#I swear I'm an established writer

[brokentoys]

oh yeah i forgot in that one bad day comic (king's retelling of ed's backstory) it was stated he helped j0ker in the killing joke which i'm honestly not sure how to feel about it

[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your stories they’re so amazing! Can I please request the task force and pranking them by telling them a guy did your Brazilian wax

Thank you! I can't take all the credit. I might be the writer, but the Imagines Series couldn't be what it is without all the amazing ideas people have submitted. I'm honestly blown away by the amount of creativity and ideas sent my way. My inbox is full of wonderful requests, and while it's going to take me a bit to get to them all, I'm eager to complete them!

The amount of prank requests I've been getting has been so fun. Not just this one, but telling mom to shut up, and the premium air prank, etc. All of these make me giggle and have been a blast to work on. Thank you so much for sending this in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, established relationship, pranks, non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John briefly licks the pad of his thumb before counting out the appropriate amount of pound notes.

“This enough?” he asks, presenting it to you.

It’s more than enough. “Plenty. Thank you, John.”

He leans forward a bit, and you eagerly greet him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, you give him your best smile. But beneath the grin is a trick.

You want to mess with him a bit.

“I have a new waxer,” you shrug, adding the cash to your wallet. “Cheryl put in her notice.”

Cheryl did not put in her notice. That woman probably won’t retire until she dies.

John inclines his head, already turning away. “That’s too bad. You liked her.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing your purse. “They’ve put me with someone new. A Mark? Mike? No—Marcus? I think.”

John freezes. He slowly turns back, cheeks bright red. “What?”

“It starts with an ‘m’,” you muse.

“Your new waxer is a man?”

“Yes,” you shrug. “And?” John’s face resembles a beet. “Everything good?”

“Where does Cherly work now?”

“John—”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts tapping away at it. "I want to know if she accepts walk-ins."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle's hand slowly runs over your newly waxed skin. "Look at you. So soft and smooth." His touch makes you shiver.

"You paid for it," you murmur.

"I did," smiles Kyle, head dipping.

His tongue makes contact, and you release a moan. It’s slightly distracting, but not enough to detract from you poking at him.

“Had a new waxer,” you sigh as Kyle goes in for another taste.

“Did you?” he asks absently, more interested in your new smoothness.

“A man, actually. Undergoing training. There were two of them in the room.”

Kyle's head snaps up. "What?"

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper.

"There were two men that waxed you?"

“No, Kyle. Just one.”

A series of emotions pass over Kyle's face. His mouth opens. Closes. And then his hand forms a fist, fingers flexing and relaxing as he mulls over something.

"Everything okay?" you ask, suddenly worried.

“Can’t be that hard.” Kyle pushes away from the couch and reaches for his phone. “Or expensive.”

“What can’t? Kyle. What are you talking about?”

You lean forward and see him adding a waxing kit to his online shopping cart.

“No,” you say firmly. “You’re not putting hot wax anywhere near my vagina.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Oh, what's this?"

Johnny's hands are on your thighs and then beneath your skirt in a moment.

"Johnny!"

"Is this for me? You don't have to. You know I like a good adventure through the woods."

"Johnny!" you say again, slapping his arm playfully as his fingers lightly squeeze, making your squirm in his grasp.

"Was this on my dime?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"Oh, aye. Am I gonna find an unknown charge?"

"With a tip. A large tip. My waxer deserved it. He did a good job."

"Oh, they—he?"

"Yes. That a problem?"

Johnny's hands don't retreat but he's staring at you—hard. You arch an eyebrow and he finally speaks. "Your waxer is a man?"

No.

"Yes."

Johnny nods and then he leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m—”

“I saw your location. I checked it out. They don’t have a single male employee in that place.”

Your face grows hot.

Johnny’s hands squeeze a bit harder, and then he lands a brief smack against the curve of your ass. “Lying to me, love?” Johnny tsks. He palms the curve of your ass where it stings. “Suppose I should punish you.”

“Maybe you should.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You reject the call and clutch your phone to your chest. You've messed up. Royally. Pranking Simon is always a terrible idea.

The texts were just a tease. Just a way to push Simon’s buttons.

I have a new waxer.

I thought it would be one of the other ladies.

But no!

It was a guy!

Your phone buzzes again and you nearly throw it across the room. It’s Simon. You decline the call. Everything is quiet for a few brief seconds before a text message from him comes through.

Answer your phone.

You click out a reply.

I'm in the car!

His reply comes instantly.

You're at home. I know your location.

Another incoming call. This one you answer.

"Simon,” you say flatly.

"What location did you go to?" he asks, voice rough with tension.

"Why?" you counter.

"What's his name?" he snaps.

"I know what you're doing, Simon.”

You always forget just how deep his possessive streak goes.

Silence. Then, "I just want to talk."

"Simon.”

He growls your name in warning.

"You don't need to go there. Just...come home. You can see the results for yourself."

He sighs. "I'll be there in ten. Be ready for me."

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @cherryofdeath @ferns-fics

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[tinyfantasminha]

I don't want to keep clogging my blog with vent posts but uh... I guess this is a more general concern/observation

But it's getting real hard to stay motivated in fandom spaces when there's little compensation, and annoying occurrences are more frequent than good ones.

Mainly there's been less engagement/people showing interest in creators and their art (such as sending asks, making comments and reblogging with tags) and MORE parasocial interactions. This goes for both artists and writers.

Over this year I've noticed a vast disinterest within my public in general. Asks about ocs, my art, or just nice simple comments of ''I love your art'' has been getting more and more scarce. My follower number is bigger than 2-3 years ago sure and I get more likes on my posts but they are feeling more like just numbers and statistics than actual people who supposedly like my stuff.

And while people being parasocial with creators has always been a thing, I feel like it's gotten way worse... in general? People sending personal pictures out of the blue in hopes of being validated, unwanted psychological advice or assumptions about the creator without any established connection first ( <- these happened to me in the same week.) ventdump, just insensitive/lacking of common sense comments in general, unreasonable demands (mostly with writers)... I wondered at first if it was just me, but a handful of mutuals/acquaintances who are artists and writers seems to be going through it as well.

It's annoying. It's tough. It's getting exhausting. Creators pour so much of themselves into their work—countless hours, effort, and passion, all to share something meaningful or entertaining with others (and for FREE) The LEAST anyone can do is show respect, even if opinions differ. When a writer posts a fanfic, don't just say ''omg post next chapter!'', when an artist posts a drawing of their favorite character, don't just say ''omg draw (character) next!'' as if they're faceless content machines that are expected to churn out more '''content''' for you without acknowledgment, encouragement, or appreciation.

''I want to support creators but I don't know what to say and I feel intimidated by their talent so I just lurk silently :((('' I swear to you, no creator (at least not the majority) is making up an intimidating persona to discourage you from interacting with them. They WANT your comments. A single ''I love your art/writing/videos'' or even something as silly as ''I want to eat your art'' is enough to keep a creator sighing dreamily for WEEKS. It doesn't have to be deep! It's heartfelt and that's what it matters!! (Just remember to keep it relevant and thoughtful... It takes just a bit of common sense NOT to comment things like ''this looks like (another character)'' or ''this but with (another unrelated ship/character/show)''. No one wants to hear comparisons or unrelated ideas when they’ve poured their soul into something.)

In fact, the ''I like your art but I think you're intimidating'' feels more hurtful than flattering. It makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, acting wrong. 💀

If you love that fanfic that changed your brain psyche forever and want to gush about it, go tell the writer. If you loved so much a piece of art that you saved it a million times in your phone and can't stop thinking about it, go tell the artist. Push away the ''they probably won't care about my comment/it won't make a difference'' thoughts. DO IT NOW. You won't know when they might go inactive forever or deactivate. You can't know if that is the last piece they will ever post. Make sure you show appreciation to creators NOW, while they are still here. While they're still not being replaced by AI.

[beomboomboom]

Cheater

genre: fluff, established relationship, crack

pairing: Jeonghan x reader

summary: Jeonghan knows his every kiss has the ability to steal your breath away and make you forget absolutely everything but him. And of course he'll use this to his full advantage, how could he not?

warnings: a little bit of swearing, kissing?

note: writer's block is a struggle 😭😭 idk why it took me like a literal month to write this. If you have any recs or asks feel free to send them to me! I'm in desperate need of some inspiration 😭. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this fic!!

Deciding to play a game of Monopoly with your boyfriend was definitely a mistake.

For one, you were losing at an embarrassingly fast pace. Your character having landed on Jeonghan's properties way too many times to count, forcing you to fork over money you didn't even have in the first place. The money in the bank was also suspiciously low, the stacks of bills smaller than you initially remembered.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan was doing amazing, much to your distaste. He didn't have much money, but at the same time he somehow conjured up some whenever he needed it. Everything was going well for him—suspiciously well.

"Your turn," Jeonghan announces with a confident smirk as he passes the dice over to you.

"I got this," you mutter to yourself while praying to whatever god is out there that luck be your on side for once. Jeonghan watches with a mischievous but fond look on his face; it's adorable the way you're so invested in a game that was doomed for you from the start.

You toss the dice out onto the table, groaning immediately when you see the result.

You landed on Jeonghan's property.

Again.

Meaning you're the one forking over money to Jeonghan, the one person who needs the money the least, as you sank closer and closer to straight-up bankruptcy. Jeonghan's hand immediately shoots out, a smug smirk is plastered on his face, silently demanding you to hand over what little money you have left.

"Your turn," you grumble, handing over the dice to Jeonghan with a defeated sigh.

Jeonghan rolls the dice. He's so close to winning, and he knows it. You're on the edge of bankruptcy and all he needs to do is push you a little more. All he needs to do is survive a few more turns and the win will be his. Jeonghan is confident he's going to win.

Jeonghan's confident smirk is quickly wiped off his face when he sees where his character lands after rolling the dice.

Jeonghan isn't going to win anytime soon.

He's going to fucking jail.

"HAH," you yell with a triumphant grin. "GO TO JAIL YOU SUCKER"

Jeonghan's mouth opens then closes without a sound; this was not something he anticipated happening. "Fine, i'll pay my way out," he finally responds after a moment, quickly returning to his confident and calm composure.

"If you want to pay your way out, then hand over the money," you say with a smirk, already knowing it's game over for him. "I'm kidding, that wasn't even an option, you only have 20 dollars left."

You watch with a laugh as Jeonghan's eyes widen in realization at his unfortunate luck. He was so close—so close to winning, and in a flash he wasn't. "Hah, better luck ne-"

You're cut off when Jeonghan smashes his lips against yours, taking your breath away. The monopoly game fades into the background and all you can think about is Jeonghan. Jeonghan. Jeonghan. His soft lips on yours, his gentle hands caressing your face, his mischievous eyes memorizing every inch of your face.

Then, just as quickly as it starts, it ends.

"Okay, here's the money. Now get me out of jail," Jeonghan says with a sweet smile after breaking off the kiss, 50 dollars suddenly appearing in the palm of his hand.

"Hey-," you shout in accusation, the realization that Jeonghan has been stealing from the bank this entire time dawning to you. "You cheater-"

Before you can say anymore, you're cut off with another kiss from Jeonghan, taking away your breath like his kisses always do.

After all, it's Jeonghan, your cute and mischievous but cheater of a boyfriend. Of course his every kiss will take away your breath and make you forget absolutely everything but him, and of course he'll use this to his full advantage.

"I won," Jeonghan whispers with a smile into your ear, smiling wider when you don't respond and simply press another gentle kiss onto his lips.

[thigholstercas]

So I wanted to have all these parts of scripts that I love with destiel moments that were erased, changed, or added context in one place. Bare in mind that there are some that are Production Drafts and others Writer's Drafts, and so on.

4x02 - Are you there, God? It's me, Dean Winchester

Oh honey, he's gonna be your husband

Honestly, I'm just putting this here because I love this scene.

5x04 - The End

Cas received the order to follow Dean's commands once, and he sticked to it up 'til the end of everything.

7x17 - Born again identity

Just remember, this was after everything that happened in season 6 and widow!dean arc 1.0

Forward to Cas' speech in 15x18, yes the parallels.

Swear this is a whole Dean thesis. If we go back to what started this whole thing in tmwwbk. Dean tells Cas, we can fix this. And he never stopped wanting to fix it.

8x17 - Goodby Stranger

Like, I know they established that it didn't make sense for Dean to say I love you here, which fair, and we ended up which I need you (somehow worse).

But if we look at this as a whole, what Dean might understand is that saying I love you makes people leave him. Fastforward to the part when Dean takes the sigils so Cas can find him and Naomi visits and tells him that Cas doesn't return his feelings. Fastforward again to the You didn't trust me because even if we get to know that it was hard for Cas to leave with the tablet, away from Dean, Dean doesn't. For Dean, he left him, without even acknowledging that he loves/needs him, ignored him, and didn't trust him. Imagine you say I love you and you are left feeling abandoned, betrayed, and angry.

8x19 - Taxi Driver

This in the middle of I love you, and You didn't trust me is something

8x22 - Clip show

The one guy that's always had your back.

9x22 - Stairway to Heaven

Don't know what they smoked to write this, but I want some

10x23 - Brother's Keeper

You'll see the word shattered used a lot. This very much both destiel and drowley imo.

Season 12 is weirdly filled with these, so here are special mentions (because the max of pictures is 30 and there are too many moments). Most likely, it has to do with the market research by the end of 2016, which is why from 12-15, these scenes are more emotionally charged.

Mary saying Good friend when Dean and Cas hug in 12x01

Cas told Mary I promised (Dean) when they were talking outside the barn before going in to help Dean save Sam in 12x02

Dean telling Mary Get him outta here! when Cas was wounded in 12x12. And of course, when Cas says the things they have shared changed him (but that's on screen)

Cas texts? from 12x16

Dean is a worried husband on 12x18.

Dean explaining that no matter how much Cas messed up, did the wrong thing, or every dumb move he got it in 12x20. Cas was always Cas.

12x10 - Lily Sunder has some regrets

Dean telling Cas he has changed, and it has all been for the good. Again, forward to 15x18.

12x19 - The Future

This whole episode is charged with scenes from Dean and Cas. Like you have the angry Welcome home from Dean when Cas returns from Heaven. Dean calls Cas a super strong dude in a trenchcoat. The mixtape scene with the That was a gift. To keep. And Dean softening a bit even if he's angry because he's more worried.

But I think the biggest one is this one. The destiel sex scene (jk)

And after this, even though it is said in the show. There is more insistence from Dean to not let go of Cas -> We're not gonna let you just walk away. Not again. Not happening.

12x23 - All Along the Watchtower

The word shattered is mentioned a lot in the scripts. This is every part that describes Dean's reactions after losing Cas. Forward to 15x18.

13x06 - Tombstone

This is one of the best things that never happened in the show. You have Dean choking down his emotions saying he's much better now and Cas who fought with the empty with everything he had in 13x04 to return to Dean, coming to a meadow near a windmill because Dean thought he'd like it.

13x14 - Good Intentions

Forget about the in love part. They are best friends, and we didn´t get this.

13x20 - Unfinished Business

He lost Cas and it damn near broke him. Not we lost Cas, I.

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

Losing Dean was unacceptable. Cas said that losing Dean was unacceptable. And Dean got emotional. And then forward to 15x18, Cas just goes no, Dean can't die because that'd be unacceptable to me, so i'll sacrifice. And then, Dean gets emotional. Again. But for Dean, the unacceptable happened.

15x09 - The Trap

Forward to 15x20. In this future that Chuck showed Sam that he lost Dean the second Cas was gone.

Have I said how much they used the word shattered. Anyway, Dean wanted Cas to stay. That's his best friend.

He's amazing.

15x18 - Despair

This is not that different from what it was filmed, it is just that seeing it described makes it different. Especially when you get things as Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester, Dean is emotional, stunned, shocked. And have I said how much they used the word shattered. Also, you can see how it starts as a confession because Cas is confessing that he made a deal, but then it ends as a declaration, a declaration of love. Which makes testament such a good word for it.

15x19 - Inherit the Earth

The fact that Dean couldn't say Cas was gone

He's not the ultimate killer. He's not daddy's blunt instrument. He's someone who raised his little brother for love, who fought for the world for love and the most caring man on Earth

15x20 - Carry On

We don't talk about this episode because the script has way too many [omitted] but this is exactly what happened in 15x09 when Chuck showed their future to Sam if they followed the road they were taking.

Okay, that was it. Probably missed some, but for me, these are the parts that stand out.

[doraminatook]

I wrote a spec script for Good Omens.

This past week, I was out to coffee with a friend of mine and we got to talking about writing (as we often do). She has more of a television/movie background while I have more of a theatre background.

In the midst of our discussion, she brought something called a "spec script". When asked what exactly that was, she explained (at least in terms of television), it's an unprompted and uncommissioned script written for an already established show. The purpose is to help demonstrate a writer's ability to match the style, format, and voice of a show they didn't create.

Immediately, I said, "That just sounds like fanfiction!"

(Obviously, it's not, but I enjoyed the parallels nonetheless.)

So, of course, I had to write a spec script. (Season 3, episode 1 of Good Omens.)

Let it be known that I did not do this in the hopes of joining the writing team as I know Neil has that MORE than covered. I just did it for fun, but I'm really proud of it and I hope you head on over to AO3 and take a look at it.

Probably too many swear words. Probably too much AziraCrow too quickly. Probably too blasphemous. Definitely wonky formatting.

But I had fun! And that's what fanfic is all about.

[homunculus-argument]

I'm starting to think that one way that'd make The Book That I'm Not Working On actually work would be switching the POV character. While the original protagonist is somewhat chaotic neutral batshit bastard, his best friend is the one who's there to witness a lot more of the plot.

While the original plan of explaining the protagonist's situation from the start, establishing from the first scene who he is and what he's up to worked, it'd be so much funnier to tell everything from the One Sane Man's perspective. Poor guy was already not happy with his friends getting tangled into this sketchy damn underground political movement, and on top of that his idiot best friend who is a lunatic and a pathological liar with zero sense of self-preservation has been missing for months.

And then This Fucking Idiot shows up again, in the house of the conspirators, as their honoured guest, dressed like a fucking lord, and apparently they genuinely believe that this idiot actually is that one infamous genius outlaw baron that everyone's talking about, who has a massive bounty on his head. This fearless idiot and recreational liar, who always tells a different story about how he got his strange blue eye (one involved a talking horse), and when he's drunk enough will swear on his life that he walked on water when he was a child.

This guy. Barking mad Foxtrap-Todd. And now he's there, surrounded by people meddling in very dangerous waters, who are convinced that he is this famous revolution writer heavily invested in overthrowing the government. And then this motherfucker just says

"oh hi man, haven't seen you in a while. Please don't say anything, this time I really am what they're claiming I am - kind of - and they'll kill me if they think I'm lying."

[hobvitr]

Spider Noir x reader pretty please??

spider noir x reader

gn!reader

genre/warnings: domestic fluff, established relationship, marriage talk, unrevised writing

note: thank you for the request! i was wanting to do something for noir! and I'm here asking to all of you to be your favorite domestic fluff writer because i'm a sucker for that genre. i swear. recommended song: from the start - laufey

sinopses: you two cuddle at home watching some romcom while a storm is pouring outside.

the rain was pouring hard outside your apartment, a big storm roaming the city while you were alone, trying to watch something on tv to distract yourself from the so close thunders. of course peter weren't home yet from the patrolling, your mind full with worry even tho he was spiderman, he isn't immune to catch a cold. as your mind was full with him, you listen to the window opening and closing almost instantaneously.

sure the sound came from the bedroom, you go towards it, seeing peter completely drenched from the rain. "sorry for the mess, darling" his deep voice like a melody to your ears, even though you literally lived on the same house it still made you flustered. "I'll only accept your sorry if you don't catch a cold, handsome" as you adressed him, he took of his mask, hair disheveled and Impossibly fluffy. you could see the slight blush from your praise, he placed his round glasses on the bridge of his nose and took off his coat and throwing it and his suit on the empty laundry basket.

"can you help me get warm then?" he suggested, dressing some cozy clothes. you giggle, the domestic moment making your heart all warm. "only 'cause you asked so nicely". you hug him from behind but he is fast to turn and hug you back. "bed or couch?" he asks, chin pressed on the top of your head "couch".

you bring a blanket but peter was doing most of the job by lying on top of you, head resting on your chest and arms holding your middle. you two spend a brief time watching whatever romcom on tv until you feel him tense above you.

"what's wrong?" you ask, hand caressing his hair, the scene on the screen was a marriage proposal and you almost instantly made the connection. he didn't reply, so you instigate him. "do you want to marry someday?" at this point you didn't give a shit to the romcom, you only had eyes for peter.

"maybe... do you?" he looks up at you, sounding a bit worried. you could swear he right now was the most beautiful view you've ever seen. "maybe..." you said, looking away with a soft smile on your lips.

you feel him shifting and getting closer to your face, showering your jaw and neck with little kisses, making you giggle. "if i get to call you my husband you will do this every day?" you ask half playfully, holding his face with both your hands for him to look at you.

"more than once a day, doll, i swear" he smiles to you, hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "fair enough" you nod, pulling foward his face for a kiss on his lips. "I'm looking foward to being proposed" you tease him, and he starts to get up to do exactly it. "no- no peter, not now" you laugh and stop him, making him lay on top of you again.

[cosmerelists]

If Stormlight Characters Read The Stormlight Archive

As requested by @imtheseventh :)

Let's say Stormlight Characters got their hands on The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson--you know, the book written about all of their lives. What would they think of Sanderson's depiction of them?

[SPOILERS FOR STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE THROUGH RHYTHM OF WAR!]

1. Navani

Navani: Say, Dalinar... Navani: Why is Evi's name replaced by Shshsh in all of your POV chapters? Dalinar: ... Dalinar: Ah, so here's the thing...

2. Adolin

Adolin: Shallan, wait! Adolin: This is feeling like a flashback chapter about your life. Adolin: Don't read it to me. It feels weird to find out this way. Adolin: I'd rather wait until you're ready to tell me. Shallan: Ah, so you want to stop listening whenever my past comes up? Shallan: That's exactly what I used to do! High five! Adolin: I don't Adolin: I don't know that this is a high-five moment.

3. Shallan

Shallan: L-Listen, Jasnah... Shallan: I SWEAR I was neither thinking about nor looking at your boobs quite as much as the book makes it sound.. Shallan: I think this Sanderson guy was just projecting! Jasnah: I believe you, Shallan. Shallan: Y-You do? Jasnah: I have to assume he wanted to establish my beauty but felt that it would be less salacious to have it filtered through another woman's perspective. Shallan: Y-Yeah, that makes sense... Jasnah: After all, if you loved my boobs that much, I don't know why you sat there and doodled Captain Kaladin instead of them... Shallan: WHELP TIME TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT

4. Syl

Syl: ... Kaladin: Hey, are you okay? You seem...down. Kaladin: And are you wearing trousers?? Syl: Was...was there something wrong in how I dressed? Kaladin: No? What do you mean? Syl: Like, was it immature? Kaladin: No? Syl: Then why does this Brandon guy call my dress "girlish" like 19 billion times?!? Hoid: Oh, don't worry about that! Writers get weirdly fixated on words! At least you weren't always doing things maladroitly, ha! Syl: ...What? Hoid: Whoops wrong series!

5. Gaz

Gaz: Look...I know I wasn't the Almighty's most perfect guy, but.. Gaz: Could he maybe have written me as slightly LESS of the embodiment of a sniveling cremling?? Gaz: Like, give a guy a break! Vathah: What, too much realism for a fantasy? Gaz: You shut up!

6. Sadeas

Sadeas: I was so upset...so flabbergasted...when Dalinar outmaneuvered me in that disadvantaged duel... Sadeas: But it was all just LUCK?! Sadeas: He didn't maneuver for SHIT! Sadeas: He just happened to have EVERY SINGLE PERSON WITH SUPERPOWERS on his side and they were ALL stupid enough to get INVOLVED Sadeas: It's so much worse now!!! Ialai: At least their dark-eyed captain ruined it at the end. Sadeas: Ugh, yeah, thank the stars for THAT.

7. Kaladin

Kaladin: I actually hate this. Lyn: Why? Kaladin: Hearing about all my friends dying...again...having my actions framed as some type of "heroism"... Kaladin: T-That guy writes me like I'm the hero! Lyn: ...I am fairly certain that you are. Kaladin: Ughhhh...

8. Lirin & Hesina

The Way of Kings sits before them Hesina: ... Lirin: ... Hesina: ... Lirin: ... Hesina: Do you want to go & cry forever over our boys? Lirin: Yes please.

9. Moash

Moash: Wow. Moash: After hearing all about King Elhokar from the perspective of the people who actually like him... Moash: I gotta say... Moash: I was totally right! Moash: That guy is SUCH an asshole!

10. Dalinar

Dalinar: ... Dalinar: ... Dalinar: ... Dalinar: I just can't believe that he STOLE Nohadon’s TITLE.

11. (!) Bonus Vin

Vin: KELSIER WHAT THE HELL

[biteyoubiteme]

i keep thinking about a snowy winter with yeonkai, fireplace, cozy patterned rugs and blankets, christmas themed mugs filled with hot chocolate and marshmallows, baking christmas cookies (but icing and flour ends up all over the kitchen), matching pajamas!!

i am stressed with school and this scenario is calming me down. it seemed cute and i wanted to share it with my fav writer 💗

cozy holiday sfw yeonkai x reader thoughts

warnings: sfw, throuple/poly, established relationship, no mxm, just cozy christmas/holiday vibes.

wc: 0.4k

an: stop you're the sweetest omg and I hope you get a good rest in with any upcoming breaks you have. I swear you could hear me just turning on the chirstmas music today- I love your cozy yeonkai thoughts and I hope you like this <333 [m.list]

It's the coziest time of the year for your shared apartment. Pulling out the accumulated Christmas decorations the three of you have collected over the years of spending the holiday together. Planning out exactly what Christmas pajamas the three of you will order, knowing that yeonjun in particular loves to wear the pants year round to bed so the decision is very serious. 

The three of you mutually agree to try and go as long as you can without turning the heater on fully, keeping it just warm enough so that you won't freeze but you won't feel smothered in heat when the fireplace is burning. But it's mostly an excuse to cuddle, “I'm so cold,” yeonjun will pout even sitting right on the floor next to the heat, arms open and waiting for you. The bed and couch decked out in all the holiday throw pillows and blankets. Wrapping up together under them, sandwiched between the two of them in bed, warming up cold feet under your flannel sheets. 

Every year you three buy a gingerbread house and struggle to put it together, frosting-covered fingerprints decorating all of your cheeks, and tips of your noses. Warmed hot chocolate dotted with little marshmallows, passed around every time you three sit to watch silly holiday movies on the tv. Playing classics and the cheesy hallmark movies that huening says he doesn't like but always finds himself smiling over. “He was a prince the whole time!” “Kai this is basically the same plot as the last one. How did you not see it coming?” “I was distracted by the cute romance,” 

The three of you trying to bake cookies, a tradition you uphold to give them out to your friends. And one batch is always somehow burned and needs to be redone after you all get distracted. But it's hard to listen to the timer when you're singing Christmas songs, dancing around the kitchen in your socked feet, slipping on the spilled flour that somehow got everywhere. Giggling when you pull out the forgotten sheet pan to see that the dough had spread your little sugar cookie people into burnt-edged blobs. 

Decorating the cookies that turned out well, Kai and yeonjun always make cookies of each other and ask you to judge who did better. Sprinkles are just everywhere by the end of the night. Yeonjun always swipes his frosting covered thumb over your bottom lip just to say, “Oh you've got a little something right there, let me get it for you,” kissing away sweetness. Kai smiles so wide when you dot every freckle on his face with a spot of frosting just to kiss it all away.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[that-weeb-in-ur-closet]

"Get my cake, and eat it, too."

✨️It's a requested Dazai smut✨️

✧—Incl. Dazai smut, Dazai × F!reader, kitchen sex, dirty talk, fingering, not established relationship, ADA Dazai,uses of the word "mama", "Mommy", and "Daddy".

ღ—Note from the author. Yeah, I'm ᴬⁿⁿⁱᵉ the anime smut writer. First time writing for Dazai, so I hope u like this, ya little weirdos and weebs.

You and Dazai have known each other for a long time. Before the Port Mafia, worked with each other in the middle of it, and now are partners in the Armed Detective Agency.

It sounds like you'd be best friends, right? Well, yeah, pretty much. But it's hard to be friends with Dazai. He's always clinging to your waist, hugging you always flirting, staying at your house, sitting on your lap at work. He's a man-child, really.

Today is no different.

"Why don't we sneak away to your apartment, mamas?" He whispers into your ear, hugging you from behind. The other detectives don't even bat an eye anymore from how commonly this happens.

"Y'know, why the fuck not. I have nothing to do today anyway." You say with a shrug.

And that's where you two are, upstairs and in the kitchen of your apartment. You facing the refrigerator and him leaning against the counter behind you.

"You hungry—"

"Yes."

He immediately cuts you off when you ask, staring at the small gap between your thighs with eyes half-lidded. You look over your shoulder to see him now sitting on the counter, still staring.

"Jeez, okay... You wanna eat som—"

"Yes."

He fully cuts you off this time, hopping off the counter and softly touching your hips, touch feather light as he glides his fingers down your waist and to your thighs, gently squeezing the inner part of them.

"You think I could eat some of you? I'm really hungry for some reason..." He whispers into your ear, leaving gentle bites and licks along your neck.

"You promised this wouldn't happen, Osamu..." You say with a sigh but lean into his touch nonetheless. He smirks into your skin when you call him his first name, hands gently pulling your shorts and panties down at the same time.

"Come on, mama... You look too pretty not to eat... Just, let me have a snack?" He giggles, finger softly tracing your clit while the other one moves up and back to your waist.

"O-Osamu... You—" A soft moan cuts you off when he slides one finger into your tight little hole, digits pressing against the perfect spots to make you whimper.

"O-Osamu~ Fuck... Faster, p-please..." You whine, and you have him pressing his hard-on against your ass. "Yes, ma'am. "

He starts to go a bit faster, adding another finger while he lets go of your hip and starts to take off his pants, kissing your neck while you shiver and moan.

"D-d— FUCK— D-Dazai~♡…! Please..."

"Please what?" He asks, finally getting his pants and boxers off. He softly takes out his finger which you complain about, but you quickly stop when he replaces it with his cock.

"GAH- D-D-DADDY, FUCK~!!!" You scream out a moan, eyes rolling back into your head as you grab the kitchen island for support.

"Hmm~ Mommy, you're taking m-me so well..." He grunts into the back of your neck, sliding his hands up your shirt and holding your waist tightly.

You arch your back even more and he swears under his breath, sweat forming and sticking his hair to his forehead. He roughly slaps your ass to see the flesh move beneath him, and you scream out another breathy moan of pleasure.

"D-daddy... T-too GOOD— Please~♡ More..." Tears start to roll down your cheek from sheer pleasure, legs shaking as a bit of drool slips from your mouth.

"More, huh, pretty mama..." He grunts, rolling his hips faster and faster with each passing second. He lets out a small moan before he gives up on fighting it back and screams out just as loud as you.

"Dazai~…! I-I'm c-c—" You stutter out, but it was too late. A load of his and your cum shoots out, his long and hot ropes filling you to the brim while yours coats his dick in a shiny, milky substance.

"Awe... You could've had that in your mouth, mommy..." He whines, pouting like the man-child he is.

"Yeah? Well, you didn't fucking eat me. Just shoved your dick inside me."

"You're complaining?"

"Yes."

"Then I guess I'll just have to honor my word and eat out out."

"Wai—" "Too late."

(... Rampo heard everything from downstairs, rip.)

[megamindsecretlair]

Foolish

*Heed warnings*

Pairing: Jatemme Manning x Bratty!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, Filth, cursing, PIV, size kink, mentions of violence, gun use, drug use, brat reader. Reader does get turned on by violence, if this disturbs you click away. All consensual. Established relationship. Heavy use of n-word.

Summary: You are tired of being Jatemme's arm candy. Forever guarded and without 100% of his attention. As the race for Alderman heats up, you're at a fundraising event when you grow bored and decide to test Jatemme's devotion.

Word Count: 3,494k

A/N: I was a little unhinged writing this, so it was written in a bit of a daze. Please let me know what ya'll think about this one. I can't find the ask where people expressed interest so don't be mad at me if I didn't tag you! I'm sorry! I'm also not married to the moodboard, so it might change. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @browngirldominion @sageispunk @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @blackerthings

You were bored. Just because you told your man to leave you alone, didn’t mean you actually wanted him to do it. Why couldn’t niggas ever listen? What’s so hard to understand? “Leave you alone” obviously meant to give you attention?

You were at a fancy event for Jatemme’s brother, Jamal, who was running for Alderman. Snooze fest. Jatemme promised that you weren’t going to be here long. That you’d only have to sit like a doll for an hour tops, before he took you shopping and out to eat.

One hour turned to three and you were still sitting at Jamal’s table, surrounded by Jatemme’s crew while Jamal and Jatemme did business. You scanned the room for your man but didn’t find him. 

You did see Jamal who was hard to miss. He was the type to walk into the room like he owned it and as if everyone owed him money for it. Jatemme was quieter, but deadlier. He instantly drew you in with his sleepy eyes, soft umber skin, and intense presence. His darkness called to something within you and never let go. 

The relationship wasn’t without its up and downs. You liked to keep him on his toes. Get him to have a little fun. He always followed in Jamal’s shadow when it was Jatemme that did most of the work. Most of the planning. Most of the ideas. 

You sighed, loudly once more, and turned briefly to your table to sip your nasty ass champagne. Fucking politicians. Pretending like they weren’t all into something dirty, getting over on the little guy. Namely Black folk. 

Jatemme’s crew gave you funny looks. They knew better than to touch you or stare too hard. But you often caught them looking at your body and your too short dresses. They also hated your attitude. Jatemme made you swear to stop messing with them. It was hard to find good help when you were constantly flirting with them and he was constantly killing them over it.

Maybe that was Jatemme’s problem. Now that Jamal was running for Alderman, there was a public scrutiny on the family business. Jatemme doesn’t have free rein to do as he pleased now. Go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted. 

You sighed once more and checked your phone. You texted your best friends in your group chat, that you were bored and in desperate need of fun.  Misty immediately texted you back and told you to meet them at a club not too far from there. That was exactly what you needed. 

You looked over at the crew of four burly men and stood up. One of the them, Martin, stood up as well prepared to follow you. “No need, Marty, I’m just going to the little girl’s room,” you said and smiled sweetly. 

Martin gave you a blank stare. He adjusted the suit jacket over his thick arms and put his hands in his pockets. “You know the rules,” he said. 

You kept your sweet smile, knowing that your lips were glossed just so to catch the light overhead. That your champagne colored dress hugged your figure just right. The night was young and you were wasting it by being arm candy. 

“You gonna follow me into the bathroom and hold my purse too? I don’t think Jay would like that,” you sang. 

Martin looked towards the other men who looked everywhere but at him. They did not want that particular smoke. Decisions, decisions. Martin cleared his throat. “Come right back,” he said. 

You smiled. “Of course. You all act like I’m not an angel,” you said. The men wisely didn’t comment. You turned and sashayed out of the room, already done with the entire night. You didn’t see your man and you didn’t care at the moment. 

You waited until you left the hotel ballroom before pulling out your phone. You ordered an Uber on your way out to the front. People from the reception had spilled out into the hallway, discussing things that they didn’t want others overhearing, even by accident. 

You passed by stick figure women in dark red, blue, or black dresses, pointy shoes, and stiff upper lips. You passed by men in their penguin suits, pretending to give a shit. The total wealth combined in the room could help everyone in the Ward but they held onto it like gremlins. 

It made you sick.

You went outside, shivering slightly from the bite of cold. When your Uber arrived, you didn’t even look back towards the hotel. It was almost criminal how easy it was to slip your chains. Further proof that this shit was getting stale and you might be headed towards another break from Jatemme. Let him sit and stew over what he would miss before he came crawling back with gifts, kisses, and that big dick of his. 

You grinned as you texted Misty that you were on your way. She texted back with plenty of emojis, some of them skulls, because she already knew that Jatemme was going to blow his lid. Let him.

It didn’t take long to reach the rougher areas of Chicago. Almost literally down the street from the glitterati, the houses weren’t as nice. The grass not so green. Fences and bars on the windows. Corner boys selling dope in baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts. 

The club was set back from the street to allow for a little more parking. You got out and Misty met you outside. She hugged you with many squeals and jumping up and down. “Slipped the doom patrol?” She asked. 

Misty was gorgeous, with deep, dark skin and microbraids twisted into two buns atop her head. She was a thick, curvy girl who was always quick with a laugh. She immediately ushered you inside. You turned off your phone. Make Jay sweat a little bit. 

You spent the entire night dancing with your girls and getting drunk on your favorite drink. All of the songs were hitting, back to back. A mix of 2000s and 2010s music. The good shit that demanded you dance right this instant. 

Plenty of dusty ass niggas tried to pull you into a dance and you pushed them all away. It cost to put hands on you. It cost to be in your presence. Ain’t nobody getting shit for free. 

By the time the club called for last drinks, you were tapped out. You were not wearing the proper shoes for dancing in the club. You were shocked that you lasted as long as you did. And yeah, you missed your man. You were a little drink, a lot horny, and you just wanted to be fucked at this point and put to sleep. 

You walked out, hanging onto your friends. One of them, Kiki, was the lightweight. She was dragged between two friends while she muttered something. You giggled and walked with them to their car. 

Rounding the corner, there were a group of guys passing a joint between them. They wolf-whistled as you passed by. One of them sure was fine. Tall, bald, with a thick luscious beard that covered the lower half of his face. You wondered what he’d look like with your juices dripping from it. 

You didn’t condone cheating. But if you were on a break…

You smiled at him as you passed, tossing your hair over your shoulders. “Gahh damn, lil mama, where you headed?” He asked.

You giggled and kept walking with your girls. It was nice to be wanted. You turned your phone on while your friends tried to get Kiki into the car and not entertaining the men by the building. 

As it turned on, messages flew in with loud dings and flashes across your screen. You had…quite a lot of missed calls from Jatemme. Angry texts too. You appreciated that he never called you out of your name when he was angry, but he had plenty of other colorful ways to show his displeasure. Like calling you by your real name. Ew. 

He was good and pissed that you left. That your phone was off. He promised hell, fire, and damnation when he finally caught up to you. You pictured him driving around fuming. His sleepy eyes narrowed even further. The cute way his nostrils would flare and the vein that pulsed in his neck. 

You were getting wet just thinking about it. The sex would be immaculate tonight. You sighed dreamily as you went through his unhinged text messages. 

“Bitch! Help? Hello?” Misty called out. You giggled and moved towards the car, pushing at Kiki’s big ass head to get into the car. Misty slammed the door in her face and sighed as if she’d been wrestling a bear. 

She faced you with a small grin before her eyes darted behind you. The sexy bald headed man approached you, licking his lips and looking you up and down. He held out his hand when he was near enough. 

“I had to come introduce myself,” he said.

“I appreciate that. But I’m too high-maintenance for you, boo,” you said. You flirted with the idea of being responsible for another man’s death, but he was too cute to sacrifice for your own dastardly enjoyment. There were so few, gorgeous Black men these days. The 90s had all the fine men. They were long gone now. God just wasn’t building them like that no more. 

“I like a little high-maintenance,” he said. 

You laughed. Said no man ever. “I’m the type to empty accounts,” you said and smiled. 

“I got several. Pick one,” he said. He looked you in the eye as he said it and made you reevaluate him as a whole. He was dressed nice in dark plaid slacks, black polo, with a big watch on his wrist. Nothing too flashy, but enough that it convinced you he wasn’t another broke nigga. 

You were considering his offer, wondering how you could prove that he was for real and not just trying to get into your panties. Squealing tires tore your gaze away from the man as you saw Jatemme’s truck flip a bitch into oncoming traffic and speed into the parking lot. 

“Shit. You better run before my man catch you talking to me,” you said, though he probably already saw you. 

“I ain’t scared,” the man said. Bless his little heart. 

“Nigga, I’m trynna protect you. Leave, now,” you said, shooing him away from you and your girls. Maybe you could convince Jatemme that the man was trying to flirt with Misty. You turned behind you, but Misty held her hands up.

“I ain’t trynna die for your Black ass,” she said. 

“Bitch!” You screamed, but you couldn’t stay serious for long. You grinned and shook your head. Before the truck had a chance to come to a full stop, Jatemme and crew hopped out, grabbing guns from their waistbands. 

“They got guns!” Someone called out. The parking lot emptied with a speed only achieved in the hood. Too many people who knew the consequences of a stray bullet and weren’t trying to lose their lives over it. Some brave souls remained, peeking behind cars and around the building into the additional parking in the alleyway.

You couldn’t help it. Your thighs tingled. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Jatemme climb out of the driver’s seat with that slow, menacing gait of his. His eyes were glued on you as he walked towards you.

The cutie remained, like he would really stand in front of a bullet for you. You couldn’t give him any more warnings. You couldn’t save him from his own stupidity. Jatemme stopped a few feet in front of you.

His face was deceptively calm. He crossed his arms in front of him, Glock on display. His crew formed a formidable wall behind him. Martin sported a darkening bruise on his cheek and you only felt slightly bad for getting him into trouble. At least he was still alive. That was something. 

You bit your lip and giggled nervously. “Hi, baby,” you said. 

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked. His voice. God, you could listen to that voice recite the dictionary and you’d listen to every word. 

You shifted your footing. “Nope. Never seen this man before,” you said.

“Aye, if you’re in trouble…” The man said. Martin, being the closest, lifted his gun into the man’s face. The gun was pressed to his temple and the man audibly gulped. 

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked once more.

You looked him in the eye. “No.” 

“Get the fuck out of here,” Jatemme said to the man. The man looked at you, but you knew better than to acknowledge his presence. You heard his friends calling for him, telling him not to be a hero, not to lose his life over some bitch. 

The man backed away, keeping his eye on Martin and the shiny gun in his face. Jatemme jerked his head and you sighed, following behind him. If he was going to take you away, he was beyond angry. Maybe you actually worried him this time. That wasn’t your intention. You wanted to scare him a little, not worry him. 

You waved goodbye to your friends. They shot you alarmed glances, but you told them that Jatemme never raised a hand to you. Never. He liked getting his revenge in other ways.

He opened the door for you and you climbed into the front seat. He got into the driver’s seat, peeling away from the club so fast, he probably sprayed everyone with rocks and gravel. He didn’t speak. He drove through the quiet streets, heading back towards the hotel you escaped from.

“Baby–”

Jatemme held up a hand like he didn’t want to hear it. You bit your lip. You really stepped in it now. Was it bad that you were turned on? Punishment shouldn’t be this exciting and yet, your mind raced through what he had planned. How he was going to show that he cared for you. 

He pulled to the front of the hotel and tossed the valet his keys. The gun was tucked away into his jeans. Fancy events didn’t mean he had to be the one who dressed up. He did have a clean, sky blue shirt buttoned to the very top. He opened the door and let you out. 

He didn’t speak while he pushed you inside, the event well and truly over by now. He didn’t speak as you rode the elevator in crushing silence and velvet flooring muffling your heels. He didn’t speak as he got out onto the twelfth floor, leading you to a suite you didn’t know he got for the night. 

Once inside, you gasped. There was a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket. Low lighting made the room glow like looking through a piece of glass at twilight. “You did all this for me?” You asked.

“If you would have behaved yourself,” he said.

The suite was big enough to have a full living room with couches and armchairs, shiny mahogany coffee table, and a wide screen TV. Behind a set of double doors, there was a bed already turned down, waiting for you to climb in. 

You pouted. Your man was so sweet sometimes, it made your heart ache. He didn’t always show this softer side. The side that liked snuggling up to trashy movies late at night, snacking in bed, and enjoying each other’s company. 

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. Enough to get his point across. You truly had worried him. 

You turned to him with an apology on your lips but he was already invading your space. He grabbed your face and pulled you into a rough kiss, slanting his lips across yours as if he meant to stake a claim. Prove a point. You belonged to him. There was no way of getting out of it. No way of running. 

You gripped onto him tightly. “I hate when you worry me like that,” he said. 

“You promised,” you whined. 

His lips returned to kissing you, looking for the zipper on your side to unzip you from the dress. When he couldn’t find it, he began to rip it with his bare hands. “Hey!”

“I’ll buy you more,” he said. His lips returned to kissing you. More like possessing you. He kissed you like he wanted to meld your bodies together to keep you by his side. This was what you needed. What you had been craving all night. 

Your bra and panties went next, baring you completely to him. He wasn’t in it to admire your body right now though. You knew him. He had been worrying about you all night and needed to see you. Feel you. Make sure that you really were in front of him and not a figment of his imagination. 

He turned you around and slapped your ass. You screamed out, jumping away from the sharp sting. He pushed you towards the deep gray couch and bent you over the back of it. It dug into your tummy but you were too turned on to notice the pain. 

He unzipped his zipper and freed himself with a low groan, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing his dick through your wet folds. Your hands feebly gripped onto the couch cushings, fingers digging into the linen. 

Once his tip was good and wet, he stuffed you and you cried out from the burn of his girthy dick pushing into you. Your eyes crossed. He felt too good to contain to a single moan. You yelled out without abandon, not caring who heard you. If the neighbors complained, Jatemme would handle that too. 

His strokes were bruising, punishing, near cruel as he slammed into you over and over. “You and this fucking attitude gon’ kill me,” he groaned. His fingers grabbed hold of your hips and slammed you back onto his dick. Like his strokes weren’t enough. Like you weren’t moving fast enough for him.

“Oh baby, oh fuck–I’m sorry!” You cried out.

“No, you not,” he said. No, you were not. You’d do everything all over again if he meant that his attention was back on you. That his hands were back on you. That his dick was inside you, spearing you, driving you to new pleasures each and every time. 

Your feet were scrambling for purchase. He didn’t care. He fucked you like you were no more than a toy to stick his dick in. One hand reached behind you to push against his chest. His shirt slipped between you so he lifted it and brought his flesh flush with yours. Then, he grabbed your outstretched hand and pulled it behind you, resting on your back while he used the new position as a new anchor. His strokes grew deeper, more desperate. 

“I catch you talking to another nigga and I’ma kill him,” Jatemme whispered harshly.

“Yes, baby,” you moaned. You’d seen him kill niggas for far less. For daring to turn their neck in your direction. He once told you that if he could blind the male population of Chicago, he would. 

“Oh fuck!” You screamed out, crying through your punishing orgasm. 

Jatemme grunted in satisfaction. “That’s your first one for the night. I hope you’re keeping count,” he said. 

“Baby, wait…” You grunted between his deep thrusts. 

“Like you made me wait tonight?” He asked. He yanked on your hair, forcing you to look back at him. You stared into his eyes while he filled you up with his cum. He came with a low, grumbling moan that shook your inner walls. 

Your mouth dropped open as his dick pulsed and twitched. Your legs were jelly, kept standing by pure force by him. His will to keep you spread open for him ensured that you were a vessel for his dick. His own personal fucktoy. 

He made you cum two more times while your neck was craned, looking back into his soulful eyes. You ran out of curse words to shout to the heavens. Your eyes ached from the way they rolled. Your essence mixed with his spend dripped down your legs in a slow river that tickled your legs.  

He finally slipped out, giving you a bit of a break. You huffed, legs shaking, arms weak. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, spreading your legs open once more. He fisted his dick, jerking the length of it while he looked at your destroyed pussy leaking with his cum.

“Hope you didn’t plan on sleeping tonight,” he said with a small grin. 

You panted with a nervous giggle. He proved throughout the rest of the night just how much he missed you and made you promise not to do it again. Well, at least not anytime soon.

The end.

There will be more! The Secret Jatemme Files

[aventurineswife]

reader confesses to Aven that they had entropy loss syndrome soon after their relationship is established. he promises to fill their remaining days with love but the angst* (i'm very sorry. love you oomf)

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you”

Summary: In a quiet moment, you confess to Aventurine that you have Entropy Loss Syndrome, a rare condition that causes you to slowly fade away as your body ages prematurely. Despite the devastating news, Aventurine promises to fill your remaining days with love and joy, vowing to make the most of every moment. As your condition worsens, Aventurine remains steadfast by your side, pouring his heart into each moment, but the heartbreaking reality of your fading existence looms over their bond.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Entropy Loss Syndrome, Terminal Illness, Love & Loss, Emotional Pain, Fading Away, Promise of Love, Vulnerability, Heartfelt Confession.

Warnings: Terminal Illness, Mentions of Premature Aging(?), Heavy Angst, Emotional Distress, Potential Character Death.

A/N: I HATE YOU FOR THIS!! 😭 (joking lmaoo love you too pookie🫶💖), this literally reminded me of my first ever Aventurine fic 😭, you know it's gonna be hella emotional if the writer was tearing up while writing this lmaoo 🤧💪🫂

The confession came on a quiet night, the kind that invited secrets into the world with the soft glow of stars and an open sky. Aventurine leaned against the balcony, arms crossed, his silhouette framed against the city lights as he watched you approach with a faint smile. He seemed relaxed, a rare moment where he wasn’t balancing some high-stakes game in his mind. The scene felt almost too perfect, yet your heart thudded with a heaviness that disrupted the peace.

As you came closer, the warmth in his eyes softened. He took your hands, pulling you into a familiar embrace, his voice a low murmur. "Is something on your mind, love?"

You hesitated, but his gaze remained steadfast, sensing the seriousness of your expression. Taking a deep breath, you managed to find the words. “Aven…there’s something I need to tell you. It’s not easy, but… I want you to know.”

His fingers traced gentle patterns along your hand, urging you on without words. Feeling his touch strengthened your resolve, even as fear lingered at the edges of your confession.

“I have Entropy Loss Syndrome.” The words came out in a whisper, almost fragile against the vastness of the sky. “I’m…fading, Aven. Slowly, day by day.”

The silence that followed was heavy, stretching between you like an insurmountable chasm. Aventurine’s expression stilled, the playfulness drained from his face, replaced by something raw, almost wounded. His grip on your hand tightened as if afraid that letting go would mean you’d slip away.

"When… how long have you known?" His voice wavered, each word weighed down by a struggle he tried to hide.

“I’ve known for a while, but I didn’t want to burden you with it.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s already starting—the slowing down, the blurred edges. I’m scared of what it’ll do to me, to us.”

Aventurine swallowed hard, pulling you closer into his arms. His breath was shallow, but his hold was strong, as if his love alone could anchor you to this world. The usual confidence that exuded from him was cracked, leaving the vulnerable heart beneath exposed. “You should’ve told me sooner, you know. I… I would have been here for you every second, every moment.”

“I didn’t want to rob you of the joy you bring to my life,” you replied, your voice quivering. “I wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that we had all the time in the world.”

He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll have.” His voice was hoarse, yet resolute, that familiar fire of determination flickering in his eyes. “Every single moment, every heartbeat—I'll be here, filling your life with as much love and joy as I can. I swear to you, I won’t let Entropy take away what we have.”

The next few days passed in a strange, precious blur. Aventurine, ever the strategist, had planned the days with a fierce intensity, filling every hour with as much happiness as he could. From sunrise strolls through bustling markets to moonlit dinners on the rooftop, he poured his heart into every moment.

But as the days went by, you felt the effects of the syndrome take hold, a little more each day. Simple tasks became arduous, your energy waning even as you fought to keep up with his relentless joy. Aventurine was always there, catching you with a steady hand and a reassuring smile. You’d find him at your side, quietly reading or humming a tune, his presence a constant comfort.

One evening, after a day of laughter and stolen glances, you felt a pang of exhaustion deep in your bones. You sank into a chair by the window, watching Aventurine as he paced the room, animatedly recounting a story from his days at the IPC. The light in his eyes was captivating, and you found yourself memorizing every detail of his face—the way his eyes crinkled with laughter, the flicker of mischief in his gaze.

Your breaths became shallow, and Aventurine noticed, rushing to your side. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, his hand warm against your cooling skin.

You nodded, feeling a bittersweet ache in your heart. “I’m just…grateful. For you. For everything.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then he knelt beside you, placing his hands over yours. “Don’t say it like that,” he whispered. “Like it’s the end.”

“Aventurine…” You searched for the right words, but all that came was a quiet, heartfelt plea. “Promise me you’ll keep living, even after I’m gone.”

His face crumpled, a tear slipping down his cheek. Aventurine’s usual facade shattered entirely, replaced by a profound vulnerability that he’d only ever shown to you. He took a shaky breath and pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “I can’t imagine life without you,” he said, voice cracking. “But I’ll honor you in every way I know how. I promise.”

In the days that followed, Aventurine kept his vow, filling every precious second with a fierce, unwavering love. He carried you through the laughter and tears, holding you close as the boundary between your world and his slowly blurred. His warmth, his touch, the depth of his love became an anchor, grounding you in the moments you had left.

And as your world faded, you knew that Aventurine’s love would live on, a light that would burn bright in his heart long after you were gone.

[the960writers]

The Heroine's Journey

Hello writers, I want to introduce you all to The Heroine’s Journey.

I've pulled this together from an old series of posts I've written for a project at @the-wip-project. There will be homework!

Through general media consumption most of us know about or have at least unknowingly absorbed The Hero’s Journey. I spare you the details, they’re easy to look up, but in the most general sense, lots of very successful stories are set up like this:

The Ordinary World

The Call of Adventure

Refusal of the Call

Meeting the Mentor

Starting the Quest

Tests, Allies, Enemies

Approach the Underworld

The Ordeal

Reward

The Road Back

Recognition

Glory, Reward, and Isolation

If you look at that and think “Star Wars: A New Hope” you got it exactly right. A lot of successful stories are written with these steps in mind. It usually follows a hero, who has to overcome internal and external conflicts to reach their goal.

The lesser known Heroine’s Journey is the equivalent to this but with a focus on connections and relationships. Where the Hero’s Journey is about a lone hero, the Heroine’s Journey is about finding community.

The concept of the Heroine’s Journey is not new but there wasn’t a lot of easy to read literature written about it. But recently, Gail Carriger has written a delightful and educational non-fiction book for writers and readers, called, not surprisingly, The Heroine’s Journey.

The terms Hero and Heroine are gender neutral, for instance the movie Wonder Woman is a Hero’s Journey while a buddy comedy like Man In Black is a Heroine’s Journey (generalizing here).

I like to think about it in terms of found family and friends. These stories are Heroine's journeys, they tell of community building and how we are stronger together. If you think about your WIP and how it can be applied to it, it might just blow your mind. Let me just says those tropes, “found family”, “the gang gets together”, “me and my friends gonna kick your ass” that we all love? Those are all elements of The Heroine’s Journey 😘. Doesn't that sound great?

Just to compare it to the list I made at the beginning of the post, The Heroine's Journey has the following points:

A broken familial network

Heroine's pleas are ignored

Abdication of power

Family offers aid

Subversion and disguise

Find surrogate family

Visit the Underworld, search aided by companions

Information gathering, delegation, networking

Negotiation for reunification

Revenge and Glory are irrelevant

Network established or rebuilt

Let me just put in a graphic here that Gail Carriger provided on her website.

Homework: The Heroine’s Journey begins with the protagonist having broken with their familial network, their pleas being ignored, turning away / being pushed out from their position, and finding help from family/friends. Think how this beginning could apply to your WIP.

I'm pretty sure, a few of you had the kind of “omg why did I not see that?” epiphany with The Heroine’s Journey 😀. Same thing happened to me and I realized why one story just wasn’t working. It couldn’t work because I was trying to cram a Heroine story into a Hero’s Journey. If you want to hear the author Sasha Black have that kind of epiphany live on air (so to speak), listen to this [podcast], where she interviews Gail Carriger about The Heroine’s Journey. Just be warned, that epiphany involves a lot of swearing 😜.

We talked about the beginning of the Heroine’s Journey. In this first part, the Heroine is involuntarily kicked out of their familial network. This is one of the main differences to the Hero’s Journey, where the Hero refuses and turns away voluntarily. The first part of the Heroine’s Journey is about involuntary isolation.

The Hero refuses the quest, for whatever reason, the Heroine is getting kicked into the quest.

The next part is the Search.

The Heroine’s Journey follows a pattern of connections, reunification, finding family. Mentally, physically, or emotionally. A successful journey ends with new connections, new community.

The Heroine searches for new connections, new companions, to solve the problem the story gives them. Often they employ disguise/subversion and alter their identity in this part. They form a new network, a found family. With the network, they go on a quest into “the Underworld” to gather information and build more connections.

Homework: Applying the Heroine’s Journey to your WIP, what connection does your protagonist make? What kind of community do they form? And if you have a problem with your WIP, maybe try giving your protagonist more friends?

As humans, we easily think in binary concepts, things are either this way or that way. But in reality, things overlap, mix and match, and the same can be said for the Heroine’s Journey and the Hero’s Journey.

Stories can have a Hero and a Heroine working together. Think about your basic buddy comedy, the one stoic character who wants to work alone and the fun character, who has many friends and connections. That’s a Hero with a Heroine in the same story and one possible arc could be that the Hero changes into a Heroine.

In romance, you often have the bad boy, a rogue character, who wants to stay on a Hero’s Journey, but the love of the one good person in their life changes them and pulls them into their Heroine’s Journey.

Stories with multiple characters may have each character on a different journey, with different focal points on what is important for their journey.

I also think that fanfiction often has a way of turning a Hero’s Journey into a Heroine’s Journey. When the source material says “and they won the fight but now they’re all alone”, fanfic takes a stick and whacks that on the head with “but what if they had friends /whack/”, “and they all lived together in a house /whack/”, “and they raised tomatoes, kids, and chickens together /whack whack whack/”.

Homework: Think of your favorite characters (from your WIP or from an interesting source material) and identify who leans more towards Hero and who leans more towards Heroine. Sketch out how they influence each other and what direction their stories could go.

This has been a short overview of the Heroine’s Journey, if you’re interested in this structure, I very much recommend the book [https://gailcarriger.com/books/the-heroines-journey-for-authors-book/]. It’s really a fun read, Gail Carriger did not switch to some weird academic tone for this book. She has lots of popular examples in the book, to illustrate how these concepts apply to stories we know and love.

[zirobitches]

One Piece Domestic Fluff

I'll crawl home to her - Sir Crocodile x GN!Reader

Note: Not related to soulmate AU i just love croc

Summary: Devil fruit users are weakened by seawater, and I'm convinced some of them really hate all water as a result. Anyways reader comes back from a trip to find their partner Croc greasy af.

Tags: domestic fluff, takes place during cross guild era, slight angst? just taking care of ur mans, just domestic things. also implied/mentioned nudity bc yall take a bath together, also Buggy mention (i kind of insult him but i swear i love him i just dont find clowns hot)

Words: 3100+

AN: I'm usually an angst/slow-burn writer but I needed some fluff. this has not been beta-ed and i'm posting as soon as i get done writing. it is currently 2am. lmk if there's big errors. thanks ily bye

There was a knock at your cabin door.

“Come in,” you call across the room. The door swings open and one of the crew of your ship peeks his head in.

“The island is finally in sight, we should be arriving by 5.” He reports.

“Thank you, go ahead and make sure the rest of the crew makes preparations.” He nods in reply and the door shuts behind him. You sigh, and lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling.

It had been almost three months since you had last seen Crocodile. You two have had longer separations, courtesy of Strawhat and the Marines, but that did not make it easier. You weren’t supposed to go this long originally, but certain encounters with some old Whitebeard crew on your end had incurred some delays. That was then followed by the official disbandment of the Seven Warlords, and Crocodile had to extend your reunion date to take advantage of the situation.

Now that the Cross Guild has been established, and no one was chasing you or Crocodile, you could finally find each other again.

Stepping onto land had never felt so good. Everyone that you passed or tried to speak to you was blurred due to your tunnel vision. You scanned the small crowd that had come to the dock to greet you, looking for the familiar tall figure.

Instead, you are stopped by a clown.

“Y/N, right?” You froze at the brightly colored monstrosity in front of you. He seemed familiar for some reason.

“Sir Croc sent me to get you, he and Mihawk had some business to wrap up before you arrived.” The clown continued to talk to you, but you were distracted by his large red nose. You recognized him from the posters - he was Buggy the Clown, the pirate who originally began Buggy’s Delivery Service, now known as Cross Guild. But you were just wondering why the red nose looked so realistic. Surely it’s not real?

“Y/N? I’ll show you to his room, it’s where he told me to bring you.” The nose was real, but you now had more important things to think about.

“His room should be fine, thank you.” You finally replied, making eye contact. Just to be met with freaky pale blue eyes. This man did not win the genetics lottery.

Buggy continued to ramble as he showed you around. Your mind however was not retaining any of it. After three months of not seeing Crocodile, the person you held most dear in the world, you were itching to see him again, and being closer to your goal did not put you at ease. Instead, you were even more anxious. Even this slight delay due to Mihawk had you peeved.

Finally, you arrived at a large gilded door. It was very Crocodile - a  golden gilded frame for a large black door, granted all doors had to be large to allow someone like Croc through. You reached for the matching golden handle on the door and walked into his - no, your room.

Buggy wished you well and ran off before you could say goodbye. You didn’t listen to him much, but it was easy to tell that he was terrified of Crocodile.

You chuckled and closed the door behind you. A quick sweep of the room told you you had beaten Crocodile to the room. You sighed and tossed a backpack you had brought on a nearby couch.

The room was massive - it was easily the size of a small apartment. The first half of the room was a lounge; a large fireplace to your right with the couch and coffee table in front of it, and a Crocodile-sized armchair in the corner. To your left was a desk, already drowned in papers - why being a pirate created so much paperwork, you would never know. The second half was the bedroom. At the center of the back wall was a massive 4 post-bed - absurdly large, even for Crocodile. Both of you could lay in bed at the same time and never accidentally touch. But the fancy, if not gaudy decor that covered the entire room was not surprising to you.

Sir Crocodile had always been partial to the baroque style.

You made your way to the bed and climbed onto it. You may have to ask for some steps to be installed if you are supposed to sleep here every night. You sunk into the bed and let out a long sigh. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be much longer till he arrived.

Then, as if summoned by your thoughts, the door opened again and Crocodile stepped in. You immediately sat up on the bed and looked at him.

The purple vest wasn’t your favorite look on Crocodile, but right now just having him in sight brought a grin to your face.

As soon as he saw you he vanished into sand and then reappeared on the bed in front of you. You inadvertently sucked in a breath - you were used to seeing him use his devil fruit powers, but having him so near - his face now less than a foot away from yours - well, you weren’t prepared for it.

“Hello my love,” Croc’s voice swept over you, the deep rasp of it driving straight into your chest.

Before you could get a reply out he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. You melted into him, all the tension of your separation vanishing with his presence. He was kneeling in front of you on the bed, and his hand came up to the back of your head to gently press you against his lips, his weight now resting on his hook to your right.

You pressed forward, your hands finding support on his chest - warm and solid, he was finally there with you - and hand one traveled up to cup his face. He hummed against you, then finally pulled back. The kiss could not have been that long but you were still at a loss for breath, but smiled at him.

A soft smile appeared across his face as well, his massive hands still cupping your face.

“Gods I missed you,” You finally responded and he chuckled. As you two just looked at each other you noticed a strand of hair fall in front of his face, his normally slicked-back style beginning to fall apart.

You moved your hand from his jaw and began to sweep the hair back into place, but then paused your hand atop his head. Your fingers briefly carded through his hair, and then you grabbed a portion between your fingers.

“Croc, darling, when was the last time you washed your hair?” Now that you looked at him, Crocodile did not look. Well. His deep-set eyes now seemed darker due to the bags underneath, his face paler than you were familiar with, and his hair….

At first glance, you thought it was a healthy shine that covered it, but now realize it was oil. His hair had clearly not been washed in days, maybe even weeks from the look of it, and stayed slicked back on his head from the build-up. The last time you had seen him in a similar state was shortly after he escaped from Impel Down.

Crocodile heaved a sigh, his eyes closing and shoulders slumped. He mumbled something towards the bed, but with his deep voice and his face not facing yours, you didn’t quite catch it.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” You tried to use a gentle tone with him - you were now concerned for him, confused as to how he got in this state.

“I haven’t been comfortable enough to bathe, not since the Warlords were dissolved,” Crocodile spoke up, but still not making eye contact.

You felt yourself slightly lean back in surprise. It made sense you suppose - not only were devil fruit users slightly weakened by any body of water, sea water or not, but Crocodile’s powers were rendered completely useless when he got wet. If he had been chased by Marines for the past few weeks and then untrusting of his new business partners, he was going to avoid putting himself at risk of being vulnerable.

You briefly considered having Daz acting as guard at the door when Croc was bathing, but not only would that indicate he was at his weakest, but it was sure to somehow make him embarrassed. For a man with such a large ego, he really could not handle any bruises to his pride.

Instead of prying into his discomfort, you brought your hand under his chin and lifted his face to look at him.

“I need to bathe as well after all the bullshit that’s happened. Would you care to accompany me?” Your offer of an act of intimacy like this was sure to distract from whatever negative feelings he may have.

Sure enough, a smirk spread across his face, his eyes already seeming to undress you before you two had even made a move towards the bathroom.

You move your hand from his chin to his face, covering his eyes. “Cut that out, I’m too tired for anything like that.” It was true; whatever adrenaline had kept you going during your time apart was now gone, swept away and replaced by exhaustion. You wanted nothing more than to get clean and crawl into bed with this man and sleep for the next 16 hours.

Crocodile merely laughed at your indignation and brought his arms underneath your hips. He easily lifted you into his grasp and carried you off the bed and into the bathroom.

You had noticed the door to the left when you walked in but hadn’t made it that far. While it may have been fair to assume it was large, you were still taken aback by the size.

It was practically a small spa. The shower could easily have both of you in there and even more, people if the occasion required it. But what stole the show was the bath.

It was less like a bath and more like a large hot tub. Or a private hot spring. It was already filled with water and steam rolled off the top.

“I had someone prepare the bath for us.” You looked up at Crocodile, finally dragging your eyes away from the bathroom. “I figured you wouldn’t be pleased by the state I was in and I thought you would enjoy relaxing in a bath.” He was looking down at you, his signature shit-eating smirk sitting on his face.

You just sighed in response and leaned into his embrace, resting your head below his chin.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You closed your eyes as you felt him press a soft kiss on your head.

He eventually let you go and you both undressed, piling all your clothes together. You stepped into the water first, standing on a wide step as you looked at Croc. Several steps went down into the bath, which was really just a small hot pool you decided. It allowed you and Crocodile to be submerged at your preferred depth in the water, a convenience you were grateful for.

Crocodile was a vision. Still as well built as the first time you meant, now slightly softened by age and covered with more scars. You tried your best to keep your eyesight above the waist but couldn’t help some appreciative glances at what was below.

Crocodile also stared back at you, his eyes devouring the sight of you naked in the bath before him. Any apprehension he may have had vanished when you reached out to him, beckoning him to the water. He walked down the steps and went past you, deeper into the water, till he was only a foot taller than you rather than his usual height difference.

You now felt too drained for words, the warm water relaxing you into a state of drowsiness. You gestured towards Crocodile to sit down on one of the higher steps. He gave you a questioning look but listened to your commands. He was used to the occasions you decided to go nonverbal.

After he sat down in the water you noticed it - there was a detachable shower head that was attached to the edge so you could wash your hair in the pool. That would make this process much easier.

Grabbing the shower head you found the knob at the base and turned on the water. The sound of running water made Crocodile turn his head and look at what you were up to. You just smiled back at him and gestured for him to lean his head back so you could rinse. He dutifully closed his eyes and leaned back as you rinsed the water through his hair.

After you had prepared his head you then went back to the edge of the pool and looked at some soaps that had been provided. They were thankfully labeled in little dishes - a bar of shampoo, a bar of conditioner, and body wash. You grabbed the bar of shampoo and thoroughly lathered it in your hands.

You then walked back to the large man who sat there and began to work the shampoo into his hair. As your nails gently dragged against his scalp, Crocodile leaned back towards your touch, a deep sigh escaping him as he fully relaxed into you.

Your heart ached at his softness. When was the last time he let himself relax? The last time you were together? If so, you couldn’t imagine how amazing it may feel for him to finally be at ease after months of staying on guard.

Before you let yourself get emotional by this, you focus back on the task at hand. You were now determined to get this man as relaxed as possible. You had loved Crocodile for a long time and took pleasure in doing mundane daily things such as this with him. The fact that he seemed to not only enjoy it but often only did these mundane tasks with you, made them into something special.

Lather, rinse. Lather, rinse. Condition and while you let it sit in his hair you began to wash your own.

Eventually, you both emerged from the now almost cool pool, completely clean and perfectly exhausted.

Robes had been prepared along with everything else, and after you dried off you slipped yours on. It was normal person-sized, definitely not something you could mistake for Croc’s robe that was so long it would have engulfed you.

Before you could begin to walk, Crocodile leaned down and picked you up again in a bridal carry.

You made a small noise in surprise but then leaned into his chest, the robe soft and warm against your cheek.

Crocodile carried you back into the bedroom and carefully placed you into the bed. You pulled back the blankets and arranged the pillows as your partner went around and sat on the edge of the bed and lit his final cigar of the day. As he puffed the cigar he went about dismantling his hook.

Crocodile was quite adept with his chosen prosthetic, you never feared he would accidentally hurt you with it, but at night was a different story. It had taken a while to convince him you would both be better off if he didn’t wear it at night and he had relented. Now it was a nightly ritual for him to take it off before going to sleep.

You leaned back into the bed and turned to face Crocodile. Your partner was occupied reading some documents he must have grabbed from his desk at some point - being able to turn into sand had its perks - but turned to meet your gaze.

The cigar was quickly put out and discarded to the nightstand on his side of the bed. He then leaned and turned off the last lamp and the entire room went dark. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the moonlight coming from the windows of the room and you could just barely make out Crocodile.

He finally leaned back into the bed and then you felt more than saw as he reached out and pulled you to him, the large bed not large enough to keep you away from your love.

Crocodile was always so warm. For someone with his namesake, you had assumed that he would be cold-blooded, but for you, he burned. His hand, wide and warm and no longer covered in rings, made its way to your face.

Leaning across the pillows, Crocodile kissed you again. Your hands reached out to pull him closer, and soon both of you had your arms and legs wrapped tight around each other. Part of you wished neither of you would ever have to let go, that maybe you could just drown in him, be buried alive in the sand and smoke.

You separated the kiss to breathe again and tucked your head into the curve of his neck.

“I can’t do that again. Being away from you for so long was horrible.” You finally spoke up, your voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

Crocodile’s grip around you only tightened, his face leaning down to bury it in your hair. He took a deep breath and exhaled before responding.

“I have forgotten what it was like to live before knowing you.” His voice shook through you, the vibrations of it coming from his chest. “I’ve found out I am no longer capable of finding joy without you.”

You felt like you might cry - from happiness or sadness, you were unsure. Instead, you blinked back the tears and backed from his chest to look at him again.

Crocodile had never looked so tired before. He looked at you with such longing, maybe even grief in his gaze, that you knew without a doubt that he spoke the truth. He didn’t look like he would cry, and you have never seen him shed a single tear. But this was probably the closest you have gotten to him doing so.

“So I guess we'll just have to stay together from now on, hm?” You murmured to him, your hands coming up to brush some stray hairs from his face.

Crocodile just smiled at you and agreed. “I do hope you realize I wouldn’t let you leave me even if you wanted to.” He spoke so softly that it sounded sweet rather than obsessive. But you were so obsessed with him in return you didn’t even care.

“Sounds perfect to me.” You whispered as you leaned in to kiss him again.

Eventually, the two of you began to drift off, finally safe and sound in each other. As you fell asleep that night, surrounded by Crocodile’s warm embrace, you had never felt so loved.

[rhaenin-time]

There are too many people who, upon encountering a woman character with too many specific traits and flaws established, lose the ability to identify with them and turn to secondary, less active, less developed characters that they can more easily project into.

As in, they'll reframe the whole story in their head and insist the true protagonist is a secondary or tertiary character. That the original protagonist is a 'Mary Sue' not worth regard. And it's weird because so often women characters are also criticized and labelled as Mary Sue's for the opposite reason as well.

I do not mean said secondary/tertiary character is bad or uninteresting. I simply mean it's inaccurate to frame them as the protagonist, and I do often see said characters proclaimed to have traits they don't possess (often traits taken from the protagonist).

It's a phenomenon not restricted to women, but I have noticed it's more common with women. For some reason they rarely do this to the men of the story. And I feel like there's some internalized misogyny in there.

I see it on both the audience end and occasionally even the writer's end. *cough* The Vampire Diaries *cough*. For now, I'll call it the Trapped in a Island with Josh Hutcherson phenomenon where Jenny Nicholson points out that the author wrote a self-insert, got jealous of the self-insert when she took on too much of a life of her own, and proceeded to write a new self-insert to push the old one aside.

Some examples:

Rhaenyra → Alicent, Helaena, and occasionally Baela & Rhaena (might also be some ageism in there too)

Arya & Dany → Sansa, the Dead Ladies Club, Brienne on occasion

Elena Gilbert (TVD) → Caroline Forbes

Those are the most blatant examples, but I swear this phenomenon is EVERYWHERE.

Anyways, I'm looking for more specific examples so I can better look into it. If you can think of another one, do me a favour and drop it below!