.

One of her famous myths is where she became the attendant of Persephone/Kora. She happened to reside in the forest next to the meadow where Persephone and Artemis were said to be playing. Now I don't remember how Artemis left the picture; however, I do remember from the story that she heard Persephone's screams and went and found Demeter with Helios. I suspect that was when Circe was conceived due to Helios being Circe's father. Regardless, Demeter was notified of Persephone's disappearance. While she was distraught, Hekate lit her torch and braved the journey into the Underworld to retrieve Persephone/Kora. She then guided Persephone/Kora with torch in one hand and their hand in the other until they made it back to Demeter. Although everyone knows the story about the pomegranate and the being with Hades for half of a year and thus, Hekate, every year, escorts Persephone/Kora down into the Underworld and resides there during the winter months and returns with her every spring. I honestly think she does that since the lands are to barren to gather herbs for magic since most don't bloom or sprout in the winter.

Now, for Hekate and I's relationship. She and I have a neat little history, I have been worshiping and working with her since October of 2023 and we have had a great break through with my progress in witchcraft and paganism whether she offers her incites through dreams or divination means. If I was to describe her personality towards me would most likely be a German Shepherd Mother. She is kind and a great teacher but isn't afraid to show tough love from time to time. Although this feeds into my personal title for her to be my "Dark Mother Hekate" as I see her as sort of a mother figure just as I see my soul mother Bastet as a mother figure as well. But honestly, who wants to listen about my mother issues? Am I right? Now on with information about the things she likes as offerings from my experience of working with her.

basic information on the things she is associated with:

Herbs associated with her are: Almonds, Aconite (also known as Hecateis or Monkshood or Wolfsbane), Belladonna, Dittany, Cinnamon, Sage, Jasmine, Citrus fruits, Roses, Poppy seeds, Mandrake, Yew, Garlic, Angelica, Cypress, Pomegranate, Frankincense, Dragons Blood, Lavender, Mugwort, Mushrooms, Wormwood, Yarrow, Willow, Dandelions, Ebony, Garland, Oak, Saffron, Hag’s Taper (Mullein), Mint, Foxglove, Stones and Metals associated with her are: black tourmaline, obsidian, amethyst, hematite, smoky quartz, labradorite, moonstone, nuummite, opal, Symbols associated with her are: triple moon symbol, pregnant goddess symbol, keys, torches, knives, swords, the number 3 Tarot cards associated with her are: high priestess, moon, queen of pentacles, Animals associated with her are: snakes, polecats, dogs, flies, moths, horses, owls, cats, crows, ravens, magpies, Offerings to Her Include: a clove of garlic, keys, onions, honeycakes, images of her sacred animals, tealights, Breads, cakes, fruits, cheeses, onions, eggs, fish (red mullet and salmon), sesame seeds, almonds, libations of wine and honey, Candles, Bones, Fires - i.e. bonfires, Oil lamps, incense of her herbs, Crow/Raven/Owl Feathers, Statues of Her and Her sacred animals, Poetry, literature, and music you heavily associate with Her, milk, chocolate, Rose petals, Cypress and willow leaves, Frankincense, Seashells, Black dog fur, Dog nail clippings, Images of dogs (pictures, personal drawings, dog plushies, etc.), Keys, Personal offerings (nail clippings, hair), Anything relating to the moon (pictures, keychains, personal drawings, etc.), Round cakes decorated with candles, red wine, mead, Crescent shaped sweets, Pomegranates, Raw eggs, Mushrooms, Dandelion tea, Large candles, A cauldron, Imagery of dogs such as statues, toy dogs, paintings, etc., Incense (lavender and myrrh are great), Graveyard dirt (ask before taking! Do your research before gathering please.), Snake skin, Animal bones, Wands

Ways to honor her include: Helping and being friendly to dogs, Donating blankets, food, toys to animal shelters in her name, Volunteering at an animal shelter, Devoting time at night to her (meditate, talk to her, just have some silence for her, etc.), Sharing your experiences, especially painful ones and your anger or sorrow with her, Study herbs and planting herbs in your garden, Having rituals or casting spells during a dark moon and invoking her, Taking care of graveyards and keeping them clean, Holding a feast for her and having all her favorite foods and drinks

Holidays Associated with Her: Samhain (October 31st-November 2nd), Deipnon (Every new moon), Yule, Beltane (May 1st-5th), Lammas, Night of Hekate (November 16th), Day of Hekate At The Crossroads (November 30th), Day of Hecate’s Storm (August 13th), Festival of Hekate (August 21st) Midwife’s Day (January 8th), Feast of Hekate (January 31th), Feast of Hekate (January 2-3), Dark Mother Goddess Day (May 21st), Feast of Divine Life (September 21st).

Days of The Week Sacred to Her: Saturdays Signs Hecate is calling to you: seeing themes of three, seeing images of her sacred animals in physical, media, dreams, etc., feeling a dark but maternal and guiding presence nearby, seeing images of crossroads, coming across the tarot cards: the high priestess, the queen of swords, and death, feeling: power, strength, guidance, and protection in your craft. Another sign is flies/black moths: if the flie/black moth lands on your right side, then she is calling you to do something/ follow through with what you were intending/planning to do whether its build an altar, make an offering, do an act in her honor, etc. If the fly/black moth lands on your left side, then she is saying that she has accepted what you have done; such as she accepts your offering, is pleased with the work you have done in her honor, likes her altar, etc. Epithets: Aenaos: Eternal, agelong, ever-flowing, Aglaos: Beautiful, bright, pleasing, Apotropaia: The one that turns away/protects, Brimo: The furious, the avenging, the dreaded, crackling flame, Chthonia: Of the earth/underworld, Enodia: She on the way/road, Erototokos: Producing love, bearer of love, Daduchos: Torch-bearer, Trodia: Frequenter of the crossroads, Propylaia: Of the gates, Keeper of Keys, Goddess of The Crossroads, Goddess of Witchcraft, Guiding Light of The Darkest Nights, Blazing Torch of The Night

So there you have it folks. Pretty much everything I know/believe about Hekate. I treat this goddess/Titaness with the upmost respect and gratitude as she is one of the most reversed deities I work with and worship. I just hope I did her justice with this post.

first photo credit to IrenHorrors on DeviantArt, second photo is credit to Yliade on DeviantArt

[shima-draws]

Been having a rough couple of days. Send me asks?

[todayisafridaynight]

no ones ever gonna understand how much i love daigo doin this stupid shit after dissolving the tojo

[tojisun]

i havent written angst in a while :<

[cappurrccino]

i was gonna say "i shouldn't have to go to work when my brain feels like a depression slushie" and then i was like "wait but then i'd basically never ever go to work" and i'm actually doubling down on the first part now bc my god how am i supposed to heal my brain from burning out 5 years ago if i can never get an actual break

[forgotten-daydreamer]

vent moment but my health is a bit worse than i let on, which is weird ik since it seems like complain about it all the time here, and apparently i also look sick, because two separate people in their 40s or 50s asked me, 24, if i needed their seat on the bus. kind of them. but humiliating nonetheless.