#but they are a unique kind of unpleasant

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Do you have any recommendations of specific brands/search terms/etc for electric heating pads? Rechargeable or plug into the wall kind, either way, I'm looking for one that I could use on my back and shoulder but also hopefully my neck I know almost nothing about that kind of heating pad because I always use hot water bottles, but when my muscles cramp or spasm really badly* it's not safe for me to pour hot water into a bottle and I want to have an option I can use on those days. My dad was a firefighter several decades ago and is very cautious when it comes to things with electric heating elements as a result of it, so I never had any electric heating pads growing up. I assume the technology has improved in the decades between then and now, though? Microwave heating pads will not work, because the microwave is downstairs and the "not safe to pour water" days are also usually "not safe to use stairs" days for me *I have electrolyte problems disease (aka salt wasting syndrome) and sometimes it makes my muscles mess up. I have been tested for like...everything that can cause muscle issues and nothing is wrong with my muscles themselves or my nerves. I just do salt and water very wrong and muscles don't like that

[kyliafanfiction]

Is there anything more annoying than Tolkien stans going after GRRM?

Well, yes, but still.

[7s3ven]

FILE LOADING. TF 141 x hacker! Reader, pt 1

( full master list) (intro to this series)

IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.

Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems

A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.

—

The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.

The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.

In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.

But as always, life in jail still sucked.

You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.

“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.

Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.

The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.

“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.

“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.

Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”

She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.

“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.

“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.

“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”

Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”

“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.

“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”

“And the catch of this job?”

Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”

You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?

“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”

Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.

“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”

Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.

The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.

“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.

“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”

Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.

“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”

Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”

—

The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.

A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.

“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.

“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.

You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.

“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”

You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.

The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”

You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”

Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”

“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.

The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.

“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.

“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”

“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.

The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.

“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.

“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.

“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”

“Thought you said I got no money.”

“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.

“And I walk free.”

Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”

You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.

“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.

“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”

“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.

“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.

“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”

Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.

Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.

You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.

“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.

“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.

“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.

You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.

“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.

He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.�� He corrects you.

You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.

“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.

“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”

You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”

“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”

You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.

The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.

The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.

It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.

“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.

You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.

The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.

Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.

“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.

She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.

“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.

Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.

“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.

“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.

“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.

Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.

“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.

You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”

COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22

@lunamoonbby @little-b33 @ghostswife-8 @tea-drinking-nerd @certainlygay @lucienofthelakes @supaturtl3 @pr3ttypupp4 @royalz658 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ashy-akuma @1bucky-barnes-wife1 @chloepluto1306 @voguiing @eyeless-kun @joshwashingtonmybeloved @fuzzyducky3 @childishname @angel-bugz @kee-0-kee @undercover-smutlover @10honeybee01 @kat247 @munson24 @sweetlittleblackrose @babybimbo777 @wfinniegenx @galactict3a @hyperfixatedcatlover @creepumiku @yoontoons @moraxnomora @1ckyfairy @lunerbitch @tizylish

[k9wa]

⟁ SENSITIVE ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “you get all excited for me to fix you up and call you a good boy.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a sensitive spot during a repair leaves him melting into your callused little hands.

⚠︎ mechanic!reader, so much flirting im kind of sick, he whimpers i have an agenda, this is like 90% dialogue sorry, he wants u sooo bad. wc 1k, from this req.

“y’know darlin,” boothill managed to breathe out through a taut jaw and clenched teeth. “you bein’ this close ain’t exactly helpin’ me focus none.”

your fingers were slow, careful, precise as they pushed a few tiny wires apart, giving view deeper inside the little panel on boothill’s throat.

the position you two stood in was one all too familiar, boothill perched on your workbench with you between his thighs— the only new variables being your face way closer than he’s used to and your fingers proding around in his surprisingly sensitive wires.

it was an…odd sensation, to say the least. a small unpleasant stinging that simultaneously stimulated a rather pleasant shiver up his back with every small poke.

“time and place, cowboy.”

you responded quietly, tone a little flat with your tease from concentration.

“can’t help lettin’ my mind— wander, can i now?” his breath hitched a bit as you nicked a particularly touchy wire.

“if you let me finish this,” you lifted your head enough to meet his eyes, free hand gently smoothing out the crease in his brow. “i’ll let you show me just how wild your imagination can get.”

boothill bit back a scruff chuckle at that. 

“that enough incentive for you to sit still?”

“well, i reckon that’s plent— mmgh!”

a pair of mechanical hands tightly grab onto your hips as his shoulders tense, a knee-jerk result of your tweezers finding the out of place wire you’d been looking around for.

your hands paused, opting to ignore the way he audibly whimpered for raising your gaze a second time to check on him.

“you hangin’ in there?”

boothill’s fingers flexed as they held onto you, relaxing from squeezing your pants to a more gentle cradle of your hips.

“you know,” he swallowed thickly— as if his throat could even dry out, likely just a natural reflex— “you got a way of makin’ fixin’ me up feel real special.”

the slight waver to his voice isn’t lost on your ears— it was quite loud in them, actually.

“i’m hangin’ in fine, don’t worry your pretty head none.”

carefully retracting your tweezers, you stood up straight enough to lightly push his hat up, giving view to his face and cupping your hand over a blue-hued cheek.

“wanna take a break?” 

he nearly had to clutch his chest with the gentle concern that laced your tone.

boothill knew he was flushed, was purposefully avoiding looking you in the eye because a few pokes to some sensitive spots had him sliding his hands to your waist like a lifeline— not that what he could distantly feel of your skin against the synthesised nerves of his palms weren’t doing much to cool him off anyway. but he did…relax, somewhat. 

he always enjoyed when you’d touch his face, getting to feel all the unique little details of you; the gentle drum of your pulse and the little calluses from your tools. it somehow always manages to make the tension in his body ebb away, draining with an exhale that lightly fans against your wrist.

he shook his head with a quiet clear of his throat— another unnecessary function that served more as a tick than anything.

“nah, nah i’m alright.” he assured. it didn’t make him any less embarrassed to be having such a reaction. 

big bad criminal until you get a little too fudgin’ touchy, apparently.

“let’s just get this finished up, yeah? maybe we can move onto somethin’ more pleasant.”

your thumb gave two gentle taps to his cheekbone before it pulled away, reaching for your tweezers for the nth time.

“that’s my boy.”

oh how boothill’s chest bloomed at the simple praise, the endearing ‘my’ that slipped in with it licking up his ribs and curling to rest along where a drumming heart should have been.

“jus’ be gentle with me, will ya sugar plum?”

“you know i've always got ya.”

each plug or untangle of a little yellow or red cable had his systems humming, fingers occasionally curling into your hips every time a little surge left him biting his cheek a little harder.

“we’re almost done,” your voice is icing on an already cavity-inducing cake, though he’ll gladly take a toothache if it’s for you. “just a little longer.”

boothill was going fist to fist and losing with the urge to completely melt under your deft fingers.

“…keep talkin’ to me,” he requested with a murmurmurmur, cautious not to move too much. “helps me stay on t—” he had to bite back another whimper, cheek going between his teeth and eyes going to the ceiling. “—task.”

boothill didn’t miss the little tug of your lips.

“you know, you do this thing when you get shy.” you mused quietly, breath meeting the shell of his ear. “you bite your cheek ‘n look away. it’s cute.”

boothill couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at your deduction. he tried to regain some of his composure, though the colour in his cheeks continued to betray him.

“i don’t know ‘bout shy,” he rumbled, keeping his voice steady as he could. “but i’ll take cute if it means i get to hear you keep sweet talkin’ me. keep this up and i might start enjoyin’ these repairs a lil too much.”

his voice was a little strained, though still held his usual humour.

“like you don’t love em already.” you teased back, gently closing the panel on his neck as it re-sealed with a small hiss. “you get all excited for me to fix you up, call you a good boy and send you on your merry way.”

“i’m still waitin’ on that last bit, y’know?”

you shook your head, popping his hat off his head and placing it on your own.

“good boy,” you pinched his cheek endearingly. “you’re all done. do you want a lolipop too?”

“think i deserve somethin’ a lil sweeter than a lolipop, don’t you sugar?” boothill’s face unknowingly deepens at the sight of you in his hat, brave words betrayed by a nervous tap in his finger and more blue to the apples of his cheeks.

“we’ll save it for when you’ve got a real booboo,” you took his hat off, using the brim to lightly tilt his chin up and give him a tender kiss on the cheek. for such a heavy hunk of metal, he nearly began to float.

“but there’s something to hold your sweet tooth for now.”

…

“boothill?”

“y..yeah, sweet pea?”

“you’re overheating.”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[serve-corps]

Wednesday x female reader

reader if from a different school yet they're highschool sweethearts!

slightly out of character Wednesday, I believe she would take after her father in the romance department after she opens up and relaxes

Wednesday was a stoic girl. she was never brought to tears after her scorpion was brutally killed in front of her. She never let her emotions show on her face. she always kept her cards close to her chest. that also included you.

you had been dating Wednesday for a few years, 4 to be exact. you met at the same middle school when she suddenly transferred in the last year when you both were 12, you treated her like everyone else but you always laughed or more or so snorted when she threw back some common sense back at some strict teachers.

when people were being mean to her, the next day; suddenly there were tacks on their seats, Gorilla glue all of their books together, and bleach on their gym uniforms. but Wednesday wasn't the one who did this, she would have been more violent, more torturous and gruesome.

because of their misfortune, Wednesday let out small smiles at this announcement when they were looking for the cause of this, the bullies seemed to be more troubled with this than physical torture and the result had a long-lasting effect with not only more irritation but everyone around them was giving them the same treatment they were giving Wednesday. huh, so subtle torture can be effective. noted.

by some unjust feeling, she knew it was you that gave her that hand; no not thing. from then on, you noticed she lingered wherever you did, it was her kind of stalking you in a way. but you weren't scared, flattered actually.

walking up to her that day was a bit hectic as she was resilient to acknowledge you, let alone respond to your question of, "hey, Wednesday. right?"

after a few minutes of talking about what else you did to those bullies for Wednesday's sake made her talk. rookie mistake because not even a few months later, she realised she was head over heels for you. it's like a recessive gene being such a hopeless romantic. just like her mother and father, she was hesitant to show affection at first when you started dating in high school, two years before she got transferred, but she became as sweet as candy when you were alone, her knowledge of anatomy came in handy when she wanted to give you a massage, you never asked for them but it was more to make her feel content and feel like she was doing something that aided you than anything else.

this was one of the reasons she was so against going to nevermore academy, not just because it was a school of freaks and she was going to hate the scheme her parents had to make her the spitting images of them, but the fact she was leaving you.

granted she screwed up by getting moved because she dropped piranhas into the school's pool all for her brother's revenge. if she could go back in time she would have done something non-expelling worthy... like what you did to those bullies all those years ago for her.

a few months go by at Nevermore and she settled uncomfortably while having Weems breathing down her neck in the unpleasant creepy way. she made her impression on all students, she solved the riddle of the murderer's she's now free from hell. education now.

however, Weems always has to drop a bombshell on the students at the last minute, how kind of her to suddenly announce that there are a handful of students who will be visiting to take part in some of the unique exam topics that only occur at Nevermore. Botanical sciences and fencing are taught here which are uncommon among schools minus Nevermore.

this was an unpleasant surprise for students as they would now not only have to share dorms but get to know normies. deal with normies somehow bullying them in a school full of outcasts and having to deal with all the insults and slurs.

the only one who had a positive reaction was shockingly Wednesday, Enid was the only one who only slightly even noticed this because the girl in the black uniform sat up straighter and had her lips pressed into a thin line, unusual for her but it was sort of easy to brush off.

see, Wednesday had received a letter prior from you that you would be going to another school to take and revise for your fencing and Botanical sciences exam, you were unsure which school but there was a high chance it was her lovely girlfriend's maze of an education sancta.

all she had to do was wait for the clock to tick and you'd be in her arms once more- wait. she's built up this reputation of being a heartless girl, why should she shatter that? she wouldn't dare.

she took a mental note to remind herself to write a letter to you later about why she won't be smothering you in affection as soon as you're in her line of sight to make sure you do not feel saddened or hurt by her lack of attentiveness and eagerness to see you.

as she happily typed during her writing time, put into a better mood knowing you'd be residing in her school for a few months and she's be able to shower you with the love she wanted to for the entirety of while she's been attending nevermore.

Enid was humming to her K-pop that was playing a few decibels too loud for Wednesday's liking but wasn't saying anything for the sake of friendship but for their civil "peace" to be interrupted by some knocking at the door, Enid was the one to shout come in as Wednesday kept typing and the werewolf paused her music with a hop skip and a jump.

the door gently opened revealing the blonde Weems with a smile on her face, gesturing to a girl behind her to go inside the room before she did.

"Miss Sinclair, Miss Addams, this is ______ from ________ High School. she'll be taking both the Fencing and Botanical Science exams.

so in result, she'll be here longer than most of the semi-permanent transfers. in curtesy, were going to make sure she has a large room, there are only two other transfers that will be taking both exams so the three of them will be here for approximately six months."

she looked between the girls; checking their reactions. miraculously, Enid had a more sour look than Wednesday which made Weems' eyes widen, Wednesday looked almost happy, but she wasn't smiling.

"Principal Weems, there's probably some bigger rooms she can stay-" Enid said with a wobbly smile, trying to sound polite about not wanting a normie roommate but Wednesday cut her off.

"Sure, I can set a bed up for her later." she turned back to her typewriter only to be typing faster than normal. alarmingly fast yet it was the only thing that could be heard for a few seconds as both Weems and Enid were stunned at the girl actually saying yes to something, let alone some sort of volunteering.

Weems took that as the only win she was going to get and snapped out of her state, smiling brighter than before she grabbed two of the bags that belonged to you that were resting outside the door and brought them inside the room.

"then ill leave her in your care, girls!" she got out of the room as quickly as possible before Enid could even have the chance to refuse.

the girl with Harley Quinn coloured hair faced you with a tight pained smile and said,

"heeeeeeyyy new roomie...my name's Enid and that's Wednesday. Don't worry, she's just a bit of a murdery angsty teenager so don't be offended by her if she says anything!"

she backed away and sat down on her bed and a few seconds later, the sound of a timer went off on Wednesday's desk, her writing time was up. she placed her typewriter to the side and turned to you, Enid watching the interaction like a hawk.

"i believe it's my turn to give the new student a tour." standing up from her desk; she walked towards you and grabbed a few of your bags, moving them closer to her side of the room. then walking back to the door.

"if you would follow me." she said in her normal monotonous voice.

you did as she hence commanded and followed her with a grin on your face, which not only made Wednesday feel a flutter in her heart but made Enid feel paranoia. what were you going to say to Wednesday to make even her feel hurt. even if it's a little, Enid will get some blood on her claws if Wednesday even so much as has a bigger frown than usual.

walking down the dorm hallways with your girlfriend in silence was comforting. however, Wednesday broke the silence which led to the most gentle conversation back and forth asking each other things and providing answers.

"how are you, Cara Mia? Letters weren't enough for me." Wednesday said in her tone she only reserves for you, it seemed like a hum but it was also so quiet it was barely above a whisper. it made you weak in the knees.

it was close to when students were required to go to their dorms, however, there is an exception if there is currently a tour for a student.

the halls, classrooms, and the quad were empty, deeming it safe, Wednesday carefully reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers, her gently rubbing her ice-cold thumb over your warm hand. it made you shiver in the best way.

hands intertwined as she softly explained where the quad was and showed you what it looked like, it was empty as well. you took the time to lean against the wall, admiring not only the scenery but your girlfriend who was just gently gazing at you.

never would you have thought that those black eyes would have such a soft edge to them that could make your heart slide into your throat. you were so lost in her eyes, that you didn't even notice her advancement towards you, one hand still interlocked with yours meanwhile the other went to your cheek, her cold hand sending a shock to your nerves yet it felt like it was burning when she touched you.

she feels your warmth and her heart swells at feeling you once more in front of her, in person, and able to shower you with love.

your foreheads were pressed against each other, however, neither of you knew that there was a window that faced the quad, that widow was connected to Weems' office. she's seeing the whole ordeal with a gentle smile. knowing that all Addams are the same. she was the spitting image of her mother with the same tastes yet the same romantic as her father. guess thats where his genetics come in.

she smiled and closed the curtains that showed the two girls just staring into each other's eyes, once the curtains closed, the gap between their lips shut as the softest kiss was shared, one with a message of 'I missed you' and unconditional love. to think this love blossomed from middle school to now. how time flew.

the kiss stopped only for you two to just gaze into each other's eyes, the eerie scenery of the school's quad, the darkness surrounding you both with its creepy blanket, the paranoia of being caught, the mixed emotions of relief, happiness and longing all colliding together as you make up for the time you missed with each other.

"hello, amore..." you mutter with a smile, feeling a tingling warmth in your chest, regretfully pulling away but keeping a hand interlocked with hers.

you indulge in an intimate conversation for around ten minutes; one consisting of your school, families, and current dilemmas which results in pecks and gentle affections. it's unusual to see Wednesday like this. you don't hate it at all. You've only ever seen her like this with you so you'll take it as a compliment.

once you heard footsteps approaching that seemed hushed, almost trying not to be noticed, you two backed off each other and started talking professionally again. as though you didn't know each other.

Wednesday with her houndlike nose was able to sniff out the smells of acrylic and other cheap paints; all around just the scent of art supplies. Xavier.

he seemed to trying to sneak up on the pair of you, trying to gauge any sort of understanding the two of you had; if there was about to be a fight that would break out. turning to face each other after both of you noticed the James Bond behind the pillars, you both nodded to each other.

walking in paced footsteps towards your dorm, the third pair of clumsy feet dispersing at the midpoint of your journey obviously coming to some sort of sense that his journey was a hopeless escapade.

walking in without knocking, you see the room is empty apart from a messy bed belonging to Enid and a mattress that seemed to have fought and won against Enid as it was slanted and barely out of its corner. that brought a snort out of you, making Wednesday's eyes flicker to you only for her to try and see her brain with how hard she rolled her eyes.

you patted the goth's shoulder and walked towards the mattress strewn across the floor, picking it up with ease and placing it on the line that separated the preppy colourful werewolf and the psychic' room. the bed being slightly more pushed onto the soulless girl's side.

of course.

Wednesday's nose couldn't pick up on the K-pop-loving girl, nor the scent of expensive hand lotions with the scent of lavender and bergamot, gathering her thoughts, she "accidentally" knocked you over onto your mattress of the floor that you just applied some bedsheets to and clean pillowcases with a fresh blanket, falling onto your face, but the landing nullified by your pillows, you turn around to glare at the girl, who sat herself down on the edge of the mattress with poise and elegance, but that was thrown away when she laid down on the bed, grabbing you by the back of the collar.

a strangled gargle left your throat as you were choaked by the collar and were RKO-ed onto the shitty mattress, feeling a leg wrap itself around your leg, and her arms strangling your arm but not really strangling it, she just prefers that term over cuddling.

you softly chuckled and undid her braids, raking your hands through her hair softly, marvelling at the texture, humming a tune that's either a sombre tone or one with a tragic story behind it.

her denying the fact she's savouring the moment with you, her actually letting her guard down and falling asleep.

you keep her up with a soft tug at some of the strands of hair, in case her roommate decides to come back, her brows furrowing each time. Her trying to shoo your hand away, for once wanting to sleep instead of keeping up with her insomnia streak of 7 days for her experiment to prove the Russian sleep experiment wrong. She was willing to throw that all away in the comfort of your presence.

you wouldn't let her fall asleep though, it was late into the night after all, Wednesday found the night and darkness comforting but you, my god you...you lulled her to sleep like she was listening to a thunderstorm after she committed murder. you were even more comforting than that.

yet you wouldn't let her sleep? you bitch.

she grumbled out a groan and strained her body to be face to face with you, heads centimetres apart but Wednesday wasn't phased, she just forcibly grabbed your chin and kissed you, it was soft but you could damn well tell it was a kiss saying, "I love you but I will beat the shit out of you."

it made you smile how softly and lazily she kissed you, like she was falling asleep at the wheel and her brain was the car. her breath became slow in the kiss as her head slowly started to drop and your lips followed until she was resting on your shoulder, you were still chuckling lightly as your girlfriend can be the biggest romantic you've ever known sometimes.

kissing you to shut you up, how original.

as she rightfully put you in your place, even half-conscious, she seemingly was inhaling as much as she could as she was basically buried in the crook of your neck, not weird at all. but in all honesty, there are scents that people find comforting, that homey smell, that's what you remind her of, you are her home. you don't smell like dust and insects unlike her actual house, but you. you were her home. She loved that scent. you could smell her as well, it didn't smell like shampoo or anything, just black coffee and burnt sage, it was an unusual combination but you would not expect any less from your Addams.

a kiss to the forehead put a gentle look on her face; like you were blessing her with horrific nightmares and hoping she woke up in shock. just as she was about to gratefully slip into those nightmares, both of your necks snapped towards the sound of a camera shuttering and a bright flash somewhere by the door.

Wednesday sitting up in alarm, now wide awake about you still recovering from looking directly into the flash, slowing sitting up yourself.

you wish you were prepared for the rest of the abuse your body would take and your ears felt like they were going to become hell's new Niagara falls as this grating squeal tore though the room.

"O M G! Wednesday you have a girlfriend?! what happened to our BFF pact?! Didn't you just meet today?!?! I have so many questions!!" the voice was of that werewolf girl who looked like she would rather hang herself publicly than share a room with you but she was now smiling and awing at the both of you like you were some stupid romance novel?

as you blinked back into the real world, you saw the blonde pacing by the door, a severed hand jumping off of her shoulder and crawling its way towards you.

"hey thing, you got her out of here on purpose didn't you? That's my man." you mumbled quietly but Wednesday still heard you, giving you a dead glare for less than a second as you fist-bumped the little fella.

mistake on your part as Enid shouted once more "THING YOU KNEW?!-" Respectfully, you wanted to rip your ears off, you were just about to get her to sleep too but this is why you kept her up, because you thought this would happen and she's grumpy when she's woken up.

this lead to Wednesday explaining vaguely and Enid apologising for judging you. you and Thing were signing back and forth, talking about what's happened in the other's life that wasn't transmitted through Wednesday's censorship.

safe to say, Enid and Thing were not only under close monitoring about shutting the fuck up whenever they were in public or in school about you two, but they gave you grace periods alone together which was nice of them, sometimes clothes or makeup had to be touched up before they came in and sometimes clothed had to be put back on entirely. not only is Wednesday good with special effects make-up therefore hiding any marks she leaves or you give her,

but she's good at hiding things with make-up as well. you two managed to fly under the radar for nearly the whole six months you were attending nevermore until the last week, Bianca saw you two holding hands at lunch and publicly announced it, thinking it would embarrass Wednesday, all it did was get her to lean on you.

for that, you'll always thank Bianca. because that night she didn't care about how loud she was or how loud she made you be that last night. with actions or with words.

[kujiba]

¡MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE!

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

A/n: I made this while drunk /jk

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 5

PART 6

Were you high? Possibly.

Did you feel like you were floating? 50/50

You stared directly at the glowing screen plastered infront of you, with your eyes full of focus.

CHOOSE YOUR ELEMENT: ELECTRO, HYDRO, PYRO, DENDRO, ANEMO, GEO, CRYO

'Ah.. This will be hard' You thought to yourself while nodding and looking away from it. Gazing your eyes back on the screen you either were highly delusional right now or...

You had been gifted the ultimate weapon! A system!

You're not a dumbass you've seen those novels, tv's, Mangas, animes, manwha, all that kind of stuff! So you had some bits and pieces on how to roll with this new kind of power.

Back to the main problem... Which element should you pick? Every element in the game is highly valuable and could be used with many different ways. The question is what would benefit you more in the situation you've been put upon.

Currently you had been locked in a cell by whoever knocked you unconscious, but your suspicion leaned more in the knights of favonius. You shaked your head telling yourself to deal with the problems one by one.

"Damn.. Which do I choose" You clenched your lips together tightly and scratched your chin with your own finger. Being indecisive and having a bit of a problem to choose from the choices given to you by the system.

You knew you had to pull your ultimate move.

"Innie, Minnie, Miny, moe..." You mumbled while your finger hopped it's way to each element on the screen "Catch a tiger by its toe if it hollows let it Go, Innie, Minnie Miny, moe." Your finger slowed down by the second and finally took a halt when the song ended.

You looked at the element carefully too see what the fate has given you!

"DENDRO"

YAHOO!!

Your excitement honestly didn't come from the element you choose but the thought you could have your own powers and vision!!

"Gimme DENDRO!" You declared to the system with a prideful voice, A systematic noise rang through your ears in a unpleasant way, soon after the noise came to a halt, a small glowing jeweled amulet began to descend from the air.

"Holy..!" You stared in awe as the jewel gently dropped to your hands. A familiar glowing green vision with it's outer areas decorated uniquely in a high quality silver material.

Quickly enough the system box appeared in front of you yet again.

"CONGRATULATIONS, LEVEL UP TO UNLOCK MORE SKILLS, POWER, AND ITEMS"

The system then showed a long box filled with words and numbers that you immediately understood from your long gaming experience.

[NAME]

Lvl 1 / 20

Max HP: 929

ATK: 34

DEF: 21

Elemental Mastery: 0

Max stamina: 240

Crit rate: 5%

Crit DMG: 50%

Energy Recharge: 300%

"..."

GODDAMN! Why was your energy Recharge so high?... Actually no- that isn't a bad thing, it'll be good for you to just keep spamming your burst till the enemy drops dead.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a pair of footsteps made their way too where you currently are, you quickly hid the vision behind your back, afraid they might try and take it from you if they ever found out about it.

A familiar blonde and brunette made their way in front of your cell, you gripped your vision tighter remembering clear as day what had happened, your suspicions not even faltering for a second.

"(Name)." Jean called out, she placed her hand on her chest while looking at you calmly. Amber was by her side looking at your every movement, Jean continued "Were not here to hurt you. It's the opposite really" Jean's eyes looked soft and humble...

But that doesn't excuse them for knocking you out so harshly.

You deathly wanted to talk back to her but kept your mouth shut, only biting your lip harder so that nothing would come out and spill something important.

"Please, don't be wary of us.. We're your friends" Okay now she was spouting bs. Sure you've met amber for ONLY a bit but Jean was still technically a stranger to you!

You sighed to yourself "How long are you going to keep me in here?" you asked with a tad bit of impatience, you leaned your head back on the solid wall while narrowing down your eyes at them.

Amber responded to your question "Its..it's for your own good (Name), please trust us. We're keeping you safe" Amber's tone was yet determined but also worried. Jean placed her hand on Amber's shoulder and nodded.

"We'll explain to you everything later" Jean was about to say something till you cut her off "Why not now?" You asked tilting your head to the side.

Jean looked at you then down at the ground "There.. Are still some important things we had to arrange. But even so don't try to escape, this is for your own good (Name)"

"Ha? What do you-- AND... they left" You grumbled seeing them leave you all alone in here again.

✿

"Hey system." You called out to it while playing around with your vision. The system appeared again by your side "What is it?"

A Google translator like voice came out of the box, you had this thought for a while now. "Will something happen to me when I escape this place?" You questioned it.

It took a while but the Ai voice returned "Judging from my information I have gathered. You are currently a 'GOD'."

Ha?

"What!? What do you mean, God!?" You exclaimed in a panicked voice. You? A God?

You were snapped out of your frenzy when you heared it's voice again "There is currently a popular and confirmed tale plus ballad that you are the creator of Teyvat. People began worshipping you after you had abruptly dissapered without any warning, so they prayed and worshipped, hoping to bring you back"

You were even more bewildered but also... Understanding? I guess? I mean you are the player who basically built everything in the game. But isn't also Cai Hauyo (Mihoyo) basically the creator of what had been created? You'll dive deeper into that later.

"So.. They're all after me now?" Your tone had a clear hint of worry. You didn't want to be on the run and just wanted a normal life! The system replied saying "Not quite yet. I belive only the knights of favonius must've known. But Im sure it won't be long till the whole mondstadt or even Teyvat will find out about your presence"

You grimaced at the thought of being hunted down by multiple people, especially if those beloved people that you used to grind hours on end for!

You shaked your head in disapproval "Yet I can't really stay here either can I, it seriously sucks" you stretched your legs out on the cold cement flooring, the exterior of the room you had been trapped in was definitely not suited to live in.

"Why are you eager to escape?" The system sought to find the answer, you gave it a long frown "First of all, I am not going to be trapped here for the rest of my life! I'll die of boredom before anybody could even reach me" The system responded with only small glitching noises, it seemed like it was trying to process the outcome of your actions.

You took that as a cue to continue your rant "Secondly, I'm not really trusting the Knight's of Favonius yet nor anybody in general here. When you said I'm a supposed 'God' that's already trouble going to bite me in the ass" You breathed heavily to catch your breath, letting that all out of your chest felt pretty good to be honest.

"I know they're up to something"

!?!?

Jean stared down at the stack of papers and files scattered around her desk. She took a deep breath and began to tidy things up around the office, a vivid memory flashed through her mind, a memory that wasn't that long ago.

Amber had gone out to continue her Outrider duties leaving Jean to take care of their business for the time being. Her lips trembled ever so slightly like a leaf being blown by the wind, so she quickly bit her lip with her eyes full of worry and dread.

A god was in a cell. A cell she placed them in. Or.. So she was assuming

Back then, Barbatos and the creator had a small fondness of each other. Tales and Ballads would often say they were friends, even with the gap between their ranks and powers, the creator treated everyone fairly no matter what rank. They adored their creations and thus, the creations adored them back.

If only they hadn't left so soon that Teyvat began to slowly crumble, leaving a nation to fall down, a nation to lock itself away from the rest of the world, a nation having their own Archon sacrifice themselves for their people.

If only...

Jean had her doubts. It wasn't the first time that a supposed 'Creator' stepped up only for them to experience demise and pain for their foolish actions.

The creator didn't have a confirmed face or appearance since they often changed what they look like, the creator did had 'Aura'.. That was only visible to vision holders. But of course, the humankind has evolved and people began to come up with a 'Fake Aura' that was the exact replica of the creator's.

Her feet paced back and forth through the room, deciding on what to do with the supposed 'God' that was locked away in a cell.... Should she eliminate them now? False identity was a crime. And when it comes to the creator, no one is spared nor given mercy.

"...Their too suspicious, Why only now did they appear? They must've been like the others." She whispered to herself, her thoughts running wild about them.

A 50/50.

They were either the actual creator

Or they are a fake.

And Jean's choice began to tilt towards the one most logical.

"Tomorrow. We will arrange a public execution"

!!!

"GAHHH!! AGHHH" You desperately tried to concentrate on your mind to activate your vision powers "What the heck how does this work!?" You gripped the amulet tighter with your left eye twitching violently. Your annoyance only filled more as the messages of the system flooded in your face.

"Try concentrating more calmly. What are you doing? Taking a shit?" The system taunted you while also sending some emojis.

"I'm trying okay!? How do you..." You trailed your words off, having a random flashback of when you still were at earth for some reason.

"Hey how are you always so calm?" You asked your friend filled with curiosity, they looked up at your eyes. Seeing your curiosity they hummed "Well I mostly think about my happy memories and things that I like. It's like day dreaming you know?" They answered your thoughts calmly.

"What?? You sound like one of those cliché characters in shows lol."

You blankly stared at the wall after the flashback had ended. Your head turned to the system "That was your doing ain't it?" You deadpanned seeing that the system had completely ignored you and instead sent whistling emojis.

You groaned finally giving in since you had no other ideas anyway. "Agh... Fine, worth a shot" You grumbled giving in to the cliché idea.

You relaxed down your body as your shoulders began to lower along with your guard, you cleared your head, thinking nothing but a blank space for some moments. When you felt ready you had began to imagine all the joyful things that you deeply favored for the past years. All of that gathered into one moment inside your brain.

The vision glowed brightly in your hands, it's viridescent color taking up the whole dimly lit room, even the system kept quiet with the messages so that you could concentrate better on finally unlocking some skills.

And just that, in a short while the vision began to lose its light.

Fluttering your eyes open you took a look around your body to see any changes, to your dissapointment there wasn't any difference. "Did it work?" You wanted to know if you were finally able to throw plants or something.

Suddenly, you slightly jumped seeing confetti pop out of nowhere. The systems screen had massive words placed for you to see.

"CONGRATULATIONS ON UNLOCKING YOUR VISION !!

Reward:

+50,000 Mora

+Cake For The Player

+Personal Companion"

'Personal Companion?'

You were curious to see what it was but for now, you had to focus on breaking out of this hell hole. "System! So like uh, what can I do for now?" You rubbed the back of your head still pretty much a newbie to all this powers stuff.

"Throw out your companion. Call out it's name, 'Taube' and break the damn wall to escape"

"Taube?..." You mumbled it's name unsure at first but your doubts had quickly vanished as your eyes landed on a... Dove?

The Dove (Taube) was pure as a snow, it's wings flapping in the air gently with the inner layer of its feathers being a stunning (Color). Other than that, it looked like a pretty beautiful dove soaring in the sky.

"Wait so, what can it do?" You tilted your head at it questionably. "Make Taube attack the wall so you can see" The system answered your calling, you silently nodded your head at the systems words.

If the Dove was basically part of your power, then it could basically read through your mind! then.... 'Taube, I choose you!!'

Like a smooth cut of a knife, Taube had sliced through the wall with their wing, leading to the fresh and flourishing outside.

You were lying if you didn't say you were impressed and amazed by how easily Taube destroyed the wall. A wide smile appeared on your face as you didn't waste a single moment and ran out to the outside and away from that wretched room.

The air was clean and felt good as you inhaled as much as you can, the sweet scent of dandelions being all over the land was just a touch of freedom. The wind blew over your clothes and hair, wrinkling and messing it all up slightly.

"Man..." You muttered while straightening and fixing yourself up to look a slight bit more presentable. You looked around seeing Taube flying over to your vision, confusion hitted you but shock struck you harder for some quick seconds.

Your eyes widened, watching how Taubes body began to get absorbed by the vision, you panicked alot thinking your powerful animal companion is going to dissperse and never appear again but you quickly remembered that Taube is originally made from your vision anyway.

So you could summon them anytime! :D

A sigh of relief escaped through your lips, your eyes lingered on the body of Taube one last time, in impulse you softly stroked it's head before it faded away from your line of view.

Brushing those thoughts aside, you took a look around the vast land of Mondstadt. You weren't used to seeing how clean and green it was compared to earth where everything is in the brink of collapsing.

BUT! that wasnt your problem right now.

You didn't think twice to bolt your ass out of there and find a new hiding place, A cave? A abandoned house? Anything is fine! cause your gut kept telling you something bad will happen if you stay too long in there!

Wow. Who knew that you would be escaping from there when just a few chapters ago you were fangirling about living in mondstat?

Anyways...

'FREEDOM!!'

A/n: Short but active hehe

This is what the Dove kinda looks like btw, you could leave it to your imagination v

[xyfanficarchive]

what are your headcanons for jimmy having an obsessive crush on the (preferably fem) reader (but not necessarily being a yandere about it)? do you think he would tell curly about it? i kinda wonder how jimmy would behave if he had the feelings of envy and admiration he does for curly but for a woman

hmmm jimmy obsessive crush, envy and admiration? horribly long rambling thoughts below 👇

i think you’d fall victim to the other end of dehumanization: youre Not Like Other Girls. total manic pixie dream girl. youre on a pedestal so high that if you deviate from his image of you even a little, only pain awaits you below.

it’s less about your eyecatching style and more about your attitude. (though having a unique look about you certainly helps to catch his attention). i think that if you were like curly; high achieving, successful and attractive with little (to jimmy’s eyes anyways) effort, his envy would probably just mix with hatred. what the fuck does he need another goody two shoes picture perfect reflection of his own deep and terrible inadequacy in his life for anyways? and this one’s a fucking girl, to add insult to injury!

but say you were a little more like him, shitty childhood, rough start to life, downtrodden, broke, not overly successful, life comes harder to you than most others, maybe not the most attractive (i mean i think hes shallow enough that you would still have to be somewhat good looking), or even attractive but with an otherwise offputting aspect to you (maybe like, the Autism Look, or some alternative style that doesn’t try overly hard to remain conventionally attractive), cant really find love. and all that with like, a genuine intelligence, a genuine potential, still working towards a good life for yourself against all the odds, he might find himself attracted to you.

the thing that would make him envy you would be your attitude, your outlook on your situation. because say all the above about you were true, sure, he can relate to that, but if you had an easygoing attitude about it? not stressed about your status, not pressured to be more than what you are, not scrambling and striving to prove you’re worth something, just rolling with shit as it comes, stand up and dust yourself off when you fall, enjoy the good things in security when they come. not grasping desperately for every little bit of control that comes your way. yeah hes envious. here he is, beat down by life, mired in his own self loathing and feelings of powerlessness so deep he can barely see it himself, so deep that he hurts and steps on every single person around him trying to claw his way out, and you breeze through every awful thing life throws at you, a little scratched and bruised, but you continue merrily on, trying again and again. he wants what you have. he wants your fucking secret. how, HOW do you do it?! (and remember how unreliable he is as a narrator, so whether you’re actually so unaffected underneath his perception is another thing 🤔)

what would make him obsess over you is your understanding nature. if you were kind to him. say he says something scathing and hurtful on impulse due to his own insecurity, you don’t necessarily have to be a pushover about it, but if he sees the words roll off of you… and the next day you come back again. here he is, a complete dickhead, weird and unpleasant to be around, and you reaching out anyways cause, hey, you know everyone has a reason for the way they are, nobody is born an asshole, everyone has triggers and limits, everyone wants connection deep down, and everyone has the capacity for kindness. this outlook will kind of, stun and confuse him. cause girls usually tell him to go fuck himself when he acts like a piece of shit. i really think he might soften up a bit, we only see him in his absolute worst moments but he can’t be that awful to be around 100% of the time, there has to be something, like a sense of humour, maybe he’ll help you out with something (if he thinks he’ll get the same in return at some point) maybe he knows your likes and interests cause it makes it easier to get what he wants from people.

what would really seal the deal is if you were able to see and strike deep into the heart of his insecurity, and try to soothe him. opening up, with vulnerability, about your struggles. laying out some genuine commonality between the two of you and then telling him, with the utmost sincerity, that he doesn’t have to be defined by his past. that he’s valuable for the simple fact that he exists. that he doesn’t have to fight to prove himself, that he is already worthy.

and oooh jimmy is a man who is incapable of believing that any of those things can come from inside, that they are inherent to him. (he literally actually consumes a part of curly to try and subsume curly’s good traits into him.) you made him feel worthy and now he needs you, needs to have you, needs to consume you and make you a part of his life, a part of him! because he cannot possibly be valuable and worthy without you there to believe it. its just not possible. for all he tries to be otherwise, he’s a deep dark void inside and he knows it, so he needs you to fill him up with your goodness.

and you guys are like, just friends at this point right? but now he thinks about you all the fucking time and his eyes are always on you and he’s daydreaming about stupid sappy shit like you holding his hand, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you, he’s seen you smile at him but now he thinks about you smiling at him and it makes his heart palpitate. he barely even thinks about you sexually because you’re so pure to him, you’re his madonna, not a whore. but yeah. he’s watching you constantly, taking notes, plotting, scheming to make you his. cause he knows he can’t just swoop in and demand it, or even force it, he knows that’s a burnt bridge waiting to happen. he wants to make you want him. he wants to really seal the deal, and he feels like he really, genuinely has a chance. he just has to manipulate you juuuuust right.

i’m not sure if he would tell curly. because on one hand, curly is way more charismatic and better at romance and picking girls up than he is, so i can see him coming to curly for advice. hey man, help me out here, how do i win this chick over? on the other hand, he feels really weak for you, he doesn’t just want a fling to fuck or eye candy to hang off his arm, he wants you to fill him up because hes so fucking empty, and the last thing he wants is for curly to think he’s weak like that. and on the other other hand, he wants to keep you and curly far far apart because like, you’re just like Jimmy except better in every conceivable way and he’s paranoid curly might realize how hopeless he is, then steal you and drop him.

once he starts wanting you the change is noticeable to you and to curly, and everyone else around him. he’s suddenly nicer and more pleasant? he just seems to be in a better mood all around. he smiles more, its kinda nice. he jokes around. he’s more thoughtful about your wants, kind of pathetically fumbles his way through trying to meet your needs but hey, he never even tried before so that’s a win right? he cleans up a little bit. goes less time between hair washes, shaves more, picks up some drugstore cologne. fresh fit. he splurges money he doesn’t really have trying to attract your attention. he still can be a dickhead but now you can see him trying to proactively make it right (he looks absolutely pained and strained doing so) (also he does this for you and you exclusively). hes trying so goddamn fucking hard to act like the kind of person he thinks you’ll want to love. he’s giving you compliments that have you taken aback, giving you encouragement, giving you little gifts. hey i thought you’d like this. he looks away while giving them to you. is he blushing???

eventually he might even ask you out. but what happens next is up to you. you don’t know this, but if you reject him, you’re in for a hellish ride. because he’s not giving up on getting you, and NOW hes gonna be a yandere about it.

[flameswallower]

THE BEST FICTION I ENCOUNTERED IN THE SECOND HALF OF 2024!!!

A much longer follow-up to this post. (Can you imagine how much I'd need to type out if I hadn't split them up???)

Once again, I'm not listing movies, TV shows, video games, etc. I AM listing some web fiction and comics/graphic novels, because I feel much more qualified to judge and recommend those things.

____

Novels and Novellas!

Failure To Comply, by Cavar (2024): Reading Cavar’s Failure to Comply, I couldn’t help but think of the recent David Cronenberg movie Crimes of the Future. Both deal with dystopias in which bodies and their modification are strictly regulated, and people with unauthorized bodies form a vibrant, perpetually imperiled subculture on the margins. Both use this conceit to speak metaphorically about the plights of trans and disabled people, although Failure to Comply’s characters are also presented as literally, textually disabled and trans. But, although Crimes of the Future is often accused of being a “weird movie,” Failure to Comply is undeniably much, much weirder. Cronenberg is super normal compared to this.

Maej, by Dale Stromberg (2024): a doorstopper I found difficult to put down and finished inside a week; a work of very unapologetic genre fiction that’s equally unapologetic in its intelligence and dedication to doing strange, creative things with language; a high fantasy story I actually liked. The setting is the city of Sforre-Yomn, in the country of Hwoama, whose culture combines elements from across the continents of Asia and Europe. But Hwoama is matriarchal: men are subordinate to women, who dominate politics, business, the military, and nearly all other professions. As a result of this fact, almost all the major characters in the novel are female. By turns this presents a fun, simple, mischievous inversion of maleness as the unmarked default state for fictional characters, and meaty commentary on the social construction of sex, sexuality, and gender. Stromberg has cited Le Guin as an influence on Maej and, in the most complimentary way possible, this influence is evident.

Lote, by Shola von Reinhold (2020) is a gorgeous, funny, moving academic satire/mystery and love letter to Black modernism. It’s also very queer/trans and (in my personal opinion, perhaps not intentionally) very autistic. The title refers to a possibly-mythical clandestine circle of artists/magic practitioners who style themselves after the lotus eaters and seek transcendence via experiences of sensory and aesthetic pleasure. As with many novels that stand out to me, you won’t read anything else like it. I especially recommend this one if you want a completely unique, intellectually stimulating work of fiction, but are put off by the aggressively experimental and opaque style of Failure To Comply and by the SFF-ness of FTC, Maej, and Leech.

Walking Practice, by Dolki Min (trans. Victoria Caudle) (original 2022; English translation 2024) is a breezy, sexy *, gender-bending Korean novel about a poor amorphous space alien stranded on Earth after a spaceship crash. Unfortunately for us, this alien soon discovers that 1.) the most suitable food for it down here is human flesh, and 2.) with a lot of pain and effort, it can squeeze itself into the likeness of a variety of different human beings. It figures out hookup apps pretty fast, too, and then it’s off to the races. This may sound like creature horror, but it plays more as an exploration of identity and humanity, and a satire of sex, romance, and contemporary hookup culture. (*possibly less sexy if you don’t have a vore/cannibalism/consumption thing)

Love/Aggression, by June Martin (2024) is a BANANAS mundane fantasy-comedy about two trans women who are kind of best friends, and kind of enemies. Zoe (actress) is an arrogant, cartoonishly unpleasant minor celebrity who thinks she’s much more famous and popular than she actually is— but Martin manages to show how her personality is in part the sympathetic result of dysphoria and experiencing a lot of transmisogyny over the course of her life, and how she used to be a much kinder person before fame went to her head. Meanwhile, Lily (freeloader and aspiring tattoo artist) is a sweet, spacy, passive daydreamer, and a far more immediately likable character— but Martin manages to show how she is not entirely blameless in the ongoing drama with Zoe, how her passivity is sometimes the result of immaturity and selfishness, and how even when it isn’t, it’s a character flaw that keeps landing her in situations which kind of suck for all parties involved. They live in a magical Pittsburgh that is, conveniently, located right next to Los Angeles. Their friends include a BDSM cult leader and a nonbinary person whose name becomes “Dicks” in the first chapter of the story and who is never called anything else. (This character also happens to be the…owner? Custodian?…of an infinite, maze-like, reality-distorting building that is probably the most fun and least scary infinite, maze-like, reality-distorting building in all of fiction.) There’s vore in this one, too! But don’t go in expecting a particularly cohesive plot: Love/Aggression is far more about characters, relationships, and gags.

Maybe the Moon, by Armistead Maupin (1992) was inspired by the too-brief life of Maupin’s real friend Tamara De Treaux, a little person who depicted the title character in parts of the movie E.T. Her literary equivalent, Cady Roth, is a sardonic, fashionable, thirty-year-old little person who depicted a magical gnome called Mr. Woods in a beloved, albeit treacly, children’s fantasy movie of the same name. But since she played the role inside a thick rubber suit, and since the director of the movie felt it would spoil the magic to give her any credit, almost nobody knows that. Ten years later, she lives in obscurity on dwindling funds and struggles to find work…until, out of sheer desperation, she decides to take a job with a troupe of children’s birthday party entertainers. Romance, escapades, etc. ensue. Both a very funny book and a very sad one; it’s quite frank about death, about the ways Hollywood fucks people over, about the many ways that, especially if you’re marginalized and/or an artist, your life isn’t fair and isn’t ever going to be fair and “happy endings” probably aren’t what the world has in store for you. I think ultimately it’s sentimental in a good way; it has a big heart.

Leech, by Hiron Ennes (2022) is a total banger to finish out this year with! So glad I picked it up finally! Absolute genre jambalaya, this one: sci-fi, stuff that reads as fantasy despite having or probably having a “sci-fi” explanation, horror, Gothic novel (but not, crucially, a Gothic romance), mystery, medical thriller, character study, philosophical novel about ideas of consciousness, selfhood, individuality, and free will…there’s probably something in here for everyone reading this. You’ll love it, almost guaranteed, if you love the Gormenghast books. You’ll love it, almost guaranteed, if you love any Star Trek series. You’ll love it, almost guaranteed, if you love the science fiction of Peter Watts, or the horror of Gretchen Felker-Martin. You’ll love it, almost guaranteed, if you love The Thing (1982). The prose is lush, idiosyncratic, a bit purple, but it’s nothing too baroque, it’s all perfectly easy to read. The complicated, antiheroic protagonist/narrator is delightful and memorable, and I think Ennes did a great job at conveying unusual states of memory/selfhood/cognition through it/them/her. (Some of these states are not ones with which I have, or even could possibly have ever had, real experience, but some are, and I am always pleased to find those replicated in ways I can recognize and feel as “truthful.”)

Short Story Collections!

Stone Gods (2024) and Worse Than Myself (2009) by Adam Golaski contained several of the very best short stories I read this year— especially Worse Than Myself, which is also a slightly more accessible/“normal” story collection and the one I’d recommend starting with. Golaski writes eerie, dreamlike, bizarre fiction that frequently crosses over into horror— even including time-worn horror genre tropes like zombies, ghosts, and vampires. But let me tell you, Golaski’s “The Man From the Peak” (in Worse Than Myself) is a BAD time, like give-you-nightmares scary, and it feels like nothing you’ve ever read before, even though it’s about A Nosferatu. Not just a vampire, but a vampire that is explicitly described as egg-bald with big pointy ears and two sharp buck teeth. That’s the antagonist. And it fucking works. He makes it new. Please, please read Adam Golaski, you guys. It is astounding and unjust that he’s not popularly regarded as one of the 21st century’s best authors of weird short fiction. I don’t actually know if he could have/wanted to publish more than two collections over fifteen years, but I kind of feel like maybe if a lot of people and public libraries buy those two collections, he’ll have more space and incentive to write short stories, and/or more publishers will be interested in picking up another collection of his short stories?

Brave New Weird vol. 2 (2024) was a diverse, entertaining selection of stories. Some I’d read, some I hadn’t. A pretty good overview of the mostly small press horror/sci-fi/Weird fiction scene as it stands right this minute.

All Your Friends Are Here, by M. Shaw (2024) is almost the opposite of the Golaski collections, in a way: Golaski frequently deals with themes of nostalgia, the past, cycles that repeat without end, and timelessness or being outside of time. Moreover, most of his stories feel like they’d be immediately comprehensible to a person fifty years ago or fifty years from now, if not even further into the past/future (with, perhaps, a few footnotes of cultural explanation). But Shaw’s stories are, often aggressively, Of The Moment. And that’s not a bad thing, even if it means they may seem completely dated in a few decades. Shaw is interested in speaking directly to their place and time; directly to us. They’re not going to pretend we’re not all online, that we don’t all know (if against our will) what Ready Player One is— the longest piece in the collection, and one of the best, is a suitably pop-culture-reference-laden dunk/riff/spoof on, and rebuttal of, Ready Player One! These stories are angry and clever and sometimes suffused with a kind of exhausted tenderness. There’s clearly a Bizarro influence on some of Shaw’s work, but their writing is more sophisticated and restrained than what I tend to associate with Bizarro fiction proper.

Individual Short Stories (That You Can Read Right Now!)

“EGREGORE” by Samir Sirk Morató (2024) = clubbing, hallucinatory, girl on girl

“The Spindle Of Necessity” by B. Pladek (2024) = trans academic suspects dead author may have been a closeted gay trans man

“A History of the Avodion Through Five Artists” by Eric Horwitz (2024) = Borgesian, arch, Jewish

“Mad Studies” by Cavar (2024) = loneliness, cats, autism…like Failure To Comply, this is by @librarycards

“Alabama Circus Punk” by Thomas Ha (2024) = robots, the nuclear family, disintegrating language

Comics and Graphic Novels!

Tomorrow You Don't Know Me, by Raven Lyn Clemens (2024) is a subtle, moving, and unsentimental graphic novel about being a middle schooler with problems, and how sometimes those problems just kinda...persist no matter what you do or try or want, and no matter if it's fair. Even if you summon a demon to help you! Clemens is really skilled at depicting emotion visually, at communicating both the absurd goofiness and the deep, genuine pain of the outsize negative emotions her characters experience. All of her characters are at least a little wretched, and she also handles them all with great compassion, affection, and understanding. Check out her artwork at @ravenlynclemens please; it's fantastic cartooning even without any detailed narrative.

In Fair Verona, by Val Wise (2024) is a VERY gory, VERY nasty piece of lesbian Gothic fantasy horror-erotica. I love Wise's art. The bodies she draws, regardless of gender and build, are top-tier sexy and beautiful to me, which means he's often able to get me on board* with kinks and scenarios that would usually be too "extreme" for my taste. (*Genteel euphemism for arousal)

A Guest In the House, by E.M Carroll (2023) is an equally nasty and mean, but far, FAR less explicit and bizarre, lesbian Gothic horror story, told with the visual panache and inimitable art style everyone knows and loves Carroll for. It's a worthy successor to their previous material, and if it doesn't necessarily make enormous leaps from their earlier work in its writing, the drawing and coloring has gone from "already really good" to "some of these splash pages will blow your eyes out the back of your skull."

Expiry Date, by Sloane Hong (2024) is another lesbian/queer erotica comic. This one's science fiction, and is FAR more up my usual alley of kinks. Which is to say that the lovers are quite kind/polite with one another (in a lot of ways it reads as a meet-cute), but also one of them is a hired killer who dispassionately agrees to torture the fuck out of the other one David Cronenberg-style.

Once again, all my comic recs are by queer trans people! I think I made a pretty hacky joke last year about gay trans mascs specifically ruling in this field, but based on recent data, you just have to be a marginalized gender and not heterosexual to make amazing comics.

Web Fiction!

The Frenzy wiki is a fan wiki for an imagined TV series, telling the story of both Frenzy, a popular late 2000s ensemble cast drama-adventure-SFF show drawing equally from the likes of Twin Peaks and Supernatural, and how the existence of this show was mysteriously wiped from the face of our reality-- save in the troubled dreams of a select few. I would estimate it takes a couple hours to explore the whole wiki. (2022 or 2023?)

3D Workers Island is the phenomenal, if less ambitious, follow-up to Petscop. (I don't mean it's a sequel; it's just by the same guy and covers similar thematic ground.) Like its predecessor, it's more about dropping tantalizing hints than letting you in on "what's actually going on," and more about giving you a creeped out and vaguely depressed feeling than about scaring or shocking you per se. It's really smart and well-crafted in an understated way, and does a great job replicating early internet content. I would estimate it takes WELL under an hour to get through this story, although you will probably want to immediately go back and look for things you might have missed or not understood properly. (2024)

Martin's Movies is conventional, compared to the other two. It's a ghost story. But it's a very creepy, effective, well-told ghost story rendered through the unusual medium of letterboxd reviews (of course, these become increasingly diary-like and Not About The Film as the story progresses). I would estimate it takes under an hour to read the whole thing, it's like short novelette length. (2024)

[ginnvngagap]

no, Jayce Talis didn't mean "Viktor, your terminal illness and physical disability that causes you constant pain are fxcking awesome actually, you should totally enjoy them" he meant "Viktor, your terminal illness and psysical disability don't make you any less loveable and I never saw you as weak or pitiful because of them. in my eyes, you were always perfect."

I have a feeling this take stems from a fundamental misunderstanding of what internalized ableism (or bigotry in general) actually is.

as a personal example, I don't exactly agree with the autism as a superpower narrative, and I refuse to be ashamed of not being proud of every single aspect of my neurodivergence and mental illnesses. no, I don't want a cure, because it still defines me as a person, but if someone announced tomorrow that they can fix my autistic inertia, executive dysfunction or sensory problems with just a flip of a switch, I'd accept that in a heartbeat. not wanting to suffer is not the same as thinking I am worthless or lazy because of my neurodivergence.

as another example of internalized bigotry: I've seen a user on the bird app having to defend herself against people who insisted that thinking periods are gross and unpleasant to have is her hating her womanhood. but listen, I fxcking hate having a uterus. I hate that I can get pregnant (I have tokophobia), and I hate periods with a fiery passion (and mine aren't even that painful, I rarely have cramps and they always last around 5 days). I don't like how they feel, I don't like the pain, the mood swings, and yes, I find blood coming out of my vagina gross, especially when it includes those little chunks. it's just a very uncomfortable experience overall. this however doesn't mean that I think I should be treated as impure, or inferior. I don't think it's okay to treat me as if I'm an inherently irrational creature (although I'd argue that all humans are, but I digress) incapable of a single logical thought because of my cycle, and I don't feel ashamed of asking for a pad or a tampon, because it's a natural bodily function and no one should ever be shunned for it.

bigotry is a social construct, it's shame, discrimination, ostracization. it's the belief that certain ways of being are inherently shameful and should be purged from "civilized" society, because to the "correct" people, they aren't even human.

Viktor not wanting to die or be in pain isn't the problem, and Jayce has already demonstrated that the only thing he hates about those conditions is that he doesn't want to lose his partner and he doesn't want him to suffer. the problem is that Viktor believed his illness and disability made him inferior and unloveable. he wanted to fix himself not just because he didn't want to die or suffer, but because he was convinced he needed to achieve perfection in order to be loved and accepted, to be a worthy partner of Jayce.

but this kind of thinking is what leads to erasing everything that makes us human, that makes us unique. that was Viktor's greatest error, wanting so badly to transcend the human condition, he risked erasing human lives all together.

[nekropsii]

can you elaborate on Latula having brain damage?

Latula was not born anosmic. That was something she gained through an accident, spoken of only in hushed whispers. She lost her sense of smell through physical trauma. She’s very intent on keeping this somewhat of a secret, and constantly downplays her anosmia being a disability. No one really knows what happened, not even Aranea. They just know that something happened, and Latula lost her ability to smell out of it. Latula is the only person that really seems to know what happened, and she’s not opening her mouth about it.

She’s a Knight of Mind, with Knights being notorious for overcompensating for their sense of having a fundamental flaw in or lack of their own Aspect.

Fundamental flaw in Mind, huh? One they keep tightly under wraps. That technically rules out Latula’s OCD- not only do we know that she’s medicated to help manage it, but she talks about it freely. Though she is, by Porrim’s words, “overcompensating for her gender”, that’s not really a Mind thing.

Do you remember her conversation with Kankri? Where it’s revealed that what Aranea meant by them having “complicated unrequited feelings for each other”, was that Kankri was creepily obsessed with her- to a literal stalkerish extent- and Latula was deeply not into it? There was a point in his ramblings where he starts talking about her Anosmia. He frames it as inspiration porn, and she’s quick to downplay.

The main bit here is calling Latula “brave” for “suffering” through a disability, when she barely counts it as one. She insists specifically on not making it into a big deal. Part of this is understandable- having your disability turned into inspiration porn right in front of your face is deeply unpleasant. But anosmia is a disability… But it doesn’t have much to do with Mind, does it?

Reveal Time: It is physically impossible to have an accident where you slam your head into something so hard that you lose your sense of smell… And not get brain damage in the process.

Her unique, extremely long-standing relationship with Mituna- you know, the one that she acts cagey about when the topic of his disability comes up- may actually be in part strengthened by a sense of kinship. It’s genuinely extremely likely her accident left her with far more than anosmia, and she’s just downplaying it out of a neurotic sense of self preservation. She is terrified of Culling.

Mituna had an incident of violent physical trauma that left him brain damaged, and now he takes a kind of medication to help mitigate problems that arise from it. No one really knows what happened except for Mituna, and Aranea can’t really get any details out of him, so she leaves it marked as an incident that made him lose his mind. Latula had an incident of violent physical trauma that left her without a sense of smell, and she takes a kind of medication to help mitigate problems caused by her mind. No one really knows what happened except for Latula, and Aranea can’t really get any details out of her, so she leaves it marked as an incident that made her lose her sense of smell.

Latula’s deeply protective of Mituna. We know that. He’s constantly stated to have “lost his mind” in the Great Act of Heroism.

Is it unlikely to assume, considering… Everything that’s going on here, that maybe they both have the same fundamental flaw in their sense of Mind?

[seat-safety-switch]

In my neighbourhood, people are busy. Every morning, they get up, and hop in their big cars to drive to their jobs. Sometimes they're too busy for coffee, so they all clog the main road outside my place waiting to turn into the Tim Hortons drive thru. After waiting there for way longer than it takes to make coffee, they're on their way to the office parking. In their haste, they have left something very valuable behind.

No, I'm not talking about the human soul. That kind of romantic shit is obsolete, save it for the next time the stock market implodes. What all these go-go careerists have abandoned in their homes is their dogs. Dogs that need to be walked. Dogs that need to be played with. Dogs that need to pee. To this problem have emerged the unique class of "dogwalkers."

When you pay a dog walker, they come to your house during the day, let themselves in, and extract your dog. Then, they enjoy the company of that dog, returning it once your pup is happy and tired out. For this, they charge you money. It is the perfect job, perhaps, except for the inconvenient fact that I don't like picking up poop. However, while I was cleaning my rusty subframe, a recent inhalation of some extremely warned-against solvents told me another idea: I could do this for cars.

You see, a lot of very rich people have very nice cars, ones that I could never afford. Porsches. Lamborghinis. Jaguars. Ford Focuses. And they let them sit. Sit and rot. This kind of boredom is not good for the car, whose rubber seals go dry, whose batteries go flat, and whose tires get vaguely square and unpleasant. They, too, need to be exercised. And that's exactly where I come in. For just fifty bucks an hour, I will let myself into your palatial mansion, beat the shit out of your sports automobile, and then put it back with the tank filled up (you're paying, of course.)

Trust me, too, that there will be plenty of "enrichment activities," such as taking the car to a race track or to heads-up no-prep drags in Mexico. This will help the car learn proper behaviour and socialization around other rich people's cars, which will reduce the chance that the valet at the country club will scoff at how you have ten-year-old tires on your exotic seven-figure race car and no evidence of having bombed an FIA curb at the better part of two hundred kilometres an hour.

Sign up with me today, and I might even drive you to work in your own car once or twice. That's the kind of experience that usually costs double – and it will for you, too.

[cvnt4him]

i would request monoma x reader bc I'm literally going crazy about him but idk-- OMG NVM MONOMA X KIND/SOFT READER

BITCH ME TOO WHEN I TELL YOU HE FR GOT ME FOAMING OUT THE MOUTH LIKE IM A RABID ASS DOGGGG.

You know you wrong as hell for that picture tho.. bc why he look so goofy, bones js doing my man wrong this season😞

...........................................

*˖°My heart.°˖*

...........................................

"I don't get what you even see in him, my love."

Mina scolds as she finishes crocheting your last butterfly loc into your hair.

It was 4 AM, you both had school in a couple hours and she had been doing your hair since 12 o'clock. Your head was pounding and was going to be throbbing for the next week. You can only imagine how bad it'll be once you put your hair into a ponytail...

You sigh from relief knowing that was the last braid you had to endure. She puts muse all over your hair, the soft yet cold air like foam covering your hair as she gently slides her hands down each braid costing it in the pleasant and calming scented hair applicator.

You stand and stretch deciding to just put your bonnet on without putting your hair up so you can just head straight to bed, not that you'd get much sleep since school started in like what less than an hour and a half? What's the point in even trying to sleep.

"he makes me laugh. he's a gentleman, he--"

"gentleman my ass."

She cuts you off with a scoff straightening up all of the things she used to do your hair, putting them away and washing the icky foam texture off of her hands.

"okay first of all, don't you ever in your life; he's a sweetheart, really he is. and I don't need you questioning my choices, you're like a sister to me so please for the love of God just fucking trust my choices for once, yeah?"

She hums and rolls her eyes putting her bonnet on and getting under her leopard printed covers. She sighs and wishes you a good night as you leave and head back to your dorm.

All you could think about while getting ready for school was how rude mina was. Sure he was quite unpleasant to your classmates but he's a sweet guy to you!! Well no.. he's just less of an asshole. You noticed that Everytime he would say some smartsss remark to your peers he wouldn't say anything even remotely bad to you. He wouldn't even look at you. It's like there was something about you that just made him go silent.

The way you looked at him however, that was a game changer. He would get all stuttery over his words and just get flustered to the point he'd live without kendo needing to assist. (Knocking his hardheaded ass out)

You figured he had a crush on you which you were completely alright with due to you reciprocating his feelings! He was so beautiful and rather charming in his own way. He was distinguished and quite dashing!!!

You had no idea how people could just say such mean things to him!!

You finish off your look with a silver necklace that makes everything pop so beautifully. Your many rings matching indefinitely. You wore a white turtle neck and a pastel pink plaid skirt with white opaque tights on underneath. Baby pink Mary Jane's accompanying your soft aesthetic.

Being in college was fun for you, the party's the sleepovers the random socks on other people's dorm handles. It was an interesting experience, one of the greatest parts about it was how you could wear whatever you wanted! No dress code, no uniforms just your own unique style!

You walked with a sway to your hips as you made it to your class, to your surprise seeing how there were different students there than normal.

You look around and see groans and laughter coming from somewhere, you turn your head out the classroom door to see some of your friend and peers angry and uncomfortable whilst a manically laughing monoma boasts about something.

Mina sees you and lights up nodding her head in monomas direction telling you in girl talk or whatever the fuck to "get your fucking man before I have kirishima walk him like a damn dog."Her eyes saying more than enough.

You chuckle which catches others attention, including monomas. He turns with a raised brow to see you, his eyes widening and a pinky tint slightly becoming visible on his features.

"hello, neito."

He clears his throat and turns to you dusting off his outfit and giving you a small grin looking to the ground, unable to hold eye contact.

"hi y/- ahem. Y/n."

His voice cracked whilst he tried saying your name instantly making him get flustered and asking a loud and entertained kirishima have a belly laugh.

Monomas turns to them and instantly shouts at them calling them "Imbeciles" and "incompetent losers" and such, the way he spoke with such sophisticated mannerisms was just amusing to you, even while arguing and being angry with people he disliked he still manages to not use foul language and be somewhat civilized. It's quite neat.

You giggle catching his attention again, he turns to you and bows his head lightly with a smile as an apology.

"what are you up to, neito?"

You ask with a tilt to your head.

"who me?! I- uhm-- y'know the usual, classes are just taking over my brain at the moment, haha!"

He jokes, making you giggle again. God you were so cute to him, the way you innocently giggled or laughed at anything, the way you dressed to adorably like an innocent little girl was oddly compelling to him.

"i see you've gotten your hair done. It looks very nice, y/n."

He says to you nodding his head to your hair, the way you had little sparkles raying off of it and how you had little star shaped clips in your locs just completes your outfit.

"awh thank you neito!! You're so sweet!"

You jump into his arms with a hug, snuggling your nose into his shirt. He blushed intensively, getting stiff and tense underneath your touch. You did such foul things to him, making him flustered and blushy like this. He never felt this way for anyone, he always wanted to be a hero and show everyone that he was just as capable of doing things his former class rivals could.

He slowly wrapped his arms around your shorter figure leaning his head down and resting it on your head, his nose burying itself into your locs and smelling the sweet smell radiating off of them.

It was an unfamiliar smell to him, yet it was so intoxicatingly sweet. Like he'd smelled it before, or like it was just something he couldn't resist. A smell he was sure he wanted to take over his senses all the time. For the rest of his life even.

The hug lasted quite some time, an angry kirishima faux clearing his throat to end the long hug. Mina rolled her eyes and nudged him, she didn't like monoma really, but if you had then she'd just have to thug that shit out. For your sake.

You pulled away first, having monoma realize where he was, which was not in a perfect mansion with a beautiful rose garden, white picket fence, and a golden retriever running around with happy and cheerful barks.

He looks down at you ass you peer up at him with beautiful eyes, the way they shine so brightly even without sunlight raying into them, the way you bat your eyelashes at him and smile innocently.

He blushed while staring deep into your eyes. Fuck he'd just imagined a whole entire life with you, making you his wife and you have his kids.

You were evil and putting him under your spell. Your evil, wicked, enchanting, perfect, beautiful, absolutely breathtaking spell. Wait what?!

He got flushed and hid his face with his hand as he looked away, his other hand still on your waist.

You put one of your hands on his neck causing him to snap his neck to look right back to your face. You look down at his chest and rub your other hand up and down it and slowly look back up to him. You smile and move your hand that was once in his neck to his flushed cheek.

He wss going to kiss you. Fuck he was actually going to kiss you, finally, after having a huge crush on you for all these years you were going to kiss him. He'd finally make you his!

"AHEM. So yeah uh, we have to get to class, right y/n? Wouldn't want kids to catch you guys Frenching in the middle of the hallway while classes are in right? Right?"

Kirishima interrupts, making up an excuse to get you away from him.

Mina face palms herself while pulling kirishima away from the two of you. Monoma watching while he gives kirishima an evil, shit eating grin. Kirishima was practically foaming out of the mouth like a raccoon with rabies.

You simply giggle before letting him go. No no no, that's not what was supposed to happen! Why'd you let him go?!

"he's right, we should get to class."

You say quietly, never taking a step back still being rather close to him, peering up at him with wide eyes and offering him a smile.

He sighs and looks away. He was extremely disappointed. Why'd that shitty shark toothed fucker have to get in his way? You were finally going to kiss him.

"but, we can hang out later, if you'd like."

"yes!-- I uhm.. yes, I would like that, if you would."

He answers quickly, before stumbling on his words and saving himself from eternal embarrassment, not that toud ever make fun of him. He was cute, and flushy. Most people didn't get to see him like that not even kendo. You were honored and wnsted to spend more time with him. So you agreed. The two do you made plans and agreed to meet and have lunch, he'd take you to see a movie and you'd go out on dinner dates.

He had so many plans for the two of you. And once you start dating you better believe you're not allowed to be around anyone without him, not that he's jealous.. he's jealous. He's so jealous, he hates anyone that's not him being in your presence. He loves you! More than anything and anyone.

He holds you with grace, being so gentle with you throughout everything. Making sure you don't have tod I anything, not lift a single finger. He holds you tight at night making you feel safe and warm. He loves matching with you, and eating with you, and doing anything to ensure everyone knows you're his. He isn't insecure or anything but he's not oblivious to the rather hot people that swarm your school. He has a hard time reassuring himself that you only have eyes for him!

You're so kind and nice to everyone it's hard to believe you're his girlfriend. Seriously, no one believes you two, but you are. You're his and he's yours. No doubt about it, he'd choose you over the world.

He loves showing you off, boasting and bragging about how cute you are, how you're his girlfriend and how no one can ever even compare to you. How your skin glows in the sunlight without any help. How you're so strong and are better than anyone who ever existed. You can be a bit of an airhead at times, he even teases you about it, but let someone dare say some shit about you, he's ready to throw words. Something tells me hes not the best at hand to hand combat..

Anyways, he loves you dearly, he makes sure to tell you constantly. He doesn't want you feeling like you're less than perfect. He has standard, rather high ones too, and you meet them to a tee.

...........................................

AN: this is x black!reader bc I js got my hair done and I've become kinda obsessed w him so. Yeah!!! I'm definitely making more monoma and tenya content bc they've recently been clouding my head. Anyways love laugh love monoma!!!

This is kind of all over the place so come back later for more and much better content including him.

[ackx-rman]

tea and you. levi ackerman

pt. III

pt. II

Warnings: ANGST, BLOOD, DEATH, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, graphic scenes, idiots in love

a year ago

levi set his cup of black tea on the polished table, the clink of the porcelain echoing softly in the otherwise quiet room. one spoonful of sugar, precisely measured, disappeared in the dark liquid, just the way you preferred it. he settled into his usual seat across from you, the late afternoon sun filtering through the window, casting long, dusty beams across the worn wooden floorboards. the light caught the fine lines around his eyes, a testament to years spent under harsh skies and in the face of constant danger. 

this daily ritual had become a sanctuary, a fragile bubble of normalcy in their lives. you had initiated it weeks ago, a casual invitation for tea after a particularly grueling mission. it had started as a simple gesture of companionship, but it had quickly evolved into something more. now, the mess hall felt empty if you weren’t there waiting, and he found himself unconsciously yearning back from patrol, anticipating this quiet moment. 

as he sipped his tea, his gaze, observant as always, drifted to the small, crescent-shaped scar that arched over your left eyebrow. it was barely noticeable, almost hidden by a strand of hair, but it held a story, a silent testament to a past he knew little about. 

it was the first thing he’d noticed about you when you two both met- a small imperfection that somehow amplified your otherwise striking features. your beauty was undeniable, but that scar…intrigued him. he’d been meaning to ask about it for days, the question lingering on the tip of his tongue. scars were a part of a person, a map of their experiences, and he was inexplicably drawn to understanding the story behind this one. 

“gosh, today really drained me,” you sighed, sinking into your chair with a weary slump. you rubbed your temples, a faint smudge of dirt still on your cheekbone

he offered a small, almost imperceptible quirk of his lips, handing you the steaming cup of tea. the delicate floral scent of the brew filled the air. “i’d say it’s an everyday occurrence that you get drained,” he teased

“well, yeah, but today was even worse than most. and connie…,” you grimaced, “connie’s stomach decided to stage a full-blown rebellion after whatever he’d eaten. he was throwing up all over the place during patrol. it was absolutely disgusting.” you shuttered at the memory. 

levi’s expression shifted to one of mild disgust. he pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping his lips. “of course, he had to ruin your shift with his…digestive issues,” he muttered, taking another sip of his tea, as if trying to cleanse his palate of the imagined unpleasantness. he set his cup down with a soft thud. “honestly, sometimes i wonder how that idiot even manages to dress himself”

you giggled, “i’m not saying it’s his fault,” you clarified, “but you know how much i hate seeing someone throw up” you made a face, your nose wrinkling in disgust. 

he could see the genuine disgust etched on your face, a subtle shudder rippling through you at the memory. he held back a smile. “right, you’ve got a weak stomach when it comes to that kind of thing. i remember the first time a new recruit lost his lunch in front of you just because he met you. i honestly thought you’d be the next one joining him” he chuckled

“how could you possibly remember that?” you exclaimed, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement in your voice. “oh my god, that was absolutely mortifying,” you laughed, a hand flying to your mouth as you cringed at the memory. “i nearly fainted. hange was practically bouncing with excitement, though. it was…a unique experience.” 

thirty minutes drifted by in comfortable silence, punctuated only by the clinking of teacups and the distant sounds of the barracks. levi found his gaze drawn repeatedly to your eyebrow, his attention fixated on the small, pale scar. 

“is something wrong? do i have something on my face?” you asked, a hint of genuine concern flickering your eyes. you reached up a hand, instinctively touching your cheek. 

“oh, nothing. it’s just.. i’ve been meaning to ask about your little scar there,” he said, his eyes following the delicate curve of the scar. 

your expression shifted, you touched the scar with the tip of your finger, an unconscious gesture. “hm, this scar? uhm, it's nothing, really,” you replied, your voice a touch strained, the easygoing tone from moments before replaced by a hint of reserve. 

he could sense your hesitation. it was as if a curtain had been drawn, veiling a part of you he hadn’t seen before. but his curiosity piqued. 

“it’s clearly not ‘nothing’,” he insisted gently, setting his now-empty teacup on the table with a soft click. “it’s a scar. scars usually have a story behind them, don’t they?”

you hesitated for a moment, toying with the handle of your teacup, your eyes fixed on the swirling patterns in the porcelain. 

“well, back home, i didn’t exactly have the…’ideal’ family situation, you could say,” you replied 

he leaned forward vaguely, his interest now fully engaged. you’d never spoken about your family before, and the sudden vulnerability in your voice drew him in. 

“care to elaborate? or is this a sensitive topic?” he wanted to know, but he didn’t want to push you if it was something you weren’t ready to share. 

you sighed, the delicate porcelain felt cool against your skin. 

“back home…” you began, your voice low and steady, a controlled anger simmering beneath the surface. “my father abandoned my mother, my little brother and me, my brother was only two, and i was just eight. he was constantly traveling between wall maria and wall rose, going back and forth to the city to work. sometimes, he’d be gone for days, even weeks. then, one day, he returned home and told my mother, so casually, that he’d fallen in love with another woman. he was going to start a new family,” your jaw tightened, a hard edge creeping into your voice. 

you took a slow, deliberate breath, as if trying to contain the fury that threatened to erupt. “desperate, my mother…she married another man. a cruel, abusive drunkard, but he had money,” your hands tightened around the teacup, your knuckles whitening. the grip looked painful, but you didn’t seem to notice. “he…he would often beat us,” your voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the underlying anger was more than palpable. “once,” you said, your eyes hardening, “once, when i wasn’t home, he struck my brother so violently that…he killed him.” the words were delivered like a punch, sharp and brutal. 

you stared straight ahead, your gaze fixed on some distant pont, as if relieving the scene in your mind. “when i returned from work, i found my mother cradling my brother’s lifeless body. she was…broken.”  a bitter, humorless smile twisted your lips. “the man…he’d gone out to drink, as usual.” your voice dripped with disdain. “in a fit of rage, i picked up a knife. i went to confront him.” your eyes flickered down to your hands, clenching and unclenching into fists. “when he saw me, knife in hand, he knew what i was capable of, he grabbed a chair and threw it. it landed here.” you touched the scar on your eyebrow, the gesture more defiant than sorrowful. “my mother, already shattered by the loss of her son, couldn’t bear it. she died soon after.” you finally met levi’s gaze, your eyes cold and hard. “i was left alone. so i joined the survey corps” 

levi was taken aback. he’d expected sadness, perhaps grief, but not this raw, controlled anger. it radiated from you like heat, a palpable force in the room. he saw the pain, of course, but it was overshadowed by a burning resentment, a deep-seated rage that seemed to fuel you. he was silent, absorbing the weight of your words, the intensity of your emotions. he recognized that kind of anger, the kind that came from deep loss and injustice. it was a familiar companion

how could someone so vibrant, full of life, have endured unimaginable hardship?

“you don’t have to say anything,” you said now softly, an almost resigned smile gracing your lips. “i’m not here for pity. though,” you added, a faint glimmer of your usual spirit returning, “i don’t think you’d offer it anyway.” 

he returned her sad smile, shaking his head. 

“pity? i wouldn’t pity anyone. just…surprised,” he admitted, his voice thoughtful. “it made you the strong soldier you are now. the strongest woman i’ve ever seen.” a hint of genuine admiration entered his tone. “and…i truly don’t understand how someone can still be so…bright, after everything you’ve been through,” 

“well,” you said, a forced smile on your lips,” someone’s gotta bring the sunshine, right?” you shrugged, a subtle tension still visible in your shoulders. “besides, dwelling on the past won’t change it.” you finally met his gaze, your cheerful facade already put on. “at least now i’m helpful,” you added, “since i couldn’t… you know…” the unfinished sentence hung in the air, a testament to the guilt and pain you still carried.

“right…” he murmured. he saw past the forced smile, the carefully constructed facade. he could see the lingerie pain, the shadows that still clung to your e/c eyes. yet, he also saw the fierce determination, the unwavering strength that shone through despite everything. he recognized that strength, that refusal to be broken. it mirrored his own. 

“you don’t have to hide from me,” his voice softly, his voice surprisingly gentle, laced with a rare sincerity. 

“it’s the first time i’ve told anyone this,” you admitted. you traced the rim of the cup again, your fingers trembling a little.

“well,” he said, his voice softening even further, “im glad you trusted me enough to tell me,” he watched you avoid his gaze, a flicker of concern in his eyes. he reached across the table, his hand hovering for a moment before gently closing around yours.

this was the first time levi had touched you with such deliberate intent. it wasn’t a casual brush or a necessary contact during training. this was a conscious gesture of comfort, of connection. his hand was warm and calloused against yours, his thumb gently rubbing small circles on the back of your hand. he didn’t let go. he wanted you to feel his presence, to know that you weren’t alone, that you could rely on him, even if you weren’t ready to fully accept it yet. 

“what about you?” you asked finally, a hint of curiosity replacing some of the tension in your expression. “you never talk about your past either.” 

it was a fair point; you had laid yourself bare, sharing a deeply painful part of your past. he owed you a similar honesty, a reciprocal vulnerability.

“well, honestly, it’s not the most cheerful past either,” he paused

“you’re from the underground, right?” you asked, your tone gentle, not accusatory.

a surprise crossed his features. he hadn’t expected you to know that. he nodded. 

“that’s right. how did you..?” 

“oh,” you blushed, a faint pink tinting your cheeks, “erwin told me once,” you quickly added, almost apologetically, “i asked him about you” 

of course erwin told you. the old bastard had never been one for secrets, especially when it came to information that might benefit the corps- or, levi suspected with a wry inner thought, information that might encourage some… interaction between members. 

“right,” levi muttered, a ghost of smirk playing on his lips, “that old bastard never keeps his mouth shut, does he?

“don’t blame him,” you said, “i asked” you smiled at him, “so… how was it?”

the memories, sharp and vivid flooded back: the oppressive darkness, the constant struggle for survival, the ever-present threat of violence. 

“hmm,” he murmured, his voice distant, as if speaking to himself, “let’s just say it’s like the world inside the walls, but worse. people kill people for a bite of food. you basically survive only with the people who are close to you. and trust me, it’s not a world for the easily offended…or the weak.” 

you nodded slowly, absorbing the words. you were drawn into the conversation, eager to learn more about the man beneath the stoic exterior. any glimpse into his past, any insight into his character, felt like a small victory.

“i see…” your voice filled with empathy, “what about…family or friends? if i can ask” 

levi looked out the mess hall window, the afternoon sun glinting off the glass. a sudden, unexpected lump formed in his throat, a phantom ache for two faces he'd never see again. farlan. isabel. the names were like old wounds, scarred over but still tender to the touch. he swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the tightness. 

“uhm, i did have someone i could…trust,” he managed. he kept his gaze fixed on the outside world, anything to avoid the inquisitive look in your eyes. he hated talking about the underground. it was a place of shadows and desperation, a chapter of his life he’d rather keep buried. 

you nodded, sensing his hesitation, but waiting patiently for him to continue. levi knew you were listening, genuinely interested, and a strange sense of obligation compelled him to speak.

“there were these two…friends. farlan and isabel. they were…the only ones i cared about.” the words felt heavy weighted with the years of grief and regret he'd carried. 

“farlan and isabel…” you repeated softly, testing the names on your tongue, like if you have listened of them before, for some reason. 

levi nodded, closing his eyes briefly. the memories were vivid, almost painfully so. 

“yeah, they were more than friends, really. we were…family. we'd gone through so much together down there. hunger, betrayal, the constant threat of the military police. we could trust each other blindly. that was rare in the underground. trust was a luxury no one could afford, except us.” 

he paused, his gaze drifting back to the window. the image of isabel's bright smile flashed through his mind, followed by the crushing weight of her absence. isabel would have loved her so much. he thought, thinking of you.

“we…were inseparable. we looked out for each other. we stole to survive, fought to protect ourselves. we were all we had.” 

“what happened?” you asked softly

levi gave a bitter chuckle, a harsh, humorless sound that betrayed the deep pain he carried, like yours before. he looked down, his gaze now fixed on the worn wooden floor of the mess hall, as if searching answers in the grain of the wood. 

“they died…both of them.” 

“i'm sorry…” you whispered. you could see the torment in his eyes, you could always see it, but now more than ever. a wave of empathy washed over you like a tsunami. 

it was the first time since their deaths that levi had spoken about them to anyone. the words felt rusty, unused, yet there was also a strange sense of release in finally voicing the burden he had carried for so long. 

“levi” you called his name 

he looked at you immediately 

“do you want to talk about it?” you asked with a hint of worry in your voice, thinking that maybe was enough for the day, or maybe it was better if he took it all off his chest

levi took a shuddering breath, the air catching in his throat. 

“we were trying to get to the surface, isabel was obsessed,” he began, “we heard rumours of a way out, a chance to escape the underground and see the sky. we were desperate…living down there, it was like…being buried alive. we just wanted…a chance.” he paused, the memory of their shared dream, the yearning for a life beyond the shadows.

“there was this job, this guy offered a lot of money to do it, and the possibility of living out there. he said it was easy, just a simple retrieval mission, i didn't like the idea, at first i hesitated, but we didn't have an option either.” his voice trailed off, he closed his eyes again, the image of farlan and isabel, full of hope and excitement, flashing before him. if only he had known…if only he had made a different choice.

he opened his eyes, his gaze distant, lost in memory. “the target was actually erwin. they wanted us to kill him and get some document. we didn't know much about him back then just that he was a high-ranking officer in the survey corps. the man who hired us, he told us erwin was the key to getting to the surface, that eliminating him would open up a path for us. he promised us a life above ground, a life free from the filth and the darkness.” 

levi's jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “we were naive, desperate. we believed him. we thought we were doing the right thing. for ourselves, for a chance at a better life.” he shook his head slowly, “we were wrong”

“we joined the survey corps. we were good, we were efficient. we blended in, gathered information, waited for the moment to striked.”

“then came the expedition outside the walls. it was supposed to be our opportunity. i went ahead…alone, to try and find erwin, to finish the job. i thought it would be quick, clean. i thought i could get back to farlan and isabel before anything happened.” his voice dropped to a near whisper, the memory of ensuing chaos and the sheer horror of what followed still haunting him. 

“but when i returned…it was a massacre.” his breath hitched, “the titans…they had attacked. it was carnage. i found them…” his voice cracked, the raw pain of that moment, the helplessness he felt as he saw…

“farlan. isabel. they were gone.” he couldn't bring himself to describe the details of the brutality of their deaths. the images were burned into his mind, a constant reminder of his failure.  

“i killed it, the titan. i didn't even think. i just attacked. i tore it apart, piece by piece. i didn't stop until it was nothing but a bloody mess.” his voice now low and guttural. 

“i was too late. I couldn't save them. they died…because of me. because of my stupid decision.” he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a deep, bottomless sadness. “i thought i was leading them to a better life. but i led them to their deaths.”

“and then…erwin, he saw what happened. he saw what i had done. he could have arrested me, he could have had me executed. but he didn't. he offered me a choice. join him, join the survey corps, and fight for humanity;” he sighed, “i joined because i owed them. to make their deaths mean something, even when i didn't want to”

then, he felt a warm touch on his hand. you. you had taken now his hand on yours, just as he had done for you a few minutes ago. the gesture, simple yet profound, pulled him back from the abyss of his memories. he looked up at you, his eyes still filled with pain, but now with something else too- a fragile hope, perhaps, or simply the comfort of human connection. 

your eyes were soft, filled with understanding and compassion. you squeezed his hand gently, your touch firm and reassuring. “it was not your fault, levi,” you said, your voice clear and steady. the words, though simple, carried a weight of sincerity that resonated deep within him. just like erwin's that day. 

“but i made the decision. i led them into that… i should have known better.” the guilt was a heavy burden, one he had carried for so long, and it was difficult to simply let it go. 

you shook your head gently, your grip on his hand tightening. “you were young, levi,” you said softly but convinced, “you were desperate. you wanted a better life for yourselves, for you friends. it wasn't your fault.” 

you paused, your eyes filled with unwavering conviction. “you did everything you could to protect them. you loved them. and even though…even though things ended the way they did, that doesn't erase the fact that you cared for them, that you tried your best.” 

“holding into this guilt, it won't bring them back. it won't change what happened. but it will continue to hurt you. it will keep you trapped in the past.” you squeezed his hand again, your touch conveying a message of support and understanding. “you have to let go, levi. you have to forgive yourself.” 

levi looked at you, your words slowly sinking in. he had never considered forgiving himself. the guilt had been his constant companion, a form of self-punishment for his perceived failure. but your words, your belief of his innocence, offered a different perspective. a perspective that, despite the pain and difficulty, offered a glimmer of hope. 

he looked down at their hands, his fingers intertwined with yours. the warmth of your touch, the sincerity in your eyes, it was a lifeline in the darkness. he took a deep breath, the air catching in his throat. he didn't know if he could truly forgive himself, not yet, but your words had planted a seed, like erwin did. a seed of hope, a possibility of healing. and for the first time in a long time, levi felt  something other than grief and guilt. he felt…understood. 

 levi took another breath before he continued, 

“and about my family…i don't have one, not really. my mother died when i was a kid. i grew up only with my uncle. if i'm being honest, he wasn't the greatest either. basically, i was just and extra mouth to feed. he never really cared  me,” he said quietly, still holding your hand. but a small, almost imperceptible smirk appeared on his face as he noticed something. 

“what is it?” you asked, noticing the change in his expression

“well, i find it a bit ironic,” levi said, amusement in his voice, “you told me your sad past, and here you are, trying to feel bad for mine” 

“true,” you smirked back at him, “don't get used to it, ackerman.”

a peaceful silence settled between them, a comfortable quiet that spoke of a growing understanding. after a moment, you broke the silence with a gentle question. 

“how was she, your mom?”

levi leaned back in his seat, his expression becoming more serious as the mention of his mother. the smirk vanished, replaced by a softer, more reflective look. 

“my mom was…probably the only person in my family who truly loved me. she was very kind, loving and caring. from the few memories i have of her, she was an angel.” he chuckled softly, a genuine smile touching his lips as he recalled her image. “she was very protective of me. even when she was ill, she always tried to protect me. she made sure i was always warm when it was cold and fed when i was hungry. even on her worst days, she was always worried about me. she always…did her best”

he paused, his gaze dropping to his hand, specifically to how he was holding his teacup. a faraway look in his eyes. “we always had tea together. it was my favourite part of the day, just like us now.” he paused again, a hint of sadness entering his voice. “and…well, of the cups that we used to drink tea from one of them fell from my hand and broke when she was already gone. since then, i’ve been holding my tea like this” he demonstrated, holding the cup delicately, almost as if he were afraid of breaking it again. 

you smiled at the sigh before you. you had never seen him this vulnerable, speaking so openly and lovingly about someone. it was a side of levi you hadn't expected to see. 

“what was her name?” you asked, wanting to know more about this important figure in his life

levi's smile warmed, a genuine, and never seen before fond smile that reached his eyes as he reminisced about his mom. 

“her name was kuchel,” he said softly, “my sweet, lovely mother.”

you bit your lip, a tear tracing a path down your cheek as you, too, were truck by the pang of memory, the echo of your own mother's love.

“kuchel…” you whispered, her name a soft sigh on your lips.

he squeezed your hand, his thumb gently wiping away the tear that had escaped. the simple gesture spoke volumes.

overcome by a wave of emotion, you couldn't contain yourself any longer. you leaned forward and hugged him, your arms encircling him. it was a spontaneous gesture, an outpouring of empathy and connection. 

“i know kuchel is feeling proud of her son,” you murmured into his shoulder

levi’s surprise was palpable. he stiffened as your arms encircled him, the unexpected contact a jolt of his senses. he hesitated for a moment, his mind reeling from the unfamiliarsensation. it had been so long since he had experienced such physical closeness, such open affection.

then, slowly, he returned the embrace. his own arms wrapped tightly around you, his grip firm yet gentle. a sigh, a long, drawn-out release of tension, escaped his lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. the sensation was both foreign and comforting, a contrast to the cold, lonely existence he had grown accustomed to. it had been years since he'd felt such a raw connection, such a genuine sense of belonging. the warmth of your embrace, the simple act of human contact, was a balm to his wouden soul. 

he closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink in the moment, to absorb the comfort you offered. the scent of your hair, the gentle rhythm of your breathing, the warmth of your body against his- it was a symphony of sensations that stirred something deep within him, something he thought long dead.

for a brief moment, the weight of the past seemed to lift, the burden of grief and guilt lessening its grip. in your embrace, levi found a fleeting sanctuary, a moment of respire from that darkness that haunted him for so long. it was a small gesture, a simple hug, but it meant more than words could ever say. it was a connection, a shared moment of humanity in a world that had tried to strip him of everything. 

as the moments passed, levi clung to you, reluctant to break the embrace. it was a new feeling, a strange combination of comfort, warmth and that sense of belonging he hadn't experienced ever. the world outside the mess hall, the sounds of the other soldiers, the weight of his responsibilities, all seemed to fade away as he focused solely on the warmth of your body pressed against his and the steady rhythm of your breath against his ear. it felt…right. 

finally, with a soft sigh, he pulled back, his hands still resting on your arms. his eyes looking into yours, his gaze intense, searching. but beneath the intensity, there was a tenderness, a vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to see. his calloused fingers, usually so precise and controlled, traced the delicate line of your scar, a silent promise passing between you. the touch was feather-light, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid of causing you pain, yet it held a deep depth of meaning. 

“you'll never have to be afraid again,” he murmured, a quiet vow spoken only for you. “i won't let anyone hurt you” the words were simple, yet they carried the fierceness of his protectiveness. it was a promise forged in shared pain and mutual understanding, a promise that he would guard you with his life. 

in that moment, as he gazed into your e/c eyes, levi ackerman felt something change within him. it wasn’t a sudden, dramatic explosion of emotion, but rather a slow, steady awakening, like a dormant seed finally sprouting after a long winter. 

he recognized, that he was falling, irrevocably, in love. he was irrevocably, undeniably, yours.

pt. IV

author's note: i cried writing this for real lmao. hope you guys liked it, i really liked this one. happy new year!! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[genderlessdude92]

STICKS AND STONES

PAIRING: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is shaken when Vox mocks her on live television with rude comments and even exposing her secret relationship with Alastor, too. Struggling with self-doubt, she feels inadequate in Hell's power-driven society. Alastor comforts her, emphasizing her unique qualities and their deep connection, helping her find solace despite the lingering hurt from Vox's comments.

WARNINGS: Established Relationship, Usage of Y/n, Usage of She/her pronouns, Major ANGST to major FLUFF in the end, Emotional Distress, Verbal Abuse, Hell and Demons (obv), Romantic Relationshiop kind of i guess idk, Mental Health, aaaand lmk if i missed anything!! ^^

NOTICE: please don’t copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But…thanks for liking my work !! >.<

Requests are open, Support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

The distant sound of a crackling fireplace filled the room, the occasional pop of a burning ember piercing the quiet. A soft, velvety couch sat in the corner of the hotel lobby, slightly rumpled from recent use, a testament to the comfort it had provided. Outside the window, the neon lights of Hell flickered in a dance of eternal night. Y/N, a fellow demon helping out the very hotel alongside her s/o, Alastor, known for her ‘bravery’ to date him, sat curled up in a blanket, her eyes fixated on the flickering screen of the television mounted atop the fireplace. It was a rare moment of solitude in the bustling halls of the Hazbin Hotel.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she watched the broadcast, Vox’s smug grin spreading across the screen. He was speaking about Alastor, her love, her rock, her everything. Of course, It didn’t bother her as much as before since he likes to bitch about him every once in a while. But then, in a sudden, cruel twist, he said it—

Her name…?

How could he even know her name in the first place—she isn’t an overlord or an overly known-demon. Alastor and her even tried to keep their relationship a secret for safety over the years.

Y/N’s heart sank as she heard the words that felt like a thousand knives. Vox’s voice grew louder, his smugness palpable through the screen. “And what about Alastor’s girlfriend, the one he’s been hiding from us all this time? Tell me, dear audience, what’s she got that makes her so special? A heart of gold? Maybe a brain of silver? Maybe even some spooky little radio powers?” His audience, a sea of demons, roared with laughter. Y/N’s cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment, her eyes glistening with tears she was desperately trying to hold back.

Her thoughts raced as she replayed the words in her mind. Useless. Insignificant. The words stung like acid on her soul. She knew she wasn’t a high-ranking demon, didn’t have flashy powers or a grand title, but she had always believed that she had something to offer. That Alastor saw something in her that others didn’t. Now, as the room swirled around her, she couldn’t help but doubt herself in those beliefs.

The door to the lobby creaked open, the sound breaking the silence like a gunshot. She didn’t look up, her eyes glued to the TV, unable to tear herself away from the mockery. But she recognized the footsteps approaching, the ominous thuds of Alastor’s steps against the carpet. His shadow fell over her, but she remained curled into herself. She remained silently panicking about Vox’s comments. She remained letting her breaths go wild with their pace.

Alastor paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before landing on her. He noticed the way she clutched the blanket, the way her eyes were red, and the TV’s volume turned up a bit too high. He sighed, his tail flicking in annoyance at the screen, and walked over to her. He knew she didn’t like confrontation, but he also knew she had the strength to face the harshness of Hell itself, and hell isn’t fair, anyways.

"Y/N," he said softly, his deep voice cutting through the cacophony of the TV. She didn’t look up at first, but when he gently placed his hand on her shoulder, she turned to face him, the seamless-before tears spilling over her cheeks. He sat down beside her, his expression a mix of concern and arrogance just from Vox being on the TV.

And just the TV being on in general.

"Hey," Alastor began, his hand moving to gently wipe away the tears with his thumb. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the hardened exterior he presented to the world. "What's going on?"

Y/N took a shaky breath, her voice quivering as she spoke. "It's Vox. He said..." She couldn't bring herself to repeat the words, the pain still fresh.

Alastor's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking to the TV before returning to her. "What did that prick say?" His voice was calm, but the anger simmering beneath was unmistakable. Nonetheless, not forgetting about his dear S/o, he shifted the way he was sitting so he could face her.

Y/N took a deep, shuddering breath and recounted Vox's cruel words, each syllable like a dagger twisting in her chest. Alastor listened, his expression growing stormier with every sentence. He could feel the heat of his own anger rising, but he kept it in check, focusing on her instead.

When she finished, the tears subsiding just a little bit from letting it out, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his powerful arms enveloping her trembling form. "You know I don't give a damn about what that glorified karaoke machine thinks," he murmured against her hair, his voice a soothing rumble, “And you shouldn’t either. He’s a clout chaser, and you know that.”

Y/N nodded, trying to hold onto his words like a lifeline in a stormy sea of doubt. But the damage was done. She couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that clung to her like a second skin. She pulled away slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "But he's right, Alastor. I'm not like you, or any of the other high-ranked demons here. I don't have flashy powers or a title that makes people fear me. What do I even contribute to this place?"

Alastor's expression softened, although his grip on her tightened slightly. "You contribute more than you think, my love," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "You have a heart, a soul that hasn't been corrupted by the endless cycle of damnation. That's more than most demons here can say."

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "And as for your powers, they're not about flash or fear. They're about comfort, about healing. You have the ability to soothe the most tormented spirits, to ease the pain of those who are lost. That's something no one else here can do. You're special, Y/N. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise."

The TV continued to blare in the background, Vox's voice now just a dull buzz as Alastor leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're not useless," he whispered fiercely, his eyes burning with a passion that surprised even her. "You're my other half, and this hotel, this whole godforsaken plane of existence, would be a much darker place without you."

Her heart swelled at his words, the warmth of his love wrapping around her like a blanket. But she couldn't shake the doubt that had taken root. She tried to smile, but it came out wobbly. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the TV. "But I just don't feel like I deserve all this praise."

Alastor's eyes searched hers, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "You don't have to feel like you deserve it," he said, his voice firm. "You just have to accept it. And more importantly, believe it." He paused, his gaze intense. "Because I do. And if that's not enough for you, then I don't know what is."

Y/N sniffled, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "I just don't want to hold you back."

Alastor sighed, frustration momentarily flashing in his eyes. "That's not what this is about," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "I don't need a high-ranking demon by my side to feel complete. I need you, just as you are." He didn't want an apology; he wanted her to see herself the way he saw her.

Standing up, he offered her his hand. "Come on," he said, his voice softer now. "Let's get you to bed."

Her hand slipped into his, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. His room was a sanctuary, a place where she felt safe and loved despite the chaos of Hell outside. She followed him down the hallway, the TV's noise fading behind them.

Once inside, Alastor helped her into bed, his movements careful and considerate. He knew she was fragile in that moment, and he didn't want to add to her pain of how overwhelmed she was.

After putting on some fresh night wear and doing some hair-care, (please be cannon), he sat beside her, stroking her hair gently as she curled into his side, her head resting on his broad chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm, a comforting metronome in the quiet of the night.

For a while, they just sat there, the TV forgotten, the words of Vox nothing but echoes in the back of their minds. Alastor’s touch was a balm to her soul, and she felt her breathing slow down, the tightness in her chest loosening. She listened to the steady thrum of his heart, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear, his voice a gentle lullaby that chased the shadows of doubt away. "You're perfect, just as you are," he said, his breath warm against her skin. "You don't need to be anyone else. I fell for you, all of you, not some ideal or some position."

He kissed her forehead softly, a gesture that spoke volumes more than any grandiose declaration. "Now, close your eyes," he murmured. "Let's get some rest."

Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of his words sink in. She closed her eyes, allowing the comfort of his presence to wash over her. His hand remained in her hair, the strokes growing slower as she drifted towards sleep.

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END NOTES: I write this in 20 minutes at 2:00 am because i felt bad that i haven’t posted a fanfic of Alastor in over a month… 2 months. I’m sorry. HOPE YOU LIKED IT???!!!!! :D

-Genderlessdude92

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MASTERLIST

Me after seeing that you didn’t…l-leave a like a-and didnt repost if you think it was just that good and d-didn’t share any c-comments about my f-f-f-f-fanfic…? —>

[silverskye13]

thinking about tanguish giving helsknight some sort of favor before the colosseum fight.... not sure what he has that would be a good token of his care but yknow. the concept :]

-leechwife anon

Helsknight turns the little copper coin over in his gauntleted hands, trying to be gentle. Trying not to drop it. Tanguish has done him the favor of putting it on a chain, but still. He doesn't want to tarnish it by letting it touch the ground. His heart does funny things when he looks at it, feels its weight in his hand, and he thinks [Gods and Saints, he'd be so pissed if he dropped it.] Not Tanguish of course. Tanguish probably wouldn't know. Helsknight would get angry. At himself. At what it meant.

[The stupid little pest probably doesn't even know what he's given.]

Knights. Favors. Tokens. It was all very chivalrous. Very steeped in Courtly Love and honor and intrigue. It was the kind of thing Welsknight idolized. The kind of thing romantic people thought knights actually did -- the kind of thing only the very showy did in real life. Helsknight didn't do Courtly tournaments. He didn't joust. Well -- not often. And if he's being completely honest, not well either. Chivalry has a lot to do with horses, and there aren't a lot of those in hels. They're not wasted on jousts often.

Still. Helsknight palms this little coin on its little chain, and his heart dances. To win someone's favor, to be given a token of their affection, is to be reminded he isn't fighting for his own glory. His own honor. He is fighting for someone else's. And the crowd is chanting and roaring past the gate. And he is surrounded by a dozen fighters all going through their rituals before the fighting starts. And Helsknight is staring at a coin, the thing Tanguish uses to escape, the most precious thing his little pest owns, the thing they fought the Demon for. The thing the Demon rigged this event for. And he thinks [not for his own honor, but for Tanguish.] And his heart flips again.

What is this? Nerves? Returned affection? Something deeper maybe. A dog being offered something long deprived in exchange for loyalty already inexorably given. A sword that rusts in its sheath feeling a hand rest on its pommel in trust and promise.

A knight given something to fight for, when previously all there was, was himself.

----------

"I uh... For you," Tanguish had stammered when Helsknight was armed and armored, bashfully holding out the trinket like he was ashamed to give it. "I was talking to Red and-- well-- it's-- it's for luck."

He'd dropped it into Helsknight's palm, face stern in that strained way of someone trying desperately to give importance to something they found silly. "Uhm... G-give it back to me when this is over, okay?" He hesitated and amended. "You give it back. No one... No one picking it up for you after-- because--"

Tanguish winced in that way he did when he was avoiding unpleasant thoughts, like they might come alive and bite him. It was a motion that always struck Helsknight as uniquely superstitious. Forbidden words that, once uttered, became prophetic.

"Just get it back to me, okay?"

Helsknight smiled. It was hard not to. Not when someone was being so earnest. He was much better at being earnest about things. It might as well have come with the knighthood. The first tenet of wearing armor and swearing tenets to a god somewhere: take everything far too seriously.

So Helsknight had calmly handed it back and said with as much gravity and gentleness as the situation would allow him. "Would you bestow your favor on me, Fair Sir, that I might fight for your honor?"

Tanguish blinked at him, baffled. "I-I just--"

Then Helsknight knelt and bowed his head, and Tanguish whispered "Oh." in that quiet, startled way he did when he spotted some new and precious stained glass window in a grand church facade. With nimble fingers he slipped the necklace chain around Helsknight's head, and pulled his hair free. The little coin, seated over Helsknight's chest, chimed a delicate bell against his breastplate. Before Tanguish could whisk his hands away, Helsknight reached forward and gently clasped one. He kissed the back of Tanguish's hand, swallowing a chuckle when Tanguish let out a squeak of embarrassed bafflement.

"I accept your favor, and fight for your honor as if it were my own," Helsknight told the back of Tanguish's hand. He stood, Tanguish's hand clasped in both of his now, and leaned in close. "And my heart is glad for the chance to bring your name glory."

Tanguish looked up at him, breathing just a little too quickly, the half-panic of someone who had stumbled on gravity and ceremony, and a depth of emotion, when they had expected none. His eyes were wide with the pale yellow of quiet sunrises in far away places, and the sculk-lights of his freckles glittered in a blush of starlight. Helsknight could have stared like that forever, pinning Tanguish there in a moment of depth and promise that only two people inexorably linked could share. The panic of realizing your fear for someone's safety came from a place so close to your heart, it might even be your own soul.

But Helsknight, by tenet and intention, wasn't allowed to be cruel. So he didn't hold Tanguish in suspense over silly courtly rituals that didn't matter. Instead, he and ruffled Tanguish's hair, and laughed, "And now you know what to do the next time some stupid romance knight strikes your fancy."

Tanguish sputtered his own surprised laugh and shoved Helsknight's hand away, "Oh whatever. Nobody else around here does the knight thing but you."

"Nobody does it as well as me, you mean," Helsknight preened, turning to the mirror to check the drape of his cloak.

"I meant it, Helsknight." Tanguish said, his voice suddenly sober. Helsknight could see Tanguish watching him in the mirror, the hand Helsknight had kissed clasped in the other, like he could trap the sensation there. "Don't die."

"I won't die," Helsknight said, trying to sound serious, but finding the request a little ridiculous in spite of himself. "I haven't lost yet. I don't intend to lose anytime soon."

"I don't think intentions mean much, in the Colosseum."

"Intentions mean everything in the Colosseum," Helsknight corrected, tying his hair back in a quick ponytail. "And I intend to win. Saint willing."

----------

Helsknight sits on a bench just outside the gate, and turns Tanguish's coin in his hand one more time. In the stands, in one of the boxes for honored guests, Tanguish is sitting alone, waiting for the world to turn around Helsknight's next fight. The knight smirks, and drops the chain behind his breastplate where the coin will stay safe. He feels the weight of expectation, of one person among thousands who desperately wants him to win. It is heavy as a cross, and light as angels' wings. Somewhere else the Demon sits, prideful in his perfect trap, expecting Helsknight to lose -- to humiliate him, to prove he's powerful, to prove Tanguish's little resistance means nothing. It doesn't bother Helsknight to know he is a piece in someone else's game. That has always been what the knight is for.

Helsknight wonders again if Tanguish knew what he was doing. If he knew what tokens meant, what favor truly was. If he knew about giving a Champion his honor to fight for, if he knew what that would mean in a fight against the Demon, who hates him so much. Who rigged this match just to spite him, to prove Helsknight can't protect him.

"Saint willing or not," Helsknight vows quietly, "I'll win."

And he stands and draws his sword.

[shut-up-danny-kun]

I've read hundreds of Star Trek TOS fics by now and it never ceases to amuse me how many different ways there are to fuck up Spock's characterization...now hold on just a minute - this post has a more interesting point than “fanfic writers stupid”, I promise you.

Every time, it's a spin on the massacre wheel. It's kind of amazing. Will he be overly emotional to the point where he's not himself anymore? Will he be so cold it's unpleasant and kind of hard to understand how he's lived to this point? Will he be extremely horny for no good reason? Will he speak in a way that sounds complety wrong?

I chuckle and shake my head. Of course, I KNOW what Spock is like, and MY interpretation of him is the most perfect and correct one. Obviously. He's just a very nuanced character, formed by many people in an unconventional way, with traits that seem to contradict each other at first but ultimately form a rich and unique character that so many people fell in love with specifically because he's so complicated...

Or...is he?

Let's entertain the idea that there isn't one correct interpretation of Spock, that all of these messy bits of characterization are not part of a bigger picture, but...just what they are: a product of many people with starkly different visions, working on a show that refuses to properly develop its characters. What then? Well, then Spock is a Rorschach test. Each viewer connects the random dots in their own way, and ignores the ones they don't like.

Let's use an example: me! In my interpretation of Spock (the most correct one, of course) he is, first of all, gay and on the asexual spectrum, reserved, largely uninterested in casual flirting or sex. When he is interested in the aforementioned things, he tends to be quite ashamed of it.

Makes sense, right? I can show you plenty of evidence for why that could be true. However, in the beginning of the first bloody season, Uhura sings a song about how Spock is actually kind of a heartthrob who likes to drive women insane with how hot he is, and Spock smiles. He smiles at her, as if agreeing and being very amused by all this! This interaction goes against pretty much everything I think about Spock. So what do I do? I explain it away in the most bizzare fucking way possible. See, Uhura and Spock are friends (there is no evidence for this), and Uhura knows everything I've just told you about him (through telepathy I guess? Not like he'd ever tell her!) and she's just trolling him (why would she do that? That is NOTHING like Uhura!). I need to do some Olympics-level mental gymnastics here, the opposite of Occam's razor.

“But Danny,” I hear you say, “it's just the start of the show! They hadn't figured out his character yet!”

To which I say: you can say that about anything! You can blame it all on a bad writer for that episode, and ignore virtually any scene that doesn't jive with your headcanons. It's there, and I can't ignore it.

So...how am I different from the people that want Spock to be thar heartthrob Uhura is singing about? That evidence is as much a part of canon as my favorite lines. Well, I'm not any different, that's the thing. And all those writers I complained about also have a point.

It's kind of a nihilistic take, I know, but maybe the reason Spock is such a cultural icon is because he is...whatever you want him to be: just concrete enough to spur on your imagination, yet vague and contradictory enough to let your brain fill in the gaps.

Don't get me wrong: I absolutely do not believe in this. In my mind, it just so happens that I'm one of the, like, 5 people ever who truly understood Spock (and one of them is Jim Kirk himself). But I still think it's something worth thinking about next time you're mad at a fic.