#and it’s hard to explain how you can know someone without ever Knowing them. how u can have names when all u have are pictures and feelings

[fandomsandfeminism]

Ok. So I sat on this all day. Let me see if I can explain why this is so frustrating for me in a way that is clearer.

Here's how this discussion has gone, over and over on this and other posts of mine-

I say: prisons are bad and ineffective and inhumane. Getting rid of prisons would look like getting rid of pillories and the death penalty- it doesn't end crime but it also doesn't give criminals free reign. It just means that if someone is convicted, the options available to the state don't include prisons. There are a lot of options and there are a lot of studies about how effective each is. When we aren't funding prisons, those systems could be refined and made better.

And someone says: what if someone reoffends?

And I say: well, same thing that happens now. If they are convicted, a judge decides their sentence. But without prisons, that looks like fines, or community service, or rehabilitation programs, or restorative hearings, or vocational training, or mental health services, or restraining orders, or employment restrictions, or caseworker check ins, or halfway houses/group housing, or the restriction of access to firearms, etc.

And someone says: but what if they reoffend AGAIN?

And I say: ...yeah, sometimes people reoffend multiple times. If they are convicted, the judge would sentence them, and that context might change which sentence is most appropriate. That could include increasingly high fines or automatic paycheck deductions, or more extensive rehabilitation programs, or more restrictions on their access to weapons or housing options. It would depend on the situation.

And someone says: but what if they reoffend AGAIN?

And I say: ....yeah. so, same thing. A judge would choose an appropriate sentence based on that context. Like, recidivism is a hard thing, but it's also a huge problem right now with prisons. Would this result in more or less recidivism than the current system?

And someone says: you're dodging the question. What happens if they reoffend AGAIN?

And I say: ....a judge sentences them based on the evidence and context. Just not to prison. Again, these programs are shown to reduce redivism compared to prison.

And someone says: but how do we keep people safe if they reoffend AGAIN?

And I say: ....do prisons keep people safe now? Do prisons reduce the amount of violent crime? Do prisons specifically reduce the amount of violent crimes committed by people who have gone to prison?

And someone says: you're dodging the question! What happens if they reoffend AGAIN?

And that's the loop. Because if the guy you're imagining is Jeffrey Dahmer or the Devil, the loop only ever ends if I say "prison" or "fuck I don't know" and then it's "ha! Prison abolitions never answer the obvious question."

People try to skip to the end of the loop by invoking whatever serial killer boogeyman suits them, because then it's supposed to be clear that the ONLY solution is prison, but like....even if we accept that some people are just broken and evil, you aren't *psychic*. The judge isn't psychic. The judge can't look at a guy and say "ah, it's clear that you're one of those guys who will just keep reoffending forever. Time to get dumped in the one last prison that exists just for evil people." That isn't a sustainable system, or one that would be particularly resistant to the obvious bias that already leads to the vast overrepresentation of men of color in the prison system. I dunno, I just don't trust the government to diagnose people with "evil".

Recidivism is a huge problem right now with the system as is. We know that all the other things we can do *result in less recidivism.*

Ending prisons is like ending the death penalty. It doesn't magically end all crime, but it also doesn't mean that crime has no consequences. It just means that we don't allow the government to inflict that specific form of violence on people if they do commit a crime.

So. It is very frustrating when I have answered the question "in a prisonless society, what happens when someone reoffends?" About a thousand times, and then get told that I...won't answer that question. It's frustrating, because if I ask any follow up questions that provides context for the discussion, I'm accused of dodging the question I've *already answered.* it's frustrating, because when I try to explain WHY it's frustrating, I'm told that this is actually a strawman, when I'm literally telling you how these conversations have gone.

If this is somehow NOT accurate to the question you think I'm answering, I'm gonna need you to ask it in a different way. Because I am pulling out my hair over here answering the same question, with sources and evidence, over and over.

Pretty sure @needabetternamelater has reblogged like 5 of my posts and then blocked me. So that's funny. But, just in case it's just a glitch that won't let me reblog those replies.

What do we do with rapists in a prisonless society? Well, 1. Fewer than 1% of rapists go to prison, so holding up prison as the standard that any other solution has to beat isn't hard. What do with do with rapists in a society with prisons? For 99+%? Not prison.

2. Prisons do not reduce the amount of rapes that happen. So again, prison fails pretty handedly at being both a prevention and a punishment. (It's a bit like arguing 'without the death penalty, what will we do with shop lifters?")

3. I've explain many times, on posts you've responded to, the variety of responses a justice system can have to any crime, including sexual assault. Mandatory counseling, restraining orders, restorative/reparation hearings, housing and employment restrictions, fines, caseworker check ins, mental health consults, and vocational training are all possible responses, and which would would have the best chance of preventing recidivism would depend on the specifics of that person and the risk factors in them reoffending.

In the past, we locked people in pillories and cut off their hands for crimes. Phasing out a cruel and ineffective punishment doesn't mean there's free reign for crime.

[scripts4dreamers]

Me and my one (1) friend who has also had their brain corrupted by the blight (dragon age) have been fighting about this for two days but I’m so sure I’m right, so I humbly present my thesis to you lovely people.

1. After the events of the Veilguard, if Rook and Neve ended up together, Neve tries to leave you.

LET ME EXPLAIN! (Spoilers for the Veilguard ending)

I love Neve. She’s my favorite romance from Veilguard, she’s an incredible character and she does not deserve all the hate she gets. Having said that, she does 1000% try and leave Rook.

The one thing we know about Neve, almost from the moment we meet her, is that she is not a believer. She doesn’t believe Solas is a god, at first, she doesn’t believe anyone will have her back, she doesn’t believe Minrathous will improve and she doesn’t believe she’s going to survive this job. But still she fights on, not out of a genuine belief that she can win, but because she has a soft spot for lost causes.

Neve has devoted her life to being the champion of lost causes. She tells Rook that, even if this job doesn’t get her, one of them will. She risks her life, day in and day out, in service of a city that has done nothing but hurt her. Neve believes she’s a dead woman walking, and all she wants to do is go down protecting the people of Dock Town because someone has to. Someone has to.

And then she meets Rook and Harding and now gods are real, and they’re destroying the world and oh well everything was always going to go down in flames, so why not help out? She’s always been a magnet for bad news, for bad luck, for the worst of humanity, so why not spend her last days fighting for what little good is left?

She tries to fight falling for Rook, but they’re everything she wishes the world could be. They’re the lifeline she’s been waiting for since before the world forced her to stop believing. They’re good and kind and full of life and how can she do anything but love them for that? But she’s already dead, they’re both already dead and she can’t survive another loss.

She throws herself into loving them only after she lost them to the Fade. Only after Harding/Davrin died. After her world already ended, because that’s when she really realizes how quickly it can all end and how much time she wasted pushing people away. The goddamn WORLD IS ENDING and the person you love is THERE and they’re REAL and they WANT YOU, so why not? What is there to lose? It’s easy to love someone when the world is ending. It’s easy to love someone when you’re both already doomed.

But then the world doesn’t end. The sun rises on a blighted Minrathous and they’re both still alive, and now she’s faced with rebuilding. There’s so much work to be done, she’s a bloody, scarred mess and the job she was brought in for is over, isn’t it? She’s not a cool noir detective who died saving the world anymore, she’s someone’s partner, someone’s friend and lover and those aren’t jobs she had ever prepared herself to take.

Suddenly, without the haze of panic and the urgency of stopping the gods, things look different. She needs a new apartment. Minrathous needs a detective. Life goes back to normal and Neve still isn’t a believer.

Of course, everyone says they’ll stay in touch. Bonds formed that can never be broken and all that, but Neve knows better. You don’t hang around once the party is over. You don’t give the world more ways to hurt you, more people to take. You don’t give people a chance to leave you.

So she leaves first.

She regrets it. She hates herself for it. She cries herself to sleep wondering how she could be such a coward, but she leaves. She packs a bag, writes a goodbye letter and leaves before morning.

Now, do I think her and Rook get back together? Absolutely I do. I just think that, with all the events of Veilguard happening in such a short time, there’s going to be some major questions for all the companions once the dust settles, and leaving before you can be left is Neve Gallus’ answer to those questions.

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 1

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x OC

CW: Omegaverse; "selling"/"adopting" omegas; alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley; omega!OC

Author's Note: I have... been encouraged to write this (dammit, @lostintransist lol). It was an idea I had a while ago. We'll see where it goes, I guess?

The last person Simon expected to see that night was Henry, an accquaintance from basic training. Johnny had been raving about this omega he'd met recently when Simon heard someone call his name. So he turned to face the voice.

"I thought that was you, Riley!" Henry exclaimed with a bright smile. He was always overly cheery.

"Hey, Henry. How have-"

Henry's eyes narrowed at Simon and he tilted his head ever so slightly.

"You're still not settled down, mate? Why are you in a bar? You should be at one of the Salvation facilities!" He didn't seem to be judging Simon. In fact, he seemed more concerned than anything.

"Aye. Name's Johnny," Soap poked in the conversation finally, offering Henry his hand and a welcoming smile. Henry responded in kind. "Aren't most of the Salvation facilities... no good?"

"Most of the newer ones were hurriedly staffed - lots of omegas in need, you know - so the living conditions are... less than satisfactory. But Salvation's working hard to fix it," Henry explains with a knowing frown.

"What the hell is 'Salvation'?" Simon chimes in, completely lost.

Johnny and Henry exchange a look before Johnny sighs and looks at Simon directly.

"They... take in omegas who, for one reason or another, are deemed 'unfit'," Johnny explains hesitantly. "Everybody's a bit... on edge about them, though. They 'take in' omegas by searching for the 'unfit' ones and purchase them. Omegas aren't property. Or at least they haven't been in too long for something like this to be even remotely legal."

"It's... complicated. They house and care for all of these omegas but it just doesn't settle right with a lot of people. Which is fair, especially with the recent rushed staffing and problems that came about from such," Henry adds. "There's a facility in the next town over, actually. One of the original ones that hasn't had issues. You two should drop by there sometime. See what you think and, maybe, find a mate for doing so."

Simon and Johnny exchange a look that implies a silent conversation. Henry seems to take the hint and says his goodbyes. The rest of the night continues without talk of Salvation, it's strange ways, or it's facilities. That doesn't mean Simon can keep his mind off of any of it, though.

Maybe an 'unfit' omega is what he needs? As strange as it may sound.

Masterlist

[anim-ttrpgs]

Hi! I haven't had a chance to play Eureka yet, but having read it a while ago and following your posts further explaining some of the philosophies behind it, I just want to say that, as someone with multiple disabilities, what you're saying here is really cool and i appreciate it a lot.

I was really hesitant at first glance, probably because of how long I've felt the need to justify my existence by minimizing the accommodations and resources I ask for, even (and often) to my own detriment. The whole idea of being a burden cuts in to that and hits at the heart of the insecurity, so it was a little hard to hear spoken so plainly. Ultimately, though, seeing someone acknowledge that there is truth to that insecurity - I am, indeed, asking for a lot more from the people around me than a fully abled person would be - but that it in no way undermines the worth of my own life was really fulfilling. So yeah, thanks lol

Thank you!

(some links to previous posts about this topic that are being referenced)

I know exactly how you feel. I don’t want to speak for all disabled people, but the shame of being a burden is something that I think most of us probably feel to some degree or another, and something that we would be better off without, which is of course a big theme of Eureka’s monsters.

Hell, even “able-bodied” people need to be taken care of when they’re kids, when they’re old, and when they’re sick. The distinction “disabled” practically only exists to determine who gets minor legal exceptions in a society where you’re only valued by how much you can do particular kinds of work, and plenty of “able-bodied” people do have a lot of things about them that hinder them but just aren’t visible enough or quite bad enough to qualify for the legal distinction.

So really, it’s something I think a lot of people could stand to unlearn. A little bit of selfishness is okay sometimes.

Sometimes, people take offense to the part of the metaphor that involves the actual killing and eating of other people by monsters, and say that the disability comparison works for the monsters that don’t have to kill people, but not for the monsters that do have to kill people, especially with the fact that their targets will often end up being other vulnerable people and not cops or CEOs or something. I have a few thoughts about that.

For one, well, the cool thing about fiction and fantasy is that it can present a more extreme and entertaining version of the real life problems that the art is about.

Secondly, for some of those monsters that don’t have to kill their victims or even technically have to hurt people at all to avoid dying, well, structuring your life around personal deprivation to ensure that you never harm or burden anyone else ever is kind of the thing that this anon brings up, minimizing their accommodations and resource consumption to their own detriment. “Disabled people should go without as much as possible and subsist on the bare minimum resources to sustain them” is pretty much the complete opposite of Eureka’s themes and I feel like saying that the only acceptable disability metaphor monsters are the ones that have a slightly easier time subsisting on the bare minimum harm without literally dying is not good.

Then there’s the issue of who they eat. Really, they can try to eat whoever they want, but the “hunting tables” that provide opportunities when (and if) the monsters go out looking for victims are primarily comprised of pretty average, often pretty vulnerable people, including old people, young people, homeless or just obviously poor people, etc.

One of the reasons is because, well, non-vulnerable people aren’t vulnerable. When a healthcare CEO makes decisions that result in many poor people being unable to afford proper medicine and thus becoming disabled, the burdens that creates don’t fall back on them, they fall back on other poor people. When a politician makes policy decisions that result in more people being unable to get money for food without resorting to violence, that increase in crime doesn’t affect their fancy gated community, it affects poor people.

I talk about monsters in Eureka as a metaphor for disability a lot, but that purposefully isn’t the only valid reading. A lot of them can represent anyone whose needs are impossible to meet without taking from others.

Eureka isn’t a masturbatory CEO-eating simulator because it isn’t about wish fulfillment or power fantasy. First and foremost that burden will fall on the shoulders of one’s own community, not the rich guy causing all the problems. Eureka (and future A.N.I.M. games like Silk&Dagger) doesn’t present a world as it should be, it presents a world how it is. And Eureka says if being a bit selfish and burdensome to your own community is necessary for you to not only live, but live with any degree of happiness, then that shame and guilt isn’t helping anyone.

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[arom-antix]

Yeah exactly, the expert presentation is something that bothers me a lot. I don't care whether a person explaining something is an expert or not because they don't have to be. Again, you shouldn't need a PhD to simply have an informative conversation. Fandom is not and should not be an ivory tower. However, when someone confidently gets something wrong, is corrected, and then confidently gets it even more wrong as if they're an expert with some secret knowledge that the correcter simply doesn't understand, that's when I get pissed. You're not an expert. Don't pretend to be one.

And I know there was no direct claim of expertise in the post or the response so feel free to defend yourself with English being your second language or whatever your excuse is now, but the way you're speaking makes people feel talked down to. I don't care that that wasn't your intention. That's how it feels talking to you. I don't claim to be an expert and I make that EXPLICITLY CLEAR in my posts because tone is hard to glean from text and I want people to know that I'm not an authority and that I encourage them to participate or even slam dunk correct me on everything I've ever said. That's how an open discussion works (and how scientific discussion works, just to be entirely clear) and I think everyone should be allowed to participate, especially if they disagree with me. Tell me why. I want to understand even people I don't agree with.

Also, you don't have to agree with anyone! You can have a discussion without the goal of converting the other person to your personal beliefs. You can just talk about stuff. I've had plenty of discussions with people I don't agree with but I learned so much about alternate viewpoints and how to empathise with even people I dislike. If you enter a discussion with the goal of "winning", you've already lost. Either you can't handle other people having other opinions or you have an ulterior motive, neither of which make me want to listen to what you have to say.

It's okay to disgree. It's good to disagree. But do so respectfully and understand that no matter how vehemently you argue for your point you will never convince everyone. Just let it go. Let people be. They're not your responsibility. They can handle themselves without believing everything you do. It's okay.

Hey, just wanted to reach out to say that I found you pointing out and calling this person was really great and you shouldn't have apologized. It was incredibly true what you said, and to be honest it seems out of touch with the reality of a great deal of the japanese fandom, the nuances and their culture. Also, it was as you pointed out, extreme and may I say rude. I want to mention too that the way it was written, as if entitled of the knowledge and the 'explanation' made it all worse in context of the 'fucked up'. The original poster always gets away by using the 'well-written academic'' statement of their 'metas' as an excuse to do or say and make everyone else agree and if not, uses victim narrative and discourses exactly selecting wording for people to agree on it or feel bad.

I don't know if they tagging you in the way they did made you reblog and apologizing/backing up, but no one thought bad about you pointing it out. On the contrary, a lot of people had been bullied and discriminated by this person when they called them out/disagreed going onto lenghts of sending their friends to harass people, and the other persons can't even defend themselves because they are effectively blocked. To quite a few people in the fandom has been done, even accusing them as 'acephobes' (when they're not) or even Nazis by spreading lies. So yeah, I just wanted to say that. I think you were right to call them out publicly.

Thank you very much for this ask. To be completely honest I agree with everything you said here and don't actually feel bad about pointing anything out. I mainly apologised because I didn't want any potentially poor phrasing from my side to cause unnecessary hostility and because I myself have gripes with this person's behaviour but didn't want to cause a scene.

My honest opinion is that they have a serious issue with taking accountability for their own mistakes and highly overestimate their own intellect. If you're reading this, @thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai, sorry if I seem harsh, but it's true. I saw your post lamenting how you're the only academic meta writer / fan in the fandom and I didn't interact then because I honestly do not care enough to start that drama but with the information Blonndiec has just given me, I think it's necessary that someone calls you out.

You're not an academic. You're not beyond the mental capabilities of other fans. You're actually incredibly childish in your metas and analyses and I am not kidding when I say that I was halfheartedly writing essays more academic than every analysis I've seen from you when I was barely a teenager. I don't know how old you are and I frankly don't care. You're not as clever as you think you are.

Also, don't think I didn't notice that you didn't reblog my correction (link here to my correction and here to their "response" for those who didn't see that exchange) of your post so that you could control what your followers saw of the exchange. You're the opposite of an academic. You control information to tailor the narrative, you don't cite your sources properly if at all, you don't format your posts in anything close to how an academic analysis would be, you make unbased claims, you reference posts and canon material without in any way indicating where that information is from, you reference your own (equally unacademic) metas and your conclusions from them without indicating what post it's from or that it's your own theory this new one is based on and instead present it as a common fact, and I could go on and on and on. Your posts are also riddled with logical fallacies and you talk in absolutes and opinions when there's no canon basis to claim such things. I'm sorry, but that's not academic in the slightest.

To be clear, you don't have to be an academic to post on the Internet. You don't have to be anything at all. You could up front be a genuine idiot with no remorse and that's fine. But when you claim to be an academic and also put down the rest of the fandom for not being on your level, you have to be able to back that up. It'd still make you sound like a prick but at least your arrogance would have a basis. It currently does not.

I haven't personally seen the discussions that Blonndiec is referencing and I'm not going to claim anything definitive (because that would be unacademic of me, take notes) but if what they're saying is true and did happen as described, which I have empirical, if anecdotal, evidence to believe could very well be (a friend of mine has personally been blocked by you after they criticised you without actually mentioning your name which I of course can't prove is the reason for the block but the timing is awfully convenient), you should know that you should be ashamed of yourself.

If there's context missing, feel free to enlighten me and call out any incorrect accusations. You have every right to defend yourself. However, I encourage you to cite your sources since you're such an academic. If you don't, then it's just your word against Blonndiec and anyone else who might comment's word and that doesn't prove anything. Don't misunderstand, acephobia and nazi rhetoric should absolutely be called out but only if it's actually happening. False accusations can ruin lives. I hope you know that.

I'm not a fan of calling people out publicly and, again, thank you for this ask, Blonndiec. But considering many of the issues I've personally seen and those I've been informed of by second hand sources were posted publically, I don't really feel bad about calling this out. I could do a full breakdown of just the insulting "academic" comments alone and how there's no academia to be found in said academic metas and, Samurai, if you give me reason to, I will show exactly what I mean point by point (and academically just to give you an example of even low level academia).

If you respond to this, do it in a reblog. That's what a real academic would do. If I'm wrong and you can prove it, you'd have no reason to not show my post in your rebuttal. If I'm right, you'd have every reason to be upfront about your mistakes and how you intend to rectify them. There's nothing wrong with being wrong but there's a lot wrong with refusing to admit to it in a way that lets others peer review you (academic thing, look it up) and come to their own conclusions about the situation. That's what you did when you just @'ed me instead of reblogging my response. A true academic wouldn't hide a peer review. You'd know that if you were one.

I swing in many academic spaces and yet that doesn't make me any kind of expert and I don't claim to be one because I'm not. But since you want to be one so badly, reblog this with a response and show us all how smart you are. I'm dying to know what your academic take on this is.

[villainsidestep]

fawniel thoughts hour….

[yukioos]

Hmo.. Viktor x drunk!reader, After attending an event and overdid it with the alcohol due to mel being best friends with reader (Progress day or other events that lets them loosen up) (No nsfw or yes nsfw!)

NASTY DOG

SUMMARY: viktor x reader // on progress day, you tend to celebrate and drink too much, ignoring viktor’s worries. you end up confessing your feelings to your best friend, and take your relationship a step further.

AUTHORS NOTE: eeeee this ask is amazinggg!!! i love the idea of mel n reader being best friends sm!!!!! this is 2.2k words, a lot longer than i expected it to be

WARNINGS: suggestive but no smut, making out, not a lot of mel and reader talking, mention about reader and viktor having maybe sex later, not proofread

the way the city of piltover progressed and changed throughout the years has always fascinated you. watching new inventions come and go was always interesting, and the city had a spectacularly advanced community. heimerdinger always tells you and the members of the piltover community stories about how he founded the city. he is especially smart in science and works hard to improve the lives of those around him, which you always admired.

you were pleased when you figured out he found a new assistant, viktor. he grew to be your best friend quickly, and always rambled about his studies and his mistakes. whenever he makes a new discovery, you are always the first person he tells, and he explains it with such detail.

he’s a handsome guy. you never understood why people weren’t all over him, maybe because he was closed off and spent his days in a lab. he’s a busy man, you know that as well as you recognize the palm of your hand, but he always finds a way to make time for you.

there’s no doubt he loves you. as his best friend, you are always his first priority, but he loves to indulge in his interests, that being inventions. as a way to spend time with you and enjoy science at the same time, sometimes he lets you sit next to him in the laboratory while he’s working.

he occasionally asks you to pass him an instrument he can use, but most of the time, he just tells you to sit there and look pretty. you know well that he doesn’t like to be bothered during his work, and normally he hates it when someone is in the room with him as he’s working. however, it’s a different story when that person is you.

he never feels bothered by you, no. in fact, you help him concentrate more than he does when he’s without you. he doesn’t mind the soft sound of you turning pages in the book he bought you, and he doesn’t mind when you stand up to take a small sip of water. he rather enjoys when you do those small actions without even realizing it’s a large thing for him. he can’t help but realize it brings immense joy to him when you ask a little question like, ‘what does that do?’ when he picks up an instrument for his work, or when you make a quick statement, ‘that’s a pretty color,’ when he oh-so unintentionally adds your favorite color to his works.

you’ve always supported him with his hextech project, even though you could get frustrated with the way he’s acted in the past. sometimes he would feel agitated because he couldn’t figure a part out, or if he messed something up. despite this, you’ve continued to tell him that a true scientist never figures something out perfectly on the first try. you hoped your words would affect him, and thank god they do. once you overheard jayce complaining about how something isn’t working right, and viktor repeated your words back to him. that of course, made your heart swell with pride.

you always knew the hextech would, sometime in the future, impact a whole civilization. heimerdinger said he’s never seen anything like it in his 314 years of living, nor anything that came close to it ever since piltover was founded 200 years ago.

speaking of which, jayce is planning to give the big speech tonight. lucky for you, viktor decided to give you front-row seats to the assembly.

jayce suggested that viktor should join him on the stage and share the speech, but he refused. it wasn’t uncommon for people to have stage fright. the speech was impressive, jayce did an amazing job, honoring each and every one of the members of piltover.

after the ceremony, a party was hosted by a volunteer group, who set up a large room full of drinks and a feast for thousands. you hadn’t had time to talk to viktor in between the ceremony and party, so you began to take a few drinks with mel.

you hesitated a bit, but eventually gave in when mel reminded you that it’s the only party piltover will have for their 200th anniversary. the fancy room is decorated with gold banners featuring the words ‘happy progress day.’ there are couches, tables, and booths all around, as if it is serving as an elegant restaurant.

not too long after, your vision starts to become blurry, and your words slur. you turn around to see viktor and jayce sitting in a dark red booth, most likely discussing their next chapter of hextech over a glass of wine.

you grin and cheer, then mumble to mel, “oh, it’s viktor! i’ll be right back, mel!” and she nods, chuckling as she softly pats your back.

you walk over to viktor with a bounce in every step, feeling giddy after taking one too many sips of wine. he quickly spots your recognizable figure and smiles at you, eyes softening at your stumbling body.

“i thought i told you not to drink too much,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing it gently before continuing, “you know drinking isn’t good for you.”

his worried voice makes you smile, and your cheeks flush, as they always do around him. a warm feeling spreads your body, and you hum, staring at viktor’s bright eyes. jayce soon gets pulled away by someone who seemingly needs his attention, and lets out a little “let’s work on the hextech tomorrow, viktor,” ending with a small goodbye.

“oh, good! now i have you all to myself!” you smile, placing your arm on viktor’s bicep, “didn’t you talk to heimer— heim— um…” you mumble, putting your finger to your lip and rubbing your temple, “i can’t remember, vik…”

“heimerdinger?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion. you must be drunk out of your mind if you can’t even remember the professor’s name.

“oh, yes! such a sweet guy… anyway, he talked to you about your new little gadgets, right? how’d that go?”

he knew you’d forget in a few minutes, but responded anyway. he sighed with frustration, “jayce and i showed the professor that the hextech is safe. he approved, of course, but i even found out a way to fortify the crystals, as you might remember me testing it out yesterday. we showed him the gloves and the hex claw—“

“i love the hex claw! it’s sooo cool, i love how you can control it with your own hand!” you comment, smiling and looking up at viktor through your eyelashes.

he blushes and nods, “eh, yes, thank you. we worked hard on it— but, anyways, heimerdinger explained the gadgets will most likely be perfected in a decade. i mean, why can’t we use the equipment now? i understand there are a few things wrong, but they would help the community so much!” he furrows his brows in frustration, eyes squinting.

“awh, baby, i know you worked hard on that. heimer— heim… um…” you forgot his name again, causing your best friend to smirk and chuckle to himself. you place your hand on his chest, “you’re real handsome, vik. don’t understand why people aren’t all over you.”

the way you look up at him with big eyes, your hand on his chest, gets his heart racing. he suddenly feels more nervous with the compliment and your actions. you rub his chest so caringly and keep glancing from his tie to his eyes.

you move closer to him, “your heart’s racing, baby. you nervous?” he bites his lip and glances to where jayce would have sat, trying to avoid your intimidating gaze.

he feels so small around you. not in a bad way, of course, you didn’t break him down, but instead built him up and made him a more confident version of himself. but when you were like this, when you flirt with him like this, his heart melts. he swears he would’ve fallen to his knees if he was standing. he would never admit it to anyone, but you could take over his life, control every single thing he does and he’d still be happy because at least he’d be with you.

“y’know, you’re so sweet, so caring and loving. you’re the smartest person i know, and you don’t get much credit for it. i hope you know i love you and everything you do for me and this city, vikky. i really mean it.”

i love you.

all his problems disappear when you say those three words, and his eyes visibly widen. he doubts you for the first time in his life, and he asks, “did councilor medarda tell you to say this? are you messing with me? because if you are—“

“sweetheart, i’ve never been more serious in my life. you’re my best friend, but i want more. i want you.”

you slowly straddle his lap, hand still perched on his chest. you look deep into his eyes as if you are trying to find his soul hidden inside.

he remembers you once said if you had to merge souls with anyone, it’d be him. you claimed you wouldn’t complain about anything, and you’re practically the same person. it truly was an intimate conversation with him, and you finally spoke out that you wanted to stay with him for eternity. you just wish you knew how.

you rub his chest, wishing you could rip his vest off and feel him, skin-to-skin. you completely forget you are in a public space, however, the chatter and people had died down, and most retreated to their homes already.

you bring a hand up to his cheek, and he can’t help but lean into the comforting feeling of your palm. rubbing his cold cheek, you feel shaking hands on your waist. you grin and glance up to his eyes, then down to his lips multiple times, trying to find any part of him that doesn’t want to go through.

but you can’t find anything, so you close your eyes and softly kiss his lips. you have a party in your head, congratulating yourself for finally kissing him and confessing your feelings. your lips continue to move against his cold ones, and soon you begin to hear soft whimpers from the man.

you grin into the kiss, understanding the effect you have on the scientist. moving your hand to the back of his head, you feel adrenaline coursing and pumping through your veins. this is the most exhilarating moment of your life.

he grips your waist tighter, and one hand moves down to your ass. it lingers for a couple of seconds, waiting to see if you’ll push it off. when you don’t, he grips the plush of your ass hard, and you whimper into the kiss.

he feels proud of himself, loving your reaction to the small action. he brings his other hand under and up your back, feeling the soft skin against his palm.

you feel as if you’re about to lose oxygen and pass out, not wanting to break up the kiss. you push past your wants and desires, moving away from him for a split second. the combo of his tired eyes and plump lips is surely a sight. a string of saliva is still connected to your lips to his, but you don’t care.

god, you need to be closer to him, you need to be one. you grip his shoulder and tugged on his hair, eliciting a moan from his mouth. you push your lips against him, always wanting more from him. you whimper against his lips, however, still being the dominant figure in the action.

moving closer to him, you feel safer, and heat blooms from his chest. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, still keeping a hand in his soft hair. as you move closer to him, your chest pushes against him. he groans, feeling your soft and warm body close to his.

he’s knocked out of his thoughts when he’s reminded that you’re in a public space, and he taps your unclothed arm. you hate to part your lips, but concede, as you need air.

you whine against his chest and bring your hands back to rest on his shoulders. he mumbles and stutters, “s-sweetheart, we really shouldn’t be doing this here. we should go back to your room—“ he looks like he wants to say something more, but he catches himself and bites his tongue.

“i know that look, vik. don’t feel guilty about this, i didn’t have too much to drink, i’m aware of my actions, i’m okay.” you smile up at him and give him a quick peck, more intimate and cherished than the last, “let’s go up to my room.”

he smiles, and you stumble out of the booth, viktor follows right after you. he grabs his cane and stumbles, still nervous and sweaty after the interaction with you. you hold his hand and continue talking to him, rambling about some show of how two characters are gods who represent life and death, who happen to be each other’s spouses.

you recommend he watches the movie, but deep in your mind, you’re still thinking about how you could make yours and viktor’s night even better.

viktor listens to all your words, he always does. but now, he just wants you to shut up, he wants to consume you and become one, as you said a few days ago. he tries to not grip your hand tightly, trying not to express his feelings at the moment, of how badly he wants you.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 25th. tom — anal sex / sexual punishment.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: basically how i see a tom riddle punishment playing out. biblical tom of sorts. so self assured its impossible to piss him off so you go to lengths some may consider extreme but…eh. he knows you’re his.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, UNI hogwarts (obvs but just a reminder) reader and tom have an…interesting dynamic, toxic but also not toxic because it works for them, anal sex (obvs), sexual punishment, brief fingering, copious amounts of dirty talk, i once again utilize my favourite place in the school (the library).

"Tom—"

With a hand raised, he cuts you off. "Don't."

You blink. Swallow. Blink again. He's mad—oh, yes, he's mad—more than you've ever seen him and you once watched Abraxas Malfoy knock over his potion during a heavily-weighted exam.

That, in currency to this, is pennies.

You breathe in, try again. "Look, I can explain—"

He doesn't let you. Within a second his wand is out and with a flick of his wrist the room shifts to static—the glimmer from the silencing charm he just cast settles over your corner of the library, and you feel your fingers go numb—

"Why'd you stop?" He cocks his head, brow raised. His jaw is tight, the tension there burning into the space between you. His fingers flex. You can feel how much he's holding back. "If there's an explanation, by all means. I'd love to hear it."

Right—yeah, an explanation. That should help. Certainly, the man staring at you like he has bullets for eyes and knives for fingers will understand—he'll be completely calm once you explain to him you kissed someone else in retribution—because you wanted to get back at him.

"Well, I—" you push up from the desk, desperate to feel bigger, to level with him somehow. Tom thrives in this—having the upper hand, knowing all he has to do is stare at you, all stillness and quiet fury. He knows you hate it, that you'll spiral under it until you break and present him your neck on a silver platter. Until you hand him the knife and beg him to cut. "We had that argument, and I thought—I thought, maybe—you didn't—"

He moves closer. The air thickens. You're too focused on the fire in his eyes to acknowledge the sound of his wand clattering onto the desk—

"You thought?" His voice is something almost bored, like this is a trivial exercise for him—you can barely hear him over the roar of your pulse in your throat.

"—that you didn't want me anymore!"

You force the words out in a desperate rush, and the silence that follows feels like a goddamn canyon—you're just staring at each other, scowling in the wake of what you just said because you both know how utterly foolish it sounds. The only person Tom Riddle has and will ever allow himself to be vulnerable in front of—and you thought he'd leave after a silly argument.

No. You never thought that for a second.

And so, you try to save yourself. "Tom—I-I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry, I know I fucked up—but, it's not just me—I mean, you could have communicated better—"

He takes another step toward you, nodding along as if he's humoring you. "Right."

You step back—you don't mean to but the depleted space between you feels dangerous and your body reacts before you can stop it.

"Maybe—maybe we can learn from this? Right? A lesson for—for us both?" You keep talking. You don't know why, but you do. "And, maybe you could, uh, learn to talk about your feelings better?"

You wince as his eyebrows shoot up, mocking you without saying a word. Tom Riddle, talking about his fucking feelings? Right.

"I mean—you're just—" you hesitate because you know you're digging your own grave, yet he's still staring, daring you to finish. "—you're just so hard to read, you know?"

Another bored nod, another step closer. "Of course."

You swallow, stumbling back—of course Tom knows he's hard to read, that's the point. Every word out of your mouth is a wasted effort, a desperate attempt to reason with someone who's beyond it. Your ass collides with the desk behind you, boxing you in—and suddenly, he's there, right in front of you, all of his typical Tom intensity pouring into the limited space between you.

His breath brushes against your cheek, close enough that his lips could meet yours. But you know they won't. He'd never make it that easy. You can't tell if it's fear or something more wicked that twists in your chest. Dread, excitement—God, maybe both—

"You tried to provoke me."

Your throat tightens around a swallow. He isn’t asking.

"Maybe."

He doesn't blink. "You tried to see if I'd care."

You open your mouth, only to close it just as quickly. What can you say that he doesn't already know? You're as transparent as glass to him, and even that is a goddamn understatement. All you offer is a slow nod, unsure but weighted—he wasn't looking for an answer, he was looking for submission.

"And you thought, maybe, that I would come to you. That I would react. That l'd be angry." His fingers brush up your cheek, slipping into your hair with the kind of intimacy that feels out of place given the circumstances. And, inevitably, when the pull comes biting at your scalp, it's a burn you enjoy more than you should. "Were you hoping I'd punish you?"

"Well—I-"

"You know, don't you," he tugs your hair again to quiet you. Every question he's asking is rhetorical. "You know that trying to provoke me is dangerous."

You nod, fast. "I know."

"You know that I don't like to be provoked."

"I know, I know, I-"

"Shh." His lips brush over your neck, just once—a soft, fleeting thing that promises everything and nothing at once. You can't help the way you lean into him. "You're just making this worse for yourself. No more talking."

You choke on your stupid ego, but force a nod. You asked for this. You won't fight him on it. Not here. Not now.

"Good." He hums, and you feel your heart dance, stomach leap at the barest flicker of approval in his tone. His breath skates over your jaw, and you try not to shake. "You want to show me how sorry you are, don't you?"

You nod again.

"Good." He tugs at your bottom lip and something curls at the corners of his own that doesn't quite qualify as a smile. "Turn around."

With your heart on the floor beneath your feet, you nod for a final time before doing as he asked. You find that turning is a difficult task, though not due to resistance—your body just won't cooperate—a mess of weak knees and shallow breaths and tingling skin. You do it, though, with his hand on your hip, guiding you, directing you, pushing you over the desk until you're bent at the waist, positioned just how he wants.

It's merely a moment before you feel him pressed against your back, feel his belt buckle digging into your ass—

"What do you think I should do to you?" His breath grazes the nape of your neck and reflexively, you arch into him—his hands slide up your thighs, hips, finding your waist and the band of your skirt—he tugs at your zipper, you remain quiet. You know he doesn't want you to answer. "I'm sure you had your hopes. Your assumptions."

Tom Riddle, you've determined, is a torturous lover—a slow hand, a tease until you're in tears from the overstimulation. A sort of devotee to fulfilling your needs while simultaneously tempering his own. He's so very restrained, in everything he does—not fervent, not right away, anyway—

"Maybe you hoped I'd degrade you. Remind you of your place." He tugs down the zipper, letting the fabric fall to the ground at your feet—you shudder and pull your lips tight, willing yourself to stay silent as the cool air hits you. Tom's hand roams over one of your asscheeks, pawing lazily before tapping his palm against it. “Maybe you wanted me to make you feel it."

—he only rushes—he's only careless when he's angry.

And god, he's angry now.

"Maybe." You force the reply through the sting he left on your skin. It's past midnight—quiet is everything but you two, and you're almost certain he locked the door behind him on the way in. You let your head bow, eyes fixed on the wood under your palms. "Maybe I do."

"Of course you do. You've never been subtle." His foot nudges yours further apart, his fingers trailing up your thigh, finding the damp ache between your legs. Your breath catches but you hold still, biting your tongue as he teases—digits gliding through your slit, swirling your clit. "I know you thought about it."

"About what?" You try, though the question barely gets out before his other hand smacks the thick of your ass again, harder this time. "Shit—"

"About what I'd do to you." The hand on your clit shifts to smooth over the sting, rubbing slow, while the other works the buckle of his belt. "Tell me what you wanted."

"I—" you pause, steadying, gathering yourself. You know you have to give him something, but it's hard to think when he's like this. "I—I wanted you to be...careless."

"Careless." He says it like he's savouring it, rolling it over his tongue like candy. It's not a word that suits him; you're not convinced he even knows how. "You want me to be rough—to be selfish. Like you were."

The moment his belt is loose you feel those slender fingers dip back into your slit, two of them pushing inside your cunt without warning, stretching you open as his trousers slip down his thighs— he grunts low, a sound that cuts into the quiet as his cock springs free and he presses it against you, unoccupied hand slipping back into your hair, pulling you up until you're flush with him.

"Yes." You're not sure who sounds more hollow for it—your voice for asking, his for granting it. "I want that. I deserve it. Please. Please—"

"Please. It's always please with you," he mocks, the words a hiss that burn your cheeks. "Yet, I don't get to be selfish like you, do I? I still have to show restraint."

"I mean—oh—fu—" you choke as his lips find your neck, muttering something against your skin before you feel the sudden cool slip of a lubing charm coating your asshole and cunt. "Tom-"

"Despite what you might believe, I've never had much in the way of patience," he breathes, a confession almost, something deeper—something that feels like it costs him. "Not when it comes to you."

"Tom—" you fucking gasp his name as he pulls his fingers from your cunt—only to drag them higher until they find your asshole. Despite his haste he's still at ease, massaging, pressing one finger against it until you let him in. He sinks slowly, curling slightly, and your thighs shake—lungs deflate. "Oh—oh, fuck, Tom—it's been—"

"A while, hasn't it?" He finishes, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, his finger sliding all the way in. "So tight for me. So—tight—"

"Tom—" a repetition of the last one, his name spilling from you like it’s the only goddamn word you know how to say. "Please, Tom. Oh god—"

"Shhh." He shushes, but it's not to quiet you; you know that. He's savouring this. He slips in a second finger, stretching you wider, working you open, and you're biting your lip to keep from crying out. "This isn't about you."

"You—" your voice breaks on another gasp, hands clutching at the desk. "—you think this is punishment."

"Partially." His muses as his fingers scissor, filling you with the most delicious ache. You're so slick, arousal running down your thighs, and that—oh no, that does not escape his notice. "Look at you, dripping for me. And yet,"

"Oh god." The realization crashes over you—it’s punishment as in orgasm denial. "That's—that's not—"

"Not fair?" There's a smirk in his voice, and though he doesn't say it, you hear the word that lingers beneath it: pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. He pulls his fingers out and you whine, feeling empty for half a second before the head of his cock glides against your slit, gathering your juices before finding its way up to the throbbing ring of muscle. "Isn't this what you wanted? For me to be selfish?"

"I just—" words scatter, useless, because you're trembling, breathing hard, and then he's pressing in, slow enough to save you pain but fevered enough to make you feel him. "Oh—oh—"

"Oh fuck." He says it breathless, as if it's an agony to fit himself inside of you. "Oh yes."

And it is an agony—for both of you, though for very different reasons. Tom is huge, and even on a good day, it's a struggle to take him. He's so deep, filling you in ways you'd forgot were possible. You struggle to hold yourself upright—legs visibly shaking, teeth gritting. He sinks all the way in, and in your mind, you can almost see the look on his face, the way his lashes flutter, the way his head tips back—

"Ah—“ he groans, a rough sound that's followed by a huff and a slight roll of his hips, like he's holding back, like he can't bring himself to move just yet. He yanks you up against him by your hair. "That's fucking tight, isn't it? This must be hell for you."

He's not wrong, it is. But it's hellish for Tom too, the type of hell the two of you inflict on eachother that is as fucking addicting as it is anything else—

"Just—" you manage to bite out breathlessly, but it's a struggle to make the words. "Move—"

"Make me," he grits, jerking your head to the side until your foreheads press together. "Convince me to use you. Tell me how badly you want it. How much of a whore you are for it."

Merlin help you, you moan at his words. It's that thing inside you—the needy, desperate part that's dying at his feet. You don't know what it is or why it's there; it just is, and it's greedy. It's not something you'd give into normally—your ego is far too big to give him the satisfaction of begging, not aloud—never in words that he could use against you later—but in these moments, you both learn to make exceptions.

"Dear god, Tom—please, just use me-" you push your hips back against him, one of his hands slide up your stomach, cupping your tits. "Please, l'm—I'm a pathetic, begging whore for you. God, I know you're pissed—I feel it—just take it out on me—l want it—"

He moans—a soft, almost gentle sound—and you know you've struck a nerve, the part of him that's equally as weak in the moment—the part of him that makes it all too easy for things to spiral like this.

"Goddamn you." Something inside him snaps, something that's been frayed, just waiting for a pull—and you've pulled it now, and oh you want, no, you need him to make you pay for it, to make it hurt. "You just—you always-"

He grunts, cutting himself off and in a way, it's almost like he's thanking you because you're giving him an outlet, something to take it out on. You test each other, push and pull and let the other break, because, at the end of the day, it always comes down to this. The two of you. Like this.

A sharp inhale, and he starts to thrust.

"Fuck!" it's all you manage, it's all you can manage, because it—just like that—feels the way you wanted it to feel but it also feels so much more intense, so intense that your brain can't keep up. "Oh god—oh fuck-"

"Fucking hell," he spits, like you're the worst thing in his world and the best thing all at once, and somehow, that makes perfect sense. He lets go of your hair, and you slump forward onto the desk, elbows barely holding you up as his hand smacks your ass, fingers spreading you apart. "So—so tight—“

You're a shuddering mess, helpless to it; all you can do is remember to breathe through it.

"That's it." Another smack to your ass, thrusts quick and deep. "Fuck. The things you drive me to do."

You know him so well—and he knows you just as damn well, and that's the point, isn't it? That's what this is all about. You're the perfect mix of wrong, a match that burns too hot it hurts but the ache makes him feel alive.

"I want to cum—" your neglected clit is begging for it, you’re fucking begging for it. "Tom please—"

At that, he laughs and it's mean and it's condescending and you love—God—how you love it and want it and can't get enough of it. His hips snap forward a little bit rougher and you lose a bit more of your sanity—

"You think you deserve to come, after what you did?" Another smack to your ass.

You don't know how to answer, and he doesn't wait for one anyway. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you—everything is so calculated and calculated and calculated. You've never once seen him falter, and you don't expect to see it now. You don't know if you'd survive it if you did.

"No." He answers for you. "You don't."

His fingers trace around your thigh, grazing your mound and finding your needy clit, your sopping slit, gliding through it—you moan louder than you should as he gathers your slick on his fingers, humming at what he finds there before retreating—bringing them up to your mouth.

"Open."

You open your mouth and he feeds you your need—the result of his selfishness. You love him for what he is and you love him for what he isn’t too. How he tries to be both, only when you ask.

"Taste that?" It's a whisper, something he's telling you.

You sob around his fingers as he fucks your ass deep—he pulls them out to let you respond. You nod. "Yes."

"Taste how much you want this?"

"Yes." A pathetic moan. The perfect response.

"Good girl." He presses the words into your hair, the back of your neck, along your spine. He sucks in a breath as he fucks like he needs it just to speak. "You're going to remember this the next time you think about doing something just to spite me, I hope you know that."

Of course you will. He knows it, you know it—there's no doubt in your mind that you'll remember this the next time you toy with his patience; the next time you give him a reason to discipline you again. And what's worse is: you'll do it anyway.

It's a battle you two will fight for eternity.

But you don't get a chance to respond, not that you'd have one anyways—because his hand is on your throat and his lips are at your ear and he's sucking in air through his teeth and then—

"I'm going to cum." He whispers and you hear the pain in it. "Fuck."

You shiver in reply; a whine of a whimper coming from the back of your throat. “Tom—“

"Shh." He shushes you with his free hand, gripping your jaw as his thrusts turn sloppy, erratic. "Fucking take it.”

God—you’ll take it. Of course you will. You asked for this, drove him to this point. You're both sick, but this is the kind that doesn't have a cure.

One of his hands moves to his own hair, tugging at the back of his head; it's the only hint you've had this whole time of how much he's affected by this, how much it's driven him mad. He's doing his best to keep control, to maintain composure and make sure you feel it—but it's the way his hand squeezes your hip when he lets go of your throat that gives him away.

It gives in to what he's been repressing.

"Ohhh—fuck—yes—" and then you feel it, feel him, hot and sticky and warm, filling your ass and holding you there until he’s finished. His body collapses against the back of yours, hips slow rolling until he's drained—until you’ve taken all of him, all of his anger and frustration and restraint along with it. He’s sweaty, exhausted, spent—forehead pressed to your hair. "You feel that?"

"You know I do." You're not allowed to sound so smug, not while you're in the position you're in, but you are. It’s why he loves you. "That's what you were looking for."

"No, that's what you were looking for." He nips your ear, and you hear the smile in his voice when he bites down on it and murmurs a, "and that's why you're my favourite," into it.

"And you mine, Tommy."

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: You Look Like You Love Me

Request: "I wondered if you could do a Tyler Owens fic where it’s the end of the day and everyone’s exhausted from chasing all day and stuff. Readers just gotten out of the shower and is in her sleep dress, hair wet and decides to join all the storm chasers/ the team out by the bonfire so she throws one of Tyler’s flannels on, puts her boots on and goes to find Tyler and once she does there’s a slow song that comes on the speaker (I feel like they’d have music playing that the whole parking lot can hear) and it just ends with them slow dancing by the fire looking into each others eyes and talking about their future, JTyler just has this look on his face knowing he is going to marry this woman one day<3"

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: thanks for the request, this was such a cute idea / fun plot to write :) Enjoy!! 

“You comin’?” Tyler asked, giving your hand a slight squeeze and nodding towards the group of people already clustered around the fire. 

You offered a small smile, which was about all you were capable of after the long day you’d had. 

“I’m really tired,” you explained. “Think I’m just gonna grab a shower then crash.”

You didn’t miss the look of disappointment that flashed across his face. But it was quickly replaced by a gentle nod. “Course, let me just grab our stuff, then I’ll head up.”

“No, you stay,” you encouraged him, nodding towards the group. “This is right up your alley, don’t miss out because I’m a tired slug.”  

Tyler tipped his head to the side affectionately. “You’re about the cutest tired slug I think I’ve ever seen,” he said in a tone that was far too serious for the context. 

You shook your head, lips tugging into a grin as you pulled your hand away from his to adjust the bag slung over your shoulder. “Shut up,” you mumbled adoringly before nodding towards the fire. “Look, they have music goin’. Why don’t you go slow dance with Boone or something?” 

“Yeah alright,” Tyler agreed, taking a step backwards. His tongue poked through his teeth in the same way that, even after almost two years together, still made your stomach flip. “I’ll be up in a little while.”

“Have fun,” you called before he turned and began walking towards where everyone else had gathered. 

Meanwhile, you had the pleasure of trudging up a flight of stairs to get to the room Tyler had booked for the night. After nearly eight hours of driving that day, the muscles in your legs felt wobbly as you made the ascent. But when you finally were able to climb into the room’s shower– the warm water rinsing off all the dirt and sweat you’d acquired for the day, you sighed out a breath of relief. 

Although you appreciated how good it felt, you didn’t waste time in the shower. Instead, you quickly lathered up your hair, rinsed it out, and scrubbed yourself clean before grabbing a towel from the rack and drying off. Before long, you had your wet hair combed out, pajamas on, and were crawling into the queen bed positioned in the center of the room. You climbed in with full intentions of passing out without a second thought. 

However, to your absolute dismay, that wasn't the case. Instead, you tossed and turned, almost nodding off– but then reaching for someone that wasn't there yet. Eyes snapping open, you sighed defeatedly. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have a hard time sleeping without Tyler. But with how exhausted you felt, you’d been hopeful. 

You laid there for about half an hour before giving up. You were just growing increasingly frustrated and knew that no amount of laying there without him was going to work. 

So instead, you climbed out of bed, grabbed Tyler’s flannel, which laid conveniently at the top of your bag and threw your boots back on. Your hair was still damp when you left the room. Luckily the June air was warm– even after the sun had gone down. As you climbed back down the stairs, noise from the fire and people gathered filled your ears. You heard music coming through a nearby speaker and the collective murmuring and laughter from each conversation blurring together in a loud hum. 

As you approached the crowd, it didn’t take long before you spotted Tyler and the rest of the crew. He was sitting back in a camp chair, dimples on full display as he laughed at something Lilly was saying in the chair next to him. Boone was crouched on the sand, knees tucked into his chest while he used a stick to poke at the fire. Dani was kicked back in an adirondack chair, sipping casually on a beer. Meanwhile, Dexter was nowhere to be seen– presumably already gone to bed for the night. 

Wrapping his flannel tighter yourself, you began weaving your way through the crowd of people and towards him. Tyler spotted you after only a moment, like his eyes were born to find you in a crowd. At first his gaze was worried, eyebrows knitting together in a look of concern. 

“There she is!” Boone announced your arrival like your own personal cheerleader. 

You offered a smile and mumbled a weak hello before heading right for Tyler. 

“Hey baby,” he said. He moved like he was going to get up, but before he could, you walked to his side and plopped yourself down across his knees. Instantly, his hand found your waist while you wrapped your arms around his neck, nestling your face into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Everything okay?” he murmured, lips lingering along your hairline. He ran a hand up your back soothingly. 

You nodded, inhaling the scent of him. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah,” Tyler said, already knowing that what you really meant was, just couldn’t sleep without you. “We can head up, if you want. Let me grab my stuff.”

But you shook your head. Pulling away from him long enough to watch the scene around you. “No, it’s nice out here. Let’s stay a little longer.”

You felt his lips connect with your temple. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Did you and Boone get to slow dance?” you asked, a hint of playfulness evident in your tone. 

Tyler snorted. “No, we hadn’t gotten the chance yet.”

“Shame,” you muttered groggily. “You’re such a good dancer.” 

“Well you know I’d much prefer to dance with you.”

“Hey,” Boone piped in. “Now see? I know y’all are the world’s cutest couple and all that bullshit. But that right there very much hurts my feelings, T.” 

You both laughed at his antics. 

“Sorry, Boone,” Tyler said. “You’ve got tough competition.”

“Aw, c’mon Boone,” Lilly said. “Don’t let them get to ya. Dani and I will dance with you– c’mon.” 

Together, the three of them got up and joined the crowd of people dancing, leaving you and Tyler alone. 

“Alright, Owens,” you said, mustering up the strength to climb off his lap. “Our turn. Show me what kind of dance moves you got.”

He let you drag him towards a quieter part of the lawn. Using one hand, Tyler gripped your waist and pulled you close. With the other, he cupped your hand to hold out from him. Gently, he began swaying you back and forth to the beat of the song. 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever told me who taught you to dance,” you observed. 

“My mom,” he replied softly. His green eyes sparkled– the same way they did anytime he talked about his mom. 

“I’d never wanted to go to any of the school dances– never had an interest. I was always workin’ the farm or out with friends. But in my junior year of high school, I was trying to impress this girl. Her name was Sally Wakefield– so, I bought us a coupla’ tickets to the prom without even asking her first.”

“What?” you laughed. 

“I know, I know–” he said. “I got the order a little backwards there. Anyway, I went to my mom and told her I had a date to the prom and that I had to learn how to dance before. So, we spent an entire weekend in the living room. She had me push all the furniture– the couch and table and all the chairs, to the side and make a little dance floor. She put her Elton John records on repeat and that's how I learned to dance.” 

“That’s really sweet,” you smiled, just imagining teenage-Tyler slow dancing in the living room with his mom. 

“Yeah, well it didn’t end so sweet. I asked Sally Wakefield to prom the next Monday at school and she laughed in my face,” he chuckled. “So all that hard work went right to waste.”

You scoffed. “Fuck Sally Wakefield.” 

“I actually ran into her at the market a few years back– she was really nice. She’s married, has a few kids now..”

“It was for cathartic effect, Tyler. But if you insist– fuck high-school version of Sally Wakefield.”

“Oh–” he nodded. “Right. Yeah, fuck high school Sally Wakefield.”

“Plus,” you added, melting a little inside as soon as your eyes connected with his. “I don’t think all that hard work went to waste. I, for one, really enjoy dancing with you.” 

His face beamed as he gazed down at you softly. “Remember that night we went line dancin’ when we were down in Austin?”

You let out a bubble of laughter as you leaned into his embrace. “Oh my God, and Boone slipped on the lemonade that lady spilled–”

Tyler chuckled. “Him and his beer went flyin’.”

“I swear I have never seen a human being hit the ground that hard,” you said through your laughter. 

“Me either–”

“Remember when we went to your cousin's wedding– and they had that live band and an entire dance floor and we were like… the only people using it? Everyone else just stayed at their tables.”

Tyler shook his head. “Still can’t believe that.”

“Yeah, I mean ninety-five degrees or not… if I go to a wedding, I’m dancing.”

“What about your wedding?” Tyler asked suddenly, gaze softening as he peered down at you. 

Something in your chest fluttered. It wasn’t the first time Tyler had mentioned weddings or marriage, but every time he did, it pleasantly reminded you that you two were in this for the long haul. 

“What about my wedding?” you said, trying to sound casual. 

“Will there be lots of dancing at your wedding?” 

You pulled back gently from Tyler’s embrace, just enough so that you could get a better look at him. You marveled at how handsome he really was– especially under the soft, flickering glow from the fire. 

“Of course there’ll be dancing– lots of it. I wouldn’t want all your mom’s hard work to go to waste now would I?”

Tyler’s swaying slowed as he took a moment to really study you. His gaze was soft and sweet and intimate all at once. Unable to help yourself, your face broke out into an even wider grin.

“What?” he wondered.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, biting your lip. “You’re just lookin’ at me like you love me. And that makes me smile.” 

Tyler beamed. “I love you so much– you know that, right?” 

Without even hesitating you nodded. “Course I do,” you replied, leaning your head against his chest and allowing him to tighten his hold on you. “I love you, too.”

For a few more minutes, the two of you swayed casually to the music. Tyler’s embrace was safe and warm and comforting, and the longer you danced like that, the more tired you became. 

“Think we’ll see anything tomorrow?” you yawned sleepily into his shirt. You felt his cheek rest on top of your head, nestling you into the crook of his neck.  

Tyler clicked his tongue above you. “I don’t think so. Dexter wasn’t tracking anything on the radar, but you never know.” 

“What if we just had a slow day tomorrow? We could just sleep in and hang out here for another day? I saw they had a pool out back– that’d keep Boone entertained.” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” he said. “I think we could make that work.” 

You smiled against his skin, eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Gradually, you began leaning more and more of your weight against him, until finally, he gave your back a gentle rub. 

“Let’s say you and I head up to the room, yeah?”

You nodded against him, too tired to reply. 

“There we go,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You leaned into his side, letting him guide the way. He called goodnight to everyone for you before practically carrying you up the flight of stairs towards the room. 

When you were finally inside, Tyler helped you climb into bed. You frowned when he didn’t immediately follow. Instead, you watched him head into the bathroom and close the door. 

With how tired you were– you were surprised you didn’t fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. But the longer you laid there without Tyler, the more awake you felt. 

After only a few short minutes, he emerged from the bathroom and crossed the room quietly. 

“You’re not asleep yet?” he asked, peeling back the covers and climbing into bed beside you. “Thought you’d be snorin’ by the time I came back.”

Without replying, you scooted across the bed until you were wrapped back up in his embrace. You felt arms wound around your waist, anchoring you to him. You smelled his aftershave and mouthwash as you nuzzled into his chest. You heard the sound of his heartbeat, even through the fabric of his T-shirt. His presence totally engulfed all of your senses– and you knew that was exactly how it should be. 

As you finally drifted off, all you knew was Tyler, Tyler, Tyler. 

And what a wonderful thing to know. 

[lace-coffin]

Hi! Can I ask how the slashers would feel if they ever accidentally hurt their s/o? Gender and everything is up to you!

How slashers would react to Accidently hurting their S/O

Thank you so much for my first ever request ah! I hope you enjoy 💖

Requests are open!

Warning for blood/injury - mild sexual content/reference to sexual activity and power dynamics -unhealthy relationships (I think?)

Reader is gender neutral!

Bubba sawyer

Most likely happened via Bubba playing too hard and Accidently pushing you over or being a bit too heavy handed with you. If it’s a case of them mistaking you for a victim and catching you with their chainsaw before being able to stop then they’ll be even more in inconsolable : (

Stops and stares for a minute to process what’s happened before devolving into full blown panic.

She’ll drop whatever she’s doing to carry you back to the house, even if that means letting the victim escape and having Drayton yell at her.

Will hurriedly explain in rushed sign to either Choptop or Nubbins to go take care of the victim as he’s busy caring for you.

Checks you over frantically. Please explain you’re going to be ok and help them calm down.

Once he knows you’re not in any danger he’ll feel absolutely awful about it and whine apologies to you even if you tell him that it’s ok and it wasn’t their fault.

Please comfort them once you feel better and reassure them.

Will insist you come up with a verbal and nonverbal sign to give if they’re accidently messing around to hard.

Will make you agree to stay in the house out of the way when victims are around so you don’t Accidently get hurt again.

Thomas Hewitt

After another night of Hoyt berating him for things out of his control, Tommy storms off to the basement to cool off. You follow after him, intending to comfort and wanting to help. You place a hand on his shoulder without thinking, forgetting he doesn’t enjoy physical touch without warning, thinking it might help. Whipping around he grabs your wrist a little too hard, causing you to wince.

He snatches his hand back as soon as he realises what he’s done.

Tommy will bring you to Luda may to have her check you over and assess the damage.

Once he knows you’re safe he’ll confine himself to the basement for a few days, only coming out to eat but even then it’s tense.

He’s truly sorry and feels like all those people who called him a monster and an animal were right, he hurt the one he cares about most, after all.

After a few days apart, a lot of hushed words of affirmation and kisses/nose bumps he’ll feel comfortable being with you again.

You know to let him cool off by himself and come to you when he’s ready after a heated argument now.

Michale Myers

You jump out at Michael thinking it would be funny to catch the shape off guard for once and not the other way around. Unfortunately this backfires and he swings his knife at you, thinking it may be an intruder since you’ve never pulled something like this before, You manage to jolt out of the way but the knife still catches you in the shoulder. Thankfully, it’s only superficial and will heal, but it still looks like it needs medical attention.

Initially Michael looks at you unamused, granted it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling underneath the mask. He gives you a kind of “well If you weren’t being dumb this wouldn’t have happened” attitude. However this is a front for the actual panic he refuses to show on the surface.

Having a few cuts and scratches isn’t super uncommon when your with Michael considering his tastes involving knives in bed ; )

Usually hurting others comes naturally and without remorse to Michael, so it shakes him to his core that he’s actively worrying about your wellbeing instead of feeling the usual indifference.

It disturbs him that he actually cares about someone enough to feel remorse for his actions.

After unceremoniously pulling your shirt off and looking the wound over he forces you go to A&E, practically marching your ass out the door.

Since he’s basically an escaped criminal he can’t exactly casually walk in the hospital with you, however he will stalk you the entire time, lurking close by to make sure you arrive and leave safely.

Although he usually has his guard up he vows to try be a little less bristly with you from now on if it means he doesn’t have to see you hurt and feel that awful tug of regret/worry in his chest.

Jason voorhees

You went out looking for Jason one night after he hadn’t returned to the cabin by his usual time. You were worried he’d been overpowered by a group of trespassers or caught in a trap and didn’t have any way to communicate that to you. The woods were beautiful but so dense and vast, getting lost or injured in the thick of them may as well be a death sentence.

Whilst searching for your missing partner you get your leg snagged in a bear trap he had set out previously for the trespassers. You howl in pain as you hear the sickening snap of your ankle between the traps jaws.

Jason was trudging his way back to the cabin when he heard it. Knowing that wasn’t a rougue teen as he’d cleared them out already, alarm bells went off in his head. He stormed to scene as fast as he could.

He could have sworn his undead heart stopped for the second time as he saw you sitting there in agony, murky blood seeping into the forest floor.

He rushes to your side and looks frantically between the trap and your teary face, he knows he’s going to have to disengage the traps and for you it’s going to be..less than pleasent.

He signs for you to grip onto his arm for support. Since he’s already dead and regenerates fairly quickly he feels it’s the least he can do to let you grip his arm for dear life as he wrenches the trap from your shattered ankle. If you cause any damage to his arm (which is very unlikely) it will heal up in no time anyway.

Once he’s carried you back to the cabin he’ll be frantically following Pamela’s directions in his head for what to do and how to clean/ wrap it.

If the damage is extensive he’ll relent and let you go to the hospital, only if a trusted friend takes you though, he’ll be sitting by the window of your shared cabin every minute until you return back to him.

You’re no longer aloud to be out in the woods after dark alone if he’s set traps. You both carry whistles now so if he’s not home and you need to know he’s safe you can whistle to each other and feel more at ease.

Billy Lenz

Interacting with Billy when he’s having an episode is never a good idea. You thought it would be fine to just be in the room though, providing you stay out of his way. As you enter, Billy is in the midst of trashing his attic once again, the disgusting feelings bubbling in his chest too much to bear. You enter just as he’s angrily thrown an old glass christmas ornament at the floor that the sorority had kept in storage. It shatters and flecks of sparkling glass scatter along the floor. One piece catching you in the hand in a nasty glass splinter. You swear under your breath and rush off to take care of it.

Billy doesn’t even realise what’s happened until you return to him, him now having exhausted himself and you knowing it’s safe to try do some damage control. You bring him a sandwich and juice knowing he’ll need it after all the energy and tears he just used up.

Your hands touch as he’s accepting the plate from you with a muted “thank you” and he notices the bandage.

Billy essentially bristles up like an angry cat at the idea of someone hurting his piggy and demands to know who did it and what happened.

Once you tell him it was actually from the ornament he feels horrible. He doesn’t even remember it happening with the state he was in.

He snuggles into the crook of your neck and mumbles apologies into your skin.

Billy will place sloppy kisses over it as an apology until you forgive him. (Not exactly hygenic since it’s an open wound but i mean…you’re dating the attic rat)

Brahms Heelshire

When living with Brahms there isn’t usually much to injure yourself on considering the estate is fairly out of the way from the rest of the village. You most likely caught yourself on a pair of sheers. Brahms is being stubborn about you being out of the house and slings the sheers in your general direction from the door frame when you ask for them. You don’t even notice you sliced your hand when catching them until you see a patch of blood soaking through your gardening gloves about ten minutes later.

You come in to grab a tea towel to wrap your bleeding finger in, not really fazed as it’s only a small cut. Brahms was lurking from the window as you tended to the hedges, not wanting to be away from you but not yet brave enough to tempt leaving the house he’s been in all these years.

As soon as he sees it he’s panicking, it’s only a little cut and you’re not concerned in the slightest but to Brahms you may as well have just came in with an arm missing. He’s instantly flittering around you asking if you’re ok and if you need a hospital.

You stifle your laugh at his over the top concern, you find it rather sweet, it’s not his fault he’s a little bit sheltered.

After cleaning the cut and bandaging it, it’s totally fine. If anything Brahms needs more reassuring and coddling than you do to get him to settle.

He apologises a thousand times for his attitude because he knows If he hadn’t been stroppy about you leaving the house and passed the sheers nicely then you wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. He promises to try be more composed when he starts getting antsy.

He may need some ✨punishment✨ in order to encourage his behaviour change and to feel forgiven.

He begrudgingly lets you back outside to garden after about a week.

Asa Emory

If you’re the pet of Asa then it’s likely that most of your injuries are purposefully given from him and are no mistake. You’re poked and prodded often considering your residency in the collection. Wounds from experiments and correctional punishments when you disobey or refuse to submit are not uncommon at all. So it doesn’t bother him since he inflicted them. This also assures he cleans them with clinical precision. If you were anyone else he would leave the wounds to fester, if you died from a complication then that was just inconvenient. Not you though, you’ve caught his attention and heart. He loves you in his own domineering way.

If the wound was created by him on accident then he would give himself a hard time, chastising himself for his carelessness.

For example, if he had more trouble with law enforcement than he thought and that led to you to spending way more time in the trunk than you usually do, causing you to develop a sore from sitting in one cramped position for too long.

Asa would realise you’re injured once you’re let out of the trunk, hissing in pain as you stretch. He makes you show him where you’re hurting so he can inspect over it.

Despite Asa’s stony face his stomach is actively sinking. He knows you’re hurt because of him and it wasn’t purposeful or measured like it would be during a punishment. He sees this as failure in his pet care and it takes a blow to his god complex. Gods don’t make mistakes, but here he is, hurting his dolly by being so out of it.

He’ll make sure to clean it for you and even stop putting you in the trunk for a while. This does however still mean you’ll be attached to him via leash or chain connected to the ring sitting on his belt. Just because you’re hurt and his favourite toy, doesn’t mean he will except anything less than your complete and total submission.

He’ll be more tender and soft handed with you than usual for a while after. Punishments will be withheld until you heal. Then it’s back to normal routine as expected.

Predator/yautja

You were wearing a new perfume you’d picked up at the market during the day, You were only supposed to be getting meats and maybe a new fur for the bed but once the alien at the stand had convinced you to sample it you fell in love with it.

Your mate picks up on an unknown scent entering the house, hackles raising and stalking towards it. As soon as they catch the heat signature they throw a wrist blade in warning.

Their eyes widen in horror, rushing to the door as they catch scent of your tangly blood dripping onto the hardwood floor of your shared home.

The new perfume masked your familiar scent from them, making them believe the house was in danger and being intruded on. If their face could loose colour it would, cringing as they see the wrist blade sticking through your palm, groceries discarded at the door.

They start talking at you in rapid clicks before they realise you can’t actually understand. After making sure to keep the object in your hand so you don’t bleed out and that you’re not going to pass out on them, they insist on carrying you their medic instead of going to an ooman one.

They argue that their medicine is far more advanced and will heal your wound much more efficiently then your “ primitive ooman medicine”

Thanks to yautja medicine being far more advanced, It will heal like nothing ever happened in around two weeks. The wound stitched shut and given some kind of injection.

Your mate purrs and clicks for you deep from their chest the entire time you’re having the blade removed to try calm you.

They beg for forgiveness despite it literally being an accident and will need some reassurance that they haven’t failed you as a mate. Once you’re all healed up they’ll bring back an impressive skull from a hunt as an apology even if you’ve already forgiven them.

Whilst it’s healing you’re probably going be kept in the nest of furs and pulled tightly against them whilst they purr and sooth you.

My requests are open if you’d like to send any prompts or ideas for me to write!

[goingmerryfics]

How would Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and even Ace feel when they see their S/O wearing their clothes for the first time in the beginning of their relationship, like a shirt or a hat (if Luffy and Ace allow their s/o to wear it?)

S/O wearing their clothes for the first time - Luffy, Sanji, & Ace

Content: fluffy established relationship moments, they love you! Sanji is a perv but lovingly <3

Notes* hiiii so I can only do up to 3 characters in a request, and after thought I decided to go with these three :) I love Zoro but I couldn’t figure out what article of clothing to write about, so maybe part 2??

Luffy

If it were someone he didn’t know or wasn’t close to, Luffy would immediately feel like they were invading his personal space and demand that hat right back

Even with other crewmates, he only really lets Nami touch his hat and that’s only if need be

But when it comes to you, it’s different

He knows you’ll respect and keep it safe, but it’s a hard feeling to explain. He would trust his whole crew with his hat if need be, but he only wants you to have it

He doesn’t really understand the feeling, he just likes seeing you in it sometimes

Since his hat is so important to him, seeing his partner wear it would make him feel extremely happy that they recognize its meaning

It also solidifies the idea in his head that you’ll be at his side when he becomes the pirate king

For Luffy, love is about sharing his adventures and dreams. Seeing that hat on your head is the loudest declaration of love that he could ever know

Sanji

Sanji doesn’t have very many comfy clothes and he doesn’t have a hat you can wear, but there’s something about wearing his dress shirts to bed that’s extremely comfortable

Maybe it’s because they smell like his cologne, or because they’re baggy on you, but you always steal a clean one to shirt in

He loves it. 

He always ends up with a nosebleed when he sees your sleepy face in nothing but his shirt, draping past your thighs with just a small pair of shorts on under them

That view of your legs, how his shirt swallows you up

You could practically see the steam coming out of his nose while his face turns bright red, heated by the blush in his cheeks

He will definitely say a few pervy things without shame and Nami would probably have to shut him up

Ace

Ace is the one who puts the hat on your head more than you taking it to do so

He likes seeing you in something of his, and his hat is the one thing that he doesn’t mind sharing at all

If you can ignore the sweaty smell, you’re good. His Devil Fruit doesn’t help with that, being hot all the time and all

He makes a show out of it whenever he needs to protect you from anyone by taking off his hat and placing it on your head before diving into a fight

He’s had that hat ever since he set off, and he intends to wear it until the end of his journey. Seeing you in it as well just adds to his growing memories that he’s going to make along his journey

He doesn’t like it when you wear your own hats or hair pieces because he wants your head to be free just in case he feels the need to see you in his hat

It’s a symbol of their strong connection, and that you are truly part of his life, not just a passing moment

[demonic0angel]

Everyone talking shit about Clockwork shoving time missions on the Phantoms. Nobody ever talks about how hard he works to keep space/time from collapsing in on itself from bad timelines.

(You’re right 😔 he needs some appreciation. I had a lot of fun with this one lmao)

Part 3 of this post and this post.

Clockwork resisted the urge to sigh as he watched another world implode via the timeline shifting from the speed force. He silently sent another note to his children workers to solve the problem. As he monitored the situation in other worlds, he kept an eye on the collapsing timeline.

Soon enough, Dan swooped in before the catalyst to beat the crap out of the person who had accidentally created a zombie apocalypse and then he was stomping his feet and throwing a rage-induced tantrum within the poor scientist’s lab, destroying everything. He was shouting and overturning tables, but couldn’t be heard through the time stream.

Clockwork resisted a sigh again. He didn’t like overworking his children employees so much either, but it had to be done.

Just as Dan left the world to rejoin his boyfriend, Clockwork continued to watch the other timelines. Three more worlds suddenly took a turn for the worst and Clockwork sent more messages to the rest of his children workers in order to fix it. He paused as the door to his lair opened and Dan burst inside.

Clockwork tried not to tense. Dan was his most volatile child employee, and he was prone to attacking anything that enraged him. Jazz had once explained that it was his coping mechanism as a decade of grief and loneliness had completely corrupted his impulse control.

Clockwork turned, pretending that he didn’t feel apprehensive about Dan’s presence. “Is there a problem…?”

Dan strode forward with a cool, almost indifferent expression. Without warning, Dan threw himself forward and onto Clockwork’s lap. Clockwork tensed, but Dan only held onto him tightly, wrapping his arms around his waist and then burying his face into his ghostly stomach.

The presence of his child someone near his stomach made him recoil tightly, but he held still.

“Clockworkkkkkk,” Dan whined. “Can’t I kill the Flashes? Please? Just one! I’ll settle for killing Wally West. Can I please kill him?”

Clockwork couldn’t help the chuckle that burst out of him. “No, you cannot. They are vital for that world’s survival.”

“They’re not vital to my sanity!”

The door burst open again and his other three children poured in, also having just finished fixing another world from collapsing. Dani immediately gasped at seeing Dan in his lap. “What! I want Clockwork cuddles too!”

The three of them joined their brother in crowding him and cuddling him, until eventually, he had all four of his children within his embrace. Clockwork released a sigh as he was forced onto his back and rubbed at Danny’s hair, who was lying on his spectral tail. Jazz leaned against him unhappily, and both Dani and Dan were laying on his stomach.

“I’m sorry for overworking you four,” Clockwork said, despite knowing that it wasn’t his fault. He had no one else to solve the problems of the Flash family, not when he was needed to watch over the time stream. “But it is necessary in order to help as many worlds as possible.”

“We don’t blame you,” Jazz said, ever the most empathetic, “it’s all of the Flashes’ faults!”

“I propose that we kill them and save us the headache!” Dan said.

Dani sighed, but also laughed. “Well, Bart is one of my best friends, but I guess he’ll have to go.”

Danny grinned and said, “Cool, I’ll take Flash.”

Clockwork smiled as his children (his wonderful, powerful, extraordinary children) started squabbling over how to kill or whether not to kill someone with the speed force. Work was difficult as someone who was devoted to protecting other timelines and worlds, but with his family by his side, life wasn’t too hard. In a way, Clockwork was almost grateful to be reborn as an Ancient.

Perhaps now, his family and existence wouldn’t end as tragically as before, with his children by his side.

[twistedlovelines]

(Formerly from @/luna-the-moth)

Nicknames that would fluster the TWST boys most <3 (Riddle, Deuce, Azul, Malleus) Gn! Reader, SFW

Thank you for sending this in, nonnie!

Riddle is such a romantic at heart…the classics are near and dear to his heart. Time worn they may be, they are as lovely as ever when spoken from your lips. 

Darling 

(A classic! While it can be spoken with condescension, the fact that you speak it with consideration every time it passes through your lips will never cease to pause him right in his tracks.)

Sweetheart 

(He’s not used to being referred to as “sweet.” By his mother, or even by his fellow students. To know that you see him as someone “sweet,” deserving of kindness and love, , , whose heart hasn’t been fully shrouded by the thorns he has been forced to hold close to his chest , , , it makes him feel soft.) 

My Love 

(particularly if crooned into his ear. Very effective if you’re asking him for something. The possession, the devotion that comes with the nickname makes his heart beat quicker than the White Rabbit’s footsteps.)

Deuce is used to being called every nickname under the sun- mackerel, loser, minion, and countless more during his delinquent years. He’s been called “lovey” ones too, but never without sarcasm or scorn unless he was speaking to his mother. The first time you call him by a nickname (with kindness), he’s speechless.  

Baby

(Oh he’s melting as soon as he hears it. He’s used to being someone who’s more of an aggressor, and hearing himself be called baby sweeps that all away and reduces him to nothing more than a lovestruck boy. It’s such a tender, loving thing to be called and he wants to memorize the way your voice says it immediately. 

Puppy

(When he first hears this, he’s confused. Puppy? Do you see him as a puppy? Something cute and harmless?? Upon clarification, he feels heat rush to his cheeks. Having you explain that it means you’re fond of him, that you want to take care of him and cherish him , , , he’s short-circuiting the second it processes. 

Angel

(Might start tearing up if you call him this during a tender moment. He’s tried so hard to be good and grow from his past self , ,, to hear that you believe he’s an angel, a being known for being pure and kind; a guardian rather than an attacker , , , it makes him feel incredibly validated and he WILL be cuddly afterwards). 

Azul isn't used to being called nicknames without a bit of ulterior motive...to hear you speak them honestly and without reservation is terrible for his poor heart...

Babe 

(Azul is anything but casual. Calculated, purposeful, whatever you wish to call it. He’s used to calling clients “my dear,” or “my friend-” terms of endearment that are meant to sweeten and tie the deal. To hear you call him babe as if it’s simply a nickname, nothing more…it soothes any of his anxieties regarding your relationship instantly.)

Lovely

(He finds himself waiting a beat too long to respond, having expected you to say his name. When you don’t, he finds himself smiling a bit too smugly than what would be deemed normal. Who wouldn’t be, after their partner referred to them by “Lovely?” It’s not until later when he’s alone that he truly lets it sink in how much the nickname means to him. Lovely. You directly called him lovely. Not just described him as Lovely but you think he himself is Lovely. Oh.) 

My Heart

(Azul has a weird fixation on hearts. Assuming that you are a person whose species has only one heart, it makes him possessive. As an octopus mer, he has three hearts. All of which belong to you, mind. But knowing that he is your sole heart, your only love…it makes him smitten.)

Malleus is used to reading terms of endearment in storybooks and fairy tales, having fantasized about hearing them fall from his lover's lips from a young age. His imagination doesn't even compare to the real thing.

Mal (Spanish meaning of the word aside)

(He’s already unused to hearing someone speak his name without any titles or fanfare- you calling him a shortened version of his name catches him off guard in the most pleasant way. It’s intimate in a way “Malleus” isn’t. It’s familiar, comfortable in the way your eyes shine when you say it, devoid of fear or apprehension.) 

Dearest

(He’s possessive. You’re his first true friend and first lover. He knows you have other friends- Grim, the Adeuce trio, and so on and so forth. But to know that he is the one held closest to your heart as you are in his makes him nearly purr in delight. He’ll grin at that, a faint dusting of pink settling upon his cheeks.)

My Love

(Similar to “Dearest,” “My Love” is incredibly sweet to him. He’s read it in story books, after the knight has rescued the princess and they are to be wed. To know that he, a dragon and prince, has been deemed the love of his dear knight…he’ll want to be as close to you as physically possible for the rest of the day/night, already dreaming of how you would look in white…)

a/n: Please feel free to send in more requests, granted that you follow my rules and have looked over my masterpost! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated <3

[fluoneia]

sypnosis. when you were born, your found!mother lest took you in when she saw you had similar differences that she had. years later, you found yourself joining the fireflies, and a certain someone took interest to you. ekko x reader

when you first joined the fireflies, you were somewhat of an outcast. scar took a liking to you, as you both had ears, but that was about it. you weren’t all that strong, you didn’t contribute much as you had nothing to contribute.

but, the kids took a liking to you. you were amazing in their eyes, just like their new idol, you had ears that perked up on your head.

but, the only one that ever stuck out to you was their infamous leader, ekko. and he took a liking to you, too.

ekko was the one to find you after you ran away from when you found out lest was working with shimmer. sometimes, you missed her. but, your life at the firelights was great.

ekko asked you to take on a role as somewhat of a caretaker for the kids. you accepted without a doubt, wanting to help in any way you could.

two months in, ekko started visiting you during your breaks more often that what firelights leader should deem fit. but, you didn’t mind. you liked his company.

today was like no other.

you were looking through the drawings the kids made you with a smile, taking a sip of your water.

then, you heard a knock on the door. you feel a rush of excitement when you realize it’s probably ekko.

“come in.” you smile, setting the drawing down.

ekko opens the door to your designated break room, saunting over to you.

“hey.” he would say in a greeting, sitting on the desk and looking down at the drawings. you smile in a gesture of greeting, sitting back in your chair. “it.. it looks like the kids really like you.”

“what can i say?” you shrug. “i guess i’m really likeable.”

ekko snorts. he picks up a drawing, peering it over. it was a drawing of two of the kids, with ekko and i beside them. ekko places it down after a second, before picking up one of the peaches on the desk and taking a bite of it.

“so you’re settling in here, well?” ekko glances toward you, wiping the juices off his lip. your eyes fixate on his lips, so soft, so full. you shake your head as you look away.

“yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up. “everyone here is amazing. i never thought that they’d be so.. so welcoming to my kind.”

ekko shrugs. “i made this place to be a safe haven. people from all over, piltover, zaun, everywhere come here. we see people with wings, with scales.. some cute little ears won’t turn peoples heads here anymore.”

ekko moves to graze a hand over your ears, but you flinch away. ekko recoils his hand.

“i’ve noticed..” ekko starts. “you never let anyone near your ears. not even the kids.”

you feel a blush creep over your face, and you lick your lips.

“why?” ekko asks softly. it doesn’t feel like he’s interrogating you, just curiosity in his tone.

“well, they..” you bite your tongue. you graze your finger over the back of your ear. your own touch never did the same as how others did. “they’re kind of sensitive.” you mutter under your breath.

ekko narrows his eyes. tilts his head. “what’d you say?” he leans closer, trying to hear you better.

you huff. “they’re sensitive. that’s why i don’t let people touch them.”

“oh.” ekko blinks as he thought. “sensitive.. how?”

“well, they..” you frown as you think. “it’s hard to explain.” you shake your head. “it’s like.. like this chilling feeling. i don’t know. it’s just not pleasant.”

actually, it was anything but unpleasant. you didn’t trust anyone enough to touch your ears, because one time one of your friends touched them, and you damn purred as the searing feeling went down your spine.

you didn’t want anyone to know how touching your ears made you feel. so, you often made it sound like it was almost painful to steer people away from the subject.

“i only really let people i trust go near them.” you say.

you didn’t want to say because touching them makes you go to damn mush.

“people you trust, huh?” ekko smiles as he takes another bite of the peach. he opens his mouth, yet bites his tongue. “would you.. would you ever trust me?”

you glance up at him. peer over his face. his eyes hold such curiosity as they glue onto your ears, that twitch under his gaze.

“i— i dunno. maybe? i mean..”

you find yourself lost in his eyes, so drowning, so full of light. you swallow the lump in your throat at your unspoken words.

then, ekko closes his eyes and looks away. “just curious.” he shrugged, standing. “i’ll leave you to your break.”

you bite your tongue as he walks toward the door.

“see ya, kitty.” ekko waves a hand in goodbye, before closing the door behind him.

you let out a frustrated huff at yourself. i mean, you’ve thought about letting him touch your ears before. just to remember what it was like.. yeah. totally. that was all it was.

you frown as you lean back in your chair.

later that night at dinner, you watch in awe as ekko gives a speech about a recent successful mission.

you glance back down at your food as cheers erupt in the dining hall. you smile, placing a cut up peach in your mouth.

after, you left the hall in silence. you found yourself at one of the spots you often found peace in after long days. the firelights swarm around you, and you let one land on your finger.

a smile stretches on your face when it flies away, when the breeze flows through your hair, your fur.

“thought i’d find you here.”

you jump as you hear ekko’s voice, placing a hand over your heart.

“a little warning next time would be nice.” youd mutter, watching as the firefly’s around you spooked and flew away.

ekko snorts, sitting beside you. you try to ignore the warmth that spread through your shoulder as his rests against yours, the nerves spiking high.

you lean into his touch.

“about earlier.” ekko huffs. “i didn’t mean it to make you.. uncomfortable. i mean, i don’t know what it’s like.” ekko shrugs.

“no, no.” you shake your head. “i was.. i thought about what you said.” you inhaled. you glance over to him, and he’s already looking at you. “if you’re curious, there’s no harm. so.. just once.”

ekko is quiet for a second.

“are you sure?” he says.

“don’t make it a big thing.” you shake your head. you give him a soft smile. you lean your head toward him, ear twitching against his skin.

without a work, he leaned up and gently dragged his finger over your ear. his thumb brushed against the skin inside of your ear.

“woah.” he whispered, brushing the fur down.

you gnaw at your lip, but you can’t help the purrs that vibrate inside of your chest. you lean into his touch, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

“they’re so.. soft.”

ekko’s finger moves to your other ear, scratching at where your ear started. you hide your face in your hands as you feel the warmth spread against your cheeks.

and for the first time, you didn’t want to recoil away from someone’s touch against your ears. it didn’t feel foreign, nor awkward. it just felt.. right. calming, soothing.

you force yourself away before you let yourself go any further.

“oh— sorry, was that..?” ekko retracted his hand.

you shy your gaze away, butterflies and feelings kicking in your stomach.

“sorry—“ you whispered, running a hand over your hot face as you try to regain back your reality. “no, no, sorry, i just—“

“don’t apologize. i won’t push it.” ekko let’s his hand drop against your shoulder. you lean into the warm touch, finally feeling the fog in your head fade away.

you give him a reassuring smile.

“so, was it everything you ever imagined?” you tease, pushing your elbow against his side.

ekko snorted. “kind of was. knew they’d be soft.” he grins a teasing smile.

you laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder again.

maybe people touching your ears wasn’t so bad. so long as it was ekko.

a/n. for @b5withextrachicken :’)) more info on my taglist here

[na0koz]

jinx getting jealous and makin u pay for it :P

nsfw!!! MDNI. cw: blood, knives, kinda dubcon i guess?, strap use

anon request! wouldn’t let me respond to it in a post. this is my first time writing proper smut sorry if it’s bad

toxic!jinx masterlist

today was one of the few days you weren’t planning on hanging out with jinx, but obviously you ended up doing just that. jinx was just checking up on you, watching you work from the very back corner of the cute little coffee shop you were studying in (sometimes she is baffled by the fact that you have never ever noticed her stalking you. she is in plain sight half the time) when someone from your class comes in and approaches you at your table.

you smile up at them, moving your bag so they can sit opposite you and the two of you start chatting. several minutes go by, your studies long forgotten as you get to know your classmate, someone who you hadn’t really spoken to much before. jinx on the other hand, hasn’t moved a muscle and has barely even blinked as she watches the interaction unfold before her, eyes flickering between the two of you before noticing your classmate pulling their phone out.

jinx damn near gets up out of her seat when she sees you take their phone and type what jinx assumes was your phone number. she finally moves, though only to start bouncing her leg up and down, waiting for an opportunity to question you. she’s bitten her lip so hard that it bleeds.

after what feels like an eternity, your classmate leaves. jinx already knows their name and perhaps even their address after somehow finding a list of everyone in your class and researching each of them. they will face their punishment in due course. as soon as the door closes behind them, jinx is up and stomping towards your table.

the sudden movement opposite you as she sits down causes you to look up again from your laptop and you exclaim upon seeing her. “oh! hey jinx.”

jinx doesn’t say anything in return, just licks the remaining half-dried blood from her lip.

“who was that?” she questions, leaning on her forearms over the table. she sounds annoyed, and you really really hope she isn’t as angry as she sounds.

“someone from my class. they just wanted to borrow some notes they had missed,” you explain as you gather your stuff up and put it in your bag. you know she’s gonna make you leave with her so you might as well prepare.

“hm. whatever, let’s go.”

you follow jinx out of the shop and she grabs your arm to pull you along beside her while she thinks of the quickest route back to either of your houses.

you end up at her house, the door locked behind you as you push your shoes off. jinx tugs your bag off your shoulder for you, dropping it to the floor with a thud before leading you to her room.

she starts yanking off your jacket, your clothes and finally your underwear. she sheds a couple of her own layers, but pauses when she’s just in her underwear and a tight cropped tank top. you can’t say you’re not turned on, and you brace yourself for the teasing that will likely follow when jinx forces your legs open.

in the time you imagine how she’s going to chide you for how wet you’re getting over literally nothing, she’s managed to get her strap on and pulls you onto your stomach, bending your knees for you so you’re face down, ass up on her bed. she continues wordlessly as she begins tying a turquoise rope around your wrists behind your back.

jinx lines up her dick with your already dripping hole and pushes in, making you whine into the mattress. still without a word, she starts fucking you, and hard.

you quickly build up to your orgasm, chanting jinx’s name like a prayer begging her to let you cum.

she replies with a simple “go on.” and you cum hard on her dick, a few tears escaping your eyes and soaking the sheets below.

tonight, it’s her goal to make sure you know she’s the only one who can give you what she can, as well as she can.

jinx coaxes a few more orgasms from you with her strap before she decides to opt for a new method to make you feel so good you cry.

she pulls your fucked out body into her lap and drags your arms behind her head so they looped around her neck, still bound together by the blue rope. she kicks her legs under yours to force them open and keep them that way. then, she shoves two of her fingers into your mouth.

instinctively, you start to suck, tongue curling around her slender fingers.

“mhm, that’s it. good girl.” jinx muses as she watches your lips puckering around her digits. it surprises you how much she can change when she’s fucking you, becoming dark and dominant over you.

she pulls her now wet fingers out of your mouth with a pop and traces them down the valley of your chest, along your stomach down to your pussy. she teases your clit and your puffy folds for a second before plunging her fingers into your sensitive hole. you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut, failing to notice jinx reaching behind her as she grasps for her assault knife. the one with the hot pink and turquoise handle she made herself.

as she curls her fingers inside of you, she gently prods your inner thigh with the knife and you twitch at the sudden pain. you open your eyes and look up at her, not being able to restrain the whimpers coming from your throat as jinx continues fingering you with her knife still poking you, threatening to pierce your skin.

“ji-… hurts..” you can barely get a word out from how tight the coil inside of you is.

she’s not letting you reach your orgasm on purpose. you hear her giggle at your whining through the haze of your pleasure.

“you gonna cum?” she sings at you. she’s just teasing your for her own pleasure now. freak.

“please…jinx. wanna cum so bad..” you plead with her.

“y’know no one else can make you cum like this, baby. no one else can do what i do.” she begins to drag the knife up to the space between your tits.

jinx doesn’t feel like drawing any blood from you today, but she doesn’t need to tell you that right now. she just needs to make you know that you’re hers. she owns you and she needs to punish you for making her jealous.

“tell me i’m the only one who can make you cum.” she presses down with the blade, hearing you moan even louder. she’s changed her mind now. she pulls the knife down a little, drops of blood blooming on your chest.

you’re writhing in her grip now. you’re so so close to cumming but she just won’t let you.

“go on. tell me.” jinx says bluntly before dipping her head down to lick the blood off you.

“yo-..! you’re the only one jinx! the only one who can make me cum! please- please let me..” you cry as your sentence dies on your tongue, brows furrowed and eyes shut.

she hums. “see, baby? wasn’t so hard.” she puts the knife down and finally fucking you just that little bit harder.

the band in your belly snaps and you cum so hard you see stars. your hot juices spurt out of your convulsing hole over jinx’s palm and her bedsheets. she licks the tears from your cheeks and strokes your hair with her free hand.

you relax against her, breathing heavily as she wipes the small wound she made with a cloth she had on her nightstand. she lets you calm down a little more before cleaning up your soaked pussy.

you think it’s probably best to ignore any texts from your classmate, and pretend you typed your number wrong. for their sake, not yours.

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

Dc x Pjo

Part 9

______________________________

It was now morning, the air was humid and the chariots were lined up, everyone on the sidelines was packed with food, every second you wish you were in those benches

"One... Two.... Three... GO!" Tantalus yelled and the campers roared

The Ares chariot was quick, but the Hermes chariot led by the not twins Travis and Connor Stoll, Connor was shooting rocks in between the wheels of chariots

Leading first is the Hephaestus chariot led by Charles Beckendorf and his brother, second is Poseidon Chariot led by Percy Jackson and Tyson the cyclops

No way you were going to let them win

Your sister Yvonne Bailey Daughter of a multi-million fashion designer grabbed some arrows, her step mother (Aphrodite approved) was an Olympic archer, she taught Yvonne everything she knows

Which is lucky because in this race your opponents either throw arrows or bombs, even luckier cause someone on the Aphrodite cabin knows how to make arrow bombs (you duh)

And you may or may have not taken green arrows design but it's not like he can sue you, I mean come on you're dead

"No hard feelings (Name)" Annabeth smiles as her chariots bumps yours

Yvonne recovering from the shock stood up again quickly "You did not just do that", she prepared an arrow and shot at their left wheel, tried to shoot at least

The arrow instead hit the Hermes chariot and it crashed onto the Hephaestus chariot

Well they say it's better to destroy two chariots with one arrow

Now it was just You and Yvonne, Annabeth and her brother, Percy and Tyson

AND CLARISSE LA RUE????

For some reason, even if they were stuck at the back of the track trying to get he ricks out of their wheels, they managed to bypass the other burning down chariots in their way

It was fine, you liked a challenge, Then Stymphalian birds (flesh eating demon birds) started raining down from the sky and started pecking at the campers

A flock of these birds started to attack your chariot, without thinking you grabben an arrow and shit at them...

... without proper space distance, making the explosion close to you chariot

Yvonne grabbed you and ducked down and the horses who were carrying your chariot went feral trying to avoid the demon birds themselves

Percy who slipped out of the race, managed to grab a boom box and played this awful music that made the birds screech, but stopped them from attacking

The Apollo kids took this as a chance to shoot them down

And when you thought it was over, Clarisse came running through with her chariot and won the race

Despite the injuries of the racers and the non racers, they cheered

______________________________

Jason grumbled at the sight of his family, gloomy, "Hey, Breakfast has been ready for hours now, Duke is waiting!"

"I know but I found new information, according to here, Empousa only drink the blood of their victims, not eat them, that would mean there is still a body-" Tim has been researching every Greek monster ever since, trying to find a clue on how to see them properly

Diana had explained this most that covers the mortal eye from the divine world, with the announcement that the gods are real...

People have been starting to get stressed, since the most is still in effect, people are accusing each other of being monsters in disguise

"I don't get why you're doing so much for a fake" Jason glared, true he was shocked at the death, but... It's not like this was the first time (Name) died

The little replacement to protect dad's sanity was dead, so?

______________________________

According to Tantalus, we should be punished, because according to him the stymphalian birds were just minding their business and only attacked because they were bothered by Percy's horrible chariot driving

"go chase a donut!" Percy stomped off as Tantalus continues to yell at him and Tyson scurries behind behind Percy

I grabbed a piece of fruit from a table that managed to survive the attack and waved it around so Tantalus could see

And I ate it in front of him.

"Okay you too! Both you and Percy and the monster will be washing the dishes tonight" he yelled

"what, that's bull, everyone eats" said a brother of yours

"leave my sister alone, you're just mad you can't eat" said another brother

"how are you cursed to never eat and still be fat, that doesn't make sense" said one of your sisters

Annabeth's brows furrowed "That's not fair! (Name) Just ate! You can't punish her for eating!"

"alright smarty you're punished as well! Everyone cleans this mess! And make dinner for Clarisse if you want, a banquet or something, but stay the fuck away from my sight" now it was Tantalus's turn to stomp away

______________________________

(Name): eats*

Tantalus who was cursed to never eat: I'm offended

______________________________

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar