#feel free to use this idea just @ me if you do something with this

[ariatwang]

Hi, @radfemquestioner. I'm a radfem and although I think a lot of your ideas are flawed, I do admire the creation of your blog. I like seeing attempts at genuine dialogue (at least I hope that's what this is).

I would like you to take a look at this post. I think it's a really dead-on metaphor for the situation we're discussing and it's helped a lot of people understand what OP and I are talking about.

At the most basic level, I think we agree. One demographic of people (men, in this case) are not inherently evil. I, too, think all souls are born kind. But, just like how my voice is similar to my mother's because she is the one who taught me to sing and I grew up surrounded by her music, we inherit the things that come from the generations before us. We did not choose to. We cannot control whether or not we do any more than I can control the fact that I have my grandpa's nose. This goes for inheritance of societal patterns as much as it goes for physical traits. That's what a lot of radfems are talking about when we refer to "male/female socialization".

So men and boys, from the moment they are born, inherit what has been the global truth for thousands of years: we live in a system of very deeply ingrained patriarchy and oppression of women. The whole time they are growing up, their entire lives, this is being ingrained into them every single second. No matter how good or pure they want to be, no matter how much their parents try to teach them better, regardless of any other factors, they can't avoid it because it is everywhere. (If the post I linked at the beginning was helpful, you can think of this as how men get the gun put in their hand.)

The point of OP's post was that men, if they want to try to lower the arm holding the metaphorical patriarchy-gun despite not being able to set it down, need to be very very aware that they have the gun in their hand in the first place. So, without the gun metaphor, they need to actively understand that men as a demographic are unavoidably made into oppressors of women because of the environment that they're immersed in from the day they're born if they ever actually want to make an attempt to be better.

Please feel free to respectfully ask other questions, or ask for clarification about anything I've said here if something isn't making sense. (Or start a discussion about anything else.) I appreciate your curiosity.

Normalise letting men know that they are the majority of rapists, murderers, and violent criminals. Quit claiming “humans are so evil” when it’s just one specific demographic.

[vrystalius]

The best gift

It’s the best time of the year — gifting season! So, your husband decided to gift himself to you as a gift… how will they do it?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyuu x gn!reader

MDNI- Minors do not interact please! This is slight NSFW/very suggestive.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

After pondering and visiting all kinds of stores across Japan while he’s supposed to be hunting and slaying demons, Sanemi figured the best gift he could give you is himself. What more would you want besides snacks and your dear husband? But since it’s the holiday season, why not present himself like a proper gift.

Sanemi tried to bind himself with the help of thick ribbons, but one can only do a good job with one hand and under time pressure to get ready before you call him over to open gifts, so his appearance now looks more like a last minute thought rather than a carefully thought out plan to seduce you with him being presented to you like a beautiful gift you could use all for your needs, whatever they might be.

After binding his hands together, Sanemi slapped one last bow in the center of his naked chest (and a smaller one right above his crotch area) as a finishing touch and proceeded to seat himself next to the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, waiting on you to notice your impatient, half naked husband trying to appear alluring while also not being able to move too much without compromising the ribbons.

“What are ya waiting for? You want me to oil up as well or something?!”

Actually, thanks to the tape he used, after being freed and unwrapped by you, Sanemi got a very cheap hair removal job. You had to treat the burn marks while he fussed about them not being a big deal.

Kyojuro Rengoku

After taking Tengen’s joke about gifting himself to his wife for the holidays too serious, Kyojuro bought multiple packages of red and gold wrapping paper, sparkly ribbons and a large bow as a final detail. First, he tried to wrap every limb individually but realised that he looked like a very unloved robot with all the tube looking shapes and wrinkled paper, so Kyojuro tried again. This time, he wrapped himself whole and just kinda sat beside the decorated tree in the living room, looking like a sack of potatoes that was decorated by golden ribbons and bows. Despite his appearance, your husband was waiting for you to finally unwrap him.

Although he does feel slightly guilty for just making a scrap book containing all of your memories together that looks more like a toddler’s art project rather than a sincere attempt to eternalise the best memories of you two and then wrap himself in wrapping paper and present himself as your second and probably better gift.

But as you free Kyojuro from the paper prison he put himself in and help him get untangled from all the mess, he was delighted to hear you laugh at his ridiculous idea and unforgettable sight of Kyojuro being wrapped in wrapping paper with just his head being exposed.

“A-Ah, I’m glad you enjoyed… well, me! I suppose you can now whatever you like with me, I am at your complete service!”

Gyomei Himejima

Believe it or not, Gyomei’s first idea about gifting himself to you were a little less than innocent. You never knew about this, but your husband is actually quite knowledgeable when it comes to Shibari— a bondage method that is not just purely for sexual purposed but rather for the aesthetic appearance of a carefully and thought-through bondage of a body and the trust needed to submit to your partner. Thanks to Gyomei’s build and stature, it can be hard for him to submit to you fully, as he can easily and accidentally break free from any restraint, ruining the fantasy. But with Shibari it would be much easier, more intimate too.

Instead of making it a surprise that he himself is the gift, your husband suggested that you could bind him with deep red ropes while Gyomei instructs you on what to do in every step, together creating a beautiful art piece out of your husband’s body, the ropes deliciously highlighting his soft chest and relaxed muscle and made Gyomei shiver in delight multiple times throughout the process, sending all the excitement down to his groin.

By the end of tying him down on your bed (the link is from google and sfw), your husband slightly regretted giving up all of his power to you like never before, as you could now tease and play with him until he is in tears, although Gyomei wouldn’t mind that much. You just need to loosen the ties around his crotch a little, it’s getting very tight down there.

“Please don’t tease me too much, I’m not sure how much I can handle, pearl.”

(Normally, praying away the impure thoughts always helped with his bodily reaction, but you gently tugging on the ropes and being fully at your mercy awakened something in that man that was not possible to be prayed away.)

Giyuu Tomioka

He actually had no idea what else he could buy for you as a gift. Giyuu buys you a fresh batch of flowers after every mission, he cooks and cleans whenever he is able to, he gets you small gifts like trinkets, accessories and clothes throughout the year anyway, so what else can he give you? Standing inside a gifts shop stressed him out severely as he was worried about if you either already have the item he was looking at, if you really would appreciate this neat gadget he found or even like the cute plush he found.

Giyuu then just bought a ribbon and wrapped it around his neck and decorated it with a cute ribbon, then awkwardly stood in the door frame of your bedroom, trying to look at least a little alluring by posing slightly.

“This… is rather stupid, but I am all yours. Your gift.“

After standing there for a couple of seconds in silence, Giyuu sighed deeply and let the cringe overtaking his body.

“Never mind. I’m getting you something else.”

💠

Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone!! I am back from my break and Demon Slayer brainrot found itself back into my brain after getting access to VR Worlds and joining a couple kny worlds as Mitsuri and my Douma cosplay arriving— I still need to style and trim it a little but I am SO EXCITED FOR IT!! Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well 🫶 I wish everyone happy holidays and a lot of fun, good food, wanted gifts and a warm home <33

Anyways, again, make sure to EAT, DRINK and SLEEP enough <3

Take care of yourselves <3

[lost-romantique]

Stolas' Entitlement is so Funny to me...

Stolas is presented as so well put together most of the series, and down to earth for the most part, that I think a lot of the general audience do forget that Stolas is literally a motherfucking Prince that has had a silver spoon for the entirety of his life.

This fucking man just had bacon, ham, scrambled eggs, and pancakes prepared by the man he loves, and I'm gonna be blunt, THE FOOD BLITZ MADE LOOKS FUCKING DELICIOUS by Hell standards.

"Normally I dine on a custom diet prepared by my waiting staff; full of essential nutrients and freshly prepared rarities, such as roasted vole or... Fire koi?

I cannot be the only person who has no idea whatever the fuck Stolas just said...

*Blitz look at him with his undivided attention*

"A fresh kale salad?"

"Oh, nice. Anything that I can get that's affordable?"

The fact that Blitz just straight out said that he can't afford the food Stolas usually eats, so when Stolas asks for rats, Blitz just obliges and takes the food away.

Motherfucker I've only seen you eat cereal.

"Really? Wow, rich people don't have any fun do they?"

"No, fun is free, but WE can afford nice things."

Stolas, not beating the "rich privileged asshole" allegations with that line, that's for sure. This is literally the most offensive thing I have ever heard come out of his mouth, and I am here for it.

"You know what might help that privileged little attitude? Paperwork!"

Simp Blitz is a fucking godsend because if someone who was crashing at my place said that shit to me...

"Eugh, you have to spend your holiday at work?"

Yes Stolas, it's called living paycheck to paycheck, and soon you'll have to join the fray.

"You could use a little money coming in, right?"

"Money coming in?"

"Oh lords... I'M POOR NOW!"

*sobs*

"FUCK!"

I find it so fucking funny that Stolas has been living on Blitzø's couch for an entire month, but it took Blitzø putting him in front of a telephone to realize that he's poor.

If it makes Stolas feel any better, since he is technically dating the boss, maybe he can just 😏 to get a little extra something... something.

[roonotrue]

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Heartslabyul Edition, Savanaclaw Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and significant other, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Octavinelle Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Azul Ashengrotto - "Adore You" by Harry Styles

- Why did he stop by Ramshackle? He can't remember. It was something about taste testing the new spring menu, maybe? He's not sure it matters anymore, given how enamored he is with the sound of your voice right now.

- Is frozen in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights, he hadn't even realized it was you singing (he thought it was from your phone or something on a radio) until he turned the corner and saw you.

- When you see him, he turns all kind of shades of scarlet, embarrassed at being caught staring, but he quickly composes himself.

- Immediate compliments followed quickly by an offer to sing at the Mostro Lounge sometime- you'd be paid generously of course-

- On the outside he's acting cool, but the song in question really did fluster him quite a bit, and thoughts of you singing it again just for him keep intruding in his mind, and if you look closely you can see his ears remain a pretty shade of pink the whole conversation after.

- Does truly think you would look stunning dressed up in lavish clothes, preforming on the stage of the Mostro Lounge, are you sure you don't want to? He'll throw in a free meal plus pay!

"My, my, MC, that was a lovely performance. You should put those wonderful vocals to use, I'm sure everyone would be in awe of you at the Lounge. Some may even show up just to see you- I certainly would."

~~~

Jade Leech - "Dive" by Olivia Dean

- He's honestly quiet pleasantly surprised when he enters Ramshackle (without knocking of course) and hears your wonderful singing voice.

- A soft (dare I say genuine?) smile makes it's way to his face as he approaches the living area where you're cleaning, and stands patiently in the doorway for you to finish the song- one he's never heard before but it flows rather smoothly, much like the jazz played at the lounge.

- He finds the lyrics rather intriguing too, now what would inspire you to sing such a romantic song? A crush perhaps? The idea of you having enough of a crush on someone to sing such a song about them makes him... Well, he'll just focus on what he has right in front of him for now, and save those pesky feelings for later self-analysis.

- When you catch him he is completely shameless in his staring, as a matter of fact, his smile grows, before he gives a curious tilt of his head and motions with his hand for you to continue.

- What? Your voice was beautiful, of course he wants to hear it more. What's he doing here? Oh, well, he's come to ask if you'd like to be the first to taste test the Mostro Lounges new spring menu.

- Sure he didn't knock, but it's honestly your fault for not locking the front door- oh, the locks are broken? That can't possibly be safe. Perhaps you should stay at Octavinelle until they are fixed, that way he can hear your voice much more often.

- As a matter of fact, instead of 100 thaumarks a night for a room, he's sure he can arrange for you to sing at the Lounge every night for payment instead.

"Oh, please don't mind me, continue. Your voice is quite delightful, you should consider singing at the Lounge- though, I'm not sure I want anyone else to hear you but me..."

~~~

Floyd Leech - "Risk" by Gracie Abrams

- oHohOHo, you're never gonna live this down PT. 3

- The moment he barges into Ramshackle in a poor mood, looking for his favorite Shrimpy to cheer him up, he freezes at the sound of you're voice.

- But not for long.

- One second, you're alone, singing as you do some chores, and the next second you're being spun around in Floyd Leech's arms as he laughs cheerfully.

- He loves your voice. Keep singing! He wants to dance with you while you do! Forget those boring chores! He's here now, so you can both have fun! You're so adorable he could squeeze you till you pop!

- You should come by the lounge sometimes and sing to him to make his shifts less boring. He's sure Azul wouldn't mind- and if he does, then you two can just leave and have your own party elsewhere!

- He will, without a doubt, demand that you sing to and for him at the most random of times, hell, he might even barge into the middle of your class in a foul mood and demand a serenade from his Shrimpy.

- If you truly won't sing to him, his mood may worsen and you won't see him for awhile while he sorts himself out, whereas if you do sing for him, he will immediately start to feel better.

- The best moment he could ask for to fix his mood, is laying beside you his head in your lap, while you sing. It helps him decompress, and feel so much better from whatever was overwhelming him or souring his mood.

"Shrimpy~! Nice set of pipes! Well, don't stop singing, let's dance together! I knew you'd be doin' something fun, you always cheer me right up!"

~~~

Can you guys tell that Octavinelle is one of my favorite dorms? Particularly the twins? Especially Floyd, his unpredictability with his mood swings are very relatable as someone with severe untreated ADHD and bipolar tendencies. I just think he's neat guys. And fun to write. Anyway! Merry Christmas everyone, and I'll see you next post! ~ Roo

[hopecomesbacktolife]

something I did as a child that I’ve remembered fondly since, and even considered repeating:

we had this one book of bird identification for our area, and I spent several months drawing each bird in the book onto post-it notes that I stuck into a cheap notebook as a kind of low-stakes art journal! it was so much fun and one of the things that kickstarted my interest in birds in earnest ♡

another casual low-stress art project: making a mini museum room of all your favorite art pieces (I totally got this idea from a kdrama, I can’t claim ownership of it at all) - using 4 pieces of cardboard and whatever tape or glue to form a 3-sided room + floor, then printing out tiny pictures of your favorite artworks, making frames from carboard (brushed with $2 acrylic gold paint if you want to make it look like fancy frames), and tape or glue them to the walls; then you can cut out a long rectangle of cardboard and fold the two ends down to form a bench and glue it into the “art exhibit room” as well!

also, this lovely little (and free!) mouse friend sewing tutorial: https://my-darling-boy.tumblr.com/post/185833797385/i-was-having-writers-block-and-so-i-took-a-break

for any art/journaling/letter writing projects you want to feel extra fancy, you can put the sheet of paper on a cookie sheet, cover with water, then sprinkle instant coffee grounds liberally around on the paper and swirl a bit. bake in the oven at ~ 250 F until the water has all evaporated, then let cool. (if the coffee spots are more intense than you’d like, you can do a second round of water to swirl it out!) this creates very fun feeling, looking, and sounding fantasy/medieval parchment that really makes things look old and worn! you can even take a lit match to one corner after the rest of the process has been completed, and burn a tiny bit of the edge off to create more weathering. (obvious disclaimer don’t do this with kids be careful with fire have water nearby just in case etc etc)

ideas for casual low-stress art projects if you want to work on something creative during the new year

dream journal: you can either write down every single dream you have so you can look back on everything, or just write down the best ones and add little drawings or collages to embellish them

weather blanket/scarf: create a legend for which colour matches each temperature/weather and then knit one row every day so by the end of the year you have a little reminder of what the weather looked like this year

junk journal/scrapbook: collect misc things like labels/ads/stickers/receipts and make little collages with them in a book

everyone add on ideas

[librarygarten]

I don't think I'm the only one who thinks Wars was an asshole? Like, is the reader supposed to have -known- they were actually controlling somone? The world they were from, the Links aren't real, right? And here he is instantly blaming them for playing something they'd only know as a game, cruelly making them cry and being just all around awful. I hope someone calls him out on it.

Sorry, nonnie :( Wars was indeed an asshole, but his game would probably one of the worst to live through. He had to watch his men die in a war that turned out to be some sort of sick entertainment for an interdimensional being. Add to that his whole... situation with Cia, and he's not thrilled with the idea that reader might have just. Over-written his free will while playing the game. Don't worry, Twilight will beat up Wars on your behalf <3

#2 Chain x Speedrunner! Deity! Isekai! Reader - Who's in Control?

Part 2 includes Sky, Twilight, and Legend Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here) ✿ Part 3

When you first fell through the portal and joined the chain on their quest, you had revealed that they were only stories in your world. It had taken a while for them to understand the concept of a video game, and even longer for them to come to terms with the fact that some of the most traumatic events of their lives were reduced to children’s entertainment. However, as they talked with you, they came to another horrifying discovery: YOU were their “player.” Your actions in your world, the decisions you made while playing the games, directly influenced their own lives. What’s more, you were a speedrunner.

Sky

“Hey, Y/N?” Sky approaches you at camp, wringing his hands nervously. He won’t meet your gaze. “Did… did I do something to make you mad?”

“What?” You think back on your last few interactions. You hadn’t been treating him any differently. Unless you were somehow a jerk and didn’t even know it? You have been pretty sleep-deprived lately. “No. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that…” He trails off, clearly not sure how to approach this topic. He takes a breath and tries again. “You kind of controlled us during our adventures, right?”

Well, crap.

“I think so? I’m not really sure how it works.” Now you’re the one that won’t look him in the eyes. “My influence on you guys is still… weird to think about.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. Learning the existence of your free will was questionable at best was not a great feeling. “But you controlled everything we did, right?”

“Not necessarily!” You can feel the sweat dripping down your neck. “Talking to some of the others, maybe you guys could influence me, too? Like, Four said he felt scared during the final fight, and that’s the same time that I messed up with the controls!”

Sky hums, as if agreeing. It’s clear he doesn’t believe it.

“But you’re the one that made me jump off that post in Skyloft.” He says quietly. He’s not angry. He just seems sad, honestly. “And then… Fi was there all of a sudden? I can’t remember exactly. Everything seemed so… out of order?”

You swallow the glob of spit in your throat. He was talking about the Back in Time glitch. How did he even remember that? It requires two save files and to move around while in the menu.

“You remember that?” You yelp. “Shoot, I’m so, so sorry. That’s a glitch to make the game faster. I swear, I had known you weren’t just a video game I would have never-”

“It’s fine.” He interrupts, giving a weak smile. “I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” You ask, but he walks away. He disappears between the trees, and you’re left staring at the empty clearing full of camping equipment.

“...Used to what?” You whisper to yourself.

Twilight

“Y’alright?” Twilight asks you. He’d found you a ways away from camp, curled up agains the side of a tree. You sniff, wiping your eyes but not meeting his gaze.

“Peachy,” you say sarcastically, but your voice cracks, and it sounds more pathetic than anything else. He sits down next to you.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” He smiles. When you don’t respond, he leans forward, trying to get a look at your face. “You know you can talk to me, right? Or I could be Wolfie, if that would be easier? Dog therapy is a thing right? Wolf therapy is just a few degrees removed from that.”

“Don’t go transforming for my sake.” You snicker, finally turning your head to look at him. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. “It’s nothing. No need for you to get worked up over it.”

“It is very clearly not ‘nothing’.” His eyebrows furrow. “Did one of the others say something? I swear if Legend was giving you grief again–”

“No, nobody said anything. It’s just a lot of things, I guess…” You explain hesitantly. “Like, I got sucked through a random portal and suddenly a bunch of game characters are real. And what’s worse is the things I did in the game actually happened to them? Does that apply to every game I’ve played? What about when I stopped playing a game? Or deleted a save file?” You thread your fingers through your hair, feeling more tears threatening to spill out. How many deaths and traumas were your fault? How many lives have you ruined? 

“You couldn’t have known. Heck, WE didn’t know about you.” Twilight pats your back, bringing you back to reality.

“But didn’t you feel something was off? I was like,” you make claws with your hands, emphasizing your point “controlling you guys against your will or something.”

“Well, it was kinda weird when I stared at a rupee for fifteen hours straight.” He chuckles, “But like I said, you had no way of knowing. Nobody here blames you.”

“I’m pretty sure Wars hates me…”

“Well, he’s an asshole.” Twilight rolls his eyes. “I’ll give him a piece of my mind next time he’s bothering you, ya hear?”

“Okay,” you smile, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Legend

“Speedrunning? That sounds incredibly stupid.” Legend scoffs. You had tried explaining some of the strange things that he had encountered during his adventure, only to be made fun of. Honestly, you probably deserved it a little bit.

“Yeah, it’s a whole thing. People compete to get the fastest time, which usually requires glitches.” You chuckle nervously, scratching the back of your head.

“So you broke the very fabric of reality in order to win.” He raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t break reality!” You exclaim.

“I climbed up a ladder and just… kept going up, even when there wasn’t anything to climb on!” Legend throws his hands in the air. “I held a bomb above my head and floated across a room.”

“That’s not necessarily breaking reality,” you grimace. He’s honestly got a point, but you’re not about to concede like that. “People can fly. There’s a whole race of bird people called the Rito in the other timelines.”

“Do I look like a bird?” Legend motions to himself, showing off his very-much-not-a-bird-self. “You know what? Forget it. If all you’re going to do is make excuses, I’m done.”

He turns to walk away, but you grab his hand. His back is to you, so you can’t see his face. Hopefully he won’t hate you too much.

“Legend, I swear I would never have played the games if I knew I was messing with real people. I had no idea.” You sniff, tears threatening to fall. You’re so sick of this. You’re so sick of needing to explain this to them. “Your games were some of the first games I ever played. I remember coming back from school as a kid, excited to play them. I… I loved all the characters. I spent hours trying to find every side quest, trying to get everyone a happy ending. When I started speedrunning… I never could have known… I’m sorry.”

He turns around, his bangs half-covering his eyes. He looks ready to cry, too.

“You loved her too, huh?” He whispers, then laughs, regaining his composure and returning to the snarky Legend you know and love. “Just make sure you don’t, like, puppet me around now, alright? I can’t imagine what the others would do if I started backflipping through walls.”

You giggle at his annoyed expression. They were sure to be insufferable about it.

“Deal.”

[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

The Bat catches a cold (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Prompt: The Bat never falls sick, or so he thinks. (2k~ words)

Bruce Wayne does not fall sick. 

The man simply can’t afford to. He could not possibly disturb the precarious balance he’s achieved between his double life of running a Fortune 500 company by day and fighting criminal masterminds by night. 

So his recent sneezing fits must be a result of allergies, it’s pollen season after all. And those dull headaches he’s be experiencing the past couple of days? Probably just a lack of sleep,  the Riddler’s recent antics had resulted in some long and arduous nights. 

Today he woke up feeling kind of feverish, body aching all over. But he’s got to push through, there’s an important board meeting he can’t miss. Especially not over something as silly as a common cold.

“Alfred, did you put the kettle on for coffee?” Bruce’s horse voice calls out, as he all but staggers through the hallway on his way to the kitchen. A little caffeine and a painkiller should do the trick.

As he approaches the archway to the spacious open plan kitchen, he blinks away the final wisps of sleep encroaching his vision, only to notice that instead of his trusted butler Alfred its his partner puttering about the kitchen.

“Alfred’s out on an errand, I’ve put the kettle on but it’s gonna be- Oh” 

You pause in your words as you look up from the counter, taking in the state of your husband.

Eyes rimmed red, hair scuffled and messy a far cry from the smart slicked gelled back style you’re used to. Also is he still in his pyjamas? It’s ten past nine, he’s usually in his starched white collar and dress pants by now. 

“Right. Could you make me a cup of coffee please? I’ve got to leave for the office in ten” he rasps before succumbing to a heavy cough. 

“Uh- I don’t think you should be going to work in your current state” you comment as you cross the counter to examine him better.

He shakes his head in hopes of ridding himself of the pounding headache. Bad idea. Now he feels like the room is swimming around him.

As he sniffles through his congested nose, you take in his slouched stance and tired profile. Yeah there’s no way he can go to work in this state.

As you place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature a soft gasp escapes you, he’s burning up. 

“Bruce you’re running a high fever, you need to rest” you chastise. Did he really think he could hobble into work in this state?

“I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather” he groans in protest, though his statement was severely undermined by him leaning against the kitchen archway for support. 

This was quiet typical of Bruce, he was stubborn as an Ox when it came to admitting he needed rest. You give him an unimpressed stare, you were not buying it.

“Really now? Is that why you’re slowly sliding down the archway? Because you’re the pinnacle of  good health?” 

That causes him to abruptly stand up, he sways in place for a moment, “I told you I’m fine it’s just a-“ 

And that’s all he can muster before he begins to fall forward, limbs seemingly in free fall. 

“Bruce!” you exclaim as you rush forward to steady him. Though he is much heavier with his limp muscles, so instead your valiant attempt ends up with the both of you slowly going down as a heap onto the floor. But that’s still marginally better than him falling flat on his face so you’ll count it as a win. 

“Okay, time to get you back to bed. Can you stand up?” You pat his cheek as his head rests in your lap, hoping that will wake him up from his haze.

“No need for all that, I just need a moment to catch my breath and I’ll be fine” 

Though he voices his protest, his hand clumsily lands over your own, relishing the feeling of your cool palm against his hot face.

“Oh of course, you just need a minute to lie on the floor and then you’ll be able to crawl to work. Silly me for not realising” you remark dryly.

Bruce was usually a fan of your sarcasm, except when it was directed at him. He attempted to glare at you in response, but only managed to blink owlishly instead given his current state.

An exasperated sigh escapes you. You knew he was gonna be bull-headed about this, asking for help wasn’t exactly a part of Bruce’s lexicon. So it’s time for a bit of an ultimatum.

“Right so there are two ways we can go about this. Either you let me help you back to the bed where you *will* rest for the remainder of the day” you state, making sure you placed stern emphasis on the resting part of your statement.

His face scrunches at the prospect, the idea of rest foreign and unappealing to him.

“Or if you won’t listen, I guess I won’t have much choice but to get Dick and Jason to carry you to bed” 

You had to bite back a laugh at the way his eyes balked at the prospect. He was *not* going to be humiliated like that. He can already envision Jason’s poorly concealed attempt at suppressing his laugher, and he just knew Dick was gonna bring this up at some inopportune moment at a future family dinner.

You can practically see the gears in his head turning, trying to work out another third option where he gets what he wants with his pride remaining intact. However, he doesn’t get very far in his dazed state.

So Bruce decides to go with the lesser of the two evils, one that would leave his ego less bruised.

“… I suppose you can help me to bed” He mumbles, causing you to laugh at his resigned tone. 

“You know it’s not a crime to ask for help once in a while. You don’t have to bear all the burdens on your own” you reply as you help prop him up. 

Slinging his arm over your shoulder, you begin the trek back to the bedroom. He huffs, unable to meet your eyes.

“I don’t want to worry you” he admits quietly. 

He knows you worry enough already. He sees how your brows crease in concern when he comes home after patrol sporting a particularly nasty gash. He recalls the several times he caught you looking at him, quickly masking your anxious expression with a sweet smile. And on multiple occasions he’s found you dozed off on the couch well past midnight, in your attempt to stay up and wait for him until he returned from a mission.

It often causes a pit of guilt in his stomach that he finds it hard to push away. You already put up with so many eccentricities given his vigilante double life, that too all with a warm smile. He’d hate to add to your worries.

“Bruce” you tut, “You ought to know I want to help. You’re always juggling so many things all at once, it feels nice to help out once in a while. Besides, it’s not like I can help much with your nightly escapades” you say with a light laugh as you help him into bed.

But Bruce doesn’t miss the strain in your voice when you mentioned that last bit, you feel like you’re not doing enough, which is so far from the truth. Before he can address it you leave the room, stating you’d get him medicine and a cup of warm tea to help with the cold.

The next few hours seemingly pass in a blur, after his doze of medicine Bruce was out cold, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He wakes up in the late afternoon, the morning headache reduced to a dull pain at the back of his head, his voice feeling less hoarse than before. 

As he rubs his eyes to rid himself of the remnants of sleep, he notices you curled up on the sofa next to the bed, a book in your hand as you leaf through the pages.

“Morning sleepyhead” you tease as you notice him sitting up on the bed.

“How long was I out?” He asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“A couple of hours, feel any better?”

“Yeah… were you waiting up for me all this while?”

You give a light shrug, “It was gonna be a slow afternoon for me anyway, thought I might as well spend it keeping an eye on my patient for the day”

Bruce looks aways from your smile, feeling his cheeks flush. If you’d dare tease him about it he’d blame it on his cold no doubt.

There’s a beat of silence before he reaches over to grasp your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You do help (Name), more than you know it. I look forward to coming home to you every night, I’m deeply appreciate of the peace you bring in my life” he remarks, referring to your last statement before he fell asleep.

Bruce wasn’t one for bold declarations nor was he a waxing romantic. However, that’s not to say he didn’t cherish you in his life. 

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, at times he’s still taken by surprise by your willingness to put up with the whirlwind of chaos that constitutes his life. You provide a sense of warmth and familiarity that he always believed would be out of reach for him. Something he couldn’t afford, given his commitment to his mission under the cowl. A tradeoff he’d have to simply learn to live with.

He pulls your hand closer and kisses your knuckles, unable to voice his jumbled thoughts but hoping to convey the sentiment nevertheless.

You smile at his gesture, as much as you wanted to coo at his gentle words and warm disposition (which was not that common a site), you knew he’d only flush bright red in embarrassment. You decided to save the teasing for another time.

“That’s kind of you to say. You know I’m here for you. We all are” you reassure, referring to the rest of rag tag bunch of a family. 

“Well, as much as I love the kids, I wouldn’t describe them as a source of peace, quite the contrary really” he winces as he recalls their latest antics.

A discombobulated performance featuring Tim’s latest handmade gadget malfunctioning and causing a small fire, Damian’s new dagger stunt breaking several pieces of expensive china, a manhunt for Dick’s dog’s who got lost in the Bat Cave and Jason’s attempted DIY hair dye gone wrong causing him to sulk in his room for several days. Alfred came to the rescue as per the usual, putting out both literal and metaphorical fires.

Of course you supported when you could. That is to say when you managed to stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of what you were witnessing.

You shake your head with a smile, before suggesting in a teasing tone “Maybe that’s just their way of showing love?”

He snorts at that, “Right by giving me new grey hairs”

He can’t help the bent smile forming on his face as you laugh at his quip. He still marvels at how easy it is between the two of you. How easy you make it for him to feel a sense of calm and security in your relationship. 

“What’ve you been reading there?” he asks, his chest warming at how your eyes light up, ands the excitement in your tone as you begin to describe the book to him.

Perhaps it’s not all that bad to need to lean on you once in a while.

Especially not if it means he get to make more precious memories with you.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Between the Holidays

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!neighbor!reader

Summary: Tim drops by the day after Christmas, and your family leads you to make an unplanned confession.

Warnings: fluff, meddling family members, OOC Tim

Word Count: 1.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“How?” you mumble as you pull wrapping paper shreds from your kitchen cabinets. “This is what I get for hosting.”

Your family is slowly waking on the morning after Christmas, the younger ones still enamored with their gifts, and the older members looking for something to keep them awake for another day of festivities. Everyone gathers in the living room to drink coffee and cocoa before the doorbell rings.

“Who is that?” your cousin closest in age to you asks.

“No idea. Breakfast is almost ready; I’ll be right back,” you reply.

Opening the door, you don’t expect to see your neighbor Tim.

“Good morning!” you greet with a smile. “How was your Christmas?”

“It was alright. Had to work, but we all went out for Chinese last night. How was yours?”

“Good, good. Nice to have everyone together again.”

“I brought you this,” Tim says, lifting a brown pie box from the bench beside your door. “Someone delivered over a hundred to the station, and I thought it was your favorite.”

Smiling, you read the flavor label. “It is my favorite. How did you remember that?”

“Who’s at the door?” your father calls.

You mouth an apology to Tim before asking, “We’re about to have breakfast, do you want to join us? At least let me send some home-cooked food home with you.”

“How can I argue with that?”

“Come on in.”

Tim steps into your doorway, and you close the door before leading him toward the kitchen.

“Who is this?” someone inquires. “Your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?!” your father repeats incredulously.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend!” your cousin says. She moves closer to whisper, “Good job.”

“No,” you try to interrupt but get cut off by several family members simultaneously.

“How did you meet?” your grandparents wonder.

“Why weren’t you at Christmas yesterday?” someone else asks Tim.

“He probably has his own family,” your cousin suggests. “He could’ve brought them, though, we have room.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone?”

“How long have you been together? Have you discussed marriage, kids?”

“Is that pie?”

“What do you see in each other?”

“Stop!” you yell. “This is Tim. He is my neighbor, and if he was my boyfriend, you would have successfully scared him away already, so thank you all for that. Now, if you will please let me get him some food, I would appreciate it.”

“In my day, we didn’t cook for someone unless we intended to do it for the rest of our lives,” an older relative mumbles.

You lead Tim into the kitchen and out of their invasive sight. After you set the pie down, you drop your head against the fridge and sigh.

“I am so sorry,” you tell Tim. “Help yourself to whatever you want and feel free to go out the back door and jump the fence.”

“So, you’re telling me you don’t want to cook for me for the rest of our lives?” Tim asks.

You groan, and Tim lays his hand on your back. You lean into his touch, getting closer to him without thinking.

“Sweetheart!” someone calls. “We found your boy- your neighbor’s gifts under the tree!”

“Why are there so many- oh.” Your cousin walks into the kitchen with several presents in her arms but stops when she sees you standing close to Tim. “Maybe I’ll just leave these here.”

She sets them beside the pie and then returns to the living room, where their muffled conversation is still clearly about you and your handsome neighbor.

“You know, I was thinking about having them over next Christmas, but I think I’m done hosting for the rest of my life,” you tell Tim. “There are your presents, and I’ll pack up some food.”

“Why are there so many?” Tim asks, moving with you.

You shrug and answer, “I saw things that made me think of you, and I wanted you to know that you’re cared about, that you’re loved.”

Slowing your movements, you realize what you just said. Your family seems to fade away as you turn toward Tim. His brows are raised as if he expects you to say more.

“I didn’t tell them you were my boyfriend or that I have feelings for you,” you explain. “But I’m not going to lie to you and say I don’t.”

“I was expecting to just drop off the pie and go home,” Tim says.

“Yeah, well my family should have a shared PhD in making things awkward and ruining things.”

“Awkward, yes. Do you think anything is ruined?”

You put a lid on the glass storage bowl containing Tim’s breakfast before you face him. “I don’t think that’s my decision, considering I’m the one who essentially just admitted I’m in love with you.”

“Is breakfast ready?” your dad yells before saying something suspiciously like, “Ow! I was only asking.”

“How long is your family here?” Tim asks.

“They leave tomorrow afternoon. Please don’t tell me you can hear them at your place.”

“No, no, at least I don’t think so. But maybe you should come over after they leave, and we can make some plans for New Year’s Eve.”

You hesitate, then ask, “Are you saying you feel the same?”

“I’m saying that I’d rather show you.”

“I’ll be there. Enjoy your gifts and your breakfast and wish me luck.”

“You’ll be fine.”

You put Tim’s gifts and breakfast plate in a bag before you lead him back toward the door.

“I don’t buy that they’re neighbors,” your mom murmurs.

Tim stops and turns toward your family, who are all staring at him.

“Respectfully, she already told you that we’re neighbors and she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Tim reminds them. “When there is something to tell, it’s her decision about when and how to let you know. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

Hiding your smile, you close the door behind Tim. Your family drops the subject of Tim Bradford, at least in front of you, as you serve breakfast. Your holiday looks brighter, however, because Tim Bradford said you would call the shots when there was something between you. Not if, when. And starting tomorrow night, he has plans to show you what that means.

[lvnchh]

Burnt Edges

Abby Anderson x f!reader (with PTSD) 👉🏻original version 👈🏻 Wanted to make another version for my Abby girls so y'all can feel represented too 🫶🏻

I'm a minor and if you want to complain or insult me about it, just don't interact🙏🏻. It's my life, and I'm free to write whatever I want as long as I'm not bothering anyone. Also, please don't judge any grammar mistakes, as English is not my native language. I'm sorry if the whole story isn't that good.

TW: I have PTSD (DIAGNOSED), and what you're about to read is based on my personal experiences. Writing about it is a form of therapy for me. If you are sensitive to topics like violence and domestic violence, please do not continue reading. Thank you🙏🏻

Btw I need more Abby x PTSD reader stories because I want to feel less alone and represented

story below the cut

The WLF base was bustling as usual, soldiers moving in every direction with purpose. It was organized chaos, but the rhythm of it kept your mind just busy enough to not wander too far. You had been here for weeks now, a stray who Abby had somehow decided was worth keeping around. She didn’t talk much about why—just said you seemed “useful” and left it at that.

But tonight, after the day’s drills and patrols, you needed air. The weight in your chest had been building all day, the familiar tightness creeping in. The base was too loud, too crowded, too much like the chaos you used to live in. You found yourself climbing to the roof, the one place no one ever seemed to go.

When the door creaked open behind you, you sighed. So much for solitude.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” Abby said, her voice steady but not unkind.

You turned, finding her leaning casually against the doorway. Her braid hung over her shoulder, and her broad frame filled the space effortlessly. Abby was intimidating at first glance—hell, even second and third glance—but there was something about her that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

“What gave me away?” you asked, forcing a weak smile as you lit your cigarette.

Abby stepped onto the roof and shrugged. “You disappear when you’re overwhelmed. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Her bluntness was typical, but it wasn’t cruel. If anything, it was grounding. She moved to sit beside you, her heavy boots thudding against the concrete as she stretched her legs out.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the distant hum of the base fading into the background. Abby wasn’t much for small talk, and you appreciated that.

“You smoke a lot for someone who can barely keep up on a run,” she teased eventually, smirking as she glanced at you.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, well… cardio’s overrated.”

“Not when you’re being chased by infected.”

“Fair point.”

Another silence settled, and you found yourself exhaling a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate into the night. You could feel Abby’s eyes on you, her curiosity barely masked. She wasn’t the kind to pry, but she wasn’t one to let something slide if she thought it mattered.

“You’ve been… off today,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter than usual.

You stiffened, gripping the cigarette between your fingers. “What do you mean?”

Abby shrugged, leaning back on her hands. “You didn’t even flinch when Manny cracked a joke at you earlier. Usually, you’d at least roll your eyes. Something’s eating at you.”

You hesitated, the weight in your chest growing heavier. Abby wasn’t wrong, but the idea of saying it out loud felt suffocating. Still, the look she gave you—patient, steady—made you feel like maybe you could.

“It’s… nothing,” you muttered at first, then winced at her unimpressed scoff. “Okay, fine. It’s not nothing. It’s just—this place. The noise, the shouting, the slamming doors. It reminds me of… home.”

Abby tilted her head, her brows knitting slightly. “Home?”

You took another drag of your cigarette, the smoke burning your throat. “My dad. let’s just say he wasn’t exactly Father of the Year material. Yelling was the least of it.”

You didn’t elaborate, but Abby’s sharp eyes softened, her expression shifting from curiosity to something that looked like understanding.

“Shit,” she muttered, leaning forward. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, flicking the ash off your cigarette, “it’s not exactly something I put on my résumé.”

Abby huffed a laugh at that, but it was soft, almost careful. She leaned back again, her gaze fixed on the skyline. “That why you’re always so jumpy?”

You nodded, not bothering to deny it. “PTSD’s a hell of a ride.”

She was quiet for a moment, the tension between you settling into something heavier but not unwelcome. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” she said finally, her voice low. “But… I get the needing space part. I didn’t grow up with that kind of shit, but since… since everything with my dad and the Fireflies, sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe when things get too loud.”

Her admission caught you off guard, and you turned to look at her. For all her strength, Abby carried a weight too. It was different from yours, but it was still there, etched into the set of her jaw and the faint lines around her eyes.

“Well,” you said, smirking despite the heaviness in your chest, “guess we’re both a little screwed up.”

“Guess so,” Abby agreed, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

You took one last drag of your cigarette before stubbing it out against the concrete. Then, without thinking, you added, “What can I say? My PTSD made me hotter.”

Abby blinked, staring at you for a moment before bursting into a laugh—a real, genuine laugh that echoed into the night. It was rare to hear her laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling a little lighter just from the sound.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, but you love it,” you shot back, leaning back on your hands with a smug smile.

Abby rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her expression betrayed her. “Don’t push your luck, rookie.”

[emoisthenewemu]

Favorite present! ~ Megumi Fushiguro x GN! Reader

A/N i live for soft boy megumi like SORRY but he is sensitive I don’t make the rules. i love him sm and plan to write more for him in the future.

If you were to ask Megumi Fushiguro what his favorite present was this year, he would probably say you.

Wc:1086

"Meguuumiiii" You whine from the hall, holding a cardboard box full of your friends' presents. Ones you handmade with blood, sweat, and literal tears. In fact, you had begun the project as early as October (before Halloween even).

What at first seemed to be a cute idea of making stuffed animals soon turned into a pain in the ass, taking up most of your free time.  Of course when you and Megumi would see each other you would refrain from letting it distract you but the very second he left or even fell asleep there you went-crocheting away. When he would walk in your dorm after a long day of class?

There you sat, legs crossed and an ever-so determined look on your face. Hunched over in a way that looked painful-which it definitely was because you had been complaining about your horrible back pain for the past two months.

Every time the two of you would FaceTime you would be groaning and sighing, complaining about how it was crooked or you put too much stuffing. That your fingers were cramping or now you need to start all over because it looks just awful.

Oh how annoying it was for Megumi to sit and watch you suffer over something absolutely no one is forcing you to do. He told you countless times to just give up and ‘buy everyone gift cards like a normal person’.

But he soon learned his lesson because every single time he said anything like that it just ended in a speech about how important it is to ‘finish things you started’ and you ‘promised yourself it wouldn’t be another abandoned project sitting in the closet’. Yes, Megumi understands. He still thinks you are insane. And he will tell you so.

“Isn’t that why you love me?” You say and he can only nod.

Megumi loves your tenacious spirit. How passionate you are about the things you care for. How lucky he is to be one of the things you are very passionate about. It is the only reason he continues to support you in your endeavor. As long as you promise you will not be doing this shit again next year. He even puts a cute little Santa hat on and wears matching slippers with you. It only took like five minutes of begging!

The only thing that continues to bother him is that you did not make him one. Surely you would have mentioned it by now. He would have seen it one of the countless times he walked in to find your room scattered with yarn and your many ‘rough drafts’. He would also be lying if he did not admit he went snooping around a few times when you were showering in the hopes of finding his.

Kugisaki is getting a white bunny. A pink bear for Itadori. There’s an animal for Maki, Yuuta, Inumaki, Gojo, a panda for Panda (duh), and nothing for him.

Maybe you forgot. You’ve been so busy making all of them and it must have slipped your mind. You probably did not even think he would want one. He has no stuffed animals in his room or anything even remotely similar. It’s not like he would cuddle it at night and think about you or anything.

So he delivers the gifts with you-with a smile on his face. Whatever Megumi considers to be a smile at least. Even ignoring the comments of how ‘whooped’ he is to be standing there matching with you. A thing he once swore he would never do.

Until he met you. You softened him up like butter. Gone is the aggression that was always his go-to in any situation. The way you loved him made him feel complete. He used to find it absurd that falling in love could change a person.

But you change him for the better. You challenge him emotionally without trying to change who he is deep down. You bring out the best and suppress the worst of him. Oh how Megumi loves you, more than words can describe.

It is your first Christmas together. As a couple at least so he may have went a bit overboard with the presents. He was trying very hard to impress you. He would be deeply embarrassed if he got you a bunch of presents and you got him nothing.

Surely that would not happen. You gave him a present last year. Why would this one be any different?

He is just anxious, a feeling he knows a bit too well. Megumi is an overthinker, sometimes he will let even the smallest things eat him up inside. He is nervously chewing at the inside of his cheek, holding the now empty box as you finish giving away your last present.

You grab his hand, squeezing it tight before pressing a kiss onto his cheek. “Thanks for coming with me handsome. Im so glad this is over” You groan and he chuckles at the exasperated look on your face. “You were so right. Never again” You peck his cheek again and he smiles contently.

Your touch is so comforting he does not even realize the two of you are heading back to your dorm instead of his. Too lost in the warmth of your smooth hands and intoxicating giggle.

It is not until you open the door and walk him inside that he understands that all of his worries were for nothing. Sometimes he forgets that you might love him just the same way he loves you. Maybe even more like you swear you do. He feels almost silly for doubting you. As he should.

Your small twin bed is covered in presents. His presents. They range all different sizes. But right in the middle, atop one of the gifts sits two little crochet figures.

Two wolves, a white and a black one.

His chest is warm and tingly. Megumi pulls you into a hug. Arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head digging into the nape of your neck-he swallows the lump forming in his throat.

“Thank you” Megumi sighs into your chest, moving up to kiss your neck lovingly.

“Ohh Megs” You chuckle, trying to jump excitedly up and down but his arms prevent you from doing so. They grip you tighter. “You need to open them first!”

And he says something so cheesy he would have thrown up if the moment wasn’t so sweet. “You’re the only present I need”

[rathayibacter]

Ok so how does one MAKE a tabletop game because this is something I want to try!! Are there good references out there for non-d20 systems or how to balance mechanics yourself?

oooh, hell yeah! honestly the big thing is to just do it, unlike board and video games the gap between idea and execution in ttrpgs is incredibly narrow, so if youve got an idea just start writing stuff down and see where it starts pulling you, where it feels like something's missing, find what excites you and what you feel isn't working. but that's not very specific, so let's get into it!

first off, read games! read weird games! there's tons of free ttrpgs on itch, lots of people sharing their work here and on other social media, there's 200 word rpgs here and here, and lots of system reference documents written specifically for people looking to hack games. reading other games is a great way to enrich your work whether you're building systems from scratch or working in an existing framework, because every game you read will show you a new way of approaching design problems.

on that note, draw inspiration outside of ttrpgs too! i pull a lot from video, board, and card games in my work, as well as poetry, novels, movies, etc etc etc. im autistic, and ive spent a lot of my life thinking about and dissecting unwritten social rules, so that's another big source of material for me. take your passions, whatever they may be, and put them in your work!

next up, think about the core of your game, sometimes called the minimum viable product. this is whatever the fundamental idea at the heart of your work is, and it's important to keep in mind because it keeps you from spiraling down unnecessary tangents. the core of your game can change, don't get me wrong! in fact, it likely will. what you want to do isn't prevent your work from growing and changing, but have a point of light you can always refer back to and ask "is what im doing important to this game?" you might be surprised by what you find isn't actually as important as you thought at first, and what turns out to be vital to the experience you're going for.

next up, once you start working, don't throw things away. if youre working in a word processor or google docs, it can help to have a section at the bottom of your document that you copy anything youd otherwise delete into. i do the same with my Affinity documents, ill have a few pages i dont export to store all my scraps. i know other folks who keep a dedicated scraps document that they use across projects. whatever works for you! the reason you do this is twofold: it makes it easier to cut things if you know you can always put it back later if you change your mind, and it gives you a lot of raw material that you can pull from in the future. months or years from now, you might find yourself looking to fill a gap in a new design and realize that some cool toy you set aside is exactly what you were looking for.

lastly, i wanna strongly encourage you to practice finishing things. that's often the hardest part for people, cuz we have a lot more experience starting projects than finishing them. here id like to once again direct you to 200 word rpgs, because that strict limit means you wind up with a finished first draft really quickly, and the rest of it is polishing and editing. once you've finished some bite-sized projects, you'll have a better idea of what it entails, what parts you're good at and what parts you struggle with, when to keep working and when to cut yourself off. i find it really helpful to add arbitrary limitations and deadlines on my work because that helps me push myself to finish something when otherwise i'd just keep adding and tweaking, but you'll find what works best for you!

[vengefultakeover]

Daemon: Surprise Guest (3)

NOTE: This is the newest edited version of this story

I let my eyes drift open after having spent the entire night with Max. The now open windows let in a much light as possible now that Max was inside a body. Safe to bask in the beams. I found him standing out in the living room, looking out at Crystal Cove and wearing nothing but a tight pair of underwear. I sit down on the sofa and admire him while he enjoys the warmth.

Eventually, he joins me, slipping his hand over my thigh while getting comfortable on the coffee table, "I'm really starting to enjoy being human." He leans his head on a hand, eyes glowing a beautiful green.

"Starting to?" I chuckled.

"You know what I mean." He leans into me, pushing be back onto the cushion in the same positions we were in the night before. We kiss as my hands slide along his abs and then around his waist, pulling him closer to eliminate the space between us.

"What?" I ask as he pulls away.

"I think I should find a permanent body." He pushed his bulge against mine, looking at me as his eyes return to the normal color.

"Permanent?" I scrunch my face slightly, we were having so much fun hopping from body to body.

"I think I want to create an identity now that I'm free from the island. You know? Not just Max, but like Max the human. Someone you want me to be if you wanted - I owe you so much for helping me survive. You have no idea what you've done for me." He pushed his head onto my shoulder and I felt him breathing, his heart pounding in his chest. Was he nervous?

"Really?" I was blushing. "Well, if it's going to be someone new, I think we should really consider who it should be. But I shouldn't be the one who picks. You should decide what your future is." I push my hand through his hair and we cuddled there, staring at each other.

"When I was back on the island, there were a lot of snobby college kids who thought they were better than the rest because they came from money. The one's who were specially invited were just part of Mondavarious' plan to accumulate power and wealth. I guess technically it was Scrappy, but that's the past. I'm here with you, now, and I'm loving every second of it. I feel more free than I ever have."

"What did I do?" I shrugged.

"You were kind to me." He responded.

We were listening to each other's heartbeat when there was a knock at the door, one that sounded pretty aggressive. I slid out from underneath Max and ran to look through the keyhole. The man on the other side was handsome in a blue varsity jacket. I could have sword I had seen him before, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He looked gruff, and something about him made my cock stir.

Max came up behind me, grabbing my waist and taking a look through the peephole. His face dropped and his eyes flashed green before he calmed down and they became Alex's brown. I was confused, but I played along when he pushed me behind the door and opened it, keeping me out of sight.

"Hey, man, I got a call from one of your neighbors about seeing a creature lurking outside the building? It's tall, purple-ish skin, have you seen anything like it?" The man's voice was so familiar that I realized who it was and why Max was afraid. It was Fred Jones.

"Nah, man, just the normal stuff around here. I go running often and I think I would have seen something like that." He flexed his pecs, taking on the personality of Alex which was actually really hot to witness. Max was playing it off, even laughing the way my asshole neighbor used to when he thought he said something slick.

"Alright," Fred sighed, "take my card, if you see anything please don't hesitate. I'm Fred Jones from the Jones detective agency."

"I know who you are."

"You do?" Fred squinted.

"Yeah, I have a TV. I remember you from back in the day. What was it, Mystery Company or something?"

"Mystery Incorporated," Fred rolled his eyes, "please let me know if you see anything weird."

"Will do." Max started to close the door, but was suddenly stopped by Fred's shoe.

"Hey, do you mind if I come in for a drink of water? I've been chatting with all the neighbors and I am parched." He started to walk inside, but Max immediately extended his arm and held the door to prevent Fred from entering.

"Hey, bro, you can't just do that." Max pushed him back and as he stumbled back Fred caught my eyes peering through the hinges. Fuck.

"No worries." Fred dusted himself off and readjusted himself before walking towards the stairs. As Max closed the door, I rushed over to the window and looked down at the parking lot. Sure enough, the mystery machine was parked in the lot with its faded paint. Fred appeared from the entrance and had his phone up to his ear.

"Yeah, I think it's here. There was something weird about this one apartment," he leaned against the van, "no, I'm not - listen with the Daemon Ritus gone and this creature wreaking havoc doing who knows what we have no idea what is actually happening. Anything that solves the mystery, right?" He looked up at our window and I threw myself backwards to avoid being caught. Max was there to catch me in his arms.

"Thank you." I said with a smile. I dusted myself off.

"I'm sorry. I think I may have caused some trouble." Max had this apologetic look on his face that was super cute.

"No need to apologize. I know you said you wanted something more permanent, but I think we might need to get you a new temporary skin." I said, going to the kitchen and pulling out the jar. There was now a couple layers of tape around the lid for extra security. We were going to need to find a new body, but this time we were going to have find them.

We enjoyed ourselves as we got dressed for a night out in Crystal Cove, putting on our best club attire. Max's body had a closet filled with clothing meant to show off his sexy body and I had thrown something together from my own closet, making sure to leave the top buttons undone to show a little bit of my chest.

"You look nice," Max said, unbuttoning another button to show a little bit more and sliding a finger inside the shirt, "now let's go have some fun."

The music was loud and I involuntarily nodded my head as we walked in together. I had been here before, one of my favorite local hangouts with a wild history. The back parts of the building was a local mine shaft that had closed down and eventually the city sold it after some drama with the buyers and it became Crystal Cove's hottest spot for the gay scene. I like coming in during brunch for the drag shows.

"Can I get a gin and tonic. He'll have a - " I looked over at Max who was already dancing in spot, " - two gin and tonics plus a tequila shot. That's for me."

"You brought a friend tonight?" Mel was a very talented bartender and they tossed the glasses and bottles around like it was nothing. They quickly poured the tonics and then dressed the shot glass, covering the rim in salt before pushing the lime slice onto the glass. I passed Max's drink to him and then slid my card to the Mel.

"On the house. I'm glad you're seeing someone." They winked at me and then walked over to help another club goer. Max bounced from side to side before chugging the drink I have him. I took the shot, trying to save face, and when I looked back at Max he was making a face at the glass.

"What is this? It's disgusting." He put the glass on the bar top.

"I forget you're new to alcohol." I chugged my own drink and just as I put the glass back on the bar Max took my hand and spun me out onto the dance floor. He pulled me into him as we started grinding on each other with the bass bumping around and odd looks abound as this hunk danced with this tall chub. His hands moved into my waistband and I could feel his finger pushing against my ass as I pulled at his back, my fingers getting knotted in his fishnet shirt.

We were still looking for a new body, but we took the time to enjoy each other until we both saw someone watching up. He was sipping from a thin black straw at a booth at the edge of the building. He smirked when we both looked over, a signal. Max went over first, he was, after all, controlling that sexy body. I reached inside my cross body bag and pulled out the covered jar containing Alex and waited for Max to give me the signal.

"He wants both of us." Max came back and whispered in my ear with a grin, took my hand, and brought me back to the stranger. I was in awe as the stranger took us into the back, the cave and all of its mine shafts were still lit and was now used as a hook up spot. The man spun to face up when we reached a corner, pulling me into a kiss. I was taken by surprise, but his lips were so soft and I eventually started easing my hand around his waist. Max slid his hand around our waists and then the stranger kissed him. I took a moment to grasp the jar in my bag and then felt it slip into the dirt below. I used this as an excuse to start unbuttoning the strangers pants.

"Oh, fuck yeah." He said, pushing his groin out obnoxiously as Max continued to make out. Max stepped away for a second and let me take the lead. He took the jar and disappeared into a dark corner to open it. When the stranger went to look, I swallowed his cock and he closed his eyes to moan and enjoy the feeling of my wet mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max's convulsing body as he swallowed the protoplasm. The stranger was now too preoccupied, shoving my head onto his cock until I was choking, to notice the monster appearing from my neighbors chest. Before he could scream, Max let out a deep breath of green smoke and laid Alex's incapacitated body in comfortable position. I could feel the stranger's cock throbbing as I forced his cock farther down my throat, pre dripping inside of me. I continued to suck even when Max pinned him against the wall, ripping his shirt open and shoving his claws deep into his chest to rip out his protoplasm. He pushed it into the taped up jar and held up his body as he continued to throb in my mouth. After tightening the lid, he pushed himself inside the stranger as his cock continued leaking inside my mouth.

I was finally able to come up for air, stroking his hard cock as Max slid inside his new husk. His cock pulsed in a strange way once I saw the creature's feet lift off the ground and dissipate inside the stranger. His eyes opened and they were the bright green I was getting used to seeing. His leaking cock suddenly exploded as Max stole the climax and moaned out in bliss.

"Let's get out of here." I said, wiping my mouth. Max pulled himself together while I checked on Alex, hoping he would wake up and assume it was a wild night and cough it up to drunken stupor. We headed to the stranger's place, our old apartment no longer a safe haven due to Fred's investigation.

Fred tossed his phone into the van and jumped into the driver's seat. He pushed the back of his seat all the way down and stared at the peeling fabric on the roof of the vehicle. With an eye roll he dozed off and waited for night to come.

The sky was dark when he opened his eyes and the street was quiet except for the occasional drunkard or Uber driver completing their final trips for the night. Fred reached over and grabbed his bag of tools, pushing it onto his shoulders and then stepping out of the van to look up at my apartment complex. Lock picking came easy to him now that he had done it so many times, a skill he learned on the road to compensate for the fact that people thought he was just the dumb himbo face of Mystery Inc.

The door clicked open and he closed it to make sure no one would witness him breaking and entering. With a flashlight, he opened drawers and cabinets, making sure to put everything back in its spot. The search was fruitless, the Daemon Ritus was no where to be found and Fre had no idea where me might get his next lead until he saw the sketchbook left behind by the occupants. He flipped through the pages and tore out the rough sketch I had drawn to help Max communicate. This was his next clue and now Fred knew that this purple daemon had an accomplice.

[sulumuns-dootah]

26. 12. Asmodeus - Wrapped like a gift (18+)

     ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

⋆꙳·❅‧The Yule festival of Hell 2‧❆ ₊⋆

A/N: The ending eludes to Y/N without a dick, but can be read even if you have one (just squint your eyes at one point)

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

     ༺☆༻

The more you walk through the Abaddon castle towards Asmodeus' rooms, the more your intuition tells you that you shouldn't. There's something really unnerving about the message he's sent you:

'Y/N! Come get your Christmas gift! You'll find it on my bed ;)'

The winking emoji already had you slightly suspicious and then when all your texts inquiring about more info of the gift's nature went unanswered, the feeling of you being set up to meet your doom really set in.

By the time you reach the master bedroom door, your heart is anxiously trying to beat its way out through your ribcage.

As you're about to knock on the heavy door, a note attached to the handle by a ribbon catches your attention. The writing is in the most beautiful cursive – presumably Asmo's handwriting.

'No need to knock, just enter. I'm waiting ;)'

That emoji again. You really should turn around and call one of the other kings to come and get you out of here, but instead you take a deep breath and reach out for the handle, like the note instructed.

Slowly opening the tall door, you first see a dimly lit room full of lit candles. Stepping into the room, you see more and more of them until finally, your eyes land on the centerpiece of the whole fire hazard.

The master bed is adorned by many satin-covered pillows, which look like they're glowing in the candle flame light. And there, amidst all the glowing fabric and scattered red rose petals is Asmodeus.

He's naked, kneeling and fully restrained with his hands securely bound behind his back by ribbons. A whimper of proud obedience leaves his gagged mouth as your eyes scan his form from the top of his pitch black hair all the way down to the bow tied around the base of his very hard dick with the words 'Free use' above it in a similar fashion to Beelzebub's tattoos.

“A-asmo...?!” you exclaim in a surprise and the demon cockily smiles around the ball in his mouth while thrusting a few times into the air as if to entice you to take the opportunity to do anything with him.

You're not gonna lie, this display ignites something dangerous inside you and you yourself don't really know what might happen in the next few hours.

Only after taking a few steps towards the bed while shedding all the extra layers you're not going to need for the rest of your time here, you notice all the laid out pleasure and/or pain toys.

“Nnnghh...~!” Asmodeus impatiently whimpers with his eyes slightly rolling back, as if just your presence was enough to get him off.

You take a deep breath, partially to calm your nerves but to also stop so many ideas popping up at once.

Standing a the foot of the bed, you contemplate your first course of action with some soft humming. One part of you wants to tease him until he's unable to take it anymore and the other wants to overstimulate him.

Another impatient groan with more pathetic air thrusts interrupts your decision-making and without even thinking, you pick up the leather whip and land a few hits on one of the demon's inner thighs, “Shush... I'm still deciding.”

“Haa~!” the sudden pain makes Asmodeus moan out as his dick twitches a few times, clearly becoming desperate for any sort of stimulation. It doesn't escape you that so little was already enough for him to start producing precum, which was now lazily running down his entire length and dripping underneath him onto the satin sheet.

“I wonder... What would happen if I just left you like this... All needy for me, expecting me to pounce on you, but I don't...” you question, more as a thinking out loud since he can't really answer you much.

'Then you'd make the biggest mistake, I'll take great joy in reminding you of all the time.' a threat in a playful tone enters your mind, sounding as if Asmodeus whispered it right into your ear. Judging by the cocky smirk that's molded around the plastic ball in his mouth, it was the demon talking to you in your head. Does that also mean he can read your thoughts, then?

“Hm...” you look back down at the array of toys at your disposal. A feather duster, candle with ligther, leather whip, chain attachment for the choker he's wearing, paddle, dagger and...

Finally, your eyes land on the strap on with an attachment resembling Asmo's very own throbbing length next to a strip of black satin – presumably intended to be a blindfold. A low chuckle vibrates in your throat as a very fun way to enjoy your gift comes into your mind.

With a swift movement you snatch the cold fabric and walk around the bed to kneel behind the nicely presented demon. A shaky breath leaves his gagged lips as you tie the blindfold around his eyes, but to his disappointment, after that you're immediately getting off the bed again and walking off.

He can't see it anymore, but you're actually putting on the harness and attaching the rather disproportionate dick onto your body. On the way back to your original position the chain lead catches your eye and you take it with you.

Asmo hates to admit it to himself, but being someone else's bitch excites him as long as it's you. Still, not being able to see makes him feel on a very thrilling edge. His hearing is good, but the way you're too quiet while moving around his room is a bit unnerving to him.

The demon's head whips to the side when you get back onto the bed. With a gentle hand you guide his chin up so you can attach the chain's clasp.

By pulling on the chain, you pull Asmodeus backwards until his head is on your shoulder as you whisper right into his ear, while rubbing your borrowed dick against his ass, “Tell me, bitchboy... Has anybody else ever given you a good prostate orgasm?”

     ༺☆༻

But wait, this demon also has a gift for you!

"Ahahah, my pretty little bitch... There's yet so much for you to experience and I am more than happy to guide you through all these new things, huhu..."

[ellouchi]

One-shot: taking a bath with Jimmy (gn/just hints of suggestiveness)

Disclaimer: none? You know how Jimmy is.

Side notes: super indulgent if you couldn't tell. I wrote this in one day, sorry if this sucks ass. Don't judge me on the order of things! Sorry if it breaks the illusion or something.

"If you needed an excuse to grope me, you could've just asked" Jimmy teased sarcastically, pulling his smelly jersey over his head and dropping it carelessly onto the growing heap of clothes laying on the cold bathroom tiles.

"Uh-huh, you know exactly what I mean." You punched his arm playfully, knowing too well how Jimmy would respond to your proposition in the first place. "We will just take a bath together and that's the end of it."

"And that's it? Really? I find it hard to believe that you don't have any ulterior motives. Besides, I can wash myself just fine without another pair of hands getting in my way, what's the point of us washing together if we won't be fucking?" Jimmy tried again, this time locking his eyes with the buckle of his belt. He could tell you could tell he felt sceptical about this whole idea. From where he looked at it, it didn't make sense, just like countless other things you suggested doing ever since you two became "a couple". However, most of times he enjoyed doing said activities with you, albeit never getting rid of his wariness and cheeky attitude often accompanied by lewd comments.

Once Jimmy was naked, he folded his arms and looked at you expectantly. It was rather an endearing sight, and as much as you would have loved to memorize every detail and curve of your boyfriend's physique, you opted for flinging the last articles of clothes from your own body.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get in!"

It's not like Jimmy has never taken a bath before, it was just the one you had prepared he had a problem with. He scowled back at the hot steam rising in puffy clouds, the kind of temperatures he didn't get to experience before on his skin. The water glimmered with a thin orange sheen from the bath bomb you bought at the store, it gave out a nice smell of grapefruit at least. You observed Jimmy eyeing the tub with mistrust, most likely asking himself if this was even appropriate for humans to wash in. You wondered if Jim would ask you if this would leave him more dirty than before he got in or would this give him third degree burns.

"Looks like Satan's cauldron straight up from hell. Are you sure it won't boil me alive?" So it was the second option.

"I take those bathes all the time and look at me: I'm both clean and unharmed. So quickly get in, unless you want me to manhandle you like a cat."

With a dragged out 'fine' Jimmy dipped his foot into the water, waiting for the burn which never came, and then finally sat in the tub with a wince. The water was way hotter to what he was used to, that much was clear: he could feel the warmth instantly envelope his body like he was wrapped in the blanket set on fire. You followed suit, settling behind him and pulling his body from behind to rest against yours.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Jimmy asked, scenes from different movies flashing somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Next time for sure, but now just lay like this and try to relax" you reassured, not offering any further explanations.

And so Jimmy went silent, just resting there in your embrace, watching the flicker of candles you previously scattered around the bathroom "to add to the atmosphere". Being acutely aware of your exposed body just below him, soft and inviting, really put his lower part of the body to a test. It would be so easy for Jimmy to flip around and pin your wrists above your head, to glide his free hand from your wet flustered face down to your bare abdomen. And yet, the man has closed his eyes instead, listening in to the soft melody you put on the background, trusting you this one time. He had already decided that if this bathing time didn't prove to be worthwhile, he would take matters into his own hands instead. Later.

Jimmy almost jolted from his nap when he felt your hands suddenly snake from his chest to his shoulders. Your fingers begun to slowly knead his tense muscles, smoothing out knots formed from the tension. It wasn't easy, but the water managed to relax his body quite a bit for you to work your magic. Meanwhile Jimmy tried his best to suppress the tremor of pleasure running through him each time you found a new spot to massage. Fuck he never knew how badly he needed that. He could moan alone just from this, but he didn't want you to think something weird of him or think he was this easy to please. Still, without any words you could tell Jimmy felt fantastic: the way his body slacken against yours, hear how he silently sighed, and sense his big hand lightly gripping your knee. You swore you heard him swear under his breath when you dipped your thumbs between his shoulders blades.

"Jimmy, the water is getting cold" you hinted. The man understood it was time for washing, so he lazily rose into a sitting position, folding his knees to the chest.

"Mmm I'm awake I'm awake..." Jimmy grumbled when you poured as much water as you could over his head.

"I know silly, I will wash your hair now" you explained, reaching behind to grab a brand new shampoo bottle you bought for Jimmy. That men's "three in one" shampoo will haunt you for days to come, you always wondered who were those men who bought this stuff but here was Jimmy, living under your roof. He even had the nerve to complain about you wasting products when you chucked the bottle to trash.

You carefully rubbed the gel into Jimmy's scalp, humming to the changing tune of the music, minding tangled locks which you gently combed through to even out. As you massaged his head further, the delicious fruity scent followed into Jimmy's nostrils, the smell he initially attributed to lady's shampoo now seeming more unisex than he initially thought. When you lightly scratched his scalp, the man almost let out a purr, leaning into your touch, following your motions. Jimmy washed his hair all the time, why with you it felt so different?

"Like this... this feels good yeah Jimmy?" You cooed into Jimmy's ear. He couldn't see your face but he could hear your smile in your voice. Obviously, Jimmy enjoyed every second of it, but you relished in too, huh...? He couldn't understand why.

Your boyfriend responded with an affirmative hum as you rinsed his hair, tilting his jaw up so the soapy water couldn't get into his eyes.

Another creaky sound of the bottle being opened disturbed an otherwise silent room, of the shower gel Jimmy assumed. He felt a sponge press onto his neck, moving in circles. The man took it as a sign to lower his head and sit tighter, exposing more of his back for you to wash.

Jimmy had a brief moment of clearance appear out of nowhere. Stretching his back like that has never felt so easy before, his skin and muscles would tug at his bones, despite the fact that he practiced weightlifting for so many years. The tension sitting in his body, akin to a spring ready to burst, suddenly just not being there. He couldn't deny that your touch...no, not only that, your care and your presence put his body and mind to the state of ease he couldn't remember feeling ever from anyone else in his life. Hell, when was the last time Jimmy exposed his back like that to anyone? When was the last time someone's hands delicately touched his body with nothing but care?

When was the last time he was taken care of in such an intimate, non sexual way...?

You stoped moving the sponge in your hand when you felt Jimmy's frame lightly shaking. Did you find a ticklish spot? You were about to tease your boyfriend, oblivious to the revelations the man came up with, until you ears picked upon a chipped sob. Your mood suddenly darkened.

"Jim? Hey, what's wrong? Hey...."

The man didn't respond instantly, his shoulders buckling inwards before he spoke "...'s nothing, sorry." He replied as flatly as he could muster, responding to his own reflection on the water.

"Did I do something wro--" you couldn't help asking before your question got cut off.

"Stop. No, don't say that. You didn't do... anything wrong... It's me..."

The last word felt like a punch to the gut. You desperately wanted Jimmy to turn around, for you to wipe his tears away and tell the sweetest reassurance, but you knew it was better to let him be. Jimmy wouldn't want you to see him weeping like this.

"Do you want me to hug you?"

"Yeah..." He stopped briefly "... please".

Without a beat, you carefully laid your warm body on Jimmy's cooling back, putting your cheek on the backside of his shoulder. Your arms embraced his waist protectively, occasionally moving to caress his sides. The water was starting to go cold, the candles almost burned to the end.

The music continued to quietly hum in the corner.

[lyxthen]

I want to write an essay on how the Book of Bill expertly subverts the "villain with a tragic backstory/antisocial protagonist" narrative by portraying its main character as evil, trying really hard to look cool, and failing pathetically. The book is making fun of him, and that is actually kind of revolutionary, because most stories with evil, pathetic main characters tend to take themselves, and by extension, their protagonist, way too seriously, with way too much dignity, which leads to people misinterpreting them as heroes or idealize them in some way, and then replicating these harmful attitudes. They follow life coaches that will teach them how to be "alpha males."

Bill presents himself as one of these "life coaches," he will teach you the secrets of the universe, he will help you to game the system in your favor, to manipulate people to get what you want, he will free you from the shackles of society and reality itself-- but he is lying. The success rate of Bill's evil schemes is laughably small. He's a manipulator, to be sure, an incompetent one. His dimension rejected him, his friends don't actually like him, throughout the ages humans have found him insufferable, and to top it all off he ruins the relationship with the only being in the history of the universe he has ever truly felt understood by.

And instead of going "gee, maybe there *is* something wrong with me, after all" he doubles down on his harmful ideas. He doesn't have a problem, everyone else is the problem. Nobody gets his vision. They are all small-minded creatures of no value. His failures are always somebody else's fault. He didn't want to hurt anyone, he was forced to. It's not that bad, he's just being silly, he's having a laugh.

And we, as readers, we are horrified at all the bad things he does, but we also laugh. Not with him, but *at him.* He is being constantly ridiculed by himself, and the funniest part is that he doesn't even realize. He thinks he is absolutely acing this.

He isn't.

Eventually, it is revealed that Bill has no idea what he is talking about. That he has been defeated, rendered powerless, stuck forever in interdimensional therapy. The book tells us, "This is what happens to people like Bill if they don't change. They end up with nothing. No riches, no fame, no loved ones. They will be unhappy forever unless they realize there is something about them worth changing and decide to act on it."

This is in contrast to Stanford, someone who, just like Bill, was deeply hurt and rejected by society, struggled to feel understood, and took refuge in a narcissistic (bear with me-) view of the world. Diagnostic labels aside, Ford genuinely thinks he is better than everyone else for being smarter. He is a textbook Aspie Supremacist that swears by IQ tests because it's the only thing that has ever validated him. That's why he gets along with Bill, I think, they really *have* compatible mindsets. Ford really thought Rudolph should've killed the other reindeer. He constantly dismisses Fiddleford in what feels a very classist way (even if he grew up working class himself). Ford isn't manipulative and malicious in the same way Bill is, and I don't want anyone coming at me for saying Ford is evil. He isn't. He might be a bit of an ass, but he has a moral code, he knows that what Bill wants to do is A BAD THING and dedicates his life to trying to stop him. Stanford's biggest flaw is not appreciating the people around him more for their inherent value (not that he doesn't love them! he does!), but he learns, and he changes. He is more considerate of other people's needs and their perspectives.

And by the end, he is happy. He is free from Bill, he has his family, people who will support him unconditionally and will put up with his nonsense because they love him.

Stanford will never find someone who is as smart as him, who has been ostracized the same way he has. But that's okay. He has an inherent value as a person that has nothing to do with how smart he is in comparison to other people. He doesn't need other people's approval to be happy.

That is, I think, what the book wants you to take away. Don't be like Bill. Don't fall for the Alpha Male scam, or eugenics, some new age cult or multilevel marketing scheme, reject the ideas at the base. Talk to your family and friends, touch grass, find a group that shares your interests, but don't dwell endlessly on resentment, and don't follow people that tell you that the only way to be valuable is to be "superior" in some abstract metric, and that they can teach you how.

(As a kid, I almost fell down the alt-right pipeline-- and I am Mexican, transgender, and autistic. I fantasized about blowing up the school every day. I know what the fuck I am talking about when I tell you this.)

They are lying. You don't want to be like them.

You don't want to be like Bill.

[ihfmseatsoch]

ok ok ok so if i may be so bold as to request something, ive been enamored wiht the idea of an older, controlling, borderline abuse boyfriend jimmy, like he and reader live together on earth, and reader goes to college, while jimmy works physical jobs trying to support them both. he's a SHITTY person though, so hes jealous of any man the reader talks to, reads through their phone, makes sinde comments about their weight and appearance, and (im totally not projecting here) eventually pressures them into dropping out, for like his perfect little live in partner/gf fantasy sjdhasd feel free to do whatever with this, but this specific scenario has not left my head for days

WHEEE this was fun to write ^w^ i rushed this a bit but i just didnt want you to have to wait any longer... :p

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Jimmy Zare x fem!reader

reader uses fem terms (girl, girlfriend)

genre: how do i categorize this.... fic that makes you feel bad or horny depending on how you handle verbal abuse lol

word count: 1.8k

warnings/content: age gap, domestic abuse, manipulation, arguing, fat shaming, several references to the readers body/appearance, jimmy being the biggest asshole oh my god i hate him (i want him so bad it makes me look stupid)

(is it bad that writing about jimmy yelling at me turns me on... WOAHHH who said that .....😰 also dont kill me for the weight shaming part IM A FAT GIRL !!!!!! i like when evil men are mean to me !!!!!! RAAAH)

—

"He's a good guy, he can actually be really sweet!"

That's a sentence you find yourself saying out of complete muscle memory at this point whenever someone questions why your boyfriend–... well, they question an awful lot about your boyfriend.

For example, why he's over twenty years your senior whilst you're still going to class on the weekdays. Why he doesn't allow you to see your friends, wear certain clothes, leave your apartment without him, and why he takes up so much space in your brain, completely distracting you from your own life and goals.

You've missed at least four assignments this semester alone. It's stupid, really. You thought you'd be done with obsessing and crying over boys after you graduated highschool. It's completely immature for a so-called adult like yourself, but then again, you're hardly into adulthood at all.

Jimmy, on the other hand, has a lot more life experience, many of those experiences negative. That might be why you've taken some form of pity on him, going so far as to move into his apartment so you can take care of him when you're not busy. He needs someone to make sure he doesn't fall off the deep end.

The thing is, it's become hard to fit him in your schedule, but whenever you're unable to make time for him after he comes home from work, that familiar scowl on his face indicating it was another shitty day, he throws a fit.

He'll accuse you of everything under the sun; Infidelity being the primary thing.

"You don't love me. There's someone else, isn't there? It's that one kid that asked you to help him 'study' last week, isn't it? No? Give me your fucking phone, then."

This is what you come home to everyday, so it's nothing new. In fact, you're pretty used to it by now. Though today, Jimmy seems particularly pissed.

"Where have you been?" He crosses his arms and leans against the wall, eyeing you up and down like he always does when he's about to grill you on something.

"Sorry..." You mutter, way too tired to deal with one of his moods again. "Traffic." You answer simply, not having enough energy to overexplain yourself like you normally do.

"Uh huh. Traffic." He mimics you in a way that already tells you he's not buying it. Great.

"...It's the truth." You shrink into yourself at the way he's looking at you. Contemptuous as always. You're in for another argument, it seems. A million, desperate pleas run through your mind;

'Please don't give me another lecture about how you're my only financial support, and how grateful I should be. Please don't ask to see my phone. Please don't tell me to drop out.'

But, of course, you can't actually change the outcome of this. You're gonna get yelled at. Belittled. Degraded.

"You're two hours late, and you're gonna tell me you were just stuck in traffic?" He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards you.

"You're never home when you're supposed to be, and when you are home, you're all tired and upset.” He pokes a finger into your shoulder, hard. "What do you think that looks like from my point of view?"

"I'm sorry." You rub your face, exasperated. God, you wish he would shut up sometimes. Sure, he can be amicable, but lately... he's been a raging dick. Yet, you can't help but cling to the memory of his good moments. "I'll try to make it back on time tomorrow."

"Yeah? And how many times have I heard that before?" He sneers, "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

The way he accuses you so confidently, so sure of himself... it's insulting. Does he really think that little of you? "College has been kicking my ass, Jim. You know that. I'm not hiding anything from you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, college this, college that. Always complaining about fuckin' college," He scoffs, his eyes stay narrowed, still glaring. "How about what I'm going through? You think I'm having a great time every day at work, hm?"

"No, I–" You stammer, hating the way he's turning this around to make himself the victim. Oh, woe is him, having to provide for himself and his girlfriend. How tortured he is. "I know, alright? I'm sorry. I just– what else do you expect me to do?"

"Be here. Like you're supposed to be. And I expect you to stop acting like I'm the bad guy for asking you to be a decent girlfriend."

Jimmy's voice raises slightly as he takes a step closer, towering over your sheepish figure. He nudges your shoulder again, even rougher this time.

"I'm busting my ass every day to put food on the table, and you can't even have the decency to show up on time, let alone look happy to see me?"

"I– I am happy to see you! I am, I'm just– you don't get it. I want to be here, but... I'm not even halfway through this semester, and–" You stumble over your words as you attempt, in vain, to defend yourself. It's not like he'll ever feel sympathy for you. It's always about what he wants. What makes him happy.

Jimmy rolls his eyes at your attempt to reason with him. It's as if he doesn't even register a word you say. "But what? What's more important to you, huh? Some stupid classes, or the guy who keeps a fuckin' roof over your head and feeds you? Be grateful, goddamn it." He snaps, grabbing your arms and giving them a forceful shake.

You flinch from being handled like you're not even a human being, much less one with feelings. "Stop, please, I'm– I am grateful, I really am..." You're not lying, either. To be honest, his guilt tripping works wonders on you. Are you really acting unappreciative? He wouldn't be this upset if you were in the right...

He seems unfazed by your frightened demeanor and continues to hold a firm grip on your arms. He looks you up and down, not even having to say anything for you to know he's judging you, as a girlfriend and person in general.

"Oh, you're grateful? Then maybe you should act like it for once." Jimmy gives your arms another firm shake, a harsh reminder of who's in charge here.

"I'm not asking much of you. I just want you to be here, and you can't even do that. Do you think I'm just gonna sit back and accept that bullshit?"

"No..." You shake your head, looking down at the ground in shame. Were you really that awful? You didn't want to be a bad partner, it's the last thing you ever wanted. If you could make eye contact without feeling guilty, you'd see Jimmy's face light up with satisfaction as he finally notices you're not even bothering to put up a fight anymore.

There's a condescending lilt to his tone as he speaks, "No one will ever love you like I do. You know that?"

You nod, knowing there has to be some truth to his claim. He takes care of you, doesn't he? He keeps a roof over your head, gives you money for groceries, and he's not always that unpleasant to be around...

He's a good boyfriend. You're the problem. You always are.

"Exactly."

The grip on your arms eases, moving them to place a hand on each of your shoulders, contrastingly gentle compared to his behavior only moments ago.

"You oughta thank your lucky stars you have a man like me who puts up with all your bullshit. You get that, right? How lucky you are to be with me?"

You know he's right. You were blessed with someone who still loves you, despite your many shortcomings. You're too fat, the acne on your face and body is repulsive, the way you do your makeup is weird... all of this being things Jimmy has told you directly. At least you have an honest boyfriend, isn't that what every girl wants?

He gives your shoulder a pat, like he's treating you like a small, petulant child. "You realize I could have literally any girl I want, right? Pretty, skinny, smart ones, even. But I chose you. Because I care about you."

He pauses, letting that sink in.

"But it would help if you'd actually put the effort in to look decent." He adds as an afterthought.

You've internalized every single snide remark he's thrown your way, reminded of them every single time you look in the mirror. Yet he still loves someone like you. Someone so difficult and embarrassing to be with.

"Jim, I don't... I don't know how I'm even gonna be able to free my schedule at all with school and stuff..." You mumble guiltily. You know he wants you to drop out, he's suggested it more times than you can count.

"That right there, that's why I'm frustrated, goddamn it," He says with an exacerbated sigh. He moves one hand from your shoulder to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Why don't you get it? Dropping out isn't the end of the world. Just quit and stay home. Done. Easy."

"It's not that easy... I want to get a good job and help out too, you know..."

It's true that you want to pull your weight around your shared home. With your combined income, it'd make everything easier. But... with how shitty college makes you feel, leaving you beaten down and tired by the end of the day...

You find yourself listening to Jimmy on this for once.

He can tell you're seriously contemplating it this time, which makes him feel... more in control. He's got you thinking and believing exactly what he wants you to. Soon, he'll be able to get you to obey him without another word from you.

The thought of having you as his subservient, stay at home girlfriend is more than appealing. It's his goal to mold you into what he wants you to be.

"Yeah, yeah, I get that, I know. But you're stressing yourself half to death, and for what? Some stupid degree? Listen to me, I'm not gonna ask you again. You're just creating problems that don't need to exist. Just quit. You'll have plenty of free time that you can spend with me."

You can't deny how tempting the idea is. Hesitantly, after several moments of pondering the hypotheticals and what-ifs, you speak up,

"...I guess... dropping out wouldn't hurt too much."

He perks up at that, barely being able to contain a delighted grin. You're actually putting him and his wants first, and acknowledging that he's right. You're doing as he says, without any of the usual arguing or excuses. He'll finally have his dream complaisant, docile girlfriend to come home to every night.

It only took a month or two to finally get you to cave. You'll be easier to control from now on. Hell, maybe you'll lose some weight with some free time on your hands, stop wearing that shitty makeup...

"Good girl," He says in a patronizing tone, like he's addressing a child, "That's what wanna hear."

God, you really hope this isn't a bad idea. Jimmy looks pleased for once, so...

This decision can't possibly ruin your future too badly, right?

—