#i hate loosing my old accounts

[machinegrrrrl]

Responding to the person who tagged under this post (this is my old account, this is my new one) YES I have been in the dhmis fandom and I've drawn Colin before! Maybe you've seen my Instagram at some point lol

Human droid au posting no way 🤯🤯 forgot to add bb's freckles😔

[hanzajesthanza]

it kind of bothers me that witcher fans don’t really unite under sapkowski’s name like other fans of fantasy authors do (e.g. “tolkien fans”).

in practically any other fandom of fantasy books, save for the particularly rancid authors known for their disappointing and shameful behavior or views (e.g. jk r*wling), it’s just regular business to say the author’s name. but sapkowski’s name is treated like a dirty word in the witcher fandom, for really no good reason…

it must be asked — what is stopping us from doing so?! why don’t we call ourselves sapkowski fans. it would be much easier than saying “i’m a fan of the witcher, but only the books, i don’t consider the various adaptations canon, etc. etc.” … “half a hundred words, when three are enough!!”

[seeingivy]

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

--  

“hi honey bee.” 

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on. 

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate. 

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday. 

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect. 

a stitched and tailored suit,  designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city. 

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office. 

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks. 

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?” 

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways. 

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did. 

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa. 

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer. 

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you. 

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center. 

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.” 

you scoff. 

“is that right?” you ask. 

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.” 

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing? 

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name. 

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath. 

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face. 

--

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge. 

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly. 

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert. 

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day. 

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?” 

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head. 

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation. 

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night. 

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare. 

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.” 

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes. 

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side. 

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states. 

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh. 

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide. 

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks. 

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state. 

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states. 

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown. 

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks. 

you grin. 

“delta.” 

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.” 

you give him an exaggerated gasp. 

“a private jet? tell me all about it.” 

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out. 

--

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again. 

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him. 

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating. 

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks. 

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan. 

she giggles, leaning down to whisper. 

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.” 

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng. 

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee. 

“he’s losing it.” 

“who?” 

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.” 

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie. 

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.” 

you nearly choke on your spit. 

“what?” 

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.” 

you snort. 

“there’s no way.” 

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.” 

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie. 

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.” 

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?” 

“i swear to god.” 

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it. 

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti. 

“oh, look, look.” 

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly. 

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day. 

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos. 

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it. 

--

“can you close out my tab, toji?” 

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you. 

“you too, doll?” 

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state. 

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out. 

“rough day, y/n?” 

you shrug. 

“same old – can’t really complain. you?” 

toji smiles. 

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.” 

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar. 

“him?” 

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses. 

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.  

“honey bee?” he slurs. 

the smell is overwhelming. 

“the one and only.” you respond. 

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink. 

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“huh?” 

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?” 

he glares. 

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans. 

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond. 

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone. 

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?” 

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar. 

“no thank you.” 

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.” 

satoru snorts. 

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.” 

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight. 

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask. 

he huffs a sigh. 

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.” 

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence. 

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.” 

--

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked. 

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all. 

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body. 

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state. 

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns. 

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks. 

you grin. 

“yes.” you respond. 

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks. 

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose. 

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes. 

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.” 

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states. 

you scoff. 

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states. 

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will. 

he was impossible. 

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink. 

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes. 

“okay.” you respond. 

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too. 

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes. 

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks. 

you laugh. 

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends. 

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond. 

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.” 

you snort. 

“shocker.” you deadpan. 

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence. 

“so what do i do?” he asks. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.” 

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else? 

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one. 

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers. 

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand. 

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer. 

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start. 

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist. 

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.” 

“raggedy anne?” he asks. 

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…” 

his eyes widen, as he leans forward. 

“do you guys not like her?” he asks. 

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think. 

you peek your head out the window –  a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window. 

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states. 

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.” 

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks. 

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit. 

“you would go back to her?” you ask. 

“i dunno. i –” 

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!” 

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. 

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –” 

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.” 

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state. 

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious. 

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..” 

“two.” you scold. 

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –” 

“three.” 

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain. 

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation. 

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands. 

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him. 

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks. 

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“mean stuff?” 

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add. 

satoru crosses his hands over his chest. 

“that’s not very mature.” 

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?” 

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over. 

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state 

“i’m not repressed!” he whines. 

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.” 

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it. 

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment. 

“do it.” you whisper. 

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“did you want something satoru?” she asks. 

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts. 

“hold on one second.” she says. 

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!! 

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.” 

satoru looks up at you. 

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs. 

you fight the urge to laugh. 

“what did you say?” anne marie responds. 

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder. 

“good! say it again!” you whisper. 

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking. 

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”  

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything. 

“say something else.” you whisper. 

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment. 

“how was that?” 

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds. 

“she sure did.” 

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds. 

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face. 

“have you done that before?” he asks. 

“done what?” you ask. 

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?” 

you smile. 

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state. 

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.” 

“i mean, s’pretty standard.” 

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head. 

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.” 

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too. 

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it. 

you feel bad for him. 

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“yeah.” 

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond. 

“what is?” 

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state. 

“okay.” 

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.” 

“meaning?” 

you shrug. 

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.” 

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still. 

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead. 

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile. 

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state. 

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?” 

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?” 

you smile. 

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?” 

satoru freezes. 

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.” 

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring. 

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different. 

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state. 

“okay, yeah.” 

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little. 

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink. 

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.” 

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all. 

“i could do that too.” he states. 

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“shut up.” 

“you’re pretty.” 

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks. 

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.” 

“like this?” 

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.” 

you shake your head. 

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.” 

satoru leans forward, eyes wide. 

“what are you into?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“did you really crash your car?” you ask. 

he groans. 

“you know about that?” 

you laugh. 

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.” 

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes. 

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room. 

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out. 

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was. 

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind. 

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now. 

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there. 

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan. 

“can i sleep with you?” 

“i beg your pardon?” 

satoru sighs. 

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.” 

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…” 

he shakes his head. 

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.” 

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you. 

“are you a virgin?” 

“i am not a virgin.” 

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room. 

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state. 

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?” 

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you. 

you swear he kisses your hairline. 

“did you just kiss me again?” 

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.” 

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state. 

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?” 

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head. 

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated. 

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks. 

“do what?” 

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks. 

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his. 

“yes, satoru. of course you can.” 

--

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. 

honey bee,  heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O  satoru 

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands. 

that he really does look better this way. 

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor. 

“did you check your math?” he asks. 

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask. 

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile. 

“did you like my gift?” 

“yes. but i have a few notes.” 

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk. 

“do tell.” 

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.” 

“candles can give you allergies?” 

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?” 

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.” 

satoru whines. 

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office. 

--

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetnertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @yoontaedotin

[fqiryspit]

FOOTBALL PLAYER EREN HEADCANONS

eren x fem!reader

cw: eren is head over heels for you, crazy fangirls, death threats, eren fucking you, you sucking him, etc etc

you've been in a relationship with eren before his hair was that long and when he stumbled nervously over everything.

he still looks back and cringes, wondering why you wanted to date him

you two have been lifelong friends and once you started your relationship things really were perfect.

eren's football career really took off in college, and he got a lot more attention from the girls on campus rather than old men.

soon he and his team were absolutely famous and you were so excited for him -and incredibly grateful your relationship was swiped under the rug during that time. he had millions of fan girls posting fics and edits of him daily, it was insane.

you asked him to not speak on your relationship -because he got those questions a lot so he just responds with a simple "I'm happy" when they get asked

he wants to -so badly- show you off. to laugh at all his annoying fan girls and bring you out, but, he respects your decision.

after his games, he is absolutely wrecked. he flops down onto the bed and you climb on top of him and start massaging his scalp and he just moans into the sheets

"did you have fun?"

"how was I supposed to have fun when you weren't there?" he says, needy as ever

"errreeen I'm not gonna be able to go that far for every game" you huff

.

and this man loves to spoil you. designer bags out of the blue, wait, did you just eye that coat? no worries, he's just gonna purchase that really quickly.

eren truly truly loves you, he knows he is gonna marry you, it's just a fact.

he melts when he is with you, always needing to hold you in some way and just have you near.

he fanaticizes about your wedding and babies with you late at night or when he's balls deep in you

"fuck, can't wait to fill you up with my babies, gonna make you a mommy"

and by the way, after a game. a win or a loss, he's fucking you.

if he won, he's letting his victory in your pussy, ramming into you over and over while your legs bend in abnormal positions every two seconds while he babbles about how he couldn't get his mind off you the whole time

if he lost...oh man. he's taking all that anger out on you. it goes on for hours until he is finally drained and calm while you lay there full of his cum.

before a conference, you give him a "good luck suck" because he hates going to them, and this makes him feel a lot better <3

.

his fans are crazy, and once they caught wind of your relationship, all hell broke loose.

a photo came to light of eren simply hugging you. you know how careful he is with that stuff so you hid it from him, knowing he rarely goes on social media it should be a breeze, right?

you had your knees up to your chest and a twisted brow on, reading through the death threats and horrible comments made about your appearance.

you're an idiot for not privating your account in time, they found you and are coming in full swing.

you felt your stomach sink, you shouldn't let them get to you, but they're pointing out insecurities you've been trying to bury

"you okay?"

you look up to see eren, in the doorway with a concerned look all over his face. you turn off your phone and put a smile on

"yeah, just stupid stuff" you chuckle uncomfortably. he walks over and climbs onto the bed

"what happened?" "nothing, eren"

he looked at you for a couple more seconds, giving you the option to tell him what was going on. then his eyes slowly traveled to your phone you tossed across the bed. you reached for it franticly but he got it in time and as you yelled out his name he unlocked it with his face

everything on his face just dropped in an instant, he read through message after message about people wishing you dead, saying not-so-nice things about your looks, and more.

he asked when this started while he kept staring into the phone, then asked why you didn't tell him.

"I knew it would worry you, so I just-" "you need to tell me these things" he reached over to grab his phone as he started typing, you looked over to see him making a twitter post and you freaked

"don't say anything about it!" you plead, but it was too late, he made a simple post yelling at his 'fans' and then turned his phone off and held you

"please don't worry about those stupid messages"

.

in all, footballplayer!eren is the man of your dreams, and he hopes you haven't found the ring box in his sock drawer yet. <3

an: love him sm <3

[soleilchanson]

Imagine being on a business trip with coworker!Nanami and he surprises you with the fact that he can dance (ITS A GOOD CONCEPT I SWEAR)

Also, I don’t drink so I don’t know much info on ordering drinks at a restaurant </3

Masterlist

-•-

Nanami has always been the only coworker you could tolerate. You both had immediately gotten along on your first day and had been friends ever since. You liked him because he was the most competent man in your department. He liked you because you did your work well and occasionally baked homemade focaccia for him.

You could say that the two of you were very good friends (since Gojo from Accounting said that he was Nanami’s self proclaimed best friend first).

Which is why you thanked the stars when you found out that he’d be the only one who’d be going on the annual business trip with you. He was the perfect travel partner, he offered to bump you up to a first class seat with him using HIS miles (because he couldn’t besr being separated from you since your old seat was all the way back in business class). He didn’t even drink the entire flight because he believed that it was unprofessional on a business trip.

Did I also mention that he offered to pay for your inflight WiFi? Swoon.

The week long business trip went great! Your clients were very happy with the presentations that the two of you did together and called you a great team! (Take that Gojo from Accounting). To celebrate your last night, the two of you went to a restaurant / dance bar. The dance floor wasn’t packed but it was crowded with people who were drinking and having a good time. The two of you watched all the couples dancing and you couldn’t help but feel a little woeful.

Nanami noticed how you wouldn’t stop staring at all the couples in the restaurant / bar. “I know what you’re thinking.” He said with a small smile. “What?” You mimic his smile, feeling a deer caught in headlights. “You wanna dance, don’t you?”

You can’t believe him. “What? No! I just, I don’t know. I feel like this is the kind of place couples come to. It would be nice to be here with a date instead of my coworker-slash-friend. No offense.” You confessed. But to be fair, this particular part of the night didn’t feel like a business trip. It felt like two friends hanging out. “None taken.” He put his hands up in defense. “Since you’re so down-” he looked away from you mid sentence and rose his hand. “Can we get some shots here!”

You were surprised at his sudden change of mind. “I thought you didn’t drink on business trips.” He simply shrugged and downed one shot as soon as the waiter arrived. “And we have an early flight in the morning.” You continued as he downed another. “You only live once.” He said as he winked. “Plus, we’re done with all the work. The business part of this trip is over.” Did the alcohol get to him already?

You could see him starting to get agitated with the way his head slowly bobbed to the Spanish music playing through the speakers. You never realized how attractive Nanami could be when he let go of himself. His blond hair was all disheveled, his tie barely hanging on to his neck with the way he had pulled it loose, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows giving you a delicious view of his veiny forearms. You hate to admit it but your friend was HOT.

He suddenly got up while continuing to bob his head, but this time, there was some extra movement in his shoulders. “Where are you going?” He didn’t reply but made a gesture where he used his fingers to say ‘keep your eyes on me.��

He started moving to the upbeat Spanish song, matching the sound of the guitar. “You know salsa?” You exclaimed, still sitting. He nodded as he asked you to come closer with his pointer finger. You felt like you were entranced, so you took a shot and walked to him.

He instantly took the lead by grabbing you by your waist and turning you around so that you were sinfully pressed against him. He had a strong grip on your hips so that you both could move simultaneously to the music. This was way more intimate than grinding at some random dude in a club.

He spun you around and held you quite firmly for a tipsy person so that you wouldn’t fall. When he dipped you, you could feel his warm breath against your neck as he leaned in. At this point, the two of you were stealing the show so all the locals moved out and started cheering the two of you.

He ended the dance with lifting you and spinning you around. You held on as tightly as you could since the alcohol was making you feel light headed. Once the music stopped, the crowd started clapping at your little show and you both couldn’t stop laughing and staring into each other’s eyes. Nanami suddenly stopped laughing and kept glancing at your lips. He wanted to kiss them but he knew better than to do it in front of an audience.

“You wanna get out of here?” He breathed out.

-•-

Idk how to write smut (for now).

[serendipityandbenevolence]

Capitano x GN Reader (SAGAU)

Am I writing this nearly a year after I said I would? Yes. My bad gang, the procrastination got the better of me. Honestly, looking back over my old writing on this account, I’m shocked I didn’t do Capitano sooner because I was/am obsessed with this tall, beefy man. (ngl, while reading some of my old writing, i was kicking my feet a little, past me was lowkey good at writing when I wanted to be). This is loosely based around what I was planning on writing for him last year, so hopefully it fits well into the story?

Contains - Capitano being actually so whipped for you, him trying to keep his distance and failing miserably, he ignores you for like a minute and you end up contemplating your life choices (real, i'm so not projecting here), he is very insecure about not being good enough for you (despite being the perfect man), dottore is lowkey more likeable here than in his own ending, mentions of murder, obsessive behaviour from all the fatui

Part one is here - the masterlist for the other endings is here

“Capitano?”

It almost surprised you quickly the Harbingers fell silent, as though even one word from you had stolen the air from their lungs, their arguments trailing away into a deafening silence. You waited, a confusing mix of anticipation and fear filling your chest as you stared at the half-opened door.

But no one came.

There were soft whispers and retreating footsteps, shadows that crept across your room as people bustled around in the hallway (Was it a hallway? Or another room? You couldn’t be certain). You heard a cold female voice giving hushed orders, but even her voice faded as you waited uneasily for some recognition of your words, of your pleading call for Capitano.

But no one came.

He had been there, outside your door, you knew that for certain. You heard him, condemning the other nations for attacking you, another Harbinger had even called him by name. So why was is, that when you called his name, he did not answer? Was he too busy, too disinterested, too proud, to speak with you? The door remained unmoving, and you began to wish that you had never said anything in the first place, even as you refused to look away from the door.

But no one came. 

It had been a mistake, you decided. Whatever offence you had somehow caused him was clearly great enough for him to ignore you, to reject your pleading request for him, to turn his back on the chambers that you rested in. Perhaps, when the other Harbingers returned, you could ask them to pass along your sincerest apologies to your favourite Harbinger (although you would not mention that he was your favourite to them). Maybe that would heal whatever rift had apparently formed between-

“Your Grace?”

Capitano stood in the doorway, straight-backed and with his hands clenched at his sides. Even a cursory glance could tell you that he was not thrilled about having to be in your presence.

“I’m sorry for my tardiness. I was asking the other Harbingers if any of them were able to attend to you in my stead, but it seems they are … unavailable.”

He slowly stepped into the room and made his way over to the fireplace, keeping a large distance between the two of you as he did so, refusing to step too close to the bed you sat in. 

“If you have any pressing concerns or questions, I can pass them along to the other Harbingers or to the Tsaritsa. I’m afraid that I will be of little help to you, but I will see to it that the others are aware of your needs.”

This was worse than being ignored, you decided. His cold, impersonal words, his desire to keep his distance from you, even his stiff posture, it also pointed to one thing. He hated you. He could barely stand to be in a room with you, let alone make conversation with you. 

You felt silly all of a sudden, for thinking that your favourite character would hold any sort of affection towards you. You felt a sudden tightness in your throat, and had to fight back the tears that threatened to appear.

“I’m very sorry to bother you so trivally, Capitano. I had just wished to speak to you, but if you are busy, I will not keep you. Please, return to your duties.”

You were impressed by how steady you were able to keep your voice, even as you still fought back tears. But Capitano did not move, instead he almost seemed to tense up more. 

“I did not mean-” To your shock his voice wavered more than yours and his composed facade seemed to crumble in an instant.

“It is not that I do not wish to serve you, I just… I don’t … I can’t…”

He hesitantly took a step forward, then another, before falling to his knees by your bedside. You watched, mind still reeling at how quickly his demeanour had changed, as his shaking, gloved hands clutched at his chest, as though he feared his heart might stop at any moment.

“Please, I beg you, do not hate me! I could not- I cannot live with myself if you think I adore anyone or anything else more than you. But I cannot serve you, I am not worthy. I failed you, when you arrived at Zapolyarny Palace, I was unable to help you! I am-”

His frantic words were cut off with a sudden sob, and tears began to appear at the bottom of his mask, dripping down his chin. His breaths were shallow and desperate, with his hands upon his chest digging into his flesh more with every passing moment. 

“Capitano…” You whispered softly, still trying to make sense of his suddenly erratic behaviour, while also wanting to soothe whatever pain he was suffering. 

“I am not like the other Harbingers. I am useless to you, Divine One. When you were brought to the palace, I was asked to bring you upstairs, so the Doctor could operate on you, but I was too scared. I feared that if I touched you, you would shatter to pieces in my grasp. My hands were not made to be gentle and you were already so close to death, I could not do it. The boy, Tartaglia, was the one who carried you in the end. I was too cowardly.”

“You don’t need to compare yourselves to the others, Capitano. You were merely concerned for my safety.”

“You do not understand. The Doctor brought every one of his segments home so they could operate on you together. When your wound became infected and a fever took you, Signora lay by your side and kept you cool, even as your skin burned. Pantalone has not slept since you arrived and he will not sleep, he says, until your chambers are furnished to perfection. Arlecchino has sent out every member of the House of the Hearth to kill those who dared to harm you, with orders to return with their heads as proof. And I sit here, idle, unable to assist you. The reason the other Harbingers could not attend to you, is because they are already doing so. I fail you, Your Grace, by being unable to find a way of serving you!”

You found yourself quite lost for words, unsure of how to respond to Capitano’s increasingly defeated behaviour. You weren’t really sure what you expected from The Captain, but this was definitely not it. His sadness and self-loathing made you want to ease his mind somehow, to find him a purpose that would hopefully make him, your favourite, feel more wanted. 

“I think … I think I might sleep now, Capitano.”

He merely nodded, before turning his face away from you and shakily standing once more.

“But-!” You lunged forward, grabbing him by his arm before he could move out of your grasp. His head whipped around, mask concealing whatever emotions his face might have shown.

“But I was wondering if you might stay? With all those people who tried to kill me, I would feel quite unsafe, sleeping alone and defenceless. I need someone strong to protect me and how fortunate am I that you do not have other duties to attend to, but can instead stay by my side!”

You paused, holding your breath, hoping that would be enough to convince him. He stared at you (at least, you assumed he was staring at you, the mask made it difficult) for a long moment, long enough that you began to wonder if he had even heard you properly.

“You want me to protect you, Your Grace? I… Yes. Yes, I can do that. Just- Just give me a moment.”

And he was gone, his arm pulled from your grasp, and his cloak swishing out the door. You barely had time to wonder what he had left for, before he returned. With a chair under one arm and a truly massive blade under the other, he swiftly reentered the room, positioning the chair right beside your bed. 

“There. Is that all right, Divine One? Do you need me to sit closer, or further away?”

“No, no, it’s fine, Capitano.” You laughed, grateful that he seemed more … positive? At the very least, he didn’t appear to be as miserable as before.

You lay back down, turning to face Capitano, who was balancing the sword across his lap as he watched you. Under normal circumstances, the idea of sleeping in the same room as somebody with a sword would have freaked you out, but with the stress of the last few days catching up to you, you found yourself more tired than you had realised.

You stretched a hand out towards Capitano wordlessly, who eyed it apprehensively.

“Can you hold my hand?”

He stared at your hand for a few more moments, before slowly placing his own hand upon yours, so softly that you could barely feel it. 

“Sweet dreams, Your Grace.”

Finally, we got there! Hopefully yall like this, i feel like the ending is a bit rushed, but god I love a man who pines. I’m probably going to write Pantalone next, this lowkey gave me some ideas for his ending. I’m also thinking about writing some non sagau stuff, I've got some thoughts about arranged marriage stuff with diluc and ayato <3

[bubble-dream-inc]

i walk the line.

You had joked with Ghost before about getting married, never with a tone serious enough for it to be taken into account, even if it was something you dreamed about whenever you were alone with your thoughts. What you hadn’t expected was the question to come up at such an inopportune time. 

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Sergeant Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 2.1 K

a/n: i hate giving my fics titles so just assume the song in the title is the vibe i want the fic to have lmao. also this is unedited and not beta read so beware of typos and shit

warnings: estabilished relationship, profanity, whump, description of wound, mentions of death, badly timed marriage proposal, medical inaccuracies, fluff, happy ending

It’s cold.

No, scratch that. It’s fucking freezing.

God, you hate the cold. Considering how much you despise it, it amuses you to think you might have been a desert creature in another life. A lizard, maybe. The types to scurry really fast and eat small insects all day. What a life.

You’re lost in your musings but you think there are a few very faint voices calling for you. Where are they coming from? Above? Seems like it. First, you hear their voices getting clearer, and recognize a word. It’s your codename, meaning, it’s your teammates voices. But why do they sound so agitated? Next, you feel pain. Quickly rising, scorching hot pain in your abdomen. 

Oh, that’s right. You were shot.

A scream echoes out wherever you are and only later you’d recognize it as your own, in the same moment you recognize Ghost’s own booming voice frantically calling out for you, and the heavy weight of Soap’s large hands holding you down so you wouldn’t trash as much. It had been ironic, really, how much the mission went smoothly, 99% of it being completed without a hitch, but right as you were about to celebrate success, some fucker neither of you had seen before had decided to put a bullet in you - any of you - blindly, and it so happened it would hit you. The offender was long gone, a throw knife lodged in his skull as quick as a blink of an eye in the split second after the gunshot was heard, but the damage was already done. A few seconds before it happened, you had groaned how much you couldn’t wait for evac to come so you could take a hot shower and sleep, since your bones were aching, and Gaz had laughed and called you old-spirited. So much for that shower, you think as you take in the surroundings of what you could see of the abandoned safe house from your position on the blood stained table. It was painful to think about if that same table was used in the past for a family reunion or to gather folks around for good news, before hell broke loose and war tore apart the people, so you didn’t think about it. Ghost called your codename again and you cast your eyes downwards to look at him, the fear in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

“Hey! Talk to me, don’t you dare close your eyes!”

You had screamed as he was removing the projectile from your flesh, you realized. Was not your first rodeo, a thought that made you want to laugh bitterly, but just the idea of laughing made you wince in pain. His hands were currently trying to stop the bleeding, and after taking one look at the wound, you suddenly felt at peace. 

It was pretty shitty you were going to die in an equally shitty safehouse, but that’s the life you chose. So, against your better judgment, you chuckle lowly and decide to follow your superior’s orders.

“Keep talking, eh? Alright.” You groaned once more when he applied more pressure to your gaping wound. “L.t, do you- do you remember when i told you…I wanted to retire early and - fuck - get to the countryside and get a big ass dog?”

He looked up at you briefly, glad you were talking but clearly wondering where you were going with this. You knew he hated when you spoke of the future as if you were going to die - which, right now, you were pretty sure it was really happening this time - but you couldn’t help yourself. Of course he remembers that conversation, it was in the beginning of your secret-not-so-secret relationship. You had asked him what he would do if he wasn’t a soldier, and he had given you a very cryptic and vague answer that resembled a lot like nothing. In turn, you told him your wishes half heartedly, as if thinking of living for 10 more years was a very distant dream. 

The relationship between the 141’s Lieutenant and one of its Sargeants was a sort of urban legend going around. People knew it was happening, but didn’t dare speak of it, and no one had ever really seen any proof of it, so, it was best to avoid prying into Ghost’s private matters as to not risk being at the receiving end of his annoyance, and, in turn, you both found solace in having something that only the two of you knew about. It never hindered your professionalism and it had been going on for a few good years now, so it became somewhat naturalized between the folks coexisting in the same space as you and Simon after a while. However, that never stopped the natural curiosity to flourish in a few people - namely, your comrades, who always knew there was something going on given the fact you’d literally look at your superior with hearts in your eyes - so you had to ignore Gaz and Soap’s expectant eyes on you as you spoke so tenderly, the intensity of witnessing the start of what seemed like a very intimate talk momentarily sharing space with the worry they were feeling over you. 

“...Yes. I remember.”

He never forgets the things you say, even if you think it’s not important at the time. You hummed, ignoring the pain that came with it.

“Big dogs were never really my thing. I just-” A cough ripped out of you, and you didn’t need to look to know there was blood in it. “ I just thought it was the kind of thing you’d want. Big dogs fit you. It felt less scary to think about retiring once I added you in the equation.”

You were slurring your words and you knew it. As you regained your breath, you briefly saw a very wide-eyed and angry looking Price curse into his comm asking where the fuck was the goddamn chopper. Your codename being barked alongside the word “WIA” to a poor fellow soldier on the other side of the line left you with a bad taste in your mouth. You hate how scared Ghost looked, your big, scary, stoic Ghost, and you can’t help but feel selfish for leaving him, even if being shot was not your fault and wasn’t really in your plans when you left the base that morning.

“Stop talking like you’re fucking d-”

“We could have done it, you know?” Your laugh is, once again, bitter, and you’re acutely aware of the tears streaming down your face. Death has never scared you, but now that you got a reason to stay, you’re terrified. “Could’ve gotten hitched somewhere nice. Can’t really imagine you in a suit, though.”

The pain doesn’t stop, but it gets duller as you feel your consciousness slipping away, and you never fought so much to stay awake in your entire life. Simon yells something to Soap among the lines of getting something from somewhere so he can continue trying to save you, but you don’t register his words. His tone softens once his eyes are back on you.

“I’d wear a suit if you asked me to, sweetheart.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask, though.”

Not caring there are other people in the room, you smile at him, well aware it must be uncanny to see Ghost be so tender towards another person, but again, you were the lucky one who got to see it every time it was just the two of you, so you got used to it with time.

Your vision starts spinning more and more, and your eyes start to close the moment you hear the familiar, faint sound of a helicopter getting closer, Simon’s big hands suddenly on your face to try to keep you grounded, and he sounds even more exasperated than before. He calls your name - not your codename, for once.

“Stay alive, do you hear me?! You gotta stay the fuck alive so i can take you to the bloody countryside and get bloody hitched-”

“You askin’ me to marry ya’ in my deathbed, sir?” You manage to slur out, your smile growing despite the panic you don’t have the energy to express settling in your bones, and Simon’s eyes widen even more behind the mask.

“Yes, I am, so stay with me, that’s a fucking order-”

You chuckle, closing your eyes as the frantic sounds around you all blur into a garbled mess. Faintly you feel your body being moved around, a strong wind on your blood and dirt caked hair, hear some more shouting, but then,

Silence.

——————————

Feels like the thousandth time you have woken up, and the feeling of coming in and out of consciousness is unbearable at best.

The first time - or the second, you don’t remember - there was a strong light above you, but you had no energy to open your eyes, so it lasted a measly second before you were out again. Later, you heard an unfamiliar voice saying something about an induced coma for a few days for a better recovery. You wondered if they were talking about you (they probably were). This happens a few more times before you actually feel your consciousness coming back for good, and, before you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is how warm it is, and, if you could, you’d smile. The spring air smells good, and you think you catch a whiff of cleaning products while you inhale, suddenly aware of how empty your lungs felt. The third thing you notice is the weight on your hand, and once you open your eyes, you find a familiar set of skeleton gloved hands on top of your own. A few years back you had told him with a laugh the print was very 2000’s, and he had just brushed you off with a scowl, but you’ve never been so glad to see the tacky thing. His thumb caresses your skin as he patiently waits for you to become more aware of your surroundings, and you instantly smile when you finally meet his gaze, which looks extremely relieved.

“Hi.” Your throat feels parched, voice straining as if you’d swallowed a kilo of sand, but Simon thinks your voice never sounded so sweet to his ears.

“Hi.” 

It hurts to move, but you do so anyway, slowly sitting up despite Simon’s protests just so you can see him more clearly and grasp his hand a little better. While you are busy cringing at the dull pain in your stomach from the stitches, he extends a glass of water for you, to which you grab and gulp down immediately, quenching your thirst and looking over at your partner with such gratitude an onlooker would have thought he was a literal godsend. 

“How bad is it?” Your voice still felt rough from disuse, but at least it sounded a bit more familiar to your ears. 

“Pretty bad.” He doesn’t bother you with details; he knows you were never a fan of hearing about your wounds descriptively. “But you’ve always been tough.”

You flash him a grin that has him silently flabbergasted both with how beautiful you are and how quickly you seem to bounce back from a near fatal injury. Suddenly, you remember your last words before you blacked out, and your smile turns shy as you cast your gaze down to where your hands meet.

“...Did you mean it?” 

Simon has always been extremely observant and smart, he knows what you are talking about immediately, and you like to think he is smiling under the mask as he goes back to gingerly caressing the top of your smaller hand with his thumb.

“I did, sweetheart.” His voice is low, and every time he calls you a pet name it has your heart doing somersaults. “I’m sorry I don't have a ring yet and I don't know when we would have some time off to have a ceremony, but I want to marry ya’. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Feeling like your smile would grow so big it would rip your face, you beamed at him, acutely aware of how you must have been looking like a mess with a - hospital - bed head and tired eyes, but you’d hoped he could notice the hearts in your eyes as obviously as you felt them. Things always seemed to fall in place with Ghost; no need for extravagance or huge acts, and the fact that your marriage proposal was exactly that, made you fall even more in love with him. You watched lovingly as he raised your hand to press a mask covered kiss on the top of it, and shook your head, laughing gently.

“Of course i’ll marry you, Simon.”

[genericpuff]

So there's this account I follow on Tiktok that critiques some webtoons and LO was one of them. They're discussing the finale and my god the comments are glorious. Lots of the people commenting either fell off the comic or were once die hard fans who hated what happened. Some of them even were fans of the series who recently started hating it after the hiatus. From what I saw this was what their concerns were.

Apollo not being punished harshly enough

Last minute queer rep with Hera

Certain plots being thrown in and old ones being tossed out

The ending feeling rushed.

Some of them are blaming Webtoons for 'axing the series' so Rachel had no choice but to rush it. Others are questioning why was there a hiatus at all if this was the pay off?

So now even some of the fans are starting to feel like we former fans do.

Yeeah you know it's not good when even the fans were left going "... huh?" And frankly I do feel bad, as much as I've talked shit about the stans in the past, so many of them hung on with the genuine good faith that it was all "building up to something". There are also people who are still praising it as the best thing ever which, okay, that's them, and people who didn't love the finale but are leaving it be like reasonable non-obsessed people.

I'm not entirely convinced that Rachel ended it willingly, I've seen Webtoons cut series short during their midseason hiatuses by telling the creators "okay once you come back you have this many episodes to wrap it up", so while it is shocking to see it happen with WT's golden goose, maybe they saw the decline over the past several months and realized it was time to cut it loose. But ultimately I can't ever know if it was Rachel calling it quits or Webtoons, not unless one (or both) of them come forward and say anything regarding that. I can only wonder, and in reality, none of what I wonder really matters because it's over.

Again, I do feel bad. I remember when the trial arc was going on and the whole Eris reveal happened and I had that sinking feeling in my stomach that maybe the comic wasn't all it was cracked up to be, that maybe it wasn't going where I had been hoping and assuming it would go. I imagine there are a lot of people feeling that exact same thing right now. I do hope, at the very least, they find their closure through whatever future projects Rachel does or through other comics that fill the void left by LO. I'm definitely hoping the same for myself, tbh, now that the comic is actually over for good I feel like I can finally put my obsession with it to rest, even just a little. Although tbf I'm really just refocusing that obsession onto Rekindled, which I have a much more positive relationship with LMAO but I'm very thankful to have it and I owe that to LO, in all its perks and quirks and flaws.

[grapejuicestyless]

What A Waste

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You and Harry swore that you would one day marry each other if you were to grow up and not already have a lover. Yet, when the time comes and the two of you are wed, Harry cannot let himself enjoy it.

ANGST

I’m standing at the alter, hands clasped together and eyes looking towards the door at the end of the aisle. Yet my hands do not shake, and my cheeks dk not ache with the pain only a genuine smile can cause. My heart does not pound out of my chest because I am not in love. The girl coming down the aisle is nothing more but a pawn in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe once, I would’ve held those feelings towards her, but our blood has since ran cold. Any fond memories tainted by our final goodbye.

She wasn’t very interesting to look at. Maybe, at least if my heart couldn’t love her, I could have something nice to look at. Something delicate, pretty. But her lips were pouty and her eyes held clouds over them. There was nothing attractive about the solemn face that hid her beauty.

When her hands hold mine, and her face is just inches from my own, I find it within myself to recite the vows I’d written for her. Carefully constructed to sound like a true loving husband, but with no true emotion that not even she, in her most oblivious state would ever have accounted for.

When she read hers, I saw her hands shaking. Her lip trembling and the furrow in her brow as she stumbled on her words. How embarrassing, how nervous she was. Acting like it was all real. Finding a way to make theater into reality.

How softly, she told me she would. Love me forever, take care of me and support me from the sidelines. Even softer, she mumbled about how even when she was riddled with arthritis, sick and tired, she would still twirl my hair the way I lived when we were children. When I kissed her, I felt nothing. When I pulled away, her smile could have fooled me. How genuinely happy she looked. But I remember the way she left me, and I remember how it could never truly be real. And I remember why I hate her, how I could never love her. Not even a little bit, not even at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“H?” She calls me by the nickname she gave to me when we were younger. I don’t realize that even now, twenty years later her mind had still clung to it as if it would be any importance to her anymore.

“Don’t call me that.” I’m bitter, I hate the way it sounds so sweet on her tongue. I hate the way her smile falls when I reprimand her, and most of all I hate the way I’m forever bound to her. With all the money in the world, nothing could separate us, no matter how hard I tried.

She rubs her arms, wearing her fluffy pink pajama pants and a shirt thats reads, “We think Harry had the X-Factor” so cracked, it almost doesn’t even read correctly anymore. The words die on her tongue, look at what I found? I see her enthusiasm melt away. When her eyes drift to the unmade bed and her feet start to move, I speak again.

“No.” Her confused face infuriates me. How could she not understand the justification of my cruelty.

“Your room is down the hall.” The one with the squeaky mattress and dusty floorboards. The one with photos of my old house, with the old garden and the old cats. It’s empty and the heat doesn’t work very well. But the cold from her heart wouldn’t mind it, truly.

I hate how her hair lingers on every surface. I hate how her perfume wafts into the bathroom while I shower. And now, more than all, I hate how she looks at me with rounded eyes glossed over almost too innocently.

But she is not an idiot. We both know it. Silence speaks volumes, I know she pieces together the puzzle as she walks away. The shirt hanging loosely off of her shoulder and her face hidden from my view. She never looks back. She doesn’t say goodnight.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Do you think we’d be soulmates in another universe?” I ask, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. The fresh England summer air hot and humid. I say it with dirt on my skin, grass stuck to my knees. I pull at the ribbons in her hair and watch how she smiles. We were only children then. Fourteen and convinced we were all grown up.

“Why not in this one?” She asked honestly, looking at me with so much truth in her eyes, I believed her. And the way her hand fit into mine, I could feel my heart pounding. And I knew then, she was the one for me. The way my body reacted, how quickly my heart pounded so violently, I thought it might burst from my chest. Too young to be kissing and too old to not think about it, we stare at each other in the wet grass in the backyard and wait for the final sunset to disappear into the horizon, my eyes looking into hers and her hand in my hair.

For a long while, I believed what she did. We were soulmates, we were bound together. Always by my side, always encouraging me. She makes shirts for my family while I start my career. She helps me rehearse my songs and her voice makes me believe that it should be her on stage, not me.

When the band is formed, and One Directions fate is sealed into greatness, I spend the last summer of normalcy singing in the fields and holding her hand like real good friends would. Her hand in my hair again, twirling it between her finger and her thumb. I want to kiss her, but the smile on her face makes me too nervous to. I think she has the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. I think she is the prettiest girl I’ll ever see.

“When we are twenty eight and not married yet, will you marry me?” She asks me in the last week of that August. It confuses me, it’s such a random age. It’s so young. But the idea of getting to be with her forever makes my cheeks flush.

“Why twenty eight? Why not forty?” She laughs, says something on how I’ll find it silly. For a girl with as much potential as her to wish for something so silly.

“I want to have a warm house with a soft bed. A dog and two cats and children. I want two boys and a girl. I want a white fence to keep them in from the street and little family trips where we can all laugh and be happy. And with all of that, I hope I am a writer still. I hope I have critically acclaimed novels and a Nobel Peace Prize.” And I don’t think her dreams are stupid. And even though her dreams are so hard to make real, the way she dreams about it out loud makes me believe it will happen to her.

When we leave the grassy field that night, I have no idea it will be the last I’ll see of her for a while. All I know is in the morning my mother has a solemn look on her face and a letter in her hand. When she sits me down to read it, all I hear beyond the violent ringing is my mother telling me she is gone. She left, only leaving behind her empty promises and a tainted memory of what I once believed to be something so pure and precious.

I don’t see the letter. Maybe if I had, I would have known it was in her father’s handwriting. And my dear Y/n hadn’t left me because the beating of her heart lost its rhythm in me, but because she was forced away into a house that would never be her home.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“God, you are a self-righteous prick.” She huffs, quickly untying the apron from her waist, letting the blue and yellow fabric fold over her hips and be discarded on the shiny tile floors. Not yet scuffed from the lack of dancing. Never truly loved. But I wouldn’t know what the difference was. I stopped learning how to love when love walked out on me.

“And you must be a victim!” She sticks out her tongue and groans, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall. The lights are dim, candles burning. It’s her own touch. She claimed she hated the big lights. The smaller ones made it much more homely. I didn’t care enough to fight her then, but as I stumble around I wish I had.

“I gave you everything! I gave you a roof to live under. All the money on the goddamn earth and all the glory! And yet you are ungrateful!” I spit at her with venom I don’t even know I possess.

“Oh my god, you don’t even know me!” She turns, and her eyes are crazy, hair wild. “My own husband doesn’t even know me!” She says it like it hurts her.

“Don’t call me that.” I tell her firmly. I try not to look at the rock on her finger, how it taunts me.

“What does it embarrass you? I hope it does. I hope all of your friends tease and taunt you for marrying the girl you never wanted, but had to have!” She laughs then, stepping closer to me, her finger in my chest.

“I will not let a loveless marriage strip me of my heart and my soul. You can hate me, but you should know better than to think you would have any power to strip me of my humanity.” She said it with such power, her voice shook with the same fierceness she felt in her bones. And yet, her anger didn’t lead me astray. For the first time in our loveless marriage, I felt a twinge of guilt for the innocent girl who I let bleed so gruesomely on the floor of our own home.

“Believe it or not, I am not the cruel witch you make me out to be. I am a woman, the same woman who loved you all those years ago. I still dream of having children and cats and a dog. A damn white picket fence! But, what a waste! Our agreement! If it could have at least given me that, or god forbid it had brought us together! I am still the same woman who loved you, and it is clear to me you are not the same man. You are bitter and I pity you because you must be so unhappy to feel the need to be that way.”

“And what else? Do you still dream of a medal in your honor for your writing? Or has that woman finally grown up to smell the roses and see that the world isn’t always built just for her.” I should’ve backed down, the moment she showed vulnerability, but for some reason I could not shut my mouth. I needed the last word.

“I outgrew those dreams the second I married you.” If my heart wasn’t shattered completely then, it had been now. And why? Over some words a girl I claimed to hate had to share?

“What a shame too. A book full of stories of us destined to the fire on our wedding night. And even if I were to write again, who would read about how you broke my heart? And how I continue to let you stomp it out until there is nothing but the dust that remains.” When she leaves, her dress sways behind her. She’s wearing my sweatshirt and she has the same white ribbons in her hair she had all those years ago. She never really did lie to me, did she.

She was only a girl. Ribbons tied into her hair and a white dress with lace so frilly, it resembled her wedding dress. A dress I never appreciated. I wondered if I looked into the old box of photos of the day we were destined for failure, if I would find any photos of her in all her innocence. Or, if that same smile she greeted me with before she knew me would be tainted with the same hate I bred inside of her through my own negligence.

I regret every feeling I’d ever felt towards her. How I called her plain, uninteresting, unlikable. The realization of this guilt hits so hard, it is undeniable. I feel this way because I have succeeded. I have crushed the heart of a girl who continued to love me through my greed. And I know I have succeeded through the look in her eyes and the frown lines by her lips. The lines that once represented deep smiles gone in an instant.

She only solidifies what I know when I see her suitcase by the door. Practically empty, nothing in this house is truly hers. She has gone from one loveless house to another, not yet finding her home. Not yet living her dream.

“You don’t need to divorce me, but I can’t stay. Not now. Not when I still love you. I can’t come back until every piece of you is gone. Maybe then, your insults won’t hurt so much, and we could get along.” She smiles softly, but it’s so fake it hurts my heart.

I don’t stop her, but I wish I had. This house isn’t a home without her. If I could change it, I would. I still loved her, and thats what makes it all sting so much more. The tormenting, the pain and the tears. All a result of two soulmates bound to be together, yet one of them refused to let it happen.

I hope she’ll come back soon. Sooner than last time. And I hope her heart still yearns for me. I’ll propose to her for real this time, not just under circumstance. And when she walks down the aisle, I’ll shake just as badly as she did the first time. And we can laugh about our experience in our first try at rekindling our flame, and we can finally have a house with a fence and two boys and a girl, a dog and two cats. And she can write about how wonderful her life is and win every award there is to win. And I will stand beside her like a good husband because I love her.

I will spend each hour she is gone wishing for her to come back. For the ache to ease itself. And what a waste. If only I could write a good song about it without ranting and going off into small tangents. If only I could’ve done it right. If only it could have brought us together.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Didn't Plan On It (AKA, Your Friends Are Assholes)

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, forced marriage (kinda??? You SORT OF consented to it???), hints at sexual stuff, groping, my shitty sense of humor

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Based on this post I got tagged in asdfghjkl (I loosely based Max off a friend of mine 💀)

You loved your friends, but hated them at the same time.

Loved them because they were quirky and weird and matched your energy...

...Hated them because they matched your energy.

A double edged sword, for certain. But at the same time, there's nobody you'd trust more to come to your aid if some creep got up into your personal space. You'd all grown up together, been through everything through thick and thin, even if some of you moved away at some point.

There was Mari, the oldest one in the group by two years. She was like the aunt of the friend group (you were the group mom) who you all could trust to suggest poisoning an ex who did you wrong.

Then, there was Elizabeth "Lizzy", she was the one in the group that alcohol hit the hardest, the lightweight who got cuddly when she was drunk. She did everyone's taxes for them (you know how to do them, she just does them better). Stabbed her ex boyfriend for cheating on her, didn't get any charges pressed (somehow).

There was the other Elizabeth, whom everyone just called "Eli" to avoid confusing her with Lizzy. (Sometimes you all call them #1 and #2) Eli was the most tomboy of the group, her fashion very much stuck in the "grunge" fashion from back in the 90s. 90% of her fashion choice is band merch, she is the one who drives everyone to concerts and manages check-ins at events to make sure everyone is accounted for.

After Mari, Lizzy, and Eli, there was Zoey. Her contact number in everyone's phone is almost always "Zoey 101". The highest IQ out of you all, she was the one who manages passports, IDs, and luggage checks when you take trips together. Has way too much knowledge on the supernatural and the occult.

After the four of them, was Kayla. Kayla was the one who always knew everything about whatever group projects you were all assigned to in school; ask her an obscure fact and she could spit out an atlas or encyclopedia on the subject. Dresses like she's a model on a runway almost every day. Owns 5,000 pairs of feetie pajamas.

And finally, there was Maxwell "Max". You all likened him to Max, Goofy's son, due to how lanky he was. A beautician by trade, always wore flawless makeup when he dressed in drag. Or, just gorgeous in general. Your team's "Gay Avenger" and he watches your drinks at parties like he is a lone sentry between him, a sniper and a platoon of soldiers in the night. Max was the one you knew the longest, you two were born only a few days apart; your parents being best friends even longer. You all made every single one of his drag shows to support him, screaming and cheering the loudest.

Right now, you were at Kayla's house. She was a successful real estate agent and made serious bank; so hosting the bachelorette party in her honor there just made sense. Cheaper, too.

You all had a private party, getting wasted, eating snacks, dressing each other up, holding Lizzy's hair when she puked into the toilet, watching old shitty rom-coms, and letting Max put his best drag looks on all of you. (That was his favorite part of the night, honestly.)

But somehow, inevitably, the occult was brought up. Not by Zoey, but by Mari. She suggested playing with a ouija board.

Kayla had slammed her hands on the table and said, "Hell. No! Not in my house! I'm white, but I'm not horror movie "let's open a magic door and summon a demon" white!"

"Yeah, let's be real. The demon would probably claim Max first." Lizzy grinned, jerking her thumb to the man in question.

Max dramatically clutched his invisible pearls, the gaudy fake tiara crooked in his poofy curls as he gasped incredulously, "Not on the first date, girl! He'd have to put a ring on it, first. I have standards."

"Oh, he'd probably put a ring on something--" Eli snorted into her drink, earning a loud round of chortling from the rest of you.

As the laughter died down, Zoey had said a loud thoughtfully, "Well... there is something I read in my forums recently. A ritual..."

Kayla squinted at her, pointing her manicured nail into her chubby little cheek. "What did I just say about demons?"

"It's not a demon!" Zoey giggled. "It's a god."

"Oh, so instead of a demon, we're gonna summon something possibly even more dangerous?" Mari sighed, raising an eyebrow. "I d'nno how a god would feel about puny mortals like us summoning him from a plane of existence we can't even fathom just to ask him to strip for us."

"Noooo!" Zoey frowned at her as everyone laughed. "It's kind of like a.... fertility rite? Or well, maybe more like some kinda ceremony that's supposed to gain the favor of the god or something. It was discovered by some sort of archaeologist recently in a scroll!"

"A scroll." You deadpan, setting your empty glass of wine in front of you, leaning back on the couch.

"I think I know the scroll you're talking about." Kayla had piped in. "It was found in some recovered temple out in Egypt, right? By one that one world famous professor and historian?"

"Yes! So you know which god I'm talking about, and how he's not dangerous." Zoey nodded excitedly, growing more and more energized at the possibility of playing with magic with all of you.

Kayla tapped her nails on the tabletop, twisting her mouth as she mulled over her options. Deciding that, fuck it, Zoey had a point... it couldn't hurt to end the night with a bang.

"Okay, okay.... let's do it."

"Yessss!" Zoey said, jumping up and bouncing on her feet. She stopped and awkwardly cleared her throat. "Well, er... we kind of need a subject to be the centerpiece, though... the "anchor" of the spell..."

"Wait.... You said a fertility god?" Max squinted, his eyes glimmering cheekily.

"Well, healing, protection, fertility..." Zoey listed off, her voice trailing away.

"Okay okay, but let's focus on the fertility part." He replied. "So odds are.... the anchor of the spell is going to get laid."

"Well... It's a possibility."

"So, who gets to be the lucky anchor?" You asked, tilting your head.

The silence was so loud a mouse could sneeze and you all would have heard it.

And then.... their heads all turned to you, grins spreading on their faces as they all traded conspiratorial looks with one another.

"Oh fuck you." You snap, shaking your head.

"Well, babygirl..." Max leaned in, his arm over your shoulder. "I know for a fact you haven't been laid in a good long while..."

"I have an active sex life!" You retorted, your voice becoming shrill.

"Battery-operated silicone boyfriends don't count." He deadpanned, earning laughter from everyone in the room.

You slump in your seat, pouting like an angry child. "I don't need help getting laid!"

"Well, it's also..." Lizzy said slowly. "The last guy you were with was Troy... and we all know what happened with him."

Your mood soured further at the mention of your highschool sweetheart, the man of your dreams... or so it had appeared. You'd held out on him for a while, finally giving in on prom night and getting a hotel room and having sex with him.

And one day, you decided to drop by his family's house with an early birthday present. ...Only to have caught him in bed with his best friend's mother. He'd been cheating on you with her for almost the entirety of your relationship.

It was after that break-up that you just... didn't want to date. Even if you were lonely, you wouldn't give in because your sense of trust had been betrayed by the guy you were absolutely besotted with.

Eli cleared her throat, "Oh come on. Nothing's gonna happen... it's not like we're gonna sacrifice you on an altar."

"Ugh! Fine! Leave me alone! And when nothing happens you're all paying for my drinks the next time we go bar hopping!" You shouted, throwing your hands up in the air.

Zoey rubbed her hands together, grinning. "Now, then.... let's make a run to that little shop on Malden Street! They're 24 hours and have everything we need!"

You groaned as you got tugged along, Mari the designated driver because she was the only sober one.

Yeah. You hated and loved your friends.

Zoey had begun setting up the altar around the bed in the guest room, finishing it almost too quickly for your liking. Max and Kayla had dolled you all up for your "date", ensuring you looked your best when that god (never) appeared.

Dressed in one of Kayla's black nightgowns and her silk robe, Max had your hair styled "just right" and your makeup "tastefully minimal"--whatever all that meant.

Eli and Lizzy had killed the lights, while Mari cleared the rest of the bedroom for whatever else would occur.

You laid down on the bed as everyone sat in a semicircle around the bed, Zoey standing with a wax candle in hand as she read the spell screenshotted on her phone aloud as best she could in the language it was written.

You laid against the plush pillows, staring at the ceiling in boredom, listening to Zoey drone on and your other friends giggle in anticipation at the stupid middle-school antics they were perpetrating upon you.

Eventually, the room fell silent as Zoey kneeled like the others staring at you with rapt attention, her eyes glittering in excitement.

Only... nothing happened. Not even... well, you weren't sure what magic would feel like if it was cast on you.

"Hah!" You said, lifting your head to look at Zoey, pointing. "I told you nothing would happen--"

Your six friends all fell backwards with startled shouts and shrieks when, in a blur of light... you vanished.

Right in front of them!

"Oh, oh no.... Um... whoops...?" Zoey said, her voice shell shocked and tiny as a bead of sweat dripped down her brow.

Max grabbed Zoey and shook her, "What did you do! What did you do?!"

The moment that flash of light dissipated you hit whatever soft surface you were on with a gasp, almost feeling your lungs squeezed of all air before sucking in much needed oxygen.

You blinked your eyes open, and when they focused on your surroundings... You realized you weren't at Kayla's house anymore. Your friends weren't sitting in their silly ritualistic circle... Zoey wasn't staring at you like a bug under a microscope.

You were... somewhere. The bed you were on was insanely large and round, the sheets a divinely soft texture, almost like the velvet of a moths's wing. A canopy was above you, wafting in an unknown breeze. Marble pillars with beautiful scenes painted on lined the room that was very sparse, save for a table laden with food in the corner.

You swing your legs over the bed and rub your temples.

You were drunk. You were black out drunk and this is all some kind of horrible dream that will cause you migraines with your inevitable hangover in the morning.

Right?

Yeah. Not so lucky.

When your eyes opened once more, you were still in the strange marble room.

You groaned, standing up and shivering as your feet touched the cold stone floors, polished to a fine sheen that reflected the dim torchlight lit on various oil lamps lining the room.

You looked to your side and noticed some kind of balcony, the night sky just beyond.

You frantically ran for it, hoping that maybe you might be able to call down to the street below for help, but... no luck.

Your hands wrapped around the stone banister and your jaw dropped. You weren't met with the night scenery of some kind of city or town, or even a sprawling estate.

Chalky dust, dented with craters and rocks and boulders stretched out beyond your vision's limits. And hovering in the sky where the moon should be, was...

The Earth. A shiny blue-and-green marble that lazily hung in the void of space, one side dimly lit by the sun while the other was black, lights from the cities below dotting it with a golden hue in the shadow of the--the fucking moon.

You were on the fucking moon?!

"How the hell... what..." You said, your heart thudding in your chest as you walked back into the ornate, pale room you'd exited.

Honestly, you were the darkest thing in there, dressed in all black, the silk hanging from your body and clinging to you in all the right places...

How were you breathing? What were you breathing? How were you even alive--

"Well... this is interesting." A deep voice mused from behind you.

You could feel someone looming over you. An oppressive feeling bearing down on you like whoever this was towered beyond your height.

You spun around, swallowing the lump of fear in your chest; but whoever spoke was no longer behind you.

"It's been some time since anyone has performed that ritual." The voice said again, "Though... uour friend should have worded it more carefully. Her mistranslation may cost you more than intended."

You looked towards the balcony, the thin curtains swaying in the breeze-that-should-not-be, a tall, imposing shadow barely showing through the other side.

An impossibly large man. Or... what looked like a man... if it weren't for the silhouette of the bird skull where his head should be.

Fear spread through your body at every leap of your pulse, dreading it as the figure began walking to the edge of the fine drapery. You anticipated some kind of horror show, but... well. You got the opposite.

A man with impeccably tanned skin, dressed only in a gold bejeweled collar and bracers stepped out, his white shendyt wrapped in some sort of sheer cover, his toned waist disappearing beyond, a thin trail of dark hair trailing up to his navel as his bare feet padded silently across the polished floor. On his chest was a crescent moon that looked like it was painted in some sort of gold across his skin.

His hazel eyes glimmered at you with an inhuman inner light, his mouth quirked up in a cocky smile that stretched his beard; his long, curled black hair striped with wisps of silver as it hung low against his shoulders.

One of his hands held a long staff, topped in a golden crescent moon, like the one tattooed on his chest. His eyes trailed you up and down as he slowly made his way over to you.

You were transfixed.

You were so struck by him that you didn't flinch until his fingers tipped your chin so you would look up at him, your mouth going dry. What the hell was happening?

"Well... at least you are pleasing to look at."

You felt your ego take the punch, and your awe at his beauty was shattered. Oh. So he was a dick.

"You--"

"Do you know why you're here, little dove?" He hummed, tilting his head slightly with a coy--but knowing--smile.

"I... My friend did some stupid magic circle, that's what!" You say, twisting your head free from his grasp, stepping away to wrap the silk robe around you tighter, suddenly feeling very self conscious.

"I asked not what brought you here... but if you knew what your friend's ritual has ordained for you." He chuckled lowly at your sense of modesty.

"I..." You flounder, wishing you had been listening to the details Zoey had been spitting as she set up the circle, earlier as Max and Kayla got you ready. "Something about..."

Your body shivered at the realization.

"... something about fertility?"

The man moved towards you in a blur, suddenly behind you once again; his body heat bleeding into you like the scorching sun on a summer day, his heavy hands circling your waist and toying with the knot in the robe.

"Close." He had whispered, his lips touching the shell of your ear as your body went rigid in his embrace.

"Your friend mistranslated "offering"." The ridiculously gorgeous man hummed deeply. His lips skimmed your bare neck in appreciation; "She said "wife". Imagine my surprise, while I was overseeing my Fist's duties and I heard that incantation over the divine space. I simply had to see who performed such a ritual."

"W-wait you can't be saying that..."

"I am afraid so, little dove." He breathed, his mouth leaving a hot kiss to your leaping pulse, making heat pool low in your belly. His hands slid beneath the robe, touching the soft nightgown that covered you beneath; barely touching the undersides of your breasts.

"You belong to me, now."

You stood ramrod stiff as his hands roamed you, mapping out every dip and curve your body had; every hollow and mark in your skin, driving your body mad with desire despite the shock of your current situation.

"It is human custom to consummate a marriage after a ceremony, yes?" His mouth once again found your ear, his words hot on your skin, one of his hands slipping beneath your robe and gown to brush his thumb over one of your pebbled nipples; his other sliding down to slowly hike up the skirt of your nightwear, his hand groping and squeezing the fat of your thigh.

"It has been... overlong since I have indulged in such pleasures. But I assure you, I have a--very--good memory."

All six of them had been in a constant state of panic, frantically wondering if they should call a priest or the police. The sun was beginning to creep over the horizon, painting the sky in gorgeous colors as clouds lazily danced about the atmosphere.

Max had yanked at his curls, "I'm to gay and gorgeous to go to jail!"

"It was magic not murder, you drama queen!" Mari shouted, shaking Max's arm frantically.

"Who the fuck should we call?!" Lizzy shrieked, waving her arms over her head. "The fuckin' Winchester brothers?! Fucking Constantine?!"

Zoey practically sobbed, emotionally raw and scared. She hadn't expected anything to happen with this! After all, none of her other dabblings caused something like... like this! What if she mistranslated in the wrong language and accidentally sent you to Cthulhu? What if she cursed you to one of the circles of hell? Did she say something wrong?!

"I'm sorry!" She sniffled as Eli rubbed her back, trying desperately to stay calm. "I didn't know!"

"Well, we are not ever doing goddamn magic ever again!" Kayla hyperventilated, fanning herself desperately with her hand, the other holding her long hair up in a bunch to get it off of her sweaty neck. "God damn it, this shit always happens in horror movies! Me and my big mouth--"

They were all almost knocked to the ground again, when, in a bright flash of light... you were dropped onto the plush mattress once again. Only this time, your appearance was far more disheveled.

Your makeup ran down your cheeks, mascara tracking down your face from dried tears, your lipstick smeared and hair messy; your clothes haphazardly askew in several places.

You blinked, your eyes not entirely focused as you sat up and looked at your friends. You zeroed in on Zoey. You didn't seem... hurt? Mad at her?

Instead, your usual coping mechanism kicked in. Humor.

"Scully.... You're not gonna believe this..."

[lynn-luv]

About me <3

⚠️PLEASE DONT text me expecting me to send nudes or sext with you , I'm still a person and it makes me uncomfortable sometimes T.T treat me with decency!!! people who disregard this will be blocked/ ignored⚠️

Hi , I’m lynn, but you can call me what youd like ! 18 year old pup girl ^_^ submissive :3

5"3ft/162cm black girl, love pink, anything cute, and alot more things <3

NOT looking for an owner!!! I prefer to be a neighborhood stray, it's fun getting fed from different people :3

I‘ll really just be posting any and everything that comes to my mind

Please do NOT interact if you are

🦴 UNDER 18 will be blocked

🐾 generally here to spread hate

Please DO interact

🐾wanting to be friends

🦴 you have questions

🐾 you just want to chat!

🦴 Kinky Accounts

🐾want to see my content

⚠️My DMs are always open :3 love to meet new people ^_^ !! but PLEASE DONT message just to share your thoughts on my pictures, give me compliments ect. although i appreciate it.. it floods my dms and i loose track of actual conversations. also dont dm being super naughty nsfw, im moslty demisexual so if im not interested in you it will make me uncomfortable, and i will block you⚠️

other than that- send anons, asks, ect!! :3

Kink’s ( not limited to ) : Petplay, collaring, cnc, free use, praise and degradation breeding , Creampies, force, impact play, BDSM, branding, riding, face fucking, cockwarming, humping, corruption, chasing, primal play, scent play, rough sex, marking, edging and denial, overstimulation and understimulation, bratting, brat taming, exhibitionism, possessiveness, daddy / sub, semi publicity, orgasm control & denial, ownership & more ^_^

Limits: Scat, gore, weight play, vomit , Feederism , race play, stuff like that

Don’t be negative weird in my DMs :)

[fandomsandfairytales]

Fic Recs for Elrond Week 2024

Hello! Here’s a last-minute handful of Elrond-centric fic recs to wrap up Elrond Week 2024. (Time got away from me this week!)

These fics are all rated G or T, and I’ve loosely categorized them into groups so it’s a bit easier to parse through them. I also noted ones I recc’d in my 2023 Fic Recs list, which I posted on my main blog, @awwyeah107. I'm tagging each author in this list once (if they have a Tumblr account), although there may be more than one story from an author in the list.

Also, to clarify, none of these were written *for* Elrond Week—these are all simply fics about our beloved peredhel that I've enjoyed and wanted to share/recommend.

Massive shoutout to @meluiloth for putting on Elrond Week! I’ve greatly enjoyed seeing all the posts this week cross my dash. Also, thank you to all of the fic authors, fan artists, and meta writers out there who celebrate Elrond ❤️

Elrond & [Biological or Married] Family

The Complexities of Avian Biology by @runawaymun Celebrían takes on a charity case. Elrond helps, because of course he does. Some Celrond fluff by request. (Oneshot, G, 776 words)

Without depth or bound by waitingfover Love is never an easy emotion to navigate, particularly if you also hate the other person's guts. or Elrond doesn’t like Celebrían’s attitude, Celebrían hates Elrond’s guts, Gil-Galad is determined to play matchmaker, and Celebrimbor just wants to be left out of this drama. (23 chapters, complete! T, 29k words)

Wealth Enough of Joy by @starspray Elladan and Elrohir are born at twilight in summer. (Oneshot, G, 1.6k words. Recc’d this in my 2023 Fic Recs list)

Athelas by erulisse_starchild Estel gets a lesson in herb-lore from Elrond. (Oneshot, G, 831 words)

Hiding Places by @sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) It had been a long time since Elrond was last under a bed. The novelty was probably good for him. (Oneshot, G, 437 words)

Kind as Summer by @arofili (starlightwalking on AO3) Elrond and his family, after the First Age. A collection of ficlets from tumblr prompts, loosely related to one another. (8 chapters, complete! G, 2.1k words)

More than the Stars Above by sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) Elrond had lived without his parents for this long. He could certainly continue to do so if they proved to be indifferent. That didn't stop his hand from shaking when he reached out to knock on the door. (2 chapters, complete! G, 5.6k words. Recc’d this in my 2023 Fic Recs list)

Blossoming Red by @bralesscommie Snapshots of Elrond throughout his life. A character study. Elrond dealing with his trauma, and finding his rare moments of joy. (Oneshot, T, 4.9k words)

Elrond & Friends

Demons by @theheirofashandfire (ScribeofArda on AO3) On a dark night in Imladris, with the Watchful Peace having come to a bloody end, one elf finds that the darkness brings back unwanted memories of flames and fear. And Glorfindel can remember all of the fall of Gondolin. (Oneshot, T, 4.5k words)

Old Swords by StarSpray Elrond and Gandalf chat about Glamdring. (Oneshot, G, 661 words)

Primary Sources by @cycas (bunn on AO3) Bilbo Baggins, now living in Rivendell is working on his Translations from the Elvish and needs some help. He learns a few things about Elven board games, plumbing and housework in Rivendell, a little bit about the War of Wrath, and something about Elrond's family. It might just be that making songs about Eärendil in the House of Elrond was not something that Elrond himself considered to be over Bilbo's head. (Oneshot, G, 4.4k words)

Kidnap Fam

Note: All of the Kidnap Fam fics here are Elrond-centric—either they are from his perspective, or they primarily focus on Elrond and Maglor and/or Maedhros.

And Love Repaid by sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) It was never about owing. (Oneshot, G, 2.3k words)

See How They Grow by @grundyscribbling (Grundy on AO3) Elrond wasn't born a great healer. Some would have said living among Feanorians was an unlikely place to start that journey. (Maglor probably would have agreed with them.) (Oneshot, G, 11.7k words)

Rosemary, Fennel, & Rue by grundyscribbling (Grundy on AO3) Maedhros stumbles onto an unhealthy secret Elrond has been keeping. Elrond is surprised to find Maedhros has experience in these matters. (Oneshot, G, 5.7k words)

Once They Were Wolves by @elentarial (BaccaratBlack on AO3) After receiving an unexpected Midwinter gift, Elrond learns something new about one of his captors fathers. (2 chapters, complete! G, 2.4k words)

Quiet by sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) Dust blanketed Maglor’s harp where it sat undisturbed in the corner. (Oneshot, G, 566 words)

Series

On Elrond Peredhel by @elvinye (leodesic on AO3) A series examining Elrond's kidnap-adoption [and Elrond himself] from a variety of different perspectives. (In-progress series of 13 works, each between 1-2 chapters, all rated T or G. Only AO3 users can read this fic.) (Note: For anyone who does not ship Russingon—like me—the series does contain it, but it is minor and can be skipped over fairly easily.)

Return to Aman by cycas (bunn on AO3) A series of stories about Elrond's return to Aman at the end of the Third Age. All these assume that Maglor son of Fëanor was one of the other unnamed Elves who accompanied Elrond, Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo on the ship when they left Middle-earth. Point of view is usually either Maglor or Elrond, but occasionally someone else (Celebrian, Lalwen, Nerdanel...) (Complete series of 15 works, each between 1-5 chapters, all rated G. Recc’d this in my 2023 Fic Recs list)

AUs

The Last Homely Hostel by sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) Barin was nearly entirely sure this hostel wasn't supposed to be here. It won't be the last unexpected appearance of the night. (Oneshot, G, 5k words)

we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin Elrond and Elros are sent to live with their distant cousins in a house that is crumbling slowly to pieces. They aren't especially happy about this. For Maedhros and Maglor, the twins are a rare chance to start living again. It will take a lot of work to turn a house full of ghosts into anything resembling a home. (70 chapters, in-progress! G, 259.5k words. Only AO3 users can read this fic. Recc’d this in my 2023 Fic Recs list)

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@elrondweek

Other Fic Rec Lists: 2023 Fic Recs (on my main blog)

[leupagus]

Really enjoying writing Book 2/Season 6 of this monstrosity, where instead of having Sansa and Jon fighting to regain Winterfell and all that nonsense with the "Battle of the Bastards," it's gonna be like 10K of Sansa being the Warden of the North equivalent of that mom who just needs FIVE MINUTES OF PEACE AND QUIET YOU GODDAMN KIDS

To the Lord Robin Arryn, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East, and my Dear Cousin,

I write to you from Wint

"Sansa — sorry, Lady Sansa, you'll never believe—"

"Jeyne, you don't have to call me 'Lady Sansa,'" Sansa said as she looked up from her parchment. "You're the steward of Winterfell now."

Jeyne Poole, hanging onto the handle of the door and swinging it absently back and forth like she'd done back when they were ten years old, frowned. "My da always said the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were worthy of respect."

Sansa leaned back in her chair. Father had dealt with the business of the holdfast in the Library Tower, so he could wrestle with the accounts without being interrupted every twenty minutes. Sansa had always thought that a bit unfair, since it meant you had to climb all those stairs just to find him, but now she was wondering if she could perhaps build the tower twenty or thirty feet higher. The exercise would probably do her good. "Your father always called mine 'oi, you,' if I recall correctly."

The look Jeyne gave her was deeply unimpressed. "Aye, and you always complained about it. Do you want to hear about the cow loose in the guest house or not?"

erfell at last, which was the dearest wish of your beloved goodfather Petyr. His dying words were to express the hope that both his goodson and his niece be safe and secure in their homes, and I am glad to say tha

"Lady Sansa, Master Mikken has refused another dozen apprentices. He said they're all 'knuckleheaded clods who wouldn't know a round ball fuller from a chisel punch." This time it was her master-at-arms, who'd been Rodrick Cassel's round-faced child named Beth when Sansa had left. Now he went by Cass and looked like he could wrestle a (very short) bear if needs be.

"I don't know a round ball fuller from a chisel punch," Sansa replied, frowning.

Cass shrugged. "Well, and nor do I. But that's near fifty lads he's turned away. We need someone helping with the forges. We've been making do with the army smiths that Prince Stannis let us—"

"Prince Stannis?" He was going to hate that.

Another shrug. "We've got to call him something, milady. You won't call him 'king,' nor will any of your bannermen, but his soldiers give us no end of trouble when we call him 'lord.' So 'prince' it is. And he is one, too, ain't he? King Robert's brother. That'd make him a prince, right?"

Sansa answered with a shrug of her own. By the time Stannis and his companies returned from the Dreadfort, everyone in the North would likely have settled on Prince Stannis, which would lead to a great deal of shouting and probably threats of lighting people on fire, but she had at least a fortnight to think of something.

"As I was saying, we can't use the Baratheon smiths forever, and the ones from our bannermen have all gone home with their bannermen. Mikken needs apprentices, and we need our forge at full strength."

"All right, let's go speak with him," Sansa sighed.

t through the goodness of Stannis, of House Baratheon, and his masterful command of the armies of the North and the Stormlands, I am now secure as Warden of the North.

Not only that, but your dear cousin, my brother Rickon has somehow survived all the danger that the North has presented, while it was under the thrall of the Ironborn and House Bolton. He is now safe and I will reu

"My lady?" Maester Wolkan peered his head into the room.

[george-mullner-mailbox]

MAYOR LEWIS?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING MAYOR LEWIE GOD DAMN FOOL TAX COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING MAYOR LEWIS. STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT MAYOR LEWIS I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP UNDEREAR WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST MUSTACHE GET AWAY FROM ME.

if i wanted to get into heaven and yoba said mayor lewis waiting inside i would piss on yobas feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down. if i have to deal with mayor lewis speaking one word in person on voice in podcast not only will i close the tab i will delete my bookmark out of spite and have to rewatch the entire series again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive. i dont even know why i hate him so much. he collects taxes but i am just mad because i am ANGY. he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of fraud and wanted the irl version ill go ham. BETTER have had a book make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him.

paypal.com/IFuckingHateMayorLewis

game’s not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his special shortsand I lost it. where the fuck is mayor lewis if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt.

crusty old man. ill punch lewis and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final purple shorts he kept on him at all times simply titled Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish. im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point. i hope theres a date given for when lewis died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone, and everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if tax fraud accounts

[greml1nb0i]

Hazbin Hotel Rewrite [WIP- this is copy and pasted from my docs; this is old but i wanted to share it anyway]

Rewrite the Characters:

Original +opinions (ooo~ Spicy) :

Charlie - Princess of Hell, Daughter of Lucifer. Sheltered and Cheery.

  I hate that she’s just Disney Princess coded. They could have used the whole sheltered route well but TBF we don't see that either.  We see a weird rendition of that where everyone forgives her for her terrible actions but yet other characters like Husk and Angel Dust are somehow held to a higher sense of accountability for their actions?!

  I also don’t believe whoever raised Charlie could keep her away from the ever growing and changing landscape of Hell. Like if you're going to be a Princess of anything its really important for the next heir to be well acquainted with their kingdom's landscape and history. At the very least talk to the locals and commonwealth. 

 Her design is...ok. It didn't change much from the pilot but tbh i liked her Pilot design, I feel like it makes sense for her to wear hints of red and white, but i wish they added more than just red, i feel like black or gold would have been better or even purple for Biblical accuracy of Pride.

Vaggie - Girlfriend to Charlie and protector of the Hotel, ex-Exorcist. 

 Why did they change the lore? Also why does it feel like the VA hated being there or was just given 0 directions. She sounds dull and plain except for when she’s sounding like she’s angry, which is 99.98% Of Vaggie’s emotions.

  That, an amnesia apparently?! How does vaggie not remember the very weapon that cut out her FUCKING EYE that still makes no sense, like how tf her and Lucifer and even Husk have wings, if wings are going to be used for ANY character why make them seem important to Vaggie when Husk literally has wings, and Lucifer the supposed “fallen Angel” STILL HAS HIS?! Like why? How does this make sense? 

Angel - FemBoy, Sex worker. Deals in Self destruction, self loathing and deep depression while also being flirty and promiscuous. Was in a Mafia family. 1940s timeline. 

 Trauma porn character and just a bunch of gay men stereotypes. As a survivor, his story doesn't hit the way its meant to. There's a good and bad way to show SA and Abuse and while they did it “eh” (im saying this loosely) at first, they were completely unrealistic and downright infantilizing at the end.

  There's no way someone who just went through a beating, an having to almost get drugged and dragged out of bar, is going to forgive the same person who started the stupor in the first place- ESPECIALLY ON THE SAME NIGHT!!!!!

I FUCKING CANT WITH THESE WRITERS THINKING MENTAL HEALTH CAN BE SOLVED IN A 20 MIN EPSIODE, IS THIS A KIDS SHOW ABOUT FRIENDSHIP OR AN ADULT SHOW ABOUT CARTOON DEMONS IN HELL. 

And don’t get me started on that terrible musical number, it’s just soft core rape in a cheery pop tune i fucking hate it!! It doesn't help that Raph, an SA fetishist STORYBOARDED THE DAMN SCENE

WHAT THE FUCK MEDRANO!?

Husk - Angry grump, bar keeper. Contracted to Alastor. Gambler. From the 1970 or 60. 

 The design is a character designer's worst nightmares come to life on the screen. Every furry from the early 2000s clutching their pearls in cringe. It screams “omg rawr xD uwu” era and i think we as a society are way past that, i figured a 30 something year old woman would be too.

[apparently it was her sisters OC that was put into the show, viv why?!]

Alastor - radio show host from the 30s. Cannibal. Half Creole. “Wendigo design”. Cocky and always smile but is "quite dangerous when provoked." [yea ok pal]

  An OC from middle school that should have stayed in middle school. There is a reason so many OCs from artists' early childhood don't make it into their new and growing art style. Most of the time if you keep obsessing over the same OCs you stunt yourself on growing in your art. Tumblr Sexy Man is that exact thing. I like him in concept but, if he was drawn better and actually looked like a man from the 1900s and in his 40s,(or even a half creole man; that's supposedly a Wendigo) I'd have less to complain about. His concept is good and interesting, but its not the first or the last and Alastor def isn't the first. Also give that man a haircut please!

Nifty - Japanese-American. From the 50s Obsessive and a neat freak. Camera shy but psychotic.

  I feel like this is just a racist stereotype waiting to be exposed. The “young psychotic Japanese  girl” trope is so fucking old and repetitive that i cant vibe with a character like Nifty when i know her only purpose is to be used as comedy bait. It doesn't help that Viv didn't give Nifty almost any merch! Like WOW really showing favoritism over the merch sales and that is disgusting.

Sir Pentious - British inventor. Kinda an idiot but is a brilliant machinist.

  We were robbed of a decent villain. I hate that he became part of the cast and became the first redeemed as if Angel wasn't there longer and started showing signs of Redemption sooner, like we got more Redemption scenes of Angel but like NONE of Pentious and we are supposed to believe this weird snake dude is redeemed just cuz he kissed a girl and got himself killed for nothing???? VIVZIE YOUR ASS WRITING IS ASS!!

Also he's a stolen Character...seems to be a trend for Viv..

Lucifer - King of Hell, Father of Charlie, Sin of Pride. Depressed and non-serious, deep self loathing. Complex of some sort. Short King.

 He’s fine..i guess, i mean its freaking Jeremy Jordan VA-ing him…he kind fixes whatever is wrong with Lucifer character wise. [this is for very obvious reasons a joke, while re-reading this i realized some people might not know i'm being sarcastic,oopsies] He’s a terrible character for numerous reasons. He is kinda homophobic if you really think about that “i like girls too” line and then proceeds to call her “MAGGIE”;  Lucifer feels like he is just there to satisfy Viv’s  disney esque “daddy issues” type kink she has for “tragic characters and shitty dads” type characters.

 Designs wise he trash. He looks like jeff the killer but blonde and drawn by your aunt who refused to go to art school

Cherri Bomb - Angels Friend. Arsonist. From the 60s(?). Punk rock.

 Her design is literally traced and just the Addict design…the fans are just stupid. Also i dont like the fact that Viv EXPECTED viewers of her show, to have done homework on who the fuck Cherri is, cuz if you're a new watcher, and didn't read the fucking Vivziepop Bible, you wont know who tf she if or why you should even care about her.

 Why is Angel hanging out with someone like this in the first place, You’d think because Angel is older and from a different time period he wouldn't vibe with Cherri?? But apparently Viv thinks a fem gay man from the 30s would be the best homie to a 20 yr old punk rock Aussie from the 60s, a whole 3 decades of time difference!! Tell us why and how they know each other!! How can these fundamentally very different people even vibe together!! Is it just cus "wow shared trauma of abusive lovers" cuz wow Viv.

(her entire design is also stolen soooooo~)

Mimzy - who?

This one also feels really fucking racist. Idk what it is with Viv but the jewish stereotypes of Mimzie are absolutely atrocious. 

Fix:

Charlie - [TBD]

Vaggie - [TBD]

Angel - [TBD]

Husk - [TBD]

Alastor - [TBD]

Nifty - [TBD]

Sir Pentious - [TDB]

Lucifer - 

 Was an Angel with dreams, and took part in the Creation of All Things.

   However Lucifer was too ambitious and went off course with the designs of Earth’s creatures, causing the other Angels to feel uncomfortable by him and his new creations. 

While the Angels were tolerating him, he was allowed to visit the First Human, but in doing so felt that their lack of knowledge was unfair and so in hopes of helping the other Angels see things his way, he gave the Apple of Knowledge to Adam and Lilith. 

 This didn't go as planned though, Where Lilith became kinder and more empathetic, Adam however became more uptight, and acted as if he was better than Lilith.

 Lucifer defended Lilith against Adam thus causing the Angels attention to be drawn. Seeing what Lucifer had done; Ultimately bringing evil (free will) into the world, They (strangely) cast Lucifer AND Lilith, as well as the creatures Lucifer had created to the dark void;

 The Angels now would call it, Hell. Lucifer, home. 

Lucifer would first land in Hell confused and depressed, Along with Lilith they both begin to freak out as they look into the dark, empty landscape in front of them. Feelings of bitterness begin to reside within Lucifer, that settled into a resilient sense of ignorant Pride. 

Lucifer’s Creations - 

 The demons and most of the Hellborns. Lucifer is treated as the Divine Judge of Hell, His punishment is having to witness all the evil that had been created due to him and He in turn must turn what could never be, into another one of his creations. Though he is given it a process. He has given up on making anymore Hellborns due to them fixing that themselves. Demons that are specifically Dead Humans (The Sinners).

Sins - 

 All of the Sins were once creatures created by Lucifer that began to Form into The 7 Deadly Sins. However the rest of these creatures evolved into lower ranks and a hierarchy was formed. With the Sins and Lucifer being at the top.

 The 7 are special creatures that Lucifer held a special fondness to in particular. More so than some of the other Creations. Each of these Sins were given a mission after the fall and were subsequently turned into the Sins by the Angels, who felt they deserved the same punishment, if not worse, as Lucifer. Forcing each of the Sins to work as their prince/princess of their specific ring unless they want their entire existence to cease. They rather that not happen.

The angels cursed all the sins, and Lucifer himself. that if they ever stop their torment they will cease to exist. Angels thought this was humane but didn't realize or rather didn't care that much at the time how barbaric it actually is. 

Dubbed the Curse of the Angels or Angels Kiss 

(play on Kiss of Death where whomever Death kissed is marked for death, 

here the Sins were “kissed” by the Angels and a “kiss” was once used to symbolize a curse or bad omen onto another)

their "death" however is more than they evaporate into nothing

its their very minds and bodies slowly begin to deteriorate painfully to the point of being empty husks. No expression, No emotions, No sense of self. Nothing. Their consciousness and personality essentially gets erased entirely.

Premise IDEAS for Rewrite: 

1] 

Sinners go through character arc delving into their issues that lead to each one's Redemption

Heaven gets upset over the rise of redemption in Sinner 

 Earthly Denizens of Heaven/ “winners”  attack the Hotel

The Sinners and the Staff defend the Hotel

Heaven’s attackers are turned fallen. 

{END}

so i started this almost a year ago, it was right when i really started to dislike Viv and Helluva Flop Boss. If you wanna give a suggestion on what you think could make this better go for it. It's a WIP- so any advice is welcome and appreciated!!

[cactusspatz]

December recs

Whew, I read a lot of fic in December! My Yuletide recs are here and here, and I winnowed down the rest of them to a mere ten recs.

Click on for Batman, Murderbot, and Goblin Emperor fics!

BATMAN

The Time Before by @cdelphiki

One moment, Red Hood was fighting with Black Mask, listening to the idiot go on about how he'd murder Jason long before he'd become a problem. The next… Jason was ten years in the past, nine-years-old, and fending for himself on the streets of Gotham. Bruce might not know about Jason yet in the timeline, but Batman was the only one who could protect him against Black Mask. If only Jason didn't hate him so much…

Excellent time travel fic!

this kind of weather by r_astra / @heyy-its-skip

Jason’s at school when his mom dies, and that’s the only reason any of it happens. If he’d been home, if he’d been with her, he would’ve been in the wind before anyone else even knew. Even if they looked, no one ever would’ve found him. He’d have taken to the sewers if that’s what it took, man-eating crocodile guy and all.

I love Jason in this, and his friendship with Stephanie, and the identity secrets.

seventeen going under by @bonerot19

"Where's your pops?" Terry shouted down the sidewalk. "Dunno," Jason said. "Haven't seen him in a week. I stopped goin' lookin' for him a long time ago." Hell, Jason was happy with the man's absence. Maybe it would stick, this time. "He owes me fifty bucks." Terry, closer to Jason now, was still shouting. Jason spun around and started walking backwards. "What'a'ya know," he said. "Me too." AU where Jason is seventeen, his parents are alive, he works nights at a convenience store, and everything is about to go to shit.

Loosely inspired by this kind of weather (in that Jason's parents survived longer) but much heavier on the angst and h/c. I'm loving the WIP sequel as well!

coconut and aloe by merils (Tim/Kon)

Tim still doesn’t sit. “I washed it like three times, but my hair still smells like vinegar and death,” he says, and gazes intently into Kon’s eyes. …Ah. Now Kon gets it. “Tim, buddy,” he says, amusement bubbling up in his chest, because apparently Tim can’t just ask like a normal person. It’s stupidly endearing. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Soft and sensual and sweet.

MURDERBOT

An Unexpected Quarter by @ilovedthestars

Murderbot is captured by the company, with no one to come to its rescue. Help comes from somewhere it doesn’t expect.

Aimed directly at my id, and a great outsider POV. On a similar theme, I also enjoyed Salvage or Repair by the same author.

words left behind by torpidgilliver

"How do you stand it?" Dr. Gurathin's tone is slow and even when he asks, "Stand what?" SecUnit 3 shares its feelings with someone who might understand.

Beautiful exploration of Three's grief, and a lovely look at Gurathin's life.

Terrible Tactical Strategy by audreycritter

Three is behaving oddly. There's a surprisingly ordinary explanation, it's just that the explanation isn't fun for anyone.

In which Three has feelings about media in an entirely new direction, and a mini breakdown. Achy but kind.

Un/Safe by John_lzhc

Ayda Mensah was in her office cubby, reviewing the last of the council dispatches, when she received an urgent assistance request from Secunit. That… had never happened before. Murderbot has a close encounter of a 3-year-old kind. It is not impressed.

*cackles* Look, Murderbot is so competent that I just can't resist stories where it panics in social situations.

GOBLIN EMPEROR

The Search for Marneise Amalo by Sphragis

"Before we may attend to the truly important aims of our account, we must address a matter that we had rather not. Were it not for the prurient curiosity of the worst kind of people, we would not deign even to introduce the following subject. As we are obliged to speak, we shall keep the point brief: Pel-Thenhior was not marnis. The accusation was always and only vicious rumor." On the (in)ability of love to find expression in the historical record.

Gorgeous fic using historical research (letters, academic writing, and video/interview) to explore the edges of Thara and Iana's relationship and future. Creative and wonderful.