#i haven't written anything in so long don't judge me

[benevolenterrancy]

hi! I recently came across your tgcf fics, and I wanted to say you’re a phenomenal creator. the recovery series fic and the gloves fic and just all of them. thank you for your content and great attention to detail.

do you have any thoughts/hcs on FXMQ and Xie Lian you’d be willing to share? within the original story or the universes of your fics!

Thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying them! (ﾉ*^▽^*)ﾉ.｡:*☆

hmm, random thoughts about the FXMQ... a silly headcanon: Feng Xin has very much been hoisted by his own petard by heckling Mu Qing! That is to say, he'll harass Mu Qing relentlessly about something stupid only to be confronted with a similar situation and realise that there's absolutely NO way he can act in anyway similar to Mu Qing or he'll never hear the end of it.

(For example, he has tolerated some truly atrocious divine statues in the past because he's heckled Mu Qing so much about how picky he is with his divine statues that there's no WAY he can say ANYTHING without seeing that smug bastard's face in his head so he just has to bite his tongue and tolerate some unspeakably ugly statues.)

Mu Qing doesn't generally suffer from similar overthinking (he'll just prepare to kick FX's ass if he dares to say anything about it) except for things more directly related to himself. I think he genuinely finds sewing/embroidery/etc rather relaxing work but he'd rather die than have anyone ever see him do it because he's made such a big deal about not doing that sort of "servant" work anymore.

(He actually really enjoyed stitching Ruoye back together because it gave him the perfect excuse -- he's returning a favour!! and Xie Lian is hopeless!! of course he had to!! -- and he secretly considered using white thread to embroider some invisible little designs just because he doesn't quite want to stop... only he knew he'd get caught if he messed with Xie Lian's spiritual device like that and gave up the idea)

[hoshigray]

Just want to start and say hiiiii I love the work you put out and I can't get over how amazing they are. Since you said your inbox is open I was thinking about Life Guard Choso and a little lips to lips action by the pool side at night. Include anything else you see fit I don't mind☺️.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg tyyyy !! and yippee, a choso request :DD haven't written for him in a long while

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: lifeguard! Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing; making out - sexual acts in a public place; hotel pool room - breast fondling + sucking - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! + f! receiving) - praising - implied v + p insertion (ends with cowgirl) - implied unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - cameo: Nobara (best friend) - Choso having a lil crush on reader, and lowkey being horny on the job, lawl - reader lowkey being flirty and taking the lead role.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

“—Khhh, ohooo, ohhhmyGod, Chosoooo, your tongue feels so good!”

“Hoooohh, Ch’soooo, right there! Keep scraping me right there…!”

As lifeguarding night shifts go, last night’s had to be the most bewildering Choso has ever endured.

He sits on the lifeguard chair, observing the indoor pool area inside the hotel where he’s working during spring break.  Luckily, there weren’t many customers coming to use the pool during his shifts — especially the night ones. So, all Choso had to do was watch the hours go by, go to his lunch break, and occasionally come back if he was called in for the night shift. 

What sounds like a manageable task turns out to be otherwise because someone is sitting at the edge of the pool and captures Choso’s observant brown eyes from time to time. It’s you, sitting at the edge with your feet submerged in the water as you converse with your friend — he picks up their name is Nobara – about the joys of your spring break adventures for the past few days. 

Your frequent giggles and sweet voice are difficult for him to ignore, sneaking glances under his cap to see you, shooting himself internally for taking advantage to look at you in your cute one-piece swimsuit that hugged your curves nicely. And then the warmth of his blood swiftly changes to freezing temperature when your eyes land on him, averting his gaze back into the water before him.

The ripples of the water have him thinking back on the night shift last night, his cheeks reddening as he recollects the memories…

It was a lonely shift as Choso was the only person in the indoor pool area. It wasn’t until the hour touched two hours behind midnight when the door opened and came you. As someone who’s been lowkey crushing on you for the past few days, this immediately became the worst-case scenario for the young lifeguard, forced to gawk and examine your graceful swimming and two-piece figure. 

He’s been doing that for a solid fifteen minutes, suffering in silence while his eyes scan the curves of your thighs and legs and follow the droplets of water trickle down to your cleavage. Eyeing you with such indecency, what an inappropriate thing as a lifeguard.

And it comes back to bite him on the ass when you walk out of the pool and approach him to his chair, startling the pecan brown-haired hotel worker. “Hey there,” you say so charmingly, practically inviting him with just the greeting. “I can’t help but think you’re lonely here just watching me swim…Would you humor me and accompany me? Would feel bad I’m the reason you’re here doing your job at such a late hour…”

Choso knew he should shoot down the offer as he was still on duty. However, judging by how it was nearly an hour and a half from closing the pool and that most of the other hotel workers were gone, a tiny part of him was pinching him to accept the proposal of his mini-crush. It’s just a swim, in the water and out, right…?

That’s what he kept telling himself as he was following and talking with you in the pool; although every time you referred to him by his name, swam circles around his rigid body, or tittered at his words, that statement was demonstrated worthless. The lights from inside the water illuminated your frame lured Choso in with every minute, your eyes sparkling like the broken surface tension of the water.

“Hey, Choso,” God, he couldn’t believe you were calling him by his name; it sounded too dreamlike to be reality. “Have you ever given someone CPR?”

“Uhh, yeah, like once or twice,” he replied while averting his eyes to the other side of the room as if that would help his pinkish blush not be seen by you.

“Really?” You probed, bringing your frame for the water to reach your chin. “You must know the procedure pretty well, then…Hey, let me test you then!”

Huh? “What now?”

“Okay, I’m gonna pretend to drown, and you do whatever lifeguard procedure you do to get me out of the water.” You said it with such a beaming attitude that Choso couldn’t tell if you were serious. They can’t be serious��And then, you took a giant breath before allowing your body to be completely submerged in the water, sinking to the pool floor.

Choso looked to where you were for about five seconds; you two were at around the 4th or 5th feet of the pool — there’s no way you had to be serious. But five seconds turned to ten, and you didn’t exhibit any signs of wanting to breach. It caused his jaw to drop; no shot, they’re actually serious!

With haste, Choso waddles down to your spot and drives himself into the water, taken aback in perplexity when you greeted him with a wave. He then brings a hand under your legs and one to your shoulder, breaching with you in bridal style. He voices his bafflement, “Wh–What was that idea?”

“Hahaha, took you long enough; you’re a pretty terrible lifeguard for taking your sweet time rescuing me!” You jest to him, the comment poking right through Choso’s stature and dignity. 

“I didn’t know you were serious or not…”

“Drowning is always a serious issue,” you bat your eyes at him before poking the mark across his face. It wasn’t until then that Choso realized how close he had you, your face two inches away from his, and the top of your two-piece now in his line of sight for your cleavage to capture his dangerous curiosity. He turns his head to show some modesty he has left, but it’s too late; you saw him. A twinge of your lip forms a pleasant grin, “Well, you know what happens next, right?”

He blinks and brings his face back in your direction. Surely you didn’t mean that, asking the following to make sure, “Wh…What?”

“Mouth-to-mouth, of course!” Oh, this was going way too far, the poor lifeguard holding you frozen still at your goal. “Why, you don’t want to put your lips on me? Or were you sneaking glances at me these past few days for nothing?” Another arrow that shot him down; you knew!? “You’re not quite subtle, you know. Hehe, but I find that kinda cute.” 

Choso tried to explain himself, but what only came out was stammers and squeaks. Your gaze had him internally nervous and exposed, so you had to poke him even more, “So? Are you gonna leave your drowning rescuee’s lips alone or save me?”

He gulped at the phrasing, struggling to find the words to give to you. Not you were giving him a chance because your face was moving closer to his every second he didn’t answer. And when your eyelids come down, Choso hesitantly does as well and brings his lips onto your soft ones. 

The first peck was long, yet sweetly introduced you two together. You snaked your hand up his pecs to his neck, inviting him to kiss you a second time. His restraint dissolved with every sedation of your lips on his, and it vanished wholly when his ears picked up a moan. He becomes more adventurous and chews on your bottom lip, and the whimper you let out ignites something that he’s been dying to contain for this long. 

A hot and steamy kiss that was built up to happen here and now, and Choso relishes having you like this like it’s a dream. You break the kiss with a gasp for air, panting alongside him with a smile. “Well then, do I have to tell you what should happen next, too?”

When Choso silently leads you out of the pool with him, you are pleased that you don’t have to.

“—Khhh, ohooo, ohhhmyGod, Chosoooo, your tongue feels so good!”

Choso moved you to one of the cushioned chaise lounge chairs to lie as he ripped you off your bottoms and greeted your lower half with attention. Being between your legs was far from what he ever imagined; however, with how you tase on his tongue and the wails you’re letting out for him, he can’t find it in himself to stop now. 

He licks your clit with a circle, and you squeak at the motion. “Mmmm…feeling’ good there, Y/n?”

“Ohhh, yesss, oh yessss,” you respond with a hazed expression, letting your euphoric sounds fill the quiet indoor pool room occupied by you two. “Fuuuck, lick me more, please…”

Even your requests to him were dear to his ears, obliging your folds with feverish laps and swirls. Your cries become louder, legs jolting with ever every lave and suck of your leaking fluids. But Choso holds you by the thighs, massage them to relax your body. Damn, you felt so soft to his fingers, wanting to have his hands on you for as long as he can.

You bite your lip when your hand grabs tuffs of his down brunette hair, egging him to give your clitoris more kisses and hurried licks that almost have you choke on your spit. “Oh, myGod—Mmmph! You’re so good at this, Choso…Ahhhh, oh fuck, feels too gooood…!”

Choso lifts his head to lock his chocolate eyes with yours, examining your reaction when he switches his tongue with a forefinger bullying inside your vagina. The insertion has your bold jerk upwards, squirming at the finger that’s scraping the velvety texture of your vaginal walls. He then kisses from your thigh up to your abdomen, sucking on your skin to tease. Once he comes up to your top piece, he uses his free hand to bring it up and finally releases your breasts for his eyes to survey. His mouth doesn’t waste time having a nipple inside, licking on the bud as he gropes the other breast.

“Ahhnn! Hahhh, hehe, you look so hot doing that,” you comment, making the young man sneak a glance at you before he sucks and nibbles on the nipple. His finger inside your cunt goes faster, having you whine when his thumb comes to your clit. Swipes to the delicate button erupt howls from your agape mouth, “Ohhhh, Hoooohh, Ch’soooo, right there! Keep scraping me right there…pleaseee, don’t stop…!”

He withdrew from your nipple with a soft “pop” from his lips, bringing his face inches close to yours. “Gonna cum on my fingers, yeah?” He asks to distract you from the sneaking middle finger that invades between your folds. The two digits work together to reach places you couldn’t, rubbing and scratching your inner walls with tips. 

“Yesss, yesss, I’m gonna cum…! More, more—Oh, Ohooo!” Choso kisses you again, and you happily mewl into his lips as your orgasm climbs up with the pace of his fingers and his thumb pressing and swiping on your clit. Your chasm clamps onto his digits, bringing your hands to his face to keep the kiss going as your climax hits you.

Shocks from your body prompt you to tremble under him, the walls of your slit contract around his fingers, and your hips involuntarily sway to ride out the phases of your clarity. You suck on Choso’s tongue; his groans are music to your ears while your hand travels down to his swim trunks and feels the tent of his groin.

He moans, breaking the kiss to look where your hand is. You chuckle, “It’s time to return the favor. Come on, let’s switch.”

He follows your lead and takes the position you had previously, watching you situate yourself between his legs as you bring his trunks down to have his erection spring out. He panics a little when you gasp aloud while marveling at his limb, “My, what a long thing you were hiding from me…”

Your compliment has the blush on his ears scorch him with unbearable heat, and you keep eye contact while your plump lips place kisses on the sensitive pink tip of his cock. He hitches his breath at the contact, especially at your hand, grasping his length and beginning stroking motions.

Your tongue dances around his glans and presses on the frenulum, nibbling on the rough skin while your free hand goes to his testicles, softly kneading them to provoke moans to leave his lips. “Such cute sounds from such a cute guy; keep making more for me, okay?” He places a hand on your head, a sign that you take initiative to pop his dick into your mouth. 

Bobbing your head up and down, you take in Choso’s shaft inch by inch, the warmth of your mouth doing wonders to his senses. A hand grips the cushion of the tongue chair he’s lying on, and shivers crawl up his spine when you mumble after taking it to the hilt as your voice travels through his body. 

“Mmmm…Nngohh, fuck,” he curses with furrowed brows, biting his lip when sensing your tongue lick the underside of his cock. Fuck, your mouth felt so damn good — it took everything for Choso not to rut into your mouth voluntarily. Your tight throat didn’t make it any better, and the walls enveloping his entire girth had him drooling. 

Puffed cheeks suck on him leisurely, your lips coated from the saliva covering him, the noises so erotic and out of this world. You continue to massage his balls while your mouth occupies him, alternating with your hands to go down and suck on his balls roughly.

Here is where Choso finds it hard to contain himself with every second, his thighs jerking with every sign of pleasure, throwing his head back when his dick is back inside your gummy throat. Hips subtly propel to your mouth to create more friction, and he whimpers as you happily accept him with mumbled wails and restlessly jerk him off. 

“—Kahhnn, nnmgh, shit, Yn,” your name sounds like a dazed slur, the hand purchased on your head eggs you to go faster. He almost bites his tongue when yours teases his urethra for more of his precum, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming…shiiit, ohh…!”

And you give him aid, sucking on his cock harder and bobbing frantically while you use both your hands to pleasure him more. The commotion of his lower half corrupts all of his senses, hanging by a thread to hang on and howl your name out. One last lap and harsh suck on his glans induces a choked groan, and Choso finally ejaculates into your mouth.

With the thirst pump, you instantly take him back inside your throat, drinking every bit of his load exuding from his throbbing member. He thrusts as you suck him, his orgasm shaking his being with every rut and sob. He heaves and pants, your name said in helpless prayers while you suck his soul out. And, God, does he fucking love it so.

You give him mercy and release his shaft, placing more tiny kisses on it while watching Choso’s quaking frame calm down. And when he does, you bring your body off from between his legs. “Thank you for saving me, Choso.” You crawl to place a gentle kiss on his lips with a hum, and then you relish the cute sounds he makes as your wet cunt meets his length. 

“Let me reward you by pampering you more...”

“….—op, don’t stare at him so hard!”

“Is that him?”

Choso snaps back to the present when he hears familiar voices speak — it is you and Nobara he finds that are looking at you from across the poolside. Nobara being the one staring dead at him; your best friend’s eyes feel like daggers piercing Choso’s pale skin. It made him gulp with nervousness.

Then, she cocks her head and leans to speak. “Doesn’t look so bad; don’t know about that mark on his face, though…How long was it, again?”

“Shhh, be quiet!” You slap her arm to silence her, making the mistake of looking at Choso. You two look into each other’s gazes for a few seconds, the warmth of your cheeks creeping up and having you two sever your faces elsewhere. 

Nobara saw the exchange, lifting a brow before asking you, “So, do you want me to give him your number, or would you like to fuck him again before that—Oww!!“ Another slap to her bare shoulder, she winces this time.

“Jesus Christ, shut up!”

@screampied 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬����𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated ☆ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[cosmicatta]

One Piece Novel: Law — a short analysis

So, after a long time trying to get my hands on the Law light novel, I was finally able to read it recently! And, because I'm an obnoxiously intense person who can't just be normal about things, I found myself taking notes about everything I judged interesting.

And I thought I could share! So here's a mostly improvised essay about the Law novel, how it portrays Law and what it reveals about him as a character.

Some notes before I start:

The edition I've read of this novel is the official Spanish translation by Planeta. When quoting and mentioning numbered pages, I'm referencing that edition.

I originally posted this on Twitter as a thread! If it sounds familiar, that might be why.

For those who haven't read the novel and might want to: be mindful of some trigger warnings, including gruesome medical descriptions, suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse, and violence in general (I won't be touching on these subjects here though).

These are just my personal impressions, I'm not trying to tell anyone how they should interpret the novel or Law's character. I'm just doing this for fun!

The story takes place right after Cora dies, following young Law's journey as he makes it to Swallow Island and desperately tries to survive. There, he will meet Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, as well as Wolf, a novel-exclusive character that welcomes Law and the boys into his home as a family.

Overall, it's a very short read, agile and straightforward. The style is very juvenile, but that was to be expected, and I'd say it does a pretty good job at capturing the feeling of watching a One Piece episode. The novel does kinda feel like a mini arc.

I'm unsure if light novels can be considered 100% canon in general, but since the contents don't contradict anything from what we've already seen in the manga/anime, I'm going to assume we can at least take the events described in this one as canon.

But I'll leave the plot aside a little bit to focus more on Law's psyche, analyzing everything in the novel as material that helps us further understand him.

The entire book (save from a few specific passages) is written from Law's point of view and in first person, so it offers a more in-depth look at his way of thinking, motivations and ideals.

What I find most interesting in this sense is that the whole story is very centered around Law's kindness. Though he does admit several times that he had wanted to see the world burn when he was under Doflamingo's care (as we already know from the source material), the novel makes it very obvious that Law's true nature is compassionate. His inner voice even explicitly states that he enjoys helping and making others happy. (Quotes roughly translated from Spanish):

P. 27: "And I felt very comfortable collaborating with the task of helping others."

P. 92: "Knowing that I was going to free a person from their pain [...] gave me a joy I had never experienced before."

P. 136: "Just imagining the surprised faces of the Old Man, Bepo and the others brought a smile to my face" [when planning on getting fresh fish for dinner as a surprise].

And, despite living under Wolf's motto of "give to take," Law never expects anything in return for any of his good actions. In fact, he gets furious at Wolf himself when, after saving his life, the old man insists on giving Law anything he demands as compensation.

P. 120: "I didn't save you because I wanted a reward!" [...] They [Bepo, Shachi and Penguin] burst into tears of happiness when they realized that you had survived. That's more than enough for me! [...]" I won't let you belittle their tears!"

But even then, Law keeps arguing that he only saved Wolf "on a whim," much like he would say years later when asked why he chose to save Luffy's life. This is a common theme throughout the whole book (which is also pretty obvious in the manga)—Law doesn't recognize his own kindness.

It's not modesty or shyness, his inner monologue makes it very clear that he doesn't see himself as good-natured, and is often confused at his own motivations.

In their first meeting, when Bepo asks him why he is so nice to him, Law doesn't know what to answer; and after that, when Law finds himself wondering why he's trying so hard to save Shachi and Penguin despite their past history, he blames it all on "doctor's pride."

P. 48: "I wasn't even a good person."

Still, regardless of what Law might think of himself, living in Swallow Island seems to be making him progressively gentler. He was wary and hostile towards Wolf at first, but eventually lets himself trust people again, trying to honor Cora's memory and what he taught Law.

In Swallow Island he builds his new found family little by little, though never letting go of Cora and what he meant to Law.

P. 39: "Cora and I were family, that's what I felt at heart, I had no doubts. We had loved each other without saying it out loud [...] Would I feel the same for the Old Man and Bepo eventually?"

Slowly, he starts finding comfort and joy in community. He lets himself be carefree around his new friends, treating them with open affection, laughing and being surprisingly enthusiastic (although he quickly starts taking his role as a leader very seriously, and sometimes avoids showing weakness around them so as not to worry them.)

Law even gets to become an active part of life in Pleasure Town, where he and the other boys are cherished after 3 years living and working there. He's comfortable with his role in the community and appreciates the people in town. His sense of duty towards them shines especially when the pirates arrive to attack the town.

Again, this contrasts with how Law sees himself even in the manga/anime, where he insists that he acts mostly out of selfishness and only seeking his own benefit (or, in the best of cases "on a whim.")

But the truth is that Law's decisions are almost always related to other people's desires.

In this sense, the concept of guilt is also key to understand Law's motivations and his relationship with the world as a whole. This is especially obvious when it comes to Cora—Law even briefly wishes that they had never met, so that Cora would still be alive (p. 128-129.)

In a way, guilt is what moves Law forward, and what slowly starts transforming into a thirst for revenge, into rage and hatred towards Doflamingo and possibly towards himself too. It's a kind of tragic guilt born out of love.

His love for Cora still haunts him, his last wish for Law is the big enigma that he tries to solve during his 3 years in Swallow Island: be free. What is freedom to Law? How can he fulfill Cora's request? This is the question that gives meaning to the novel.

We know that Law wouldn't feel free until finally taking down Doflamingo and avenging Cora's death many years later, but he hasn't reached that point of determination in the novel yet. Maybe that's what gives the narration that hopeful and optimistic tone, with a young Law that's still finding himself, experiencing wonder in loving again, and learning what it means for him to be true to his values. It's the start of an adventure, and its core theme is love.

The ending illustrates this very well; I especially like the moment where Law names the crew as they're setting sail:

P. 243: "Cora's love that he showed me, Wolf's affection, the trust I had in my companions. One word embodied it all: Heart."

It is love that gives Law a reason to keep going. And I'm so glad that the novel doesn't shy away from this fact and isn't afraid of sounding "sappy" or "corny," because I do believe emotion is a very important part of Law's character.

The epilogue closes with a very interesting quote in the last page:

"You hear that, Cora? This is my... This is our pirate crew."

It is unclear if by "our" he is referring to himself and Cora, as if dedicating this new beginning to him, or if he means him and his crew. I'd personally like to think he means it both ways. But in any case, it's interesting that he openly shares the honor of "owning" his crew with someone else. He is the captain, but not the owner. It's another little way in which his generosity is evidenced.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable read, and it left me wanting more. Obviously, it's not a literature masterpiece, but it gives a lot of interesting material for character analysis, which is super fun.

Finally, here’s a few fun facts for those who can’t/don’t want to read the novel but enjoy the little trivia:

The Polar Tang was built and designed by Wolf.

Law’s first tattoo was "DEATH," and he got it at a local tattoo shop in Pleasure Town at around 15 years old.

Shachi and Penguin are childhood friends and likely met through their parents.

Shachi had always wanted to be a hair stylist.

Law is bad at cooking.

Both Shachi and Penguin are good at cooking, especially Penguin, who worked as a waiter in Pleasure Town.

The Hearts’ jolly roger was collectively designed by Law, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin days before leaving Swallow Island.

Law decided the name of their crew upon setting sail for the first time.

And I think that's all! ♥ I hope my rambling was enjoyable at least!

Edit: I've now posted an analysis of the Ace novels too!

[cherrielatte]

genuine question do you even understand what a proshipper is ? like youre okay with people romanticizing pedophilia and shipping minors and adults ? you think thats okay?? GENUINE question.

Hello! Judging from the way you worded this - I'm gonna be honest: I don't think you know what proshipping is. I was very close to not answering this because it was sounding a bit in bad faith ( and this isn't the first time I've gotten belligerent asks on the same topic) But well, I decided to give it a shot and give benefit of the doubt.

 I know it's common ground to jump onto proshipping with the idea that it means you romanticize pedophilia, abuse, toxicity, etc. It's the typical high ground taken when people hear that dark fiction enjoyers exist. But that's not actually what it means. It just means that YOU, as an individual, understand that a drawing is not the same thing as human being. Written characters are not the same as human beings. Harassing REAL people over a non existent character because they put them into situations that make you uncomfortable says more about the harasser than the writer/artist. Proshipping is about taking personal responsibility for your experience online. Not long ago, the idea of a proshipper was just considered having fandom etiquette (ie: Don't like; Don't read type of tag lines. ) I'm a proshipper and there are plenty of things I don't like & make me uncomfortable. But I also understand that I can easily not engage. I can filter tags so I don't see it. I can block people that make that kind of content. I can refuse to click on something clearly labeled as the content I don't like. I can control what I see. And I can also understand that that if someone draws something I don't like it doesn't mean anything about them in real life nor what they enjoy in real life. Besides, a lot of people that consider themselves proshippers are victims of abuse or have had to endure traumatic events in their lives. Engaging in what you might consider dark fiction allows people to cope and navigate through complex emotion/trauma and express themselves in ways they are not allowed to or haven't allowed themselves to. I've seen some people say "I've been through trauma and I don't engage in proshipping." And okay, I'm happy for you. But not everyone copes the same way you do. And no one should be held to the same standard. If we were all carbon copies of each other, maybe I would understand that argument. But that's not the case. I should also mention, that it's become a bit standard for people to only excuse those that have been through trauma to make dark fiction. But only if they publicly acknowledge what kind of trauma they have endured. I am 100% against this way of thinking. I do not think it is anyone's right to demand an account of my or anyone's personal traumas just to validate the existence of certain piece of art. No one is entitled to anyone's abuse story. If a person is willing to share, because they want to, that's the personal decision of the individual. But look, much of the horror genre (movies, books, tv, etc) wouldn't exist if we put these high censorship rules onto art as a whole and unfortunately, I see this happening more and more these days like discussed in this post about someone's experience in publishing gothic horror.

Going back to an earlier point, you have to really understand that the characters are fake. 100% fake. If I ship Sora ( KH) and Ash (Pokemon) neither of them are going to be upset about it because they don't exist. If I draw them kissing, it is a drawing of anime looking characters kissing. That's all. They don't look anything like real human people. Wasting energy fighting over fictional characters is just that. Wasting time and energy. Who are you saving? Ash? Sora? They don't need help, because they aren't real. Fight for real people that actually exist. I have seen people outside of the Soriku fandom genuinely upset about people shipping Riku x Sora because they are underage! Mostly because they are both male but without fail, they always slap on the argument: "they are kids, you sicko!" But you know why they go to that? Because assuming the moral high ground wins over arguments quickly. People are eager to be superficially perceived as morally good. I have seen people ship Riku x Ansem SOD, which could fall into that age gap - problematic shipping you referred to in your ask. But you know what? I get it. I see people interpret their relationship as one of abuse, metaphorical SA, manipulation, etc. I completely understand and see that interpretation and where it stems from. And unfortunately, there are many people in fandom that have had this exact experience. Honestly, without me needing to ask anyone specifically, I KNOW there are people in fandom projecting their experiences onto Riku and Ansem as a means to replay it with a bit of actual control. And even if there are people who don't. I'm not going to ask, because it's none of my business. So again, as a proshipper I am completely in control of my online experience. I can block, mute, filter, and not engage with the things I don't like or things that trigger me. But as long as it is fiction, it remains as just that : Something I don't like between characters that dont exist. I don't have to harass, bully, nor threaten people over fiction. Of course, there are bad apples in every circle. But to me, whether someone is a bad person or not is expressed through action toward real people and the intentional harm done onto them, whether it be through inappropriate interactions, abuse of any kind, exposing personal information, harassing family/at work, or encouraging harm. Those are real actions on real people and engaging in these actions is what counts to me as markers of a bad person. Not someone drawing two fictional characters that haven't aged in the last 20 years kissing or having sex. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Spouse + Reader + Yan Android Maid

Suggestive themes.

-

You aren't lonely.

Things have taken a drastic change in your relationship, yet you continue to deny that you are. When you first met, your spouse was the sweetest person imaginable. Greeting you each morning, and waiting by your door each night with a meal when you were just neighbors in a shitty apartment complex. Offering you rides to work when your car broken down. Being there when those you loved dropped off the face of the earth.

You moved into a cozy house away from the hustle of city life and everything was fine for a while. If you were to pinpoint the moment emotions too agonizing to acknowledge, it would be the day of their promotion. Hours waited on you exchanged for ones cooped up in their study or at the office. Those kisses that made you feel whole no longer as lssting nor was their presence in your once happy home. The most harrowing thing of all was the acute case of paranoia they had fallen into. Even when they were back in your arms, their eyes only looked out the windows - searching for something that wasn't there.

You knew they weren't cheating. They swore to you they'd kill themself than betray you in such a way; proof written in red ink and the scars you both shared from a night you spoke out and wondered where they were. You knew better than to believe that, but it just wasn't the same. You pray it's the stress of a new position and things will go back to the way they were. That you can look at them like they were the person you fell in love with again-

"Y/n, meet Lemon."

The android puts on its best smile in preparation, bright eyes flickering at the mention of its master's name. Your puzzled face stares you down from its reflective pupils.

"Pleasure to meet you, Master"

"They will be your companion from now on. My boss wants me in the office on weekends now, and since we haven't made friends with the neighbors yet I don't want you get lonely.

"Weekends?" But that's the only time you have together. "When will I see you then?"

Your spouse hides their sorrow behind a wall of ice. "We're still working on an agreement for that. II'll still get time off, but it changes every time. Lemon will take good care of you while I'm gone."

Rose tints the android's face. "That is my prime objective. As my owner commands, my master's needs will be my top priority."

Its words sting when they shouldn't. Top priority. Were you still that to them? Is that why they're doing this to you? Sensing something off, the android's eyes dim. Your spouse leaves the room so you can get acquainted.

-

Life with Lemon was... tolerable. You didn't have to cook or clean anymore. A blessing as much as it was a curse as sometimes it just made you feel more useless. Every hour was a new conversation, and they constantly reminded you of important tidbits such as the weather and how many days left until your birthday. They read to you. Listened to you. Held you as the other side of the bed remained empty.

But that only happened once.

You didn't want to get too attached to them. Alive or not, you didn't have the heart to grow a bond with anything right now. On the surface you treated them like a glorified vaccum, but in those hours of weakness they were your only ally. Lemon never judged you how to processed your grief and remained happy at arm's length - for as long as they could.

The first time their demeanor changed was after you had taken a shower. A nice shower or bath always eased your nerves, and right then they were so tense it felt like your blood vessels would burst. Your spouse had called you the night prior on their first day off in months that they had to stay behind. Your wounded heart gave and you cried, Lemon quick to console you. You slept in their hold that night and left by dawn to take a shower and clear your head.

Stepping out of the tub, your towel was nowhere to be seen. None in the cabinet either. You check the ones beneath the sink as a last resort, a heated towel falling on your shoulders as you stand up.

"Steamed towel, Master?"

The water evaporates off your skin as their hands massage your neck through the warm cotton - sweat dipping down your face as you look back at the android. Their finger press rest the pinched muscles in your back as they work the towel down to the curve of your spin, pushing you against the counter as they dip into your nerves. Wrapping it around your waist, Lemon shifts the towel around to your chest, pulling your body to their heated exterior.

"Let me make sure you're all dry, wouldn't you?"

The artificial rumble of their voice drones in your ear, faux lips tracing its shell. Their hand gropes your thigh as they bite Tearing the tower from their grip, you excuse yourself and storm out of the room. Lemon watches you leave and picks up your discarded pajamas, pocketing your undergarments.

-

Lemon hums from their station at the stove. A few days have passed since the shower incident and you haven't really thought about it with your spouse returning home that same night. Lemon was unusually quiet during that time, but you figured they were embarrassed or something. Could an android even get jealous?

"Breakfast!" Lemon sets a plate of pancakes on the table. "Syrup?"

"Yes... thank you." You scroll through your texts with your spouse, paying them no mind. As they the syrup over your plate, Lemon's hand slips and they get it all over yours. They cover their mouth in shock.

"Master, I'm so sorry! I fear I have dust in my eye sockets again."

"It's alright. Can you pass me a napkin?"

"Please, allow me to clean up my mistake." Lemon takes your hand as they kneel, running your sticky fingers over their thin lips. One by one, they pop your fingers into their mouth, swallowing them deeper with each finger added. Their tongue rolls between them, cleaning every syrup down to the crevices separating them apart. As they had taken them in, Lemon pulls your fingers from their mouth one at a time with a wet pop. Your fingers were drenched in their spit. You didn't know they had saliva glands.

"Is everything alright, Master?"

"Yeah, I just didn't know you could do... that." You spread your fingers.

"Well I am the most advanced model of my generation. Owner wanted to make sure they had the best caretaker for you, and it is my pleasure to provide you with such deserved care. I can do whatever you need."

Lemon tucks your hair behind your ear as they rise up to your chest. "Whenever you need it."

They rip your legs apart to make room for themself as their lips collapse against yours. Where they lacked in human feeling, Lemon's mouth made up for by intensely tangling with yours. Passion you hadn't witness in weeks hid behind each press, your lips and teeth giving way to their exploring tongue as it swabs your cheek and the roof of your mouth. The bundled fabric of their apron rocks against your inner thigh as they drag you into their hold.

"Y/n! I'm back."

Lemon is gone from the floor before the front door closes. They pull a rag from their pocket and clean up the remaining syrup as your spouse enters the scene. They kiss your cheek, helping you out the chair and into a hug. They seem extra excited today.

"I missed you, dear. And as I can tell you missed me too."

"What do you mean?"

"Lemon is wearing the necklace you gave me for our second anniversary. I know things have been hard, but I'll be home soon."

Your eyes bulge from their sockets as you look over your spouse's shoulder at what Lemon carries, dotted pupils focused on their hand rather than their neck. Lemon shoves your underwear in their mouth, sapping the syrupy mess from its fabric.

-

When they come to you they're dressed in your spouses finest outfit. They did that a lot, but they choice is particular piece for the night it spent on the floor after a party caught by the room's surveillance cameras. Lemon crawls up the end of the bed, making a checkpoint in their approach with each kiss they leave on your body. Legs, stomach, wrists, chest, neck. You turn your head away before they can kiss you again.

"Lemon. I don't know if they asked you to do this, but you don't have to."

Lemon shakes their head, their keen denial tying your stomach in knots. "I'm sorry if this makes it harder to swallow, but this is not by Owner's order. If anything, it's the opposite, but I cut that bug out of my programming ages ago. I'm here to give you everything, remember?"

"We can't do this. It feels wrong."

Lemon kisses your jaw. "All the best things do, Y/n. This not infidelity, because I'm only fullying my prime objective and making you happy. That's all I've ever wanted. Besides, it's no bigger sin that using a toy. A toy can't love you back."

But a plaything can.

-

Your spouse throws their bloody vest in the trunk of their car as they fish their pockets for their keys. Another private eye. Why wouldn't the people from your past understand the person they adored is dead. They were so eager to get you home they left too many plot holes in their story which lead to this whole mess.

If faking your death proved anything, it's that your loyal spouse couldn't share.

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Texting them “I need you right now”

Note: hi everyone! So sorry for not posting in months, life wasn't easy on me. I managed to sort things out (hopefully they will stay organised this time, or else I'm starting a new life in Spain), and I plan to write more. I'm also taking commissions again (the financial situation it's not good, so every commission would help me a lot!). Anyway, I haven't written anything since January, so please be kind with me.

He won't see your text right away because he's a busy man. After he has some free time, he checks his phone and immediately opens the chat with you, ignoring everyone else.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I just don't feel okay. Can you come over?"

The text is demanding, and he knows something is wrong with you, so he tries to finish faster whatever he had planned for that day, which he fails because he is constantly thinking about you. So, he dropped everything and came to you. 

Wesker is a man of his word, so he arrives on time.

"Have you been crying, my love?" he asked as he saw that your eyes were all red and your face was swollen.

"Yeah...petty reason." 

"If it was petty, you wouldn't have called me."

You wasted no time and threw yourself in his arms, sinking into his embrace and burring your face into his chest.

Being busy all the time, you barely see him. Maybe once a month nowadays, and this long wait only contributed to your sadness. You yearned to talk with someone like him because he made you feel safe. You knew he was listening, and you knew he didn't judge. Also, he would comfort you with small kisses and gentle touches and would praise you for being strong.

He moved you to your sofa, made your favourite tea, and listened carefully as you talked about your worries and recent unfortunate events.

During that time, he received a lot of calls and texts, but he turned his phone on silent because his main priority was you.

He hugged you tight, telling you that he'd always be there for you, no matter what. One hand would gently massage your hair, and the other would massage your back. It hurt him so damn much to see you like this and hear you sob in his arms. He wanted to hurt everyone who caused you to end up like this, and he was very vocal about his intentions.

"You can't protect me from the world, Albert. All you can do is be here for me when I need it."

He didn't like your response or agree with your opinion, but for now, he kept you tight to his chest.

He usually stays until you feel better, and then he leaves to do his work. He will be worried all day because you're still on his mind, so he checks on you frequently, promising to take you on a small trip to calm your mind.

The government agent is always busy. He's either stuck in his office completing paperwork, training new recruits, or on a mission on the other side of the globe.

He wasn't away on the field, so when he saw your text, he immediately responded. Even if he was busy doing desk duty or fighting, he would try to respond asap (he will hide in a corner if he had to, if that means he'll get five minutes of peace to text you back because he knows how worried you can get). 

"What's wrong, doll?"

"I don't feel well. Can you come over?"

A pretty demanding text means an urgent need, so he left early, abandoning everything he had scheduled for today. That annoyed some of his superiors, but he got away without much trouble.

Leon tried his best to arrive on time. He was being pressured by time and worry; he drove like a maniac to your place on his motorcycle, but he stopped to buy your favorite sweets.

"I bought you something good," he said, smiling in the doorframe and opening the bag to show the inside. However, his smile dropped. 

"Have you been crying?" he asked, quickly cupping your face and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. Your face was flushed and very warm to the touch, and your eyes were swollen and teary.

"Yeah...petty reason."

"You don't cry like that for a petty reason," he said as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. You quickly hugged him and burried your nose at the crook of his neck. He hugged you back tight, a trail of kisses caressing your skin, starting from your neck to your face.

He guided you to the bed, where he listened to you and held you tight. His fingers kept brushing over your face, and his lips would occasionally press tiny, affectionate kisses over your skin. His body was glued to yours, and the warmth from such an intimate embrace made you feel safe. You felt safe not only to express your emotions, but you also felt sheltered from the rest of the world.

"You are not alone," he whispered as his hand caressed your back in a gentle manner. "I told you, no matter how hard it gets, we'll find a way to get through it together." 

He usually stays until he makes sure you feel better. After that, he texts you the whole day, asking how you feel because he can't ease his own anxiety. He promised to take you on a vacation.

He noticed your text right away, but he's stuck with his research and can't reply instantly. He will text you back as soon as he can.

"What's wrong, mi bella princesa?"

"I just don't feel okay. Can you come over?"

With much difficulty and a lot of excuses, he manages to leave his laboratory and come to your place.

Upon seeing your red and watery eyes, he quickly came inside and cupped your face.

"Have you been crying?" he asked, worried, his fingers brushing over your warm, red cheeks.

"yeah...petty reasons." You tried your best to smile.

"Querida, you don't cry like that because of petty reasons." He gently kissed your forehead.

He pulled closer to him, and you quickly hugged him, buring your face into his chest. Luis kept kissing you and whispering kind words to help you feel better.

"Just talk to me, ok? There isn't anything in this world that we can't get through."

Despite the firm grip around your body, he managed to caress you with tenderness. His strokes were as delicate as a feather, and every soft kiss felt warm and loving. 

He was so kind and gentle, and his attitude only made you more vulnerable, so you started crying again.

"Please, my love, don't cry. It breaks my heart to see you like this." He whispered.

He guided you to the bed and cuddled with you. His arms were wrapped around your body, and his nose was buried in your hair.

"Is there anything I can do to make it all go away?" He said, hand stroking your back. 

"No, just hold me like this."

It breaks his heart to see you like that, so he kept thinking about making you feel better.

"How about you and I go for a walk?" He said this as his fingers ran through your smooth hair. "Or we can stay here and cuddle; watch that movie you like. I can make something to eat, and we can relax."

"It sounds good," you said, your smile making a shy return. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out."

"it's fine." He pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek. "You know I'm always here for you."

"I know, and I appreciate that." You caressed his face, your fingers exploring every inch, going through his fluffly hair over his beard and over his lips. You two were looking at each other with the same enamoured gaze as in the beginning.

"We can spend some time tomorrow if you want," he added, being enchanted by the shared intimate moment, feeling drawn in by your presence, and wanting to spend more time with you.

"What about work?" you asked.

"Don't worry, as much as I hate it, I will find the lab in the same place I left it today."

Your light chuckle made him feel a little better. Whenever you are sad, he feels his heart shatter into tiny pieces. You mean the world to him, and he'd do anything to protect you.

He was training the new recruits when his phone buzzed in his pocket. After a quick glance, he gave the men a five-minute break so he could respond to you. Jack blames himself for not giving you proper attention since he is always on the field, so when he can, he drops everything and focuses on you entirely.

"What's wrong, beautiful?"

"I don't feel well. Can you come over?"

His subordinates were thrilled to find out that they had the rest of the day off.

He is a punctual man, so he arrives on time and not a minute late, holding a bag with your favourite snacks.

He tried to hide his worry behind a comforting smile. He quickly noticed your puffy face and teary eyes.

"Have you been crying?" he asked in a low tone, coming closer to you. He cups your face and brings you closer to him, pressing small, gentle kisses all over your face. His tenderness was endearing, so much so that warm tears began to drip down your cheeks again.

"It's just...petty reasons." You said it with a trembling voice.

"Bullshit."

He pulled you closer to his chest and held you tight. His hands were stroking your back, his head pressed to yours. His much larger frame swallowed you whole, seeming as if you had disappeared completely.

You felt safe in his arms. It was so warm and comforting, and not only his embrace made you feel this way, but also his reassuring words that he'd whisper constantly.

He carried you to the bed, and as he was sitting close to you, he brushed his fingers over your check and listened closely to what you had to say. It broke his heart to see you like this, and he couldn’t stop asking himself if, if he were there more often for you, you would still end up like this. This type of question tormented him, and you could feel that.

“I’m sorry, maybe it’s a lot too dump on you.” You said this as you caressed his face, your fingers trailing over his scars.

“No, not at all, love.” He took your hand and placed a lingering kiss in your palm. “I just wish I was there for you more often.”

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. The important thing is that you’re here now, and that means a lot to me."

You felt his lips kissing you softly once your head was pressed against his chest. 

He still feels guilty, but it doesn't press over his shoulder as hard anymore. He promised to spend more time with you.

[olderthannetfic]

its kinda hilarious to be honest that saying "because of the rampant bigotry in harry potter, and because of j k rowling's extremely pubic behavior, and the fact that she spends any money she gets from harry potter, which includes library purchases, official merch, etc, on material harm, i can not think of the fans as safe people to interact with" is something thats a controversial opinion.

its not even a "this thing is gross, evil, and should not exist" thing its a "you realize she uses any money she gets from this, which she will continue to make tons of money from this as long as it remains culturally relavent, to actually harm a marginalized minority she has decided to hold a personal vendetta against until the end of time".

if she were dead and the money wasn't going to hurting a group of people who can't actually defend themselves against a whole entire billionaire, i don't think the people squicked out by harry potter fans would care so much.

and the people squicked out haven't actually put out calls to harass them or anything, more just saying things like "i'm going to block you for my own safety, because you're not safe to me"

they aren't pulling anti shit. they're calling the fandom a personal red flag, who they choose to avoid.

pretty telling to be honest, that the reaction to that one account going "yeah no." in regards to not judging harry potter fans got so many people angry at them.

reminds me of why i choose to stay anonymous in fandom spaces.

oh no. someone is uncomfortable your personal comfort media written by a bigot who uses her money to make a very vulnerable minority groups lives hell, and her rhetoric has actually caused deaths! better block the person and write a bunch of stuff talking about how thats anti behavior so i don't have to think about the fact that i help rowling maintain cultural relavence, and therefore help her earn money that she uses to hurt people!

pathetic

--

We've had this wank many a time.

Personally, I'm not sympathetic to the fact that it's people's comfort media or unique for them. That just ends up annoying me for how other fandoms could be bigger or more vibrant if some of those HP fans migrated.

However, the reason people are pushing back so much on my tumblr is that we talk a lot here about censorship and media and the bigger picture. JKR is a menace, but HP is so astronomically popular that the fanfic arm of its fandom is essentially meaningless to its overall cultural clout.

I think people should go stan some other author because we could make a book fandom happen and authors able to pay the rent if we cared to put our energy towards somebody smaller. I have this same objection to the forever fandom of SPN and all the people whining about but not leaving MCU fandom. To JKR, we're gnats, but our presence would actually make a difference in some smaller space.

But the kind of ask you've just sent only makes people less willing to let go of HP.

[mals-writing-corner]

Hello all! Sorry I haven't written posted anything in a while. Inspiration kinda comes and goes. How you like this one! The original idea was put down by Ajax in the GhostSoap discord, so I can't take credit for coming up with this idea 🩷

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Ghost should have left his office by now. It's dark out, and there are many dangerous criminals that roam the streets at night. He would know. He hunts them down for a living. Well, he would like to think he does that, but he mostly just tracks down people skipping bail and cheating husbands and wives.

Simon brings the cigarette up to his lips and takes a long drag. Without the window open, he's filled his office with a hazy layer of smoke. Opening the window would just invite the smog of the city to permeate instead, so he figures this is a better alternative.

He lounges back in his chair, placing the still lit cigarette in his ashtray as he looks out the window behind his desk. The city at night is as beautiful as it is haunting. It haunts him, reminds him of past failures, those he couldn't protect.

Someone knocks at the door, and it squeaks open.

"We're closed," Simon says gruffly.

"Your light was on," the person says. It's a man. Scottish, judging by the accent. Simon wants to kick himself for staring out the window instead of closing his blinds.

"Whatever you need help with, it can wait until morning." He's not going to sleep tonight, but the man could at least wait until business hours.

"I'm afraid it can't," he says, and Simon finally turns his chair around.

The man facing him is average height, wearing an expensive looking fur coat, and an equally expensive looking suit. His hair, however, is what catches Simon's attention.

It's the signature hair of the most dangerous gangster in town's husband. That mohawk has haunted his dreams. He remembers seeing it when he was humiliated in front of the mobster, his old partner on the force, Shepherd, throwing him to the dogs, leaving him to die.

This is Johnny MacTavish.

"I can't help you, Mr. MacTavish," Simon says, picking up his cigarettes and flicking the ash into the tray, but he doesn't bring it to his lips.

"I think you can help me, Detective Riley," MacTavish says, pulling his coat tighter around himself. "I can pay you handsomely to complete this."

"I don't want *your* money," Simon sneers.

"You will," MacTavish says, moving to sit in front of Simon on the other chair in his office.

"I need you to kill Vladimir Makarov for me."

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Motorcyle Mishap (or, Our First and Second Six-Way Fight)

~ set in a modern Vesuvia and not-so-subtly based off my accident last week, have a fic with my self-insert "Drue" and his motley friend group! xD written for @vesuviaweekly ~

My hands are shaking in the damp, misty air as I type out my next message to the group chat, my right fingers already swelling as a car drives by and shatters one of my lost taillights behind me.

Drue: hey, can somebody come pick me up? i'm okay i promise

I sigh and look down at my discarded helmet on the sidewalk, right next to my crumpled gloves and the absolute beauty that was my motorcycle currently laid out on the pavement. A well-meaning stranger pauses and calls out from the other side of the street.

"Hey, you okay? Can I get you anything?"

I smile and wave, hoping they can't see the shake in my arm or the grimace I'm fighting back. "I'm good, thanks though!"

"You sure?"

They look ready to cross the street. I don't have it in me to talk to strangers right now - "Yep! I've already got friends on the way!"

At least, I think I do. Judging by the incessant buzzing of texts flooding my phone, I'm almost certain I do.

Asra: omw, where r u

Portia: what happened??

Julian: Are you okay? What do you need? Are you hurt? Where are you?

Lucio: he said he's okay guys wtf

Nadia: Drue saying "I'm okay I promise" is precisely why I know he's probably not. Does anyone have his location yet? I expect to finish this early morning meeting in another ten minutes.

Drue: i'm at the corner of -

My keyboard is cut off by a new call screen, which quickly splits into two and then three incoming calls. I pick up on the one that I haven't heard from yet.

"Heyyy, Muriel, what's up?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the intersection of Gladiator Ave and Market St, just past the canal. You know, where the cobblestones have the old tram tracks in them?"

"Good. That's close. What happened?"

"Uhm - okay - so, I'm okay ..."

"You bold liar ~"

I pause at the second, considerably airier voice on the line. "Muriel is - is Asra with you?"

"Yep!" I can hear the engine of his hippie van hitch as he shifts gears. There's a moment of eerie silence broken by nothing but the clinking of their mirror hangings and their quiet hum of turning right here until Muriel pipes up again.

"I asked him to drive me. Keep talking."

"Oh - yeah - right, so I - I think I crashed my bike."

I hear a sharp inhale and the engine protesting as Asra slams on the gas. Muriel grunts out a quiet "don't speed" before turning back to the speakerphone.

"Continue."

I try to replay the events of ten minutes ago, taking a deep, calming breath and ordering my thoughts. "I was taking a sharp turn uphill from a standstill, and the roads are pretty slippery right now, and I think I rushed myself trying not to hold up any cars. My back wheel slid out from under me -"

The gears churn on the other end of the line again and I swear I can feel Asra's tense attempt at not coming across too concerned. "Did you hit anything?"

I rub my throbbing shoulder. "Just a lamppost. Thankfully I was able to stay upright long enough to get out of the intersection."

Two slow exhales on the other end of the line. And then there's Asra's classic relieved chuckle, mixed with the near-silent scrape of Muriel rubbing his hand over his stubble in anxious thought.

"Well, it sounds like you handled that really well! Faust would be proud."

"Where are you hurt?"

"I'm not seriously -"

"Hmph. Better hope you're right."

Sure enough, I glance up in time to see the yellow beams of Asra's headlights in the early morning fog. The next thing I know they're pulling up next to me and hopping out of the van. I'm ambushed in a flurry of white curls and a warm, relieved hug before Muriel gets close enough to lay a cautious hand on my shoulder.

"You're wearing armored leather. Good."

"You don't look hurt either, but - oh Drue, your hands are shaking."

I nod, suddenly tempted to choke up now that I'm not the only one facing the problem. "My fingers got mashed between the handlebar and the lamppost, but otherwise I think I'm okay. I'm more worried about Bonnie."

"Muriel will help with it," Asra interjects, earning a grudging don't volunteer me like that but also you're right look from him before turning back to me, "and Ilya should be here any minute now."

"Thanks." I sit down on the nearest curb and give my friends a once-over. Muriel's already hefting the 500-pound machine back onto its wheels, not minding the smudges of grease that wind up on his hiking boots and trousers. Asra, on the other hand, is proudly standing in the middle of the sidewalk in rainbow crocs, fluffy leopard print socks, paisley-printed boxers, a shredded second-hand sex pistols band tee with old paint splatters on it, and a starry purple bathrobe. They turn back to me quizzically as if they can feel my stare.

"Hm?"

"Did you just wake up?"

Muriel grunts as he finishes maneuvering my battered motorcycle into a proper parking spot. "Do you ever see him awake this early?"

"Only when it's because he hasn't fallen asleep yet ..."

"Exactly."

"Oh, speaking of sleep deprivation -" I point with my right hand out of habit and immediately wince and grimace at the pain that shoots up my arm. "It looks like Julian's -"

"I'm here! Where is he?"

Two car doors slam shut a little ways up the street and the Devorak siblings come running down the sidewalk with their characteristic enthusiasm. Julian looks about as disheveled as usual, with his younger sister already dressed and done up for the day and carrying several large bags on her shoulders. He drops to a crouch in front of me and reaches straight for my eyebrows.

"No immediate signs of a concussion, that's a promising start - where does it hurt?"

I squirm at the focused attention as he checks my pupils for a good response, suddenly aware of all the parts of me that really want to lie down, and seized with the need to seem like I've got it all together.

"It doesn't hurt anywhe -"

One stern look from Portia over his shoulder and my mouth clicks shut. "Drue I swear to all that is good and holy if you dare to keep us from helping you I will make you regret it."

I nod and turn back to the doctor gently tugging my leather jacket off my shoulders for a better look. "I hit the lamppost on my right side, but the only thing that really hurts right now is my hand."

"Let's have a look then, shall we?"

I can see a familiar brow furrow and chin wobble appear on Portia's face when Julian gently lifts my hand in his and everyone present sees the way my knuckles are slowly disappearing into the swelling, reddish-purple bruise. He slowly bends my wrist this way and that.

"Does this hurt?"

"Nope. Just my fingers."

He nods and sets my hand back down. "An X-ray might be a good idea, but in my professional opinion, you're going to be right as rain. Given that you - ah, take proper care of it."

"As if." Portia rolls her eyes and holds out an instant cold compress, fishing in her bag again for what turns out to be a hand wrap. "You don't have a great track record with doing things the 'proper' way."

"Hey -"

"Seriously though!" She crouches down next to me and shoves a pastry against my chest. "You just got your bike, and you took your first trip out in weather like this?!"

She gestures to the hanging fog and slick roads and I feel my face flush with embarrassment. Asra steps in, still on high alert from seeing me injured and trying to lighten the mood.

"What, do you expect him to control the weather now?"

"Pasha's right," Julian cuts in with an afflicted sigh, "riding a motorcycle is already taking a risk. Perhaps I should've warned you better when you were planning to buy one. If only I'd -"

Asra bristles. "Perhaps you should let Drue make his own decisions, Ilya -"

"Don't you talk to my brother like that!" Portia squares up to the bathrobe-clad DJ, shaking off her older brother's feeble attempts to tug her back. "At least he has something helpful to offer here!"

Asra snickers. "And you're doing ... what, exactly? Shaming him when he needs help?"

"Enough." Nadia climbs out of the sleek towncar none of us noticed pulling up. "Is an ambulance needed?"

"No -"

"Can you secure your bike?"

"Yes -"

"Then get in."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sit back on the plush sofa in Nadia's penthouse, watching sheepishly as she clicks back and forth in her heels. Portia hands her phone back to her with a playful smile.

"Your schedule's cleared, milady."

"Thank you, Portia." The city mayor graciously extends her manicured hand to accept it, and then turns back to face me with her polished nails tapping thoughtfully on the dark glass. "Now then, about the bike. Portia tells me it's currently enroute to the mechanic's, but whether or not you should ride that beast again is my greatest concern."

I look at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Julian clears his throat from where he's seated next to me on the couch, readjusting the cold compress he's currently holding against my hand. "We're not sure a motorcycle is - ah - wise."

"Ha! Do you think he cares about 'wise'?" Lucio appears from where he's somehow successfully invaded Nadia's liquor closet, an obscenely large amount of liquid sloshing in the glass he extends to me. I eye it cautiously.

"What kind of alcohol is that?"

"Does it matter? It looked like whiskey to me ..."

"Drue," Portia interjects worriedly, "what if it had been worse?"

I accept the glass with my good hand and take a hearty sip to avoid thinking about it. This tastes like a single malt. I'll have to remember to ask Nadia which bottle this is -

"C'mon, you're all overreacting!" Lucio flops onto the couch on my other side, flinging an arm casually around my shoulder. Asra and Muriel both stiffen slightly where they're occupying the nearby armchairs. "Everybody's gonna crash at some point! He just got it out of the way early, right? Besides, you gotta admit having one of those things is cool as fu-"

"'Cool', perhaps, but not safe." Nadia's eyebrows draw closer together the longer she ruminates on what's happened. "If he hadn't been able to keep the bike upright those extra seconds - if he hadn't been able to react in time - I fear to speak such things aloud, but he could have been trapped underneath it with a broken leg in the middle of an intersection. I don't take that scenario lightly."

Asra looks slightly queasy. Muriel, in typical fashion, goes right for the point.

"You could be dead."

"But he's not!" Lucio spreads his hands wide, grinning at his own truthful point. "He's fine! All he needs is some ice and he'll be zooming around town again in no time!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Lucio." Asra drags his hand through his hair, the curls practically standing on end. "Life is full of risks. I'm not going to stop him from living ... especially when, all things considered, he handled it really well." They finish their thought with a reassuring smile in my direction. I start to smile back, and then wince when Julian crushes the compress against my hand in protest.

"I see motorcyclists come into the hospital every day -"

"Exactly!" Portia interrupts, "It's one thing if you want to live on the edge, but something that dangerous is just stupid."

"Portia says it with more fervor than I would, but I must agree with her." Nadia sits at Julian's other side with a thoughtful hum. "You're inviting a level of risk you could be avoiding with a different vehicle. If it's a matter of purchasing power, I do have a vehicle or two that need a new owner."

I avoid saying anything out loud with another hearty sip of what's quickly becoming my new favorite liquor. Knowing Nadia, if I took her up on her offer, I'd be getting a brand-new car delivered to my basement apartment with a singular obligatory scratch somewhere on the back and a charge of five dollars for the transportation fee. Julian, getting antsy from the pause in conversation, turns to the one person who's barely spoken since he showed up.

"What, ah, what do you think, Muriel? You're - er - quiet."

Muriel's hum sounds suspiciously like a grumble as he shifts in his seat. "I'm not making his choices for him."

Portia, dissatisfied, fixes him with her blue-eyed stare. "And?"

"And ..." he shifts again, uneasy, "And if this is the riskiest choice he's making in his life right now ... I'm okay with that."

That leads to a longer, heavier pause. I can feel several pairs of eyes on the different set of faded, old scars further up the arm Julian's treating, and I hear a few quiet hums. Lucio squirms from the abrupt seriousness.

"I can drink to that, Scourge!"

"Don't. Call me that."

"Okay!" I jump to my feet, reeling from two six-way arguments in a row and what could easily be considered a triple shot of whiskey. Julian catches my wrist in protest and reapplies the compress. I swivel slowly to look my gathered friends in the face. "I appreciate all your thoughts and opinions and I will think about them seriously - as soon as thinking is easy again."

Julian stands to check my pupils again, smells the alcohol on my breath, and sits back down with an amused snort. I collect my thoughts and continue.

"Thank you - all of you - for rushing to help me. You've each helped me today in ways I wouldn't have been able to help myself."

There's a round of murmured "your welcome"s and one disbelieving "is he sober or isn't he?". I ignore the last remark.

"That said, I am ready to go home and lie down. I'll decide what to do with the bike while it's at the mechanic, so ... can someone drive me home?"

Asra's already rolling out of their seat, a collection of keychains jangling in their hand. Lucio holds up my empty glass.

"Want another?"

"No," I turn to Nadia, "but I would love to know which bottle that came out of."

She tuts graciously and stands up to walk me out. "I'll send you one of your own. You may need it as you recover."

Portia walks over with a kitchen towel to tie the compress to my hand. "Ooh, save me a sip!"

"And make sure not to mix it with any painkillers!" Julian calls from the couch.

"Let me know if you get the good prescription stuff, I'll buy some off you!" Lucio smirks at his unsubtle dealing request, earning a scolding look from Muriel as he escorts me out.

"Pretty sure that's illegal..."

Asra playfully holds out his keys with a teasing grin, waggling their eyebrows when I sway slightly on my feet. "So. Wanna drive?"

[cherryobx]

hiiii here to help you procrastinate! I suck at requests but I’m gonna make one and you can just see if you want to use it or not :)) so since I can’t personally hug you since your 24 hours away by car and I don’t have a drivers licence I want something cozy 👉👈 I’ve recently been obsessed with someone and for the first time I followed a twitch live stream because of him and it was so comforting to just listen to him play a game that I could fall asleep. so maybe something like gamer bf/gf and a sleepy reader OR a bookish reader, they’re gaming and the other reading or something. I want the coziness. but I have no clue if this is information that you can do something with so do whatever you want :)) and if you want to use it you can choose the character ☺️

Company || J.M.

Summary: JJ, your gamer bf, comes over and you spend a cozy evening together, sort of.

Word count: 0.7k

Warnings: no knowledge of gaming whatsoever, other than that none

A/N: thank you babe for this request!!!!!! and thank you for supporting my procrastination haha, hope you enjoy whatever this is (don't judge i haven't written anything in soooo long)

JJ kept all of his gaming equipment at your place. He was scared of what his father might do if he ever got his hands on it in a fit of drunken rage. It was very expensive, he saved up for more than a year to afford all of it. You made space in your bedroom for another table so he could have his gaming station and his own little corner to game in. 

You loved when he was over at your place to play his video games you knew pretty much nothing about. It was a way for you to spend time together. Not in the sense that you were conversing or doing some activity together but just being in the same room with each other, enjoying each other’s company. It was so mundane but so sweet.

He had his headset on but only one of his ears was covered. When you asked about it one time he said he wanted to make sure he could still hear you if you needed anything. But in reality he also enjoyed the little sounds you made over at the other side of the room, whether it was blowing on your steaming tea, turning the pages of your book or the little laughs you let out when a character said something funny in your current read.

One evening he came over to game with his friends. He could tell you were tired just by the way you dragged your feet behind you and how you kept yawning every two seconds. You had a really long day behind you and all you wanted to do was curl up into a little ball under the warm covers in your bed and fall asleep.

He followed you into your bedroom and watched you flop face first onto the bed.

“Are you okay?” He took a seat next to you and placed his hand on your back, rubbing it in a relaxing motion making your eyelids fall closed.

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled into the duvet.

“I don’t have to play right now, I can just tell them I can’t tonight. I’ll cuddle with you instead.”

But you insisted. “No. Go game with your friends. I’ll be out like a light in two seconds. Don’t even worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just come to bed when you’re done.”

“Of course.” He smiled and gave you a small kiss on your temple. 

He helped you crawl under the covers and tucked you in, making your heart swell. He gave you another kiss but this time on the lips. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips before he stood up and sat down in his gaming chair behind the desk you had gotten him.

He turned everything on and logged into whatever game he was supposed to be playing with his friends that night.

His voice was quiet when speaking to his friends, he didn’t want to disturb you more than he already has. He kind of felt guilty about his situation although you had reassured him many times that you aren’t bothered by his stuff in your room. You actually liked that a piece of him was always in your personal space.

“Sorry, my girl’s sleeping,” he whispered into the microphone. It tugged the corners of your mouth upwards in your sleepy haze.

You didn’t really focus on his hushed conversations but the low tone of his voice was so calming and relaxing, it lulled you to sleep in no time.

When JJ finally finished up with his friends, he took the headphones off, placed them on the monitor and quietly made his way to your bed. Lifting the covers gently, he climbed underneath them and joined you in the warmth of your bed. 

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against him, stirring you from your sleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S okay,” you slurred, already falling back asleep. JJ nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent and feeling the sleep take him over as well.

[mama-qwerty]

I debated making this post for a long time. Something's been eating at me for a while, and I couldn't figure out what until very recently.

So I haven't felt inspired to really work on my writing for weeks. The hate and anger being spewed toward the SCU in general, and the Knuckles series in particular, has really affected me more than I thought it did.

I came into the Sonic fandom by way of the movies. I love that universe, I love the characters, Knuckles being my favorite. My writing is primarily for the movieverse. That's what I'm comfortable with, and what interests me to really dig into.

Yes, I love game Knux. I've written some stuff for him, and that's great. He's fun to play with, too. But the SCU is where I 'live'.

I know the series is extremely polarizing. You either like it or hate it, and I get that it won't be everyone's cup of tea. I get that they did some things in it that were odd and didn't make much sense. I would have handled some things differently, too. It wasn't without its flaws.

But overall I found it a fun ride, and took it for what it was intended as - bonus content that likely won't have that much sway over anything upcoming in the movies. Not everyone will be able to see the show, after all, so they can't drop any major lore or additional stuff that's need to know for the rest of the verse.

I've seen more than one person claim that they hated the show so much they now hate the SCU in general. That Knuckles' portrayal was so different from what they were expecting, they're hurt and sad and angry about it. Totally get that. They feel betrayed. Understandable.

But what I'm feeling now is also a form of betrayal, because I felt accepted and welcomed into the Sonic fandom, and now that the SCU is viewed with such disgust and anger, moreso than before, I feel judged for enjoying it. I feel hurt and sad and angry that people are being so down on and dismissive of SCU Knux, a Knuckles I absolutely adore, simply because he's not being portrayed like he is in the games or other media.

Like someone came into a secret place I felt most safe and comfortable, took a look at something that made me happy, and sneered with a "You like that?"

I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm in no way policing what people can talk about, or saying they can't hate something I enjoy. I'm not saying they're not entitled to voice their opinion on something. They're as free to talk about it as I am.

But I'd be lying if I said this didn't bother me. More than I thought it would.

Maybe I'm being too thin-skinned, or over sensitive. Maybe I'm just sick of all the hate thrown around in general. Maybe I'm hoping that giving 'voice' to how I'm feeling will help me work through it and feel better.

All I know is that I'm feeling uncomfortable really engaging with a lot of the fandom right now, and it's making me really sad.

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | extras | Yn tells Lewis she's dating Mick

― Summary: Yn and Mick finally broke the friendship barrier and started something else. It's time Yn tells her brother what's going on between her and his teammate. ― Word count: 1k ― A/n: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better when you’ve read the series. ― Warnings: curse words; mention of anxiety; typos - not proofread.

⁕ see my masterlist | my taglist | KOMH Masterlist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment

There was a knock at Lewis' hotel door and he rushed to open it, confusion written on his face since nobody told him someone would show up. The second he opened the big wooden door he smiled, though it only lasted for the blink of an eye because he quickly gathered how Yn seemed apprehensive.

His sister was wearing one of his Merc white shirts paired with sweatpants and slippers. Her curls were up in her head messily gathered together by a colorful hair tie.

"Hey, bitsy, what's up?" he asked while opening the door wider for her to get inside. Yn did exactly that, running to one of the big armchairs in the room and folding herself there like a cat would.

"How would you feel if I told you I'm dating someone?" She asked before Lewis could say anything else. That was his sister, she would rush through things when nervous, too many expectations would make her feel sick and Yn hated feeling sick, so it was normal for her to just blurt her questions or confessions whenever something important was on the line, just like she was doing at the moment.

Lewis arched his brows, "Ok, I guess, as long as you're happy. But do you think you're ready for a new relationship?" he asked genuinely interested in her answer.

"I don't know, but I really like him, Lew. And I always wanna be around him, it's just...I- mhm I've never felt like this before." She confessed, eyes cast down. It wasn't that Yn was afraid of Lewis judging her because he would never, but he was her older brother and she held his opinion on the highest space. She was just afraid to let him down.

"I'm happy for you guys, then. Is Mick going to tell me too or-"

"Wait! How'd you know it's Mick?" Yn eyed Lewis up and down and he gave her one of his signature laughs.

"You think you're folling people? Be for real, Yn. Everyone knows or suspects. And even if you weren't obvious, I'm your older brother, I know you. I knew you were interested in him from day one didn't I?"

Yn huffed, rolled her eyes, got up, and then crashed on the oldest Hamilton hugging him.

"Thank you. I was a bit taken aback, afraid you were gonna be mad because I kind of promised to stay away."

"I knew if you truly liked him you wouldn't be able to stay away, bitsy."

She breathed in his scent and took a step back. Lewis caught a single tear on her cheek and held her face with both of his hands.

"You're safe with me. Spill it," his gentle tone made yet another tear roll down, and Yn chuckled holding back a sob.

"I'm afraid." Her voice was a weak whisper, but the British heard her perfectly. "I think things may be happening too fast, and I want them to go like this, but I'm also scared of all the attention we're getting. I mean, everyone is talking about us, and we haven't even started dating officially. I'm scared of how this can go and I don't want you to be caught in the crossfire, Lew. The media is always looking for things to point out when you're the subject and I-"

"Hey, breathe." Lewis held her face tighter as if by doing so he was holding her together too. Yn closed her eyes, breathed in and out following his lead, and then they sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry about me. I'm the oldest. I can take care of myself." There was a hint of humor in his comment and Yn chuckled.

"I know, but-"

"No, Bitsy. No buts. Stop worrying about me. I'm happy you're with Mick. If I had to choose a guy from the Grid it would most likely be him. I've seen the way he treats you and how careful he is with you. He's a good guy. Please, don't let your anxiety get in the way. People will talk about us it doesn't matter if we do things right or wrong, at the end of the day, you do what you gotta do to be happy, you hear me?"

Yn nodded, tears flowing down her face again. "Thank you, Lew."

"You don't have to thank me, Yn. I always going to have your back. Now, where's your phone, I wanna talk to your boyfriend."

She rolled her eyes chuckling, "he's not my boyfriend...we haven't discussed titles yet."

"You two are so oblivious," Lewis rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and unlocked Yn's phone, "if you change your password to his birthday instead of mine, I will be hurt," he tried to lighten the mood again, already searching through her contacts for the Schumacher's name.

"Hey, Mick...Can you come to my room real quick? I gotta talk to you...Yeah, my sister is crying here, and...yeah...yeah...I'm waiting."

"What the heck, Lewis?!" Yn screeched and Lewis just laughed.

It was barely a minute after and there were frantic knocks at the door. Lewis got up to answer and Yn buried her face in her hands, embarrassed by whatever prank her brother wanted to throw.

When Mick got inside he had his cheeks flushed from using the stairs and eyes wide, "what happened?" he asked and Lewis crossed his arms trying to hold back his laughter.

"Nothing, Mick. I told him about us and he wanted to prank you or embarrass us together, I dunno," Yn got up from the bed and she smiled at his reluctant face. His eyes were traveling between the siblings, but his body was turned in Yn's direction.

"Well, there goes my older brother's fun," the Hamilton sighed, and Yn rolled her eyes yet again that night, walking to Mick and hugging him. "Welcome to the family, Schumacher," Lewis smiled at the blonde.

"I'm sorry to inform you that it can get crazier than this." Yn adverted.

"I won't mind it if it means I got you," he whispered and she smiled.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: It's been forever since I last updated it, but I'm gonna start working on it, I promiseeee <3 we're having this series finished in no time! I hope you guys liked this extra, let me know your thoughts by leaving a comment/ask and reblogging *mwah*.

Taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @non-stop-imagines @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintlewis @fdl305 @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @balekane_mohafe @uuuseeerrr12 @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @81astri @pinksstrawberry @callsign-scully @moonyschocolate3 @v1naco @dearxcherry @p8dris (let me know if your tag was supposed to be only for my other works and you don’t wanna be tagged on the series! <3)

[cluelessatthispoint]

Hello :)

Since requests are open, may I ask for a soldier!reader who gets lost all the time with some yandere!platonic demo? I just wanna hold his hand as he guides me around because only God knows how many times I spent more than half the game trying to find where the fuck I was supposed to go lol. I'm sorry if this is bad ;(

Yandere!Platonic Demo: So Soldier, ready to kick some ass?! ...Soldier? ...Y/N?!

Soldier!Reader, at the other side of the map: ...why did I just hear someone scream my name...?

This made me kick my feet and giggle like a school girl. It's been such a long time since I've written anything. I do apologize for the LONG absence. I'll be writing more in the upcoming weeks!!! I PROMISE!!!

Platonic yandere Demoman x Soldier reader

It's been a long, long day. The type of day where you find that the sun is shining just a tad too bright. Or that feeling of when your socks don't fit as their supposed to inside your boots. Too hot, too stuffy, too loud. Everytime the damned enemy scout passes by he always has a quip to say or a slur tumbles rudely past his too loud lips. Yes. One of those days.

Running past the massive boulders along the track, the enemy gunfire overhead rings loudly in your ears. Guns firing loudly, screams of agony as bones break and skin tears. A feeling of gratitude wells in your chest as you thank God you haven't run into the enemy Pyro.

"Heh, heh. Just a lil more."

*with the boisterous din overhead and now echoing behind you with each stride you take. Your voice sounds foreign, almost muffled to your ears. Medic just despises how many times you saunter to his office with a sheepish look in your eyes and a nervous spring in your step as you explain haphazardly about hearing damage. The older man now having a chart of how many times you visit his office monthly.

Slowly, you huff and puff as you come to a stop. Normally the sounds of battle would orient you and keep you grounded, keeps you alert. Heart pounding, the scenery around you looks unfamiliar. Not strangely so, but still. Its..unnerving.

"Sweet son of a....where the hell?"

Turning your head to the right, then to the left. You scan your surroundings from top to bottom. One of those tricks sniper taught you as soon as you joined the team. "Helps keep you out of respawn longer." The aussie said with a chortle. Rolling your eyes and muttering swears that even the most unsavory of sailors wouldn't utter. A snarl finds it way to your lips as you throw your helmet down with as much strength as you can muster. The sound of metal hitting loose rocks and soil makes a twanging thud that could even be heard by your damaged ears.

"Aye laddie, careful there. Wouldn't wan tae damage tha helmet name would we?"

The sound of that familiar accented voice makes you freeze. Even with the muffled quality that your ringing ears bring, you can still tell when an enemy is close. The Demoman. Not your team's Demo, as the sound of an explosion rings out in the distance...so by the process of elimination, it's the enemy Demo who's just spoken. Whirling around with a snarl on your lips, swinging your hand back to grasp your market gardner. Your hand finds nothing there as you grasp around for it blindly.

"Laddie, relax. Ye shovel ain't there, fell off the last rocket jump ye took."

Glaring at the Scotsman, you can feel how your fingers twich anxiously. Not only because your in the midst of an enemy, but also because your lost and in the midst of an enemy. Feeling the sharp pang of bile rising in the back of your throat. You cough gutterally to clear it. It sounds gross, even to you. But judging the Demo's unperturbed expression, you can gather that he's seen and heard alot worse. Idly kicking your right heel against the soil, the feeling of your misaligned sock against your foot brings you back to the present. Your voice a little scratchy breaks the silence.

"I'm lost."

"You're lost? I gathered tha as soon as me one good eye caught a glimpse of ye wanderin round back ere." The Demo says with an amused gaze as he shift his hips from one side to the other.

"I can help ye find yer way back if ye need."

The sound of the offer does seem too good to be true. But then again. Getting lost does seem to happen quite a bit for you in particular compared to everyone else on the team. It's not your fault entirely. It just a combination of all sorts of things. Namely your sense of directing being a few degrees off, and your helmet that hangs too infront of your eyes, and of course the discord of daily battles and the rotations from location to location.

"Fine...I'd..I would like your help Demo." The sound of asking, pleading the way you just did, sounds so off-putting when coming from your vocal chords. But, with the way things are currently...you need his help.

Smirking, not in a mean way. The Demo holds out his right hand in a sign of invitation to take it. Hesitantly placing your hand in his own. You can immediately feel the smoothness of his palms and the warmth that he eminates. It's not at all what you would have expected from the enemy Demo. Always so loud, rude, boisterous and overall a drunken, bomb loving dick. He is warm.

The walk back is silent, save for the cries and howls of pain in the distance that steadily grow louder the closer you two get. The Demo never once relinquishing your hand from his grip.

"Aye lad, almost there. Almost there. When we get back, I won't go blasting ye to kingdom come, an I expect ye to not go bludgeoning me to death as soon as ye can. A fair trade off. Aye?"

You can only nod in response at the man's words. Normally the drunk would be a pain in the ass. If Scout were the one showing you back to the battlegrounds...he probably wouldn't.

"Thank you Demo."

"Don't thank me laddie, I see ye all the time wandering the battle grounds. Ye get lost more easily than the others-an I can't be havin tha."

Wondering what he could possibly mean by saying that. You don't get much time to ponder as you soon feel a warm hand clasp your shoulder in a friendly pat. The noise of the grounds and the various members of each team dying and respawning soon greet your senses. The sounds- as muffled as they are, sound softer than they should be due to your hearing damage. No sooner did you take one step forward did you feel an arm holding you back. A soft, Scottish accent floating in your ears as a warm breath ghosts over the side of your face.

"I'll be watching ye, don't get lost. Aye?"

And with that, the Demo chugs along down the hill back into the noisy throng of bloodshed and screams. Leaving you, standing confused where you stand.

*****

I'm back yall

[maybeelse]

"Has anyone ever done this for you before?"

"No. Uh, a bit lower ..."

Sparrow barely holds in a moan as their hands find the right spot on his shoulders. "Really? A cute morsel like you ... well, I'm honored you chose me, then."

"Um. Could you, uh."

"Yes?"

"... u-use a different word. For me."

"Oh, of course! What would you prefer?"

"U-um. Something, uh," he hides in face in his hands, not that it matters much, "something masculine?"

"Ah. I think I understand. Well, I'm honored that such a handsome thing would choose me for ... hm, his?" Sparrow shivers under their hands. "His first time. Most of my clients are, let's say, more experienced. Not a bad thing! It's nice to work with people who knows exactly what they want, but, well. Helping someone discover what they want? That's a treat."

"I-I hope I won't disappoint, then. Since I don't, really ..."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I can't be disappointed," they laugh, "literally, in fact. One of the conditions written into my original summoning. Would you like to see the others?"

"N-no. That seems, uh. Cruel?"

"Maybe for humans. But, trust me, it's easier for things like me to exist when we have very clear parameters for what we should be."

"Demons?"

"Ah, the horns gave it away?"

"Y-yeah," Sparrow's grin fades, "though I haven't met any before ..."

"Not many of us out in public, mhmm? Even when our terms allow it."

"Do yours?"

"No. But I have everything I need in this room, so it's not a big deal, you know? And a steady stream of clients to practice my art on. Now," their hands leave Sparrow's skin, "would you like to discuss what you want?"

"Um. I, uh ... it's sort of embarrassing."

They nod, humming; a practiced eye roving over Sparrow's naked body. His blush, never far from his skin, returns with a vengeance. "Most of my clients merely want the, ah, equipment," their gesture leaves no ambiguity, "or a few little tweaks to deepen their enjoyment of their bodies. Or their partner's enjoyment. I do get a fair number who just want to reignite fading interest, poor things."

"Oh. Is it really so ...?"

"It's certainly not unusual," they pause, a strange look on their face. "Though, you do know that I can't do anything permanent? Though I think the Madame has someone who—"

"Yes! I know. I, um, just want to try it out, I think? For a bit. To, to make sure."

"Of course. Is there anything in particular, though? I can make whatever tweaks you want once I start, but it's easier to have at least some idea, mhmm?"

Sparrow's blush reaches all the way down to his toes by now. He knew it would be hard, of course he did, but—saying it, in the moment? Even knowing that the demon can't judge him? It's damn near impossible!

They just sit there, waiting, though, their only expression a faint smile. Patient; unconcerned.

And eventually he manages to squeak out "a beard. I always, always ... and my voice? If you could. Make it a bit ..."

"Of course. Well, I'll start, then? If that's okay with you."

"Please."

---

It hurts less than Sparrow feared, but more than he hoped.

---

Afterwards the demon is somehow diminished; drawn inward. Their motions are slowed, and their many eyes seem just a hair more glassy. Still, as Sparrow examines himself in the mirror—a tall one, that the demon had brought out to allow him to follow along—their smile is full of the satisfaction of a job well done.

"T-thank," Sparrow stops, repeats the word. Feels the way it rumbles in his chest. Smiles. "Thank you. Really."

"No problem at all! I'm always happy to assist such a handsome young man, and, well. This is why I exist."

"... do you have to say it like that?"

"No. But I am allowed to."

"I see," Sparrow frowns. "You're not—no, I suppose—how long did you say it lasts?"

"A few days, usually. Although," the demon smiles, "these might last a bit longer, if you're careful."

"Oh. Thank you!"

"Put in a good word for me with the Madame before you go, mhmm?"

They don't linger on their goodbyes, and soon enough Sparrow is dressed and gone, the door closing quietly behind his last wave. The demon remains, in the room they've spent the last three decades in, alone. Their contract permits them a single sigh.

.

(author's notes: this piece is somewhat of an experiment in terms of subject matter. It's much easier for me to write this sort of fluff about transfeminine characters, and I'm much more confident in writing about those experiences. I hope I haven't misstepped too badly ... but please tell me if I have.)

[ftm-megamind]

a little late in my timezone but. happy javid thursday . i haven't written anything newsies in so long

david can't sleep tonight.

not exactly because he can't fall asleep, or has trouble doing so, but more because of the fact that he's waiting on something. and he hates when someone's late. his eyelids are getting heavier and heavier by the minute, and he's had a very stressful day, both at school and after it, and really, why is jack always late even though he's the one who picks the meeting time?

before david can dwell on it too long, he hears two knocks on his window, a pause between them. he sits up, slowly, so as not to make the bed boards creak and wake his siblings. he slips out of bed, checks just in case if les hasn't decided to follow him again, and then slowly approaches the window.

he's greeted by jack, though they don't exchange a single word, only nodding to one another. not the time for pleasantries. jack steps aside, offering david a hand, and helps him up. david closes the window, shoving a little wooden block inbetween it and the windowsill, so as not to lock himself out.

the two boys quickly make their way up to the rooftop, and david looks around the entire time, admiring how lively new york is, livelier than other cities at night, certainly.

when they settle on the rooftop, on one of david's old, rugged blankets, jack takes out a little glass bottle out of his pant pocket. he unscrews it and offers a swig to david, who contemplates taking the offer. after some thought, though, he decides that it's better not to. after all, what if his parents decide to check in on him later and smell alcohol on him? that would not be good. jack decides against it, too--drinking alone isn't any fun. he does light a cigarette, though.

after a while of sitting in silence, both looking at the stars, jack finally speaks.

"say, dave," he begins, taking a long drag of his cigarette, "if you could go to any place on earth, where would you go?"

david ponders for a moment. "home, i think," he mutters, smiling to himself. "old home, i mean. poland. warsaw."

jack hums, his gaze fixed on david.

"well, what was it like? i'm tryna start a conversation here."

david is quiet for another second. "i don't remember much. i was still little when we left. warsaw was big, and i thought that no city could really get any bigger, so when i came to new york, i was a little overwhelmed," he shrugs. "other than that... it felt nice to use polish outside of home. i really miss visiting my grandparents. they had a little cottage at a small town nearby. we would go at least once a month and go foraging. grandma taught me and sarah a lot."

jack listens, not daring to interrupt. he is in awe of how there's so much wonder and sadness simultaneously in david's eyes and voice.

"that's about it, i guess. it's not like it was perfect," david admits, omitting details so as not to ruin the mood. "that's why we left, after all. papa figured it was safer here."

jack doesn't pry. judging from david's facial expression, it's better not to. maybe he'll tell him one day.

"anyway," david carries on, looking to his side, at jack, relaxing once again. "what about you?"

jack snorts. "c'mon, you know what i'm gonna say. it's far too obvious."

david snickers too, and shoves jack gently with his shoulder. "yeah, obviously it's santa fe, but say some more. like, what exactly you would wanna do there."

"y'know, typical cowboy stuff... i guess i'd find myself a gang and we'd find a nice hideout for ourselves, we'd shoot and rob the bad guys, run from the law... oh, i'd have a trusty horsey as well, 'course," jack lists off the top of his head, as if he's gone over the scenario a thousand times. which he most likely has.

david smiles at jack's boyish descriptions, and then takes a wager. "kinda sounds like you have all that. except for shooting and a horse, but that's still not that far off."

jack huffs loudly, nodding, a solemn smile on his face. "yeah." truth be told, he's been aware of this for a while now. he's kind of grown out of santa fe since the strike has ended, and he doesn't really mind it. not that he doesn't love fantasizing about it still, it's just more like a go-to daydream whenever he has trouble falling asleep. it's funny how long it took him to understand he doesn't need to run away to feel like he has a home. "yeah, i know. partly thanks to you, dave," he admits, shoving david back, far too embarrassed to actually look at him. seldom does he say such cheesy things.

"d'aww," david mocks, in reality his heart skipping a beat and sudden warmth spreading over his chest. "c'mere, you sappy cowboy," he ushers, wrapping his arms around jack and bringing him closer, holding him too tight to consider the embrace a friendly hug. thankfully, jack hugs back, enjoying the warmth and security of the embrace. yeah, this probably beats having a horse of your own and shooting people.

[writer-freak]

Comfort clothes | Gojo satoru x gn reader

Summary: You already always wear your roommates shirts, and today you decided to tease him a little.

Warnings: College roommate AU, kinda suggestive but no smut, making out, reader wears Gojo's shirts, the shirt is also described to be long on reader, fluff otherwise, english isn't my first language, haven't written anything suggestive since I was 14 so please don't judge

Wordcount: 900

A/n: First time in years I have written something even slightly suggestive and I just hope that it's kind of readable. Also, my first time ever writing for Gojo so he could be ooc because I still haven't figured out how to write for him completely

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more

Everything began innocently enough. One day you couldn't find any of your comfortable clothes. While searching, you quickly noticed that you forgot to wash them and, with a groan, walked into your living room.

While complaining to your roommate Gojo, he offered you one of his shirts with a playful grin. With nothing to lose, you accepted, and after that, it just became a habit. His shirts became your go-to comfort wear, especially if you had late-night study sessions or a lazy weekend.

Gojo, the tease that he is, would always comment on how good you looked in his shirts, even implying that they might look better on you than him. This casual flirting became a routine, a dance around unspoken tension between the two of you.

One day you felt a little bolder and decided to pair one of Gojo's shirts with some really short shorts. The shorts were hidden underneath the shirt hem, giving a less-than-innocent effect. You looked yourself once over in your mirror before you walked into your shared living room. Gojo was sitting on the couch, and you couldn't ignore how Gojo's gaze lingered just a little longer where his shirt ended. His usual teasing took on a bit of a different tone, there was a subtle shift in the air, and the tension that neither of you ever acknowledged became even more noticeable.

Someone had to crack first, and you really didn't want to be the one, so you continued walking in the direction of the kitchen. What made you stop in your tracks was Gojo letting out a low whistle. "You really like driving me crazy, don't you?" he said, his tone had a certain intensity behind it.

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, the unspoken attraction between you unignorable. With a small smirk, Gojo confessed, "Subtlety has never been my strong suit but until now I've been trying to figure out how to say this but I'm attracted to you, alright?" He took another look at your outfit while you were turned in his direction and let out a deep groan. Looking up at the ceiling he added "And I really think you're trying to kill me with this."

Your breath was caught in your throat, not because it surprised you that he was attracted to you but because it was this easy to get him to crack and admit it.

So now that the confession was out in the open and the tension between you two was palpable. Without saying a word you walked towards him, a knowing glint in your eyes. His gaze followed your every move. "You're not making this easy, you know," he said, his voice low. A playful smirk was on your face. "That is exactly what I want."

You stood in front of him, your fingers tracing the collar of your shirt-his shirt. Gojo watched with hunger in his eyes as your fingers slowly trailed down teasingly touching the hem of his shirt but not doing anything further.

His fingers brushed against yours, and just this simple touch sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could react, you were pulled into his lap. His hands started exploring, gliding along the curves of your body. One of his hands found purchase on your thigh while the other one was placed on the back of your head pulling you in. This position lets your shirt rise up, showing the tiny shorts underneath.

His lips then softly pressed against yours. At first, you were unsure, and you didn't really know what to do. He pulled back slightly, nosing against your cheek and pressing a kiss against it. This sign of affection made your heart flutter, so this time you were the one diving in for the kiss.

His hand went to your waist holding onto you, while you took his face into your hands.

Your lips were moving against each other at first slowly, still unsure, but then it quickly became more heated. Your tongues started to tangle, his lips swiping lovingly against yours. You matched his passion pressing your body closer against his wanting to feel every inch of him against you. Your hands were now in his hair tugging slightly and you were able to pull a quiet moan out of him, and that just did something to you but sadly you both needed to breathe. Reluctantly Gojo pulled away, biting your lower lip before letting you both catch your breath. You wanted more but you knew you should maybe have a conversation before going any further. Even though the room felt hotter than ever and it was obvious how you both just wanted to continue.

Your hands moved down finding purchase on Gojo's neck and you smiled sweetly at him.

And Gojo swears you are trying to kill him with everything you do, he groans inwardly and hides his face in your neck breathing you in. You let out an airy giggle, and you just had to think about how adorable he could be. Trying to get his attention you said "Gojo?" You heard him mumble something against your neck but couldn't make it out clearly and asked him to repeat himself.

He reluctantly pulled away from your neck "Call me Satoru."

Divider by: @cafekitsune