#just to be clear: while that post was about a fanfic i found

[beevean]

Hey I found your post about the Castlevania shipping somewhat unlike you, in the past I have seen you defend nsfw art of Sonic characters who are minors, or brushing of shipping kids with adults but you're clearly upset at problematic power imbalance and noncon tropes in shipping adults. I just wonder does that mean you have changed your mind on the topic ???

Alright, I can see why it seems that I'm being a hypocrite. I'll try to explain myself in the best way I can, even if I question your wording.

I don't hate power imbalance and noncon/dubcon at all. They're some of my favorite tropes, and I am not particularly shy in talking about it :P and it's precisely because I an fascinated by them that poor writing incenses me and I can't stop thinking about it. However, this is the part I have to highlight: poor writing in official products, because comparing a very popular Netflix show written by a respected professional who got paid and promoted for his work, with a 20 kudos fanfiction written by some nameless teen for free, is disingenuous. One has tremendous reach and the other has not.

In the responses in that post (I'm assuming you're talking about this one - hope it's this one because otherwise I'd look dumb lol), I eventually said "I have more respect for the fans who just find the abuse hot". There are thousands of fanfics that are irrealistic when it comes to abusive dynamics, that are literally nothing more than fetish fuel - and that's fine. I wouldn't read them, I would appreciate if people did more research, but they're harmless. Disgust is not harm and in this I have not changed my mind.

My problem with that particular ship is not necessarily the "noncon" part (which is not even noncon: it's dubcon, it's deliberately murky). It's that the noncon part, and not even in a porn fic but in an official product that is praised for the depth of its writing, gets brushed off, because the writing was rushed and made artificially more "wholesome". The dissonance of morals is too big for me to ignore, and the resounding success that it got from its audience even more so - not even from the "step on me mommy" crowd or the "wow I love toxic relationships, they're so fucked up <3" crowd (hell I'm one of them), but from the people who genuinely agree with the story that "yes, this is cute".

I wouldn't care so much if this was just a non-canon ship. There are plenty of popular non-canon ships that make me angry because I think they have a terrible dynamic and I don't understand the appeal. I don't care. But this is not a ship, it's not just some dozens of fans findind two characters hot: this is a story. And this changes everything.

I believe that an official product, that is incidentally praised by nearly everyone, should have been more responsible with its messages. Not in a "fiction affects reality" way, but in a "this story is terribly written, I try to understand why I seem to be in the minority in thinking so, and the justifications are eerily reminiscent of real life abuse apologism" way. I'm not saying that NFCV fans will watch the show and think "oh boy! my eyes have been opened! maybe if I, a woman, raped a man into slavery, he'll love me too!"... but let's be real: unlike the boogeyman of incest, female-on-male abuse is still widely misunderstood. Rape that is not "man violently forces himself on a woman he doesn't know" is still widely misunderstood. The show had the chance to challenge those misconceptions, but instead, it only confirmed them. The fact that it happened mostly out of shoddy writing makes it even worse, because there is not even full authorial intent.

I can safely say that the overwhelming majority of people who draw porn of Tails are well aware that sexualizing real kids is wrong. This sort of moral cannot be influenced by porn, because it's too rooted in our consciousness (people who sexualize real life kids are born that way and it's a completely different topic). Those people have their own reasons for drawing that kind of porn. I don't want to know them, I don't want to see them, please keep it in your corner and tag your shit, but it's just tasteless fanart at worst and I don't care. I grew up in a much edgier era when genuine graphic torture porn was written for no reason other than to shock others, so I don't really bother to wonder why someone would write or draw something disgusting. As long as it's avoidable, it's fine. It's harder to avoid a popular official product that is always touted as an example of excellent writing and also happens to be the adaptation of a franchise I've grown to love, considered superior to said franchise to boot.

It doesn't help that there is proof of the writer in question being a prolific sex pest whose crimes eerily match its writing. So in his case, I do wonder why he wrote certain things.

Just as a note, I don't really talk about it here, but I used to be a fierce anti-Twilight back in the day, and it was for similar reasons: I was appalled at that series' sexism and misanthropy and abuse apologism and I thought it was a real issue, because I think widespread stories ought to be more careful with their themes than fanfics and fanart. Not even necessarily to "teach" a lesson (NFCV is for adults anyway, it's not meant to be educational), but... well, as respect for your audience, you know?

And as for the people who don't see any issue... again, I don't want to assume anything about their morals. Maybe for them it really is just an intriguing ship. But I would like to at least urge someone to think about what they're saying, because when you say "no, he wasn't raped, merely seduced, and anyway he deserved it for being stupid, and he got a good deal out of it so why did he have to ruin such a beautiful relationship?", now that is the thing that could affect real people, not shipping a 12 yo and a 15 yo cartoon hedgehogs.

tl;dr: official stories and ships/fan content have different impacts and I judge them differently. This also happened to be about a topic I very much care about.

[pathologicalreid]

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

[starkwlkr]

just a girl | f1

an: this is me asking for your letterboxd pls i need letterboxd mutuals 🤭 my account is deadpunks also made the reader have glasses because we need more glasses representation in fanfics 😔 (to the girlies that wear glasses, this is for you!!!)

Las Vegas Grand Prix Weekend

“What movie did I watch?” Y/n read the comment that a fan left on her instagram live. She adjusted her glasses and smiled. “I just finished ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ it’s so underrated. The cast is so iconic like you have Kirsten Dunst, Brittany Murphy, Denise Richards, Amy Adams and Allison Janney in one movie. It’s definitely in my top four.”

It was hours after qualifying and Y/n was exhausted, but all she wanted to do was finish watching her movie. Unfortunately for her, the movie she had just named wasn’t anywhere on streaming so she brought her portable dvd player and a stack of dvds. When Lando saw her watching a movie and crocheting a scarf for herself in her garage, he laughed at the scene. He actually found it adorable.

“What’s my letterboxd? Okay, listen. . . I don’t give it out to just anyone so this is between you lovely people and me, okay? My letterboxd is ilovecillianmurphy420 and please follow me, I am desperate,” Y/n laughed. She then took her phone and saw all the new follower notifications from letterboxd. “I’m going to ask the social media admin to ask everyone on the grid for their four favorites. Lando is definitely going to name animated movies. That or he’ll forget what a movie is and say nothing.”

What’s your four favorites?

“Whoever your asked for my four favorites, I’m blocking you. How dare you ask me that question . . . Paddington 1 and 2, Saw and Mamma Mia. I know I said drop dead gorgeous was in my top four, but I lie all the time.”

The next day, her letterboxd account had become the second most followed account.

INSTAGRAM

liked by oscarpiastri, letterboxd and others

yourusername just watched the masterpiece that is jackass number two

formulaupdating can i ask why you don’t post about f1 that often?

yourusername no you may not

oscarpiastri i was there too

yourusername ok

landonorris didn’t you watch that last week?

yourusername this is my own private domicile and i will not be harassed

landonorris ?

yourusername bitch

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After The Race / Interviews

Y/n hated being interviewed, it was the absolute worst thing on earth. No wait, forgetting her AirPods was the worst thing, but interviews were right behind that. She was exhausted and now she had to deal with reporters asking her what she thought about the championship battle.

Her fingers brushed the strap of her cap nervously as the interviewer’s voice cut through her anxiety.

“Y/n, P7 today—solid result. How are you feeling?" The reporter asked.

Y/n blinked, her eyes flicking around as she tried to process the question, and then her gaze landed on her own shoes. She cleared her throat awkwardly, looking up only to meet the camera for a brief, uncomfortable moment.

“Uh, yeah. It, uh . . . it was. . . good. I mean . . . yeah, I’m happy with it, I guess," she mumbled, her voice faltering.

The reporter smiled kindly, already used to the shy responses. “What do you think made the difference here in Vegas?" He waited patiently for Y/n’s answer.

Y/n’s lips parted as she prepared an answer, but the words tangled up in her brain. She shifted from foot to foot, adjusting her grip on the cap. Fuck, why can’t you think of anything?!, she thought to herself. “Uh . . . I don’t know . . . it’s just . . . uh, a little . . . weird, with all the lights and, you know, the . . . Strip, and, um . . .” Her voice trailed off.

The interviewer gave her a soft chuckle, understanding that Y/n’s awkwardness wasn’t lack of confidence, but rather a product of her introverted nature. Before the interview could go on, two figures appeared behind Y/n.

Oscar had cut in, Y/n’s pair of glasses in his hand. He placed a hand on her shoulder and handed the glasses to her while Lando ruffled her hair. She happily accepted them and placed them on her face.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a grin, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve tortured her enough, mate.”

Y/n let out a relieved sigh as she turned to Oscar, who gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing great, really,” he said quietly, his tone meant to ease her nerves.

Lando then spoke up. “Are we done with the interrogation? She's literally about to disappear into her own head if we keep this up."

The reporter chuckled. “I was just asking Y/n about her performance today.”

Y/n hadn’t even noticed that she had completely abandoned the interview. She had started doodling on Oscar’s hand. The Aussie had given her the pen he had used from a fan when he was signing autographs. It was their thing. Whenever she would get nervous and Oscar was around, he would let her draw on his hand. Somehow the hand doodles calmed her.

“Right, Y/n?”

That’s when she picked up her head and noticed Lando was staring at her. “Sorry, what?”

“The race,” Lando reminded her. “She was brilliant out there. Absolutely nailed it.” Y/n didn’t have the words to argue. Instead, she ducked her head, feeling both embarrassed and grateful.

The three drivers said their goodbye to the reporter and walked away. Lando threw an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, grinning. “You know, for someone who hates interviews, you’ve got a hell of a lot to say . . . just not when it’s on camera.”

Y/n’s lips twitched into a small smile, and she felt a brief wave of gratitude for her friends’ protective camaraderie. She glanced at Oscar, who gave her a knowing nod, his usual quiet confidence offering her a sense of calm.

“You guys are unbelievable.” Y/n laughed lightly.

“Yeah well you’re the idiot who’s going to have to deal with us.” Lando replied.

“Unfortunately.” She teased.

“The idiot with the crocheting skills and silly little film reviews that are very popular on the box app.” Lando added.

“What?” Y/n stopped walking and stared at Lando. She looked over at Oscar for an answer, but the Aussie just shrugged his shoulders.

“I do believe our dear Y/n wants a hot priest?” Lando teased, bringing up Y/n’s lastest letterboxd review about Fleabag. “That’s a bit scandalous, don’t you think?”

“Hot priest?” Oscar couldn’t believe Lando had just said those two words together.

“You two don’t get it! Come on, we’re watching Fleabag!”

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Genshin SAGAU where GN! Reader reads a fanfic about them being a sub.

people of tevyat look in horror as a fanfic about you being a sub is released, not knowing you ARE actually a sub. not proofread. also shoutout to @/gameperson23100 (not sure how tags work here im just a tumblr noob so i just did like a twitter thing) they were in my comments on my first post about this and had an idea about a sub reader! i just expanded on it a little :))

Creator! Reader who seems so elegant yet have such an untouchable aura towards them. Everyone praises them for being so mature, for being so calm and collected towards stressfull siturations, everyone fawns over them. Just one glance from their slightly intimidating eyes has their knees trembling. The archons praise them as someone to really look up to, a true pillar of Tevyat.

When fanfictions like the Creator x Reader became popular, there was an unsaid rule that you were the dominant one in the relationship.

So imagine everyones suprise when a book from an anonymous author potraying the Creator as a sub pops up in Inazuma. Yae Miko was suprised this was published unsupervised! She shut it down but it was too late, almost all of its copies were sold! Everyone was baffled at how the author potrayed the Creator, when it came to their duties, the author wrote them perfectly but when it came to the romance between the Creator and whoever the reader is... It was a catastrophe! The Creator? Submissive?? Down on their knees?? Begging?! Getting degraded and liking it?!?!

BLASPHEMY!

People of Tevyat were conflicted at this book, everyone had divided opinions. Some saying that the Creator is a sub, while some saying they are a dom. There are a few people who suggest that the Creator may be a switch but this gets shut down by both sides. It even reached the scholars of Sumeru! With debates turning into heated arguments that escalates into fights.

The archons, except Nahida, were upset at this book as this somewhat taints your image. (although they secretly love the idea of the creator being beneath their feet) The acolytes were also divided and different opinions, with Alhaitham finding it somewhat interesting while Kaeya found it a little hilarious and treated the book like a parody. Xiao on the other hand, had the same opinion as Zhongli, the book may taint your image thus he made it his mission to hunt down the anonymous author. Itto, who got the book from a random stranger he befriended, treated the book like a sacred scripture or a guilty pleasure. He knows it's probably bad but he just can't stop reading it! Wriothesley read the book during tea time, and thought that the idea of the Creator being a sub was possible...

"And that concludes the report on Fontaine." Neuvillette concluded his report. You only hummed in response as you looked around the room. the Archons were there and some acolytes were also present in the meeting. You felt as if they have something they want to ask but is holding themselves back.

'...Is it about the book...? Fuck, why did it have to be so accurate...' you thought.

You cleared your throat, "I'm sure all of you are aware of a certain book going around." you spoke up, their minds started scrambling, thinking that you would be upset and angry that they haven't found the author yet. "Your Grace, we are all working hard to hunt down the author and imprison whoever they are." Zhongli spoke up, you shook your head.

"No need, it's... An interesting book." you told them, you cleared your throat again, trying to ease your embarrassment. That book ended on a cliff hanger too! No way in hell were you going to imprison the author after writing an accurate potrayal of you!

Everyone didn't show it in their face but they were shocked, but even more shocked at how red your ears are while you tried to keep a calm face. Did this mean that you didn't mind the potrayal of the book about you?! Or are you truly a sub?! Do you just like the book?! What is it???!! HOW IS IT INTERESTING??!!? Their minds were filled with unanswered questions.

Word spread to Tevyat really fast, and as soon as they heard that you called the book interesting, it just added more fuel in the debates about you being a sub or a dom. Like two groups in the same fandom fighting for their non canon ship! The book would still be treated like an illegal book, a guilty pleasure.

[adalindofcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies (I)

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: even though she lives in the usa, my main character, barbara, is brazilian. i added terms and expressions that we use in our country, as well as cultural elements, to this fanfic. the words that appear in portuguese are highlighted and you can contact me if you have any questions.

masterlist

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[ultimate-marysue]

I think a lot about Cass and Steph (zero surprise there), but particularly the way they view the no-kill rule. (Also, at some point this post turned into a fanfic and I don't know how it happened)

Cass is even more extreme than Bruce (mostly because Bruce Wayne as a character has existed so long and been written by so many people, there are contradictions). She would literally die rather than Killin someone else and even if Steph doesn't agree, she respects that. She resuscitates this guy Cass accidentally killed because she knows that's important to her. A difference from Bruce is the fact that Cass loves a redemption more than she loves the fully innocent. Bruce is ready to flip his shit when he finds out Cass killed someone as a child, but Cass is always ready to convince others of giving up on killing and forgive previous transgressions once they make the switch. But, let's not forget, she's all for not killing. That's her religion.

Steph on the other hand is way more ambivalent on the whole thing, but thinks that she should be allowed to use lethal force to protect herself and others. If her only way out of a situation is to slam someone's nose into their brain, so be it. I think she's closer to Green Arrows philosophy (read: I'm not going to kill you because I don't want to inflict that trauma upon myself) than Batman's. And it makes sense for her, she's not as perfectly trained as Batman, Nightwing or Cass's Batgirl, she doesn't have as many non lethal resources to get out of a fight alive. She will try, but if it's her or the bad guys, she's not going to hesitate (and she's most definitely not dying if she has any say on it).

I would kill to read a story where Steph is forced to kill in self defense and has to deal with the fall out. You just know all the other Bats are dragging her around to make a point and no one even cares how she feels about it or if she's okay. Bruce, Jason, Dick and Babs are all arguing about whose fault it is and how it could have been avoided (or if it should have been avoided). Tim would defend Steph, because it's not her fault that she didn't have any other options. Duke would say how absolutely insane the argument is because "what? Did you expect her to die?". Damian would be extremely stressed out trying to figure out if his assassin training would have taken over in that situation or if he would have found another way.

Then there's Steph. She's not engaging, she left the cave hours ago when it became clear that her input was not necessary (to those accusing her nor the ones defending her). Steph refuses to freak out in front of them, she's not taking their fucking condescension. She has just killed someone, for the very first time, in an extremely traumatic life or death situation. It could have been her. Some of her fellow vigilantes argue that it should have been her. That it was her responsibility.

There are so many awful feelings inside her right now because, yes, that guy was a piece of shit, but now he was dead. She had killed him. There's the inherent shock of it, the numb horror of how close it got, now that the adrenaline started fading out. But there's something more insidious, eating away at her heart. It comes in the form, not of Bruce's righteous anger or Jason's delighted glee. Not even Dick's sad puppy eyes of disappointment. No, it's Tim's well-meaning "It's not her fault that she didn't have any other options".

He's trying to placate Bruce, she knows. Tim has been Robin for a very long while, he's playing the argument that has the best chances to get her off the hook. But it is true, she did not have other options. Steph couldn't get out of that situation without resorting to lethal force. There was an implication there, an implication she knew to be true: that Tim could have found another way. That it only came to that because it was her.

Steph doesn't kid herself, she didn't figure Bruce's identity on her own like Cass and Tim. She didn't have any prior super special secret training like Damian, Dick or Cass. She didn't have powers like Duke. She wasn't specifically trained by Batman to be Robin like Tim and Jason, she got a Robin 101 at most. She barely got trained at all because no one except Tim and later Cass saw the point in it. Bats always told her to own it, that she didn't need Bruce's approval to be great, but that was easy from someone smart enough to hack the Pentagon on the daily.

When Cass sits beside her completely silent as usual, Steph has half the mind to push her off the roof. Cass would never be in this situation. Sure, she could barely read and her people-skills left a lot to be desired, but she was a fighting machine. And if it came down to it, everyone knew what she would choose. Still, she didn't push her friend away.

Cass, to her credit, did not try to lecture her or make her feel better. She offered some fries that Steph had to decline. Her stomach felt like a bottomless pit of despair, and she doubted fries would result in anything other than a disgusting puke fest. They stayed there in silence, staring up to Gotham's polluted night sky.

When Steph started to cry, Cass did not shush her. She did not offer empty words or justifications so she wouldn't feel bad with herself. There was no hint of the drama back at the cave, she simply rubbed her back in compromise circles.

"I know," she offered. "I know."

Steph wanted to tell her to fuck off, she didn't know what it was to fail. To not be strong enough, to prove everyone else right. Cass was the most perfect Bat ever, and much like Nightwing, better than Bruce himself could ever dream to be. She was so far removed from even the idea of knowing how Steph felt at that moment... Except she wasn't. Not completely.

Unlike Tim, she had killed before. Unlike Jason, it had destroyed her to the point of not even believing herself to be worthy of living. Had she cried that day? A look at her friends devastated expression is answer enough. So she hugs her. Steph hugs the only person that cares she's hurting. Cass is the only one that can claim she would have done the right thing, and yet, she's not casting any stones. She's hugging Steph back, offering an understanding that no one else seems to share.

They stay like that for what seems like forever, but by the time they break apart, Steph finally accepts the soggy cold fries. They're disgusting, but she's suddenly very hungry. No matter how guilty and inadequate she may feel right now, she doesn't regret living. Cass may not have made the same decision, but she's still standing beside her. Lord only knows what's actually going through her head, Steph doesn't have her ability to read people. She lays her head on Cass's shoulder, and the other doesn't push her away. That's enough for her.

[livelaughloveluffy]

darling - sir crocodile

a/n: thank you everyone who filled out this poll, due to extremely popular demand, i figured i would start writing for crocodile first, but i'm definitely planning on eventually branching out to more one piece characters!!

a/n: also apologies for not posting in awhile!! i really thought i was spared from the fanfic writer curse, but this past week i've been recovering from a concussion since i randomly collapsed 💀

a/n: but to bring some sense of normalcy back to me posting, i couldn't help but recommend this song for this read. i listened to it on repeat while writing this and it perfectly encapsulates the vibe of this fic.

it gets a bit smutty under the cut 🖤 viewer discretion is advised

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when you were initially brought to baroque works, you had never imagined that you'd be working so close with the man running the organization. sir crocodile had an extensive and well-known reputation. he was mostly known for having ambitious desires and how he'd do anything to reach them.

even if that meant using brute force.

his position and power alone was something to flinch at. the very idea of it makes your skin crawl. you don't get to be an emperor of the sea without stepping on the toes of many other people.

maybe it was sheer stupidity or optimistic naivety that lead you to believe the same wouldn't be true romantically....

• ♡ •

it wasn't until your first day on the job at rain dinners that you found out you weren't just an ordinary member of the cleaning staff, but a privately selected member to clean for sir crocodile himself.

to say you were intimidated was an understatement. everything about crocodile had you walking on eggshells; from his age difference to his personality. the stone-cold stern expression that was practically embedded into his face instantly made you weak in the knees.

and it didn't help that crocodile relished in any opportunity to tease new employees.

• ♡ •

with one glance at your mandatory uniform, you could just tell it was designed to just slightly degrade you. from the tightness of the fabric to how the skirt was slightly shorter in the back. the frilly maid dress that was now adorn on your body was just another test of your confidence and endurance.

it's only once you mustered up all your courage, did you open the door to sir crocodile's office.

• ♡ •

the first thing you noticed as you walked into crocodile's office wasn't the extravagance of it all. the lavish antique wooden furniture with deep velvet cushions go unnoticed. a personal library that must've cost a small fortune was also ignored.

everything else in the room just seemed to pale at the fiery gaze of the very man himself. crocodile's face donned in an unrelentingly dour expression while his eyes seemed to dance with lust and fervor.

once you're able to get past the shock itself of being this close to a man such as sir crocodile, a slight panic crawls over your body. embarrassed at the awkward silence and unintentional staring contest you've been having with your boss, your cheeks flush. it isn't until crocodile finally utters out the command "you can start with organizing the papers over there." that you remember how to move your body again.

luckily, the table he was referring to was in the corner of the room, allowing you to turn your back to his prying stare. with your face concealed and vision clear from crocodile, you're finally able to compose yourself and focus on the task at hand.

you take a moment to surveil the mass hoards of paper, seemingly thrown onto the desk without a second thought. hundreds of financial documents, contracts, and reports were stacked with no particular system. you definitely had your work cut out for you.

• ♡ •

your hands moving swiftly from stack to stack, placing the papers in their consolidated group. you were so engrossed in your newfound organizational system, that you didn't even notice how close sir crocodile was. until his sultry deep voice reached your ear as a delicate whisper. "darling... you should know just how dangerous it is to be here looking that gorgeous.." you could feel the hot air of his taunt tickle the inside of your ear due to the closeness of his lips.

once you finally build up the courage to meet his eyes, gaze sharp and piercing, his hand had already found a firm grip on your hip. and with his hook engraved in the wood of the table, enclosing your body in between his arms, you were left utterly helpless to his whims.

you could practically taste the cigar smoke radiating from sir crocodile as he spoke. "a pretty girl like you doesn't stand a chance alone with me..."

it took all the strength in your body to not crumble to the ground as you felt his hand begin to move at a painfully slow pace. his touch was firm and unabashed. sir crocodile was the kind of man who had no issue making his presence be known. you couldn't help but be utterly absorbed into him. every gasp of air you took was drenched in the fragrance of smoked cedar wood that emanated from crocodile. the warmth of his body pressed against your back and towering over you was all consuming.

the most you could do was choke out a faint whisper of the word "sir..." before your brain did backflips to try and process the sudden breeze and emptiness next to you.

you frantically turn your head side-to-side and do two 360 degree spins before noticing crocodile was back in his desk chair. his feet crossed at the ankles and thrown on top of his desk, as if he was just lounging around. you watched as his seemingly disinterested expression turns into a wide smirk.

the sound of his deep bellied laugh and the searing hot burn of blush on your cheeks was ingrained into your memory.

• ♡ •

when you finally make it back to your designated room at rain dinners, you instantly collapse into the plush mattress of your bed. drained from a long day of work and emotional whiplash, you lay sprawled on your back. and it's only then, with your eyes heavy from exhaustion, sleep about to overtake you, that you indulge in your deepest darkest fantasy of feeling sir crocodile's touch again.

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tags ♡: @vamphoria

a/n: hopefully the long fic made up for my absence!! i had way too much fun writing it!! do not fret, there will definitely be a part two for this fic!!!

want to join the taglist? click here!! (it's just been updated with more characters to choose from, if you've already filled it out before, feel free to submit it again if your heart desires!!)

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

how are you going to post about protecting trans rights while funneling money to the pockets of the woman who directly helped fund the dismantling of trans rights in the UK. you don't actually support trans people, you can't even prioritize their very real lives over a shitty fictional franchise

First off, I have not given that woman any of my money since I first bought the books 20+ years ago. I never watched the movies, I have no intention of supporting the tv reboot, I have never bought any merch or gone to the theme park(s?). For all intents and purposes, I have been a giant mooch for the past 22 years, since I started reading HP fanfic.

Second off, I support trans people. In part because I fall under that umbrella (nonbinary), but mainly because they're fellow human beings. I want them to live and thrive and have the best lives possible. I donate to LGBTQ+ charities when I can afford to, I support my local queer organization, I am trying to do the work when and how I can. Do you do anything beyond sending anonymous hate online? I hope so.

I shouldn't have to answer to you, whoever you are, but I'm taking this opportunity to make my stance clear.

I do not support JKR nor any of her views. (By the way, she'd also hate me for being ace, apparently. New vileness every day from her, how delightful.) I have wrestled with writing and perpetuating affection for a series she created -- a series which has more than its share of problematic aspects in many regards, even beyond the author's attacks on trans women (and trans and queer people in general).

And everyone is welcome to handle that internal debate for themselves however they like -- I can completely understand wanting to wash your hands of it. But it brings me joy to play in this sandbox and make it hella queer, and work through and detangle the cruelty and hatred that are built into the fibre of the books by the author. I seek to uphold the message that the author forgot: That love can be a saving force. A truly astounding (to me) number of people have commented on my ace fics to say they felt seen and hopeful. I did that with one of my silly HP stories.

And through my interactions with the HP fandom, I have found the most wonderful group of friends -- many of whom fall under the LGBT+ umbrella -- and feel accepted and whole for what might be the first time in my life.

I'm not going to give that up because my activism and attitudes don't match yours. I'll just do the best I can.

[kiwi-cult]

PARSELSCRIPT!!

Hi. This is mostly for the people from Discord but tadah! I'm finally making that Tumblr post I've been talking about for months.

(Warning this will probably be very chaotic)

To anyone new who sees this: me and some friends made an alphabet for Parseltongue from Harry Potter, aka Parselscript. I'll take you on a little journey to explain my process and give you some tips, should you want to start writing it.

Disclaimer: I wanted to make this script usable for the writer I made it for so it's less of an actual language and more just some characters to represent the Latin (or ‘English’) letters. Like a cipher. It is not realistic. If I made this realistic I'd have to add all sorts of things to indicate body language and smell etc and also have to figure out what sounds Parseltongue actually has etcetera etcetera. No.

Alright.

It all started when we started talking about Parselscript in a Discord server and I asked my friend Ava to visualise the script because she seemed to have a clear vision of it, so I could use it to go from there.

That's how we got this.

I think we all wanted to go with something flowery for some reason, so we did.

After this I just messed around with brushes and shapes in Procreate for a while, tweaking things and trying to make it more writeable. I ended up with something like this (still a rough draft).

It may look a bit like random squiggles at first, and it kinda was at this point. As you can see there's also a lot of added dots and lines, which can be a bit hard to remember and I see you wondering what it looks like without them.

Well here it is.

I showed this to the people I brainstormed with in Discord and we decided to go with the more complicated version because it looks better lol.

This is one of the final versions.

It says: "Hello, my name is Kiwi Cult. I made this script after reading a fanfic called Terrible, But Great written by Isalise the loml on Archive Of Our Own."

Now, to talk about some of the (boring) logistics.

It is read from left to right, top to bottom.

Every separate combination of squiggles you see above is a separate word. Every word is made up of a starting character, one or more letter characters and an ending character.

The very first character you see in the top left corner, with the three petal looking thingies, is a silent starting character that indicates the start of a sentence. Not word: sentence. The end of the character, that little circle thingy, is a comma. So, the first combination says: "Hello,".

Then, the second combination starts with a kind of hook going down and right. This is also a silent character and more meant as an interpunction, that's why you don't pronounce it. It's kind of just a way to start the word when there isn't anything special about it (aka it's not the start of a sentence, a name, an exclamation or a question. But every character is special in its own right🥲). The same kind of hook can be found at the bottom of the combination, except going up. It has the same use, basically just a way to end the word when there isn't anything special about it. Now, you might ask: why does it go right and not left?

We talked about this a while, because I wanted the direction to have some kind of meaning. We wondered about gender, tone, blah blah all kinds of complicated things but in the end I just wanted this script to be writable so I chose to have proficient writers in Parseltongue make their hooks go left and beginners have their hooks go right.

Now, you might notice that I end my words with a hook going right. That is because I don't see myself as a pro in writing in Parselscript okay? It's hard!😭💀

Now, other than the character indicating the start of a sentence, the circle, and the simple hook, there are a few other characters to start or end a combination (don't worry I'll show them all to you at the end, you won't have to use your imagination for long).

We have a character to indicate a name. Now, the rule is: name indicator over start of sentence indicator. So, if you start a sentence with a name, you'll use the symbol to indicate a name, NOT BOTH. (That's not even possible but I don't even want to see you try and butcher my child).

There is a character to indicate a sentence that would usually be followed by an exclamation mark (!), but at the start of the sentence. Then you’d end the exclamated sentence with a period.

The same goes for a question mark (?): put it at the start of a question, not the end. Again, it wouldn't even be possible to use it at the end of a combination but I DON'T EVEN WANNA SEE YOU TRY.

Finally we have a period (.), which looks a bit like a flower with four petals. You do use this one at the end of a word, and it is always followed by a start of sentence indicator or a name indicator. I know people are rejecting capitals these days in their typing but I don't wanna see it. If you start a word after a period with a hook I will find you.

If a sentence starts with a name that is also a question or exclamation you’d use the question/exclamation mark above the name indicator, otherwise it would take away a vital part of the sentence while a name can still be read even if it doesn’t have its indicator.

So, to put it all next to each other, the symbols we have are: -start of sentence indicator -name indicator -exclamation mark (!) -question mark (?) -period (.) -hook (direction depends on efficiency) -comma (,) (direction depends on efficiency)

I didn't make adjusted characters to indicate a capital letter like we do in the Latin alphabet, meaning that the only things you can kind of 'capitalise' are the start of a sentence and the start of a name.

It is also slightly phonetic. Emphasis on slightly. I made separate characters for almost all letters in the Latin alphabet, so you can just write your word normally with Parselscript characters. The only difference is that I made only one character for the 'f/v' sounds and that there is no 'c' character. If a word has a 'c' in it, you'll have to use the character for a 'k' or an 's'. Also a ‘q’ can be made with ‘k’ and ‘w’ etc.

A few examples: -character=karakter -parselscript=parselskript -crazy=krazy -science=siense

-quiz=kwuiz

I know it looks a bit confusing, but I trust you guys' ability to read context clues and figure out what someone means when you try to decipher Parselscript.

Now, for a word like 'phonetic' or 'decipher' I don't really care whether you use the separate characters for 'p' and 'h' or just the one for the 'f/v' sound. You do you.

I also don’t use any double letters because they basically sound the same and it looks ugly but if you want to use double symbols feel free.

I also made some numbers that do not look like they fit with the rest of the script but I promise you that's just because you're not used to it yet. Our own numbers don't belong with our alphabet either because we nicked them from the Arabs (I think, don't quote me on this) but we don’t notice that either.

Tadah. (Yes I know it’s out of order I told you this was gonna be chaotic af)

Other than that, feel free to ask me questions if I've forgotten anything or if you're wondering about anything. I can't guarantee that I have a good answer because I might not even have thought about it myself, but I can always try to come up with something. I am one person, I'm afraid I haven't been able to take everything about a script into consideration.

Now, without further ado; here is the key.

No, your eyes didn't deceive you: there are two versions. The first has a bit more loose squiggles than the second one. I realised that when I was writing physically, the second version was much nicer to write, so it is kind of like Simplified Parselscript. I haven't decided yet if I'm gonna put some lore behind it or not yet. But I included the og one if you're a tryhard and wanna take it on.

Now, if you're gonna start writing it yourself, here is the stroke order.

I tried to make it as clear as possible but please ask me if you're confused on anything.

Red is the starting point of the whole symbol, the arrows indicate the direction to go in, x marks the start of the small extra's.

Now, I'd also recommend writing on some type of paper with vertical lines like this if you're gonna do it physically.

You can just turn a paper with normal, horizontal lines a quarter to get vertical lines. Also, do NOT write in between the lines. They are meant to help you keep the start and ending on the same line so you don't start going into crazy directions while writing. So, start your sentence symbol or hook or whatever in the middle of the line and try to keep coming back to that vertical line after every letter. As you gain more proficiency you'll probably go straight into the next letter without going back to the line all the time but I think this is a good starting point.

I also recommend writing with a fountain pen or something else that flows well because it’s easier to write that way.

Here is another rough draft I made on physical paper to get a feel for it. As you can see this draft had a lot more different starting characters and ending characters so just ignore that. Hope this motivates you a bit or smth.

Lmk if you want me to post a video of me writing in this Parselscript.

Also please let me know if you know of someone else who's also made a Parselscript because I tried to look for it on Tumblr and Twitter etc but I couldn't find anything.

I also feel like there’s a big mistake I made that I realised the last time I worked on this script but I’ve forgotten it now so if you find out please comment or dm or anything💀

Also feel free to use in your own fic, tho a little tiny shoutout in the a/n would be nice :) I’m @/kiwi_cult on Ao3, @/slvtr_ on Wattpad, @/kiwi cult on ff.net, @/slvtr.1 on TikTok and @/.slvtr on Discord.

Credits:

@natis-balamnimaja @asterialvia and @/zee (who unfortunately left the server and I don't know the Tumblr @ of) for brainstorming with me and @isalisewrites for inspiring us and making the server we discussed this in.

Okay bye :) tell me if I forgot anything.

🥝

[gojoawayhoe]

What even is JJK?

Hello JJK community!! I am an avid fanfic reader who was going through a crisis, accidentally stumbled across a JJK SMAU post, and triggered a hyperfixation (yayy)

I thought it might be fun to stumble my way through figuring out what is going on here with as little official information as possible. This post is my attempt to understand JJK from SMAU and fanfic alone! To be clear, I have NOT read or watched the anime/manga - this is just my interpretation for wtf is going on here.

A few things before we get into this -

Spoiler Warnings! This should be obvious, but since I've never watched/read the show I don't actually know what is considered a spoiler or not. Please read on with caution~

Newbie Warning! I am so new into this fandom, and it is a lot bigger than the ones I've been in before. This post is supposed to be fun, and I am coming from a place of good faith. If I accidentally commit a faux pas, please be kind!

Foul Language Warning! Most of this was written stream of conscious style over two weeks as I was struggling through some tough stuff IRL. My tone is tongue in cheek, and I did not pay much attention to grammar or minding my language. I don't say anything too crazy, but I am perhaps too liberal with certain four letter words.

With that said! Please enjoy my delirious ramblings as I make sense of this batshit crazy world. I had so much fun with this, and I hope you like it?

OKKKK SO (who is who, pt 1/?; i got some questions):

Did Shoko really cheat her way through medical school?

Toji is ?? An assassin with one?? two?? Dead wives?? Are we suspicious or nah

Also like, Toji? Sometimes he's written like an ass, sometimes like a strung out single dad?

yuuji is ..... chosos brother... somehow...?

Megumi is……. Tojis son? But also sometimes gojos adopted son?? Or at least mentee??

Speaking of Megs, here are some thoughts I had while figuring this effer out:

-Man, Megumi really likes dogs i guess, thats cool

-Oh huh, whats a shikigami?

-oh, that sounds pretty cool

*sees dogs mentioned again*

-cue: holy shit moment

-i straight up thought he was overly obsessed with dogs. Like as a character trait because its mentioned so much. 

-ykw ig he still is

-can you pet them?

Shibuya:

At first, mentions of Shibuya went over my head. Then, three or four days in, I read an smau where nanami made plans with the reader to do something as soon as he returned from Shibuya. It was really so sweet! But… umm…. The comments did not agree?

So this is the first time i googled anything, and found myself on the wiki. And uh, yeah, fuck you guys /s

And i was like, I wonder who else has died then?? And guys, i gotta be honest, I did NOT like it !! 🥹

alright, I got distracted.

Trying to figure out who is affiliated with who from smau/fanfic alone is nearly impossible (who is who pt 2/?). 

Eventually, you get here:

Most people - jj sorcerers/tokyo high

Toji + shiu - assassins

Kenjaku + mahito (mojito)? = freaky bitches (also is it just me or is mahitos design kinda.... 😏 no? just me?)

Choso - ???????? I genuinely cant tell?????? Sometimes yuuji is his brother and sometimes hes with the freaky bitches ??????? Is he a good girl gone bad ?? A bad girl gone good ?? Is he meaning yuuji like as a vessel of sakuna and sakuna is his half brother???? because apparently the whole main point of the goddamn show is that yuuji ate one of sakunas fingers and is his vessel or whatever??

And speaking of that, how did i not know yuuji and megumi (and… nobara…?) are the protagonists?? I went days without googling the premise of the show (yup.) and i was floored, lemme tell you! I really had no idea what was going on, yall 😌

So back to who is who again (pt 3/?, Geto edition) -

Ok. So..... OK. Geto, right? WTF is up here? here's what I've got

Geto + gojo (and Shoko!) = #besties

Geto has a crisis

Now hes racist

Aaaaaand slaughters a village (and his family??? is that right??)

Geto + gojo = #breakup

Gojo is real sad about it

10 years later geto comes back and gojo kills him

Geto is reanimated by the freakiest looking yeerk ive ever seen (does anyone even know animorphs anymore or is that series a fever dream I made up?)

#sadboi vibes only plz #trapped in the prison realm #justGojothings #honestly fuck the Shibuya arc

okay ANDDDD -

Gojo + Geto + KFC = ???!

y'all i see them referenced with KFC all the time. this is definitely a private joke that I am not in on lmao

moving on!

Sakuna v Gojo.

Yeah, fuck this arc too honestly. Gojo's my favorite. Sue me! I'm basic! I never said I wasn't!

back to CHOSO again (my beloathed <3) (who is who pt 4/?):

I have figured it out!! Choso was with the freaky bitches to avenge his brothers, then somehow figured out that Yuuji is his half brother and badda bing, bad girl turns good. love to see it.

But, is it cannon??

Some of these are characters are written so baby girl-ified that i think id be upset reading the source material. Like… is choso really that sweet and innocent? He is written as the sweetiest of baby gorls. But like isnt he an antagonist? I suspect he probably has one or two scenes in canon that are naïve and endearing, and the fanfic girlies ran with it. As they absolutely should. But im attached this version now and I dont want that ruined 😌 I've seen yall bitch about the white dog thing in SMAU, but you know what? I love it here in delulu land and im sticking with it.

Also, I have a feeling that Nanami is just a serious guy with a stick up his ass. Do I love how he is written? yes. Do I stan a romantic family man? idk, ask my husband (yes, I do). Do I think he is TOTALLY different in cannon? Absolutely

Do I think Geto is this tragic, heartbreaking villian in cannon? Yeah, I think that's probably right. but i mean, genocidal maniac is kindve hard to reconcile with how he is portrayed in the ficdom universe. Also, I love how many people just choose to simply ignore his betrayal arc and pretend it simply ✨didnt happen✨. i love it and im living for it.

There are about 10,000 different portrayals of Gojo in fic. Some common themes are:

fuckboy gojo

sadboy gojo

lovesick gojo

emotionally unavailable gojo

I think most right is probably #4? idk man, if my life was in danger all the time and I was viewed as (at best) nothing more than a weapon by society AND my best friend betrayed me like this? I probably would also float through life with minimal attachments and a laissez faire attitude. but then this is also challenged by his clear attachment to the protagonists (who are, apparently, the students and not the teachers)

Will I watch/read this anime/manga?

Honestly?? Idk yall. I kinda mentioned this earlier, but I have now gotten attached to these characters as they are in my head. in delulu land. Also, my real life still kinda sucks rn, and idk if I am currently built for the death and betrayal and ANGST in my fantasy world too, thank you very much.

That said, my brother in law is begging me to watch it since he heard im doing this. This world is genuinely so complex and interesting, and the magic system is fascinating. AND it would be interesting to go through it and see what ive actually gotten right and what ive gotten just so, so wrong.

Maybe if anyone actually reads this and it picks up traction ill consider it, and do a follow up post with the right and the wrong

N E Ways! I think that's about all the word vomit I am capable of right now. if anyone actually read all this, I hope you enjoyed my nonsensical ramblings! feel free to tell me what I got right, what I got wrong, or how good/bad my takes are.

[hispg]

Fantasize

Pairings: R2! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your new neighbor Leon knows that you're married, but he can't help it but fantasize about you.

Wc: 3.9k

Warnings: smut,unprotected sex,p in v, fingering, dirty thoughts, cheating ( don't be like them), soft dom! Leon, pet names.

An:Sorry for the delay in posting, university has been taking up all my time and I'm also having some personal problems. Anyway, thanks for the 200 followers! And for all the messages I've been receiving, sorry for not answering them all. But please know that I read each one and smile like a fool, thank you for your love <3. I'm preparing a fanfic with Fuckboy! Leon, maybe it'll take a while, but I promise it'll be worth it!

Leon knew you were a married woman, he always knew, ever since he saw the shiny ring on your ring finger. A more than clear sign of your marriage.

Not that it bothered him at first, after all, he had just moved into the same condominium as you. He thought he'd just be another neighbor, but then he was wrong.

But then he started to get close to you, doing simple things like helping you carry the groceries you bought. Even holding the elevator open so you could get in.

Small talk here and there, nothing too personal or anything. Just two people getting to know each other. And by some chance of fate, he ended up finding you an interesting person, the more he talked to you, the more mesmerized he became.

Was it wrong? Of course it was, but he couldn't help fantasizing about you, it was stronger than him.

And frankly nothing improved when he found out that your husband didn't spend much time at home, if you saw him more than twice a month it was pure luck.

You were such a sweet and gentle person, he couldn't understand how your husband didn't mind spending so much time at home. You were alone most of the time, and that legitimately bothered him.

At some point he asked for your number, so he could talk to you often. And indeed he did, he spoke to you almost every day, even if it was just a simple message, but he was interested to know how you were doing.

After a while he found himself thinking about you more than he should, whether at work or when he was alone at home. He didn't know why, but you gradually occupied all his thoughts. Seven days a week, all the time he imagined you, with him.

He knew it was morally wrong, since you were a married woman. Besides, he was only a cop, what could he offer you? Your husband could certainly give you anything you asked for. Just about everything.

Maybe one thing less.

The walls were thin, you could easily hear what was going on from the other side. The adjoining walls of his bedroom gave him the opportunity to hear what was going on on the other side. Which was exactly your bedroom.

It was impossible not to notice the little noises you made, the low squeaks and moans that you swore no one else could hear.

But Leon heard perfectly.

He had keen instincts, perhaps because he was a police officer and needed things to be like that. However, he didn't understand what caused these noises, the moans, the heavy breathing, the gasps that he heard so clearly.

Until one day he realized, it was you touching yourself.

Letting out soft cries, playing with your needy pussy. He could already imagine you arching your body on the bed, clutching the sheets and moaning with every touch.

Incredibly exciting, he thought. Yet he couldn't help imagining the fact that you had no one to do it for you. No one to fill your cunt, to not let you do this job on your own.

And then he realized, your husband could give you everything except one thing. Pleasure.

And that Leon could give you, without a shadow of a doubt.

Every time he heard you doing these things, his mind went wild. Fuck, he could feel his cock getting hard just from that, thinking it could be him.

Imagining you arching and bending your body towards him, while he was buried between your legs. Or rather, how well you could fit him, the gigantic desire he had to fuck you dumb, make you addicted to his cock.

He often tried not to think about it, it was morally wrong, of course. He tried to maintain good behavior, composure, but it was impossible to do that when you were so close to him.

It was even worse when you called him to your house, just to chat and eat the delicious cookies you baked. He didn't know if it was on purpose, but you always wore short clothes to these small gatherings, shorts so short and tight that he could clearly see the curve of your ass. Plus the graceful fact that you didn't wear a bra when you were at home, giving him the opportunity to see your breasts swaying slightly as you walked.

Maybe that's why he would ask for more coffee or cookies, just to see your figure walking around the kitchen, providing the perfect image for his unbridled imagination.

In his mind, his life would only be perfect if he had you by his side, in a routine where he could fuck you every day of the week. Every single day.

At this point, he's lost count of how many times he's jerked off to you, how many times he's dreamt that it was your hand doing the work, not his.

From time to time he even thought about how wrong it was, but by then it was too late, his cum was oozing out all over him, making him let out a slight grunt of pleasure. Spilling it all over his sheets, making a mess.

The next day he would greet you as if nothing had happened, with the biggest innocent smile on his face.

But all his self-control went down the drain once he saw you wearing a tight red nightgown, it was made of silk and fitted your body perfectly.

He couldn't stop staring for a second, and he could already feel something hardening in his body.

"Thank you, sweetheart." You say with a soft smile, looking at him.

The reason he was at your house right now was that he was helping you put a heavy package inside, and maybe he was going to put more than the package inside.

"Nothing at all. Want some help unpacking?" He replied, wiping his uniform a little.

And you didn't know why, but something sparked in you every time you saw him in his uniform. He looked so handsome like that.

"Yes, please." You nod. It was obvious that you didn't need his help for such a simple thing, but if it meant he'd stay longer, then you'd let it be.

All you got from him was a smile, and he started looking in the box for a place to open it, and you went to find a pair of scissors.

Once you returned he was kneeling on the floor, slowly opening the box with his hands. As soon as he looked up, he saw too much, his gaze went straight to your thighs, exactly to the middle of your legs.

At the same moment he blushed, trying to look away. But before either of you could say a word, the lights flickered and went out for good. A sudden blackout.

Leon was the first to react, he stood up abruptly and bumped into you, holding you by the waist to prevent you from falling.

On impulse, you grabbed his shoulders, just to keep your balance. It was only at that moment that you realized how close your face was to his, the way his eyes stared at you intensely, as if for the last time.

Not only that, but you felt a certain bulge in your stomach, and it didn't take more than two seconds for you to understand what it was all about.

Just a brief glimpse of your thighs was enough for him to get hard, and even more so holding you so close.

"I'm sorry..." He whispers awkwardly, still holding you in his arms.

You don't know if it was your instinct, or if it was your body aching for any kind of touch, but before you could imagine it you pushed your lips to his, kissing him with a force you didn't even know you had.

He obviously hesitated, the weight of the act bearing down on his back in an abrupt way. It was so wrong, a part of him just wanted to push you away and say no, but by then he wasn't thinking straight, his body went into overdrive.

It wasn't long before he was moving his lips against yours in pure synchronicity, his fingers curving around your waist, effectively sticking the two of you together. At that moment it was as if nothing else mattered, perhaps it was the lust affecting your thoughts, the bottled-up desire to touch each other.

Too much to describe, and it could only be demonstrated through this physical contact, the way his tongue slid into your mouth, exploring every inch. Taking the time to savor the moment, because he genuinely didn't know if this would be the first and last time.

His hands reached down to lift your nightgown, cupping your ass and pushing you against him even more. His thoughts were racing, but he couldn't stop. Just feeling sorry for your poor husband. Not that would stop him from doing anything.

You were almost in the same situation, except that your mind was foggy, you were already feeling hot and bothered by a simple kiss. A kiss like the one your husband had never been able to give you, and perhaps could never make you feel so aroused by a simple act.

God, if it was so wrong, why did it have to be so good?

Even though you tried to open your mouth to speak at some point, Leon wouldn't let you, he always pressed his lips against yours harder, forcing you to keep quiet. And before he did anything else, he lifted you up by your ass, carrying you across the couch. He was only guided by his senses, since he was more than used to being in your house.

"Shit, we shouldn't have-" you protest, and he shuts you up with another kiss, laying you down on the couch and getting on top of you, holding your wrists above your head, preventing you from moving or anything.

Soon you felt his full weight on top of you, as his warm breath hit your cheek, while he nibbled lightly, "It's too late to say no."

Yes, he was right.

Now was not the time for remorse or saying no, because let's face it, it's not like you were going to say no.

And hell, you knew so well that you should say no, but he wasn't helping either. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear, kissing and nibbling your neck, making you gasp and squirm under him.

You nestled your hands in his hair, pulling him in for another thirsty kiss. You simply acted like someone who hadn't been touched in months, every little brush against you was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch, remembering what it felt like to have your skin against his, a sensation he wouldn't forget even if he wanted to. All Leon could feel now was pity, pity for your poor husband.

Why was that? Because Leon was sure that he would make you feel like never before, a sensation that your husband could not possibly give you.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he whispers, looking at you with a little smile.

All you did was nod, your flushed and embarrassed face already saying a lot. At the same time as you felt a lust burning throughout your body, there was a guilt that consumed you in an overwhelming way.

If it was so wrong, why did this shit have to be so good?

Your mind was blurred and confused, as if all you could focus on were his touches, the way he was playing with the waistband of your panties, threatening to pull them down at any moment. The way his blue eyes penetrated you, as if he wanted to memorize every detail.

As soon as his lips touched your neck, you felt your body twitch, and a small moan escaped your lips. Each act made your body burn, it had been so long since you'd been touched like this, something about him excited you too much. More than it should.

He took his time, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your neck, shoulders, down to your breasts. Where he made a point of slowly taking off your nightgown, revealing what he wanted, you didn't wear a bra at home, so this was just another advantage for him. As soon as he flicked his tongue out to make contact with your skin, he stopped. Something was bothering him.

His gaze was on your hands, specifically on your ring finger, looking at your wedding ring. Then he took your hand, slowly removing the ring.

"Today you'll be mine, you don't have to wear this." His voice was low and husky, and he didn't care about your ring at all, he just took it off and threw it somewhere in the room.

It would take you some time to find it again.

"Leon I-" He shushed you, pressing two fingers to your lips, forcing you to open wide. Soon you had two fingers in your mouth, and he moved them back and forth, making sure you sucked it all in.

"No talking for today, baby." The velvety voice once again drew a sly whimper from you, making you hold him tight.

His deft fingers moved down to your wet slit, rubbing your entrance in circles, his fingertips doing a marvelous job on you.

"You're touch depraved, aren't you?" Leon asks, a mischievous smile appearing on his lips.

You were so wet, just from simple touches, it wasn't hard to guess that you were the type to get turned on by silly things.

Another whimper escapes your lips, your nails digging into his forearm, and from the smile he gave you, he was certainly enjoying the situation.

The way he knew exactly where to touch, how to touch. It was simply enough to drive you insane. You didn't even know how he did it, but he did.

His fingers found your clit, and as soon as they did, he started stroking it with his thumb, lightly, just to see every reaction you gave.

He would keep each one in his memory, it would be the most vivid memories he'd had in a while.

"So wet, just for me, isn't it?" A pure tease, just to drive you even crazier.

You nodded dumbly, he was all you needed at that moment. You'd never felt this way before, and you wondered how he could do it.

Without warning he slipped a finger into you, stretching your tight walls gently, curling his fingers and searching for your sensitive spots, and he wouldn't stop until he found them.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered huskily, removing his fingers from your mouth so that you could moan for him.

You couldn't do anything more than moan or mumble things here or there, so when he increased the speed and added another finger it was enough to make you see stars.

"There, there, it feels good when you touch there." In a whimper you say, as soon as you feel his fingers curving around your sweet spots.

All he did was bite his lip, seeing how pleased you were with him. He couldn't wait to fuck you, his mind was stuck on the idea.

He would be the man for you, and you would be his woman. He could easily fulfill the role your husband should be playing.

"Is that good?" He purrs in your ear, licking your earlobe.

You bite your lip and nod, another dirty moan coming from your lips. You could feel your orgasm approaching, the way he stroked your clit as he fucked you with his fingers was enough to make you go wild with him.

"Come for me." He purrs at you, and in one swift movement he finds your breast, wrapping his tongue around your sensitive nipple.

He sucked like crazy, making a point of doing so until he felt your nipple harden in his wet muscle.

Before you knew it, your hips were moving in sync with his movements, in perfect harmony.

God knows how he knew every sensitive spot of yours so well, maybe he'd been waiting for this more than you realized.

"Leon! Fuck-," you moan loudly, rolling your eyes and arching your body, feeling your orgasm wash over you intensely. In a way that has never happened before.

He gave you a lopsided grin and a contented murmur, extremely proud and smug at having made you cum like that.

"What a beautiful princess, you're perfect when you come." He whispered sensuously in your ear, kissing all over your face straight after.

You were speechless, your breathing heavy and fast, your mind even messier than before. At this point you didn't want to think about right or wrong, your mind was in a whirlwind of pleasure.

As soon as he saw you calm down from your high, he lifted you into his arms, carrying you like a princess. He couldn't stand it any longer, his cock hard and throbbing in his pants, he had to take you.

And of course he would do it in your bed, you would be his in your bed. As if you were husband and wife. He already knew the way to your bedroom, and gently laid you down on the bed, letting you sink into the soft mattress.

"My beautiful wife, you're going to welcome me like the perfect wife you are, aren't you?" A low purr in your ear, his fingers reaching down to undo his belt.

You nod, sitting down on the bed and helping him out of his uniform. As he took off his pants, you unbuttoned his shirt, kissing and licking all over his chest.

Low moans and gasps came from his lips, he reached for your hair and began to stroke you, encouraging you to continue. You were so perfect in his eyes, you needed to be his, if only for one night.

In the excitement of the moment, he pulled down his pants along with his boxers, letting his cock pop out, a mischievous smile on his lips, you would be his.

As he had so long hoped.

He holds you by the shoulders and pushes you onto the bed once more, letting you snuggle into the sheets.

As he watched you spread your legs, he mounted you, giving the perfect view of his shapely body. Every muscle twitching as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading you even wider. He had the perfect view, you there all vulnerable for him, slit wet and clamoring for him.

And so he did, he pumped his cock and brushed your entrance, teasing you.

You whimpered, pushing your hips against the head of his cock, wanting him to do what he had to do right away.

A chuckle escapes his lips, and he pushes his cock all the way into you at once, making a quiet slapping sound.

"Fucking tight." He grunts in your ear, starting with calm, slow thrusts, giving you a slow, romantic kiss.

Savoring your taste as he passionately fucked you. Even if it wasn't true, for tonight you would be his woman. His alone, made for him, all his.

"Such a beautiful wife." He murmurs during the kiss, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, his skin colliding against yours.

"My beautiful husband." You say in a whimper, the words sliding out of your mouth as if it were the purest truth.

Perhaps you only spoke in the heat of the moment, or perhaps deep down you wanted it to be true.

He bites his lip, pushing your thighs further into the mattress, moving his hips at an incredibly fast speed, he couldn't hold back any longer, he needed it. Just like you.

"I'm going to come inside you, and you're going to let me, aren't you?" He growls at you, squeezing your thighs tightly.

"Y-yes, yes please." You plead, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you arch your body towards him, your nails digging into the sheets.

"Good, fucking good girl." He whispers, pulling his cock out of you, only to shove it in once more.

You both moan loudly at the sensation, your velvety, tight walls embracing him, pulling him in. His cock throbbing and twitching inside you, he was close, and he couldn't wait to fill you with his big, full load.

He was focused on giving you the most pleasure he could give, just to make sure you didn't forget him, and if he was lucky you could call him one more time.

And he didn't mind being your lover at all, there was no denying that he was very fond of the idea.

At that point, your moans filled the room, surely the neighbors next door could hear what was going on if they listened closely.

Not that you cared much about it, the swearing and sweet talk that escaped his lips, too lost in the moment to think about anything else.

His cock slid in and out of you, making the impure sound of bodies colliding, and Leon was closer to the edge, he wasn't going to hold back any longer.

"Close, Ah-, close," you moaned loudly, writhing and arching your body impatiently. You felt your orgasm building, your body trembling with pleasure beneath him.

He kisses your cheeks softly, whispering to you, "Me too, princess. Let's cum together, yeah? Be good for me, together."

With a loud moan you confirm, he increases the pace and puts the weight of his body on you, moaning and grunting in your ear. The thrusts were strong and deep, he made a point of hitting all your spots and making you see stars every time.

"Fuck - I'm cumming," he growls, his nails digging into your thighs, leaving light marks.

That was the last straw for you to reach your limit, your walls spasming on his cock, his white cream spurting into you. He came so much, so much that he hadn't realized the last time he'd felt this good.

"Good, fucking good." He murmurs, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss, still moving slowly inside you.

His hands leave your thighs and find your hands, wrapping his fingers around yours.

"I want you, only you." He whispers against your mouth, kissing all over your face.

You bite your lip and stare at him, tempted to repeat the same sentence he's just said. Maybe it's selfish of you to want him all to yourself, when you couldn't do the same.

You couldn't promise to be his alone, and quite possibly you'd have to be husband and wife in secret. Not that it was a bad idea, even if it meant breaking a few hearts.

It wasn't long before he started kissing your neck, sucking lightly. He wanted to claim you again and again, for tonight you would be his alone. And he would make sure to mark you properly.

His fingers still wrapped around yours, as he whispered sweet nothings to you. You certainly wouldn't get out of that bed tonight, he wouldn't let you.

You would be two lovers in love, parting the next day. And looking forward to the next time. Regardless, the night would be memorable.

It would be a hell of a night.

[kotton-kandy953]

please please please please please do another TBHK fic, thank you!

━ 𝚂𝚆𝙴𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃

❏ 𝐘𝐎𝐔

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 love interest ꒱ . . . yandere!stalker!akane aoi x fem!reader || I kinda changed the layout of my posts if it isn’t too obvious. I might change it back, idk yet

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 warnings ꒱ . . . blood, delusions, murder, obsessive tendencies, stalking, yandere themes

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 synopsis ꒱ . . . you, a new student at kamome academy, have caught the attention of a boy in your class who turns out to be an obsessive stalker; willing to murder anyone who could get in the way of their relationship. but he would never… right?

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 authors note ꒱ . . . I’ve recently started watching “you” and i really wanted write a fanfic based off of it. I haven’t written a anything in first person, or a tbhk fic in general in a while so I had to reread the manga to grasp akane’s character (he might be a little ooc sorry) || I have the fucking flu so I posted this wayyy later than I wanted :( || tbhk fics: sweetheart

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 word count ꒱ . . . 3.5k

The first day of the school year after summer break is always the worst. Everyone is forced to re-introduce themselves to the same kids they’ve had classes with since middle school; As if they’ve never seen them before.

Not only that, but trying to make a decent impression of yourself on you new teachers is a drag in itself.

And quite frankly, I’m over it.

The same uniforms as last year, the same school mysteries or wonders, the same crush you’ve had since elementary that would never, ever, dare to look your way… why can’t life change for once? I’m not even asking for anything too drastic. Just a slight shift in the room that’ll make my life a bit more enjoyable, y’know?

And, as if answering my desperate prayers, — you entered the room.

Your uniform dress looked so nice despite looking the exact same as every other girl’s’. You walked slowly and had a resting smile on your face, yet you still avoided eye contact… were you nervous? I’m not surprised, I’ve never seen you before so I’ll assume that you’re a new student.

You paused for a moment, examining the class before you chose a desk to sit at. And where will that be?

Will you sit in the front back of the class? Or on the wall by the window? Maybe even—

“-Is anyone sitting here?” You asked, gesturing towards the vacant seat right next to me.

You… you want to sit next to me? Why me? Am I really that important to you?

“No. No one’s sitting there,” God, you’re even prettier up close… stop it! I can’t fall for you after only 5 minutes. It’s pathetic, really…

Nonetheless, I wasn’t expecting you to greet me first. well, you technically didn’t greet me, it was more of a question…

Pushing up my glasses, I cleared my throat. I guess I’ll have to introduce myself then… “I’m Akane Aoi.”

“I’m Y/n L/n, nice to meet you Aoi,” you smiled at me… your smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. Ever since her—

-Once our first class had finally started, it was a struggle to pry my eyes away from you. I just… found everything about you so fascinating. From the way you styled your hair, to the way your (s/c) complexion seemed to glow.

Even the way you awkwardly glanced over in my direction enchanted me. Wait, you’re looking at me? Crap, was I staring for too long? Quickly, I diverted my gaze down at my paper.

Why do I feel this way around you, Y/n? This can’t be normal, right? No. It has to be. Then again, there was only one other person I’ve ever felt so strongly about before…

Despite my efforts to avoid staring, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re just so pretty, too fucking pretty…

I failed to notice the soft redness rising to my face until it was a bit too late. Why did I have to get like this whenever I like someone?

No, no, I couldn’t have became obsessed with you already, we’ve only just met. I only find you, Y/n, very, very interesting.

Is it even alright for me to address you as your first name ‘Y/n?’ I’ll just assume so for now, but I’ll make sure to ask you whenever we get close.

The second I got home from school today, I threw myself onto my bed after dropping all of my things on the ground. I’m too exhausted to do anything productive and my mind is too preoccupied with more pressing matters.

I believe it’s pretty normal when someone has a crush, said crush will only to circulate throughout their mind… 24/7. It doesn’t exactly have to be an “obsessive infatuation” as some may call it. But all things do have their limits — so why can’t I stop thinking of you, Y/n…?

I rolled over onto my side and reached for my phone, the least I can do it look for your social media right? I just want to know your hobbies, what shows you like to watch, your home address…

Your account was a bit difficult to find giving that you don’t use your full legal name unlike most people online… You’re an overall average person on the internet, posting mostly about your different interests.

Does this count as a form of stalking? No, it can’t! I’m just… browsing your reposts.

Not only that, but it took me an even shorter amount of time to find your house, believe it or not. Well, it’s mostly because i have your first and last name imprinted in my memory despite only hearing it once.

After a bit of digging, I would have your home address. Seriously, the internet shouldn’t make it this easy to find someone’s address. That’s how people get robbed and even kidnapped…

Comparing the picture from Google to the real thing, I wouldn’t have ever guessed that your home was this big. Yes, I know watching someone from outside their house at 10:47 PM while dressed in all black is… not morally okay. Maybe even a bit illegal in some countries, but I’m doing this all for your sake, Y/n.

I pulled up my hood up over my head in fear of being recognized as I stared into your bedroom window from behind a large tree, I’m glad I’m not wearing those damn glasses or anyone could’ve recognized me.

But dear God, you looked even more elegant out of your uniform and in your pajamas. I instantly tore my lingering eyes away when my gaze began trailing down your thighs.

Wait. Are you in there alone, Y/n? I don’t see any cars parked outside… but there could be cars in the garage, right? Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

I can’t believe your parents would leave you alone in your house like that for so long. Especially with the curtains wide open this late at night… seriously, haven’t you ever heard of personal privacy?

You never know what kinda creepy wierdos could be watching you sleep or even plotting your murder. Good thing I’m here, Y/n. I’ll always protect you.

❏ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

It’s been a few weeks after school has started Y/n, and I’ve kind of gotten used to this routine we have now. I wake up extra early every morning to get dressed and ready for school. I walk over to your home, which isn’t very far from mine, and watch you get dressed and leave the house for school through your window.

This actually helped me learn so many new things about you, you leave your home around 7:30 every day and walk to school. You know, it can be dangerous walking all alone like that, good thing I’m here to watch over and protect you, Y/n.

You do have a few friends, some a bit closer than preferred but I can’t really control who you’re around… for now.

We have most of our classes together which I thank God for, but our first one is my personal favorite. The reason is because you sit right next to me. Sure, you barely speak to me unless you, like, needed to borrow a pencil or something… but at least you acknowledge my presence.

And once you finally settle in your seat, I always pause time. Despite my supernatural power only allowing me to do this for five minutes, it still feels way too short for my liking. I just want to stare into your beautiful eyes and admire your stunning beauty for eternity.

God, why did you of all people have to steal my heart. I’ve always believed that… she would be the only one for me, but that just can’t be. Because if it were, why else would I be head over heels for you, Y/n?

My crush… no, my obsession with you has grown so bad that I can barely think straight when I look at you. Even frozen in time, you still find a way to drive me mad.

With only a few more seconds from the five minutes left on the clock, I looked away from you and sighed combing my fingers through my red hair. I couldn’t possibly be on the brink of insanity after only seeing you for a fucking week.

But no matter how much I criticize myself, I just can’t and won’t stop thinking of you. Of how you smell, how you feel, how you taste… oh, the feeling of your soft lips against mine would be simply euphoric—

“Akane, are you okay?” You asked, nervously laughing a bit. “You seemed a bit out of it a minute ago.”

Coming back my senses, I realized my fingers were delicately touching my lips as if we actually did just kiss.

“Actually Y/n, there’s something really important I need to tell you,” I began, urgency in my eyes as I stare into yours. Is this too soon to tell you how I feel?

Well it must’ve been because as soon as you opened your mouth to form a response, our teacher entered the room.

Great.

❏ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

‘Good morning You,’ is what I wish I was saying to you this dreadful day — but no. Sadly, only in my deepest, darkest imaginations can I hold you tightly in my warm embrace without a care in the world.

Call me delusional or whatever, but I can’t help it.

Because I’m so in love with you.

Sure, I haven’t forwardly told you this… well, every time I tried I was either interrupted or I couldn’t find you. I stal-follow you all the time, so why is it so hard to locate you whenever you turn the corner and get lost in a big crowd.

But still, I haven’t given up on you — on us.

Because my brain can’t go five minutes without you running through my head, I have to do something about it. From the second I woke up this morning, so for about 3 hours? I’ve been… innocently looking for your social media on every app that I can think of, but you barely post at all. So seeing your beautiful face was out of the question.

Beginning to grow agonizingly bored, I throw myself out of bed and walk over to my closet. My hands landed on a black hoodie and jeans, that’ll be fine I guess.

Now in the bathroom, I looked up at the mirror and was a bit taken aback at my appearance. Well, mainly the dark circles under my eyes that anyone could notice.

Dammit, have I even slept last night? Or the night before?

Whatever, I can’t change the past. But it’d be nice if I was given that power anyway.

I sent a text to my parents, making up a lame excuse as to why I’m abruptly leaving at… 10 AM!? Damn, I didn’t know that the thought of you, Y/n could keep me up for that long!

It didn’t take much walking for me to end up here, right in front of your house. And even after I (indirectly) told you, Y/n, you still have your curtains wide open. Letting anyone see the inside of your bedroom.

Oh, you look so peaceful laying in your bed… I could only imagine how it would feel laying next to you in the morning. The way your soft skin would ever so slightly brush against mine. The sound of your soft warm breaths escaping your lips—

“Well good morning to you, Aoi!” A voice rang out behind me, making my whole body stiffen. I didn’t realize I had been staring into your bedroom window for a few minutes until now. Fuck.

“Sh- Shit! You scared me, Minamoto!” I looked up at the taller blonde in frustration. “What’re you doing here anyway!?”

“Well I was just going on a walk but suddenly ran into you. But wow, Aoi, I never took you for the creeepy stalker type… Actually, I did.” He laughs a bit to himself, that same damn smile plastered onto his stupid face.

“Ha, ha, very funny Mr. President,” I scoffed, “Don’t you have a supernatural to exorcise or something?”

“Well, no actually.” He put a finger on his chin and looked over towards your house, “But I do have a question for you: Whatever happened to you and Akane? I thought you lover her unconditionally, hm, Aoi?”

“I…” My eyes narrowed at him. Did he seriously have to bring her up here and now? “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” He sighed, “Just — forget I said anything.”

He turned on his heel and proceeded to walk away from me, “Enjoy whatever it is you’re doing, Aoi.”

I rolled my eyes at him, what was he even doing here? I don’t know, and, quite frankly, I don’t really don’t give a fuck either. Looking up at your bedroom window once more, you were… gone?

“The hell…?” I muttered under my breath, my hands reaching up to pull my hood over my head. Did you notice me watching and decided to move? No, there’s no way could’ve seen me…

“Dammit, did I really loose you?” I panicked, despite it not even being that serious.

Just calm down, maybe I can find you—

“Oh, hi Aoi! I didn’t expect to see you around here!”

Slowly, I turned around and pulled the hood off my disheveled hair; I could really take better care of myself before leaving the house.

But when did you…? You know what, I don’t even care.

You laughed a bit at my close to mortified expression. Oh, your smile is so beautiful…

“You uh- yeah! I just ran into Minamoto so I guess everyone from school’s here or something!” I responded as calmly as possible, obviously failing in the process.

You went silent for a bit and narrowed your eyes at me, “There’s something off about you… where are your glasses?”

You pointed to my eyes and I only blinked at you. How the hell did I forget my glasses!? No. I didn’t forget them. I didn’t bring them on purpose because I didnt think I’d need them so… shit, shit, I need to make up an excuse..!!

“I… forgot them. The glasses, that is,” I lied. I had to lie, Y/n, because your were asking too many damn questions. But that’s okay… for now.

“That’s a shame… but do I like you a bit more without them on anyway,” I’m glad that’s we’ve became close enough friends whereas you can trust me even after I blatantly lied to your face.

Wait did you just compliment me?

“I don’t have anything important to do today, so do you want to go to the movies with me? If you’re not busy, of course.”

And are you asking me out? I have to be dreaming.

A big, stupid smile illuminated my sleep-deprived face as I eagerly agreed, “Yeah of course! What Time do you want to go?”

“Why not now? If you don’t mind…”

I wasn’t expecting that… do you really like me that much, Y/n?

“O- of course! I don’t mind at all!!” God, i probably sound so desperate right now, but who wouldn’t when you’re literally asking me out, Y/n!?

As we were walking to the theater that was too damn far away, I read aloud the movies showing around this time today. When I got to the last on on the list, you stopped me.

“If you can read that well without your glasses, I don’t see why you need them,” you giggled. It’s so cute how oblivious about me you are.

Yet, it’s understandable. I can’t tell you that I gained the power to pause time and see supernaturals from school mystery number one but use my glasses to block them from my view. But that’d take way too long to explain, you know?

Oh shit, don’t I need to make up an excuse for that too?

“So which movie were you thinking of seeing, Y/n?” I’ll just act like I didn’t hear you.

❏ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

It was late afternoon when the movie was over, I asked if I could walk you home and of course you accepted the offer. My home is on the way anyway… well, if I were to go the shorter way.

We stopped at your front porch and you turned to me, “Thank you for going to the movies with me, Aoi! I knew it was sudden?”

Why are you so worried about that Y/n? I would literally do anything for you.

“Oh you’re welcome, really I should be thanking you.” I smiled, my hands fidgeting nervously in my pockets. Why the hell am I so nervous? Get you shit together Akane. This my perfect, only chance I get to tell you how I really feel!

“Y/n, I love—“

“—Hey, Y/n!!”

You turned around, your face lighting up at the sight of this random guy. I’ve never seen him be- wait I have. He’s some kid who went to your old school. He follows your account actually… and it pisses me off.

“Y/n you know him?” I forced out my mouth. But what I really wanted to ask was, “Y/n, who the fuck is this loser?”

“Yes, he went to my middle school!” You exclaimed, a bit too happy to see him.

His name is Ryota, a boringly average student with average grades, looks, and personality… he posts a bit more than you and seems a bit more on the extroverted side. Despite his average-ness, he has a blatantly obvious crush on you, but I think you would’ve caught on by now.

But who cares about him. I want to know what is and was he to you, Y/n? A close friend? A past crush? I have to know.

Wait a second, I just remembered he made a post about Kamome, does he go the—!?

“Aoi? You there?” You giggled, waving your hand in my face. I must’ve zoned out… again. “Akane Aoi, this is Ryota! My best friend from middle school!”

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen you around campus! Nice to finally meet you Mr. Vice President!”

So he does go to Kamome. Great.

I already hate this guy.

“You too, Ryota,” I plastered a fake smile onto my face then turned to you. “I’m going home now, don’t want to worry my parents! Bye, Y/n!” I turn and walk away.

When walking back to my home, I suddenly find myself eavesdropping on you and Ryota’s conversation. Completely by mistake! You both just speak very loudly…

“Why were you on a date with… him?” Ryota huffs. I knew he was a little shit!

“It wasn’t… really a date. We just went out…” You avoided eye contact with him. Were you embarrassed? For what?

“On a date.”

“Why do you even care? I thought you were over me!”

“I am! But Akane Aoi isn’t… he isn’t right in the head, okay.”

“What are you talking about, Ryota! You said the same thing abou—“

“-but I’m serious this time! He gets really, uh, really obsessive okay? There’s a rumor he’s killed someone over a girl he liked before.”

“that’s just a rumor it can’t be proven.”

“Whatever. Believe what you want. I’m going home,” and he walked away.

Why would he say something so… untrue about me! I’m perfectly fucking sane. And why would he feel those.. those lies to you, Y/n? I can’t let him try to brainwash you or anyone else at school with that stuff.

Y/n, you really need better friends.

❏ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

I spent my Sunday doing absolutely nothing. Not even stalking you interested me today. All I could think of what’s that stupid piece of crap Ryota. Why the hell is he even named that, I bet he can’t even animate.

At school the next day, I did what I usually do all day. Most of which is either me staring at you or thinking of you.

But that stupid Ryota has plagued my mind, and they weren’t the lovesick thoughts like I have with you. No, I cant go three fucking minutes without imagining myself bashing his skull in with my bat.

God, why can’t he just disappear!?

When school was finally over, I headed straight to my locker, the shoe locker, then the exit doors. I may haven’t mentioned this to you yet because the author forgot to write this earlier, but I sent an anonymous message to Ryota asking him to meet me behind the school.

Only an idiot could fall for something like that, but it guess it worked because he’s literally walking right towards me as we speak.

“Oh… it’s you. What do you want, Aoi?” Ryota sneered. Man, I really hate this guy.

“Oh, I just need to show you something really important…” I muttered through gritted teeth as I took my heavy backpack off and shuffled through the contents.

Why do I still have this thing in here?

“Oh, I found it!” I stood up in front of him with my hands behind my back.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “took you long eno—“

In the heat of the moment, I had swung what my hands had a firm grip on directly into his skull. I’m so glad I had kept this spiked baseball bat.

When the warm liquid splattered onto my face and his body had collapsed at my feet, I could only react with two words: “Oh shit.”

I hope it’s not obvious that I got lazier w/ my writing as the story progressed. I just realyyy wanted to post this soon lol :P

If this gets popular, I might make a part two!! :D

[jupiter-elara]

Ford being jealous of your cat

Warnings: None!

Note: This is the first fanfic thing I've ever written like, ever. I was also half asleep when I wrote this so I'm so sorry if this is buns.

Ford was slightly hesitant when you mentioned you wanted to get a cat. After all, he had never been interested in getting a pet, and a cat seemed like it would be nothing but a nuisance to his work. The meowing, the knocking things over, and jumping onto surfaces they should NOT be jumping on were his main concerns. But somehow, you were still able to convince him (albeit begrudgingly) to adopt a cat from a nearby shelter. Once you brought your new friend home, Ford felt reality hit. How did you even convince him to agree to this? It was honestly incredible how easy it was for you to persuade him to give in to you.

It took a few days for the kitty to get used to its new home. But once it was comfortable, it was instantly clear who was the favorite human. The cat followed you everywhere and was practically glued to your side.  It would purr loudly as you pet it and layed on your lap each time you sat down. You loved how cute and affectionate the kitty was. 

Ford, however, was NOT a fan.

This little creature had caused more problems than he could have ever imagined. When working in his lab, the cat would somehow sneak in and jump onto anything and everything, making sure to walk across any button it possibly could. When he was jotting something down at his desk, it would walk across his work, crumpling papers and smudging ink across the papers and wooden surface of the desk. And every morning whenever you were a few minutes late to give it its breakfast, it would meow and meow and meow and MEOW. He should have never let you select the “talkative” one.

But all these things weren’t the worst part about this whole thing. No, the worst was how this creature, this thing, was taking up all your attention that had previously gone to him. Everytime it did something “cute” you would instantly take a picture or video. Every night when he tried crawling into bed late at night after working in the lab, the damn thing was sprawled across his side of the bed. God forbid he tries to move it while it’s comfortable. He tried once, and only once, and nearly lost an eye trying to do so. Every time he saw you around the house that damn cat was by your side, in your lap, laying across your chest, or standing guard by your feet. And everytime he swore, the cat gave him a look. Like it was trying to say, “yeah your s/o thinks I’m cuter. What are you gonna do about it?” Of course, he felt silly for feeling this way. Was he seriously jealous of a cat? A cat?

Yes, yes he was.

But he would NEVER express this to you. He had brought up the cat’s overly menacing looks, but you had just laughed it off. “You’re just the spare human,” you had said. 

His secret rivalry with your cat went on for a couple more weeks. That was until one night when he was down in his lab, the cat had snuck in once again (you both still were not sure how it managed to find its way in). After jumping on top of the desk Ford was hard at work at, Ford huffed a sigh of frustration. “Do you mind?” he asked. Then he felt a little ridiculous for asking questions to a cat. They don’t know English, after all, or any language for that matter. Of course, the cat didn’t answer. Instead it made its way silently close to Ford, stepping its paws onto sheets of paper and post-it notes. It then jumped down into his lap, made itself comfortable, and closed its eyes and began to purr.

Oh. 

He understood it then. There was something oddly comforting about it. A few days later, he had been promoted from “spare human” to “tolerable.” It was now you who found your little kitty snuggled up with Ford at his desk while he dozed off after working too late, or rubbing its head against his legs as he entered a room. It made him feel special in some way. Like the cat had “chosen” him. Later on you both gave equal attention to each other and your cat-child. You soon became a happy, cozy little family of three.

Until you decided to adopt another one.

[marinettesaltprompts]

Not sure if you're still active, but here's a 'prompt':

Maribat, but without the wish-fulfillment:

The bats-family comes to Paris, and the usual Maribat stuff happens. Shadowmoth is found, Lila gets revealed, Marinette gets to castigate her friends to the bone beofre dimissing them as vile people beneath her notice and Adrien gets summarily replaced because Plagg's Miraculous is apparently Ladybug's engagement ring and Damian is "just better". To top it all off, Marinette is taken under Batman's wing, and without an active threat in Paris leaves for Gotham.

It's not what she expected.

She realises the true depths of human cruelty without the insanity of Akumatisation to hide behind,

She gets to learn what it's like to be the last person to know plans because SHE'S not the one calling the shots anymore, indeed: she's the most junior person int eh chain of command. She's the one who has to shut and obey when push come to shove, and get excluded from decisions that effect her and information that she should have but Batman keeps locked up under "need to know". And she's not on the list.

Because why would she be? She was the child who struggled to find Shadowmoth while she had a box of magical superweapons- including one that could give her any power she asked of it- when it took Batman his Robins maybe a week at most to do the same with conventional methods.

She even finds out that Batman has a dozen contingencies in place to take the box and Miraculous from her if she goes rogue. Based on information he's accumulated from her while she spent time under his roof and trained to impress him.

Oh, and to add salt to the wound: Damian makes it clear that he doesn't consider her his equal. Guardian or not. Certainly not someone he's going to take orders from, or someone he's interested in romantically for that matter. It takes more than a reasonably attractive face and talent for magical devices to interest Damian Wayne; and beyond those things what's exceptional about Marinette Dupain-Cheng compared to the other potential love interests he already had?

Did it occur to her that he might already be in a relationship before she gave him the ring? Because it seems like she's committing the same sin that Adrien Agreste once did in assuming the bearers of Destruction and Creation have some special destiny to be together.

(Adrien could tell her how that works out).

So now Marinette's stuck in a new, far less friendly city, speaking a foreign language and in a home filled with strangers she impulsively threw her old life away to be with. And she has to live with it because of how she burned her bridges.

Great Post! You put a lot of thought into the prompt, and the idea of Ladybug being brought into a situation where she's way in over her head and not instantly the main person in charge (just because she holds a powerful set of magical earrings) actually sounds great! Though that itself could be its own fanfic idea.

I myself am not personally fond of the Maribat part of the fandom or the idea of even mentioning it, given that it and the the idea of Marinette and Damian ever being a thing represents everything bad about the salty part of the fandom, especially from people who likely never read any actual DC comic involving Damian.

However, I do appreciate how you deconstructed the idea of not only Damian instantly being Marinette's love interest, but also how Marinette meeting the Batfamily would instantly make her part of it or even their favorite, since neither of those would likely ever happen given the dark and gritty nature of Batman comics contrasting with the light and generally perfect world of Miraculous.

I mean, the idea of Marinette relating in any way to the BatFam would be ridiculous in canon, considering her generally perfect and happy family life in comparison to everyone in the BatFam differing flavors of trauma. By comparison, Lila being a bitch or her friends not believing her seems mundane by comparison.

Anyways, love the post!

[sgiandubh]

Last minute Swifties

Contrary to what many thought and some posted, I do think the OL cast's Taylor Swift experience was a last minute promo idea, very much monitored by *** and Tall Ships. I was wrong about minder/security guy (still, eerie...) and I never have a problem publicly admitting it. But quite unlikely I am wrong about this one. And sorry for the length, but you know how I am when I am looking for something, right?

Let's unpack: cast thanked the 'organizers' (and minders, really) in very specific terms, leaving NO much doubt:

Louisa McCulloch. Remember this name, we shall meet her in one hot minute. So thank you Louisa and Maril for organizing this: ask yourselves why did Maril, who (as far as I know) is based in the US, have to come to Edinburgh just for the gig. Damage control, perhaps?

And Sophie S., with a remarkable choice of words:

'Thank you ***, TS and her team for making it happen'. In my book, this means a strong, common effort to secure the box last minute. Because 'making it happen' means exactly that: 'need to do everything you can to facilitate it'.

Clearly Skelton, who is a Swiftie in her own right, was particularly appreciative of the efforts it took to ensure everyone could attend the concert. If that were a long planned event, her enthusiasm would have been more temperate, I think. 'Adding more Swifties to the clan' - LOL, Sophie, you mean S and C had no idea of the lyrics and were unable to sing along with you, John Bell, Izzy and Co (I keep forgetting their names and I like them a lot, in the show)? People of my generation are already too damn old for Taylor S. And this different sort of music might be more of S's real preference: otherwise why post it in his stories, as if to say ' TS is a different thing altogether'?

James. A Manchester rock band, formed in 1982, popular in the Nineties. I see no lies: he was clear 'JAMMF is a Swiftie'. And we are, after all, Children of the Nineties, not TS's crowd. And yes, I knew S was into the same kind of music as I was, in the Nineties (he seems to have stayed put, right there, unlike me, LOL):

Anyways, back to the mysterious woman up and front on three pictures in a row, that got many speculating. Nope, that was not Wendy, the MUA and S's bestie:

Once...

... Twice...

... Three times a lady:

Her name is Louisa McCulloch, née Radcliffe and she is the one S thanked, along with Maril (see above). It was a bit hard finding her, because her IG account is private. But I found her alright on Facebook, and then LinkedIn (of course):

Based in Lockerbie, Scotland. 20 years experience as a media publicist:

Worked with *** and Tall Ships since Season 3, after a short stint as Head of Publicity at the Paramount Pictures London Office. Got promoted from Unit Publicist to Publicist during COVID, for Season 6. So yes, she is the one who made it happen, locally, on what I think was a quite short notice.

Attention successfully diverted. Impeccable timing and giving a younger crowd what it wants. Trying to capitalize on TS's huge Instagram fan base: 283 million followers (wow! I had no fucking idea she was so huge). A win-win situation for just about everyone and an elegant way out from sordid waters:

And it worked. Lost among the hundred of thousands of likes and comments, look who's jumping on the bandwagon:

Sharon Stone. With a Blue Check and her 3.9 million Instagram fanbase. A Nineties deity, need I remind you (this blogger spotted her during the Berlinale 2007, while I was going out for drinks, blissfully unaware we were all staying at The Adlon, LOL)?

They mutually follow each other on Insta, by the way. I wonder why *urv did not pounce on that one. I feel robbed, for once, of a wonderful fanfic.

[Later edit] Several comments take on this person without a proper justification. I am editing this post to remind you she is only responsible for the implementation (in Scotland) of decisions taken elsewhere (in the United States of America). She is NOT a decision maker and as Publicist, was probably responsible for the local implementation of a hasty decision to attend an event (secure VIP box at Murrayfield, sell content to the local press). The direct contact with TS's team was, very likely, Maril and upwards, in the hierarchy. In all fairness, she has nothing to do with a billboard spotted in Los Angeles, USA - nothing of the sort in Europe. I am all for taxing, but let's tax people who are really RESPONSIBLE: she is just a very well paid underling. Thank you all, I am sure you understand fairness can only add to our credibility as a group.

[bunnyluvx]

spring is my favorite season.

featuring: niran pruksamanee (lifeweaver) x m!reader.

summary: you learn new things about yourself after a late-night study session with your best friend.

warnings: n/a.

tags: vishkar student niran and reader | best friends who should definitely kiss | serious pining from niran | oblivious reader | domestic fluff

a/n: HEYYYY GUYS!! i didn't realize that july was the last time i posted eyfubino i am so sorry. i struggled with finding an idea for a new fanfic but i finally got one!!!! im honestly really happy with how this turned out, i have been wanting to get into overwatch for a really long time and i finally have it on my switch so i have been going CRAZY. everything may not be completely accurate with this so please forgive me if i missed something with the story. as far as i know, ow lore is really screwy so everyone has kind of made their own story and this is a brief look into my interpretation of things before niran joined overwatch. hope you guys enjoy!!!!!!!

date started: 8:01PM, september 7th, 2024.

date finished: 8:27PM, september 11th, 2024.

wc: 2.9k

ao3

Quiet swarms throughout the hallways of the building. Vishkar's dorms are surprisingly relatively peaceful. Though they don't come without their commotion, it brings enough solace to its residents so that they can go about their business uninterrupted. You disturb the silence when you exit your room, the door clicking closed at your side and your key sliding into the lock to secure it. Once finished, you walk three doors down and knock. You carry an armful of books and papers, resting the stack on your hip while you wait for the door to open. You barely have to practice your patience, for the door swiftly clears your path and your vision is greeted with a new sight.

On the other side is a tall young man with tan skin, long white hair tied up into a bun on the back of his head. Wearing a loose, white button-up shirt, black pants and a smile stands Niran Pruksamanee, your best friend. You met in one of the school's labs when you were working on your respective projects, and he was curious about yours, so he asked you about it. You discussed your works, exchanged contact information and the rest is history. The friendship that you have developed with Niran is one that you have needed all of your life. Throughout your years, you have wondered if anybody was going to care for you as much as you did for them, to match your energy in all things. You have not wondered that since you found Niran. He is your person, through thick and thin, and you could not want anyone else.

"You're here! It's about time." The man greets you, stepping aside while keeping the door ajar. "I thought that I was going to have to start without you."

You roll your eyes playfully, a crooked grin on your face as you walk in. "Yeah, yeah, relax, drama queen. Your gracious king has arrived."

The door closes behind you as you kick off your shoes, replacing them with a pair of blue slippers that Niran bought just for you. When you turn around, Niran's hands rest over his heart, his eyes turned up away from you. "Oh, my dearest, I have missed you so! I could have withered away from the ache alone! Wherever have you been?"

You decide to play into the charade, a little smirk playing on your lips as you take one of Niran's hands and pull him closer to you. "So sorry to keep you waiting, darling, I was asleep in the royal chambers. Could you ever forgive my tardiness?"

Eyes slightly widen and the smile falters from his lips in surprise for only a moment before his face relaxes and the smile returns. "Perhaps. But only if you prepare our feast tonight."

You break your character with a chuckle and release his hand, letting yours drop to the side. "Fine. Let's go."

With that, you both walk to Niran's room. You bump the door open with your hip, Niran heading to the door opposite to his room to grab a chair for you to sit on. You move to the desk and carefully set your stack of belongings onto the desk that sits directly across from the entrance, turning around to meet your best friend's eyes to ask, "Where's Satya?"

When you turn around, the white-haired man has already entered the room with your seat, rolling it behind you and taking a seat in the chair that already stood in front of the desk. "She is in the labs. She won't be back for awhile."

You glance at the seat that Niran pulled up for you, eyes looking back to him. "You're sure it's okay if I use her chair?"

Niran waves off your concern, leaning back. "Of course it is! Satya won't mind as long as we put it back when we're done with it."

You nod before turning to look at Niran's desk. It's littered with papers, stationary items messily placed into organizers and two lights resting near the corners of his desk on the edge. Your dearest friend has never been very put-together when it comes to his study spaces. You can tell when he has been working on something for days at a time without sleep when his room looks like a tornado went through it. Luckily for him, you are always there to remind him to take breaks to take care of himself.

While he does that, you clean and organize his desk, slipping papers into folders and setting them aside. You always make sure to label them too, so that when he returns to his work, Niran will know where everything is. You also cook for him, run him baths, do his laundry, anything that needs to be taken care of is a task that you are willing to take on. He always tells you how grateful he is when you're done too, and despite you telling him not to, he manages to somehow return the favor.

"Let's clear all of this up first, then we can get started." You instruct, moving to slide some of the papers towards you to pick up.

Niran salutes to your command and responds with, "Yes Sir!"

This makes you laugh, and together, you remove all of the unneeded materials from the desk to make room for both of your things. Working together makes it go much faster, and you're both able to start working before you know it. In between the focused silences, you converse and laugh over the latest gossip that you've overheard from other students. How it is that being around Niran makes your ability to focus so much better and so much worse at the same time is beyond you, but spending time with him like this is something that you always welcome.

Almost two and a half hours pass before you check the time, reading seven-thirty PM. You figure that you both could use a break, plus you need to fix dinner up. You practically have to drag Niran away from his task, but once you did and got him onto the couch, he didn't put up a fuss. You decided to make Tom Yum soup, something for the both of you to enjoy and that will leave you content for a few hours. The scent catches NIran's attention, moving his head up from his phone to you in the kitchen. "Is that Tom Yum?" He asks curiously, a smile gracing his lips.

"Yup. Figured it will motivate us." You confirm, stirring the large pot that brews before you.

A few brief moments of silence follow with your reply, which you find odd, until you feel strong arm come around your waist from behind. Your study buddy's chin rests on your shoulder and his eyes close, his voice rumbling a hum from low in his throat. "You know me so well."

Displays like this aren't exactly uncommon in your relationship. Holding hands while walking, draping arms around shoulders or waists, sitting in each other's lap, cuddling and napping, name it, you've probably done it together. Most of the time, you don't think about it too much, as you do not have shame when it comes to the way that you love your friends and how you express it. But there are times with Niran, that it feels different. Keeping you close to his side around strangers, or holding you tightly when you lay on top of him are examples that come to mind. Not to mention the fact that both of you refer to each other as soulmates, and gush for hours about each other to your friends. You would never tell Niran this, of course, but he seems to have no problem letting you know how much he adores you.

You know that your best friend is pansexual, but never once have you thought that he could have any feelings for you. If he had romantic feelings for you, then he would have told you by now. Your communication with each other is very open and straightforward, so if he had something to tell you, then he would. You yourself have always been straight, as far as you are concerned, so there is definitely nothing going on between the two of you. But if that's the truth, then why does your heart feel like it's about to leave your body??

You are frozen where you stand, your cheeks becoming brightly colored as the familiar sensation of the man's arms encases you in a protective warmth. Your eyes are blown wide, and your lips press together tightly. You've noticed recently that whenever he hugs you, your heart thrums a little faster in your chest. You brushed it aside, thinking that it was just excitement from the dearest person in your life showing you affection, but this is an entirely new level. You feel like you're in middle school, holding hands with your girlfriend in the halls for the first time. Everything in your body is screaming things that you can't understand, and your brain feels foggy. You have never reacted so extremely to his hugs before, so why is it now that you feel like you are about to combust where you stand??

Niran takes notice of the tension in your body quickly, lifting his chin from your shoulder to look at your face and ask, "Are you alright?"

You blink free from your daze, and glance at the man behind you. "I-I'm fine!"

A small frown tugs on his lips as he sees that you are very clearly not fine. "Are you uncomfortable? I can stop if you do not want me to do this."

Your cheeks only become brighter as you turn to him, his arms momentarily sliding off of your waist when you scramble to answer, "N-No! Nononononnononnnonnono, I am not uncomfortable at all! It's fine, Niran, really."

The man tilts his head, frown still curled in a pout on his face. "You're sure?"

You nod to him, a wobbly smile twitching on your lips. "Y-Yes! Yes, everything is fine, I promise."

Deciding to trust your words, NIran nods. "Alright, but you are more than free to tell me to get off if you want me to, okay?" He reminds you, wanting to ensure your comfort with him.

You nod again. "I know. I will, I promise." You reassure him, only then does he become content with your answer and step forward to return your back against his chest and his arms around your waist. His chin props itself onto your shoulder, and you quietly return to the pot in front of you.

The silence lasted long enough for the blush on your cheeks to dissipate, tension mostly leaving your muscles. The butterflies in your stomach persistently flutter around, but you try to play it cool. Niran does not make this easy for you, a smirk curling onto his lips as he lifts his chin from its resting spot a little as his eyes meet yours from the side. "Don't tell me that you're falling for me."

A cruel soul your friend is, for the butterflies in your stomach spread throughout the rest of your body. Your shoulders rise from the tension, and your body whips around to face his. "Niran!!" You exclaim, the heat rising in your face drastically.

Your reaction makes him laugh, arms hovering over his stomach before one moves so that his hand rests on his hip. The other rises to his chin, metal fingers gently stroking it as he looks away to pretend to be pondering. "Hmm, well..it was only a matter of time, I suppose. Everybody falls for me eventually. I'm not surprised."

You laugh at his confidence and gently push him backwards before turning back to your shared dinner. An open-mouthed smile stretches its way onto his lips as he watches you, an amused huff passing through his nose before he folds his hands behind his back and steps forward. "So? Are you?" He questions further, a mischievous grin on his face that says that he's trying to pull more reactions out of you.

Instead of answering his question, you turn off the stove and grab two bowls from the cabinets next to you. You pour out two servings and hold one out to him. "Here, eat." You redirect him, the tan man letting out an elongated sigh before taking the bowl you offer to him and stomping to the couch.

You chat throughout the meal, and you swear that a conversation with Niran is never a conversation without laughter. He always knows the punchlines to make and just how to make them so that you'll remember it for weeks afterwards. Not a day goes by where he does not make you giggle at least once, and every time he is able to draw one from you, he feels accomplished. If making you laugh is the only thing that he will ever do right in this world, then he's okay with that.

After finishing dinner, you both return to studying. You worked relentlessly for hours, only taking one break to grab a snack and water without counting bathroom breaks. What happened while you were preparing dinner remained in the back of your mind the entire time that you worked. If you could have stayed in his arms like that forever, you would have without hesitation. His embrace brings a comfort that you long for every moment that you are not in it, and you believe that nothing can compare to it. It is warm, loving and everything you could ever want. None of this means that you're falling in love with him, though, right? His teasing rings around in your brain ruthlessly, a question that you're sure wasn't meant to be taken seriously, but now, it has seeped well past your physical body and latched onto your conscious.

Your head spins non-stop the closer all of these thoughts were to the front of your mind, so you decided to work even harder to try to ignore it. When Niran noticed that you were starting to get sleepy and almost nodding off to sleep, he told you to sleep in his bed. You insisted that you were fine, that you didn't need to sleep, and as much as he wanted to pick you up and throw you onto the bed to make you sleep, he resisted and decided to let you meet the consequences of your actions when you would wake up tomorrow with a sore neck and back. You eventually did pass out over the desk, head tucked in your arms snuggly.

Niran didn't notice that you had passed out until almost an hour after, his eyes drifting up from the book in his hands to check on you. Seeing you all tuckered out over his desk brings a smile to his face. You have always pushed yourself far past your limits, much like him. Maybe that's why the two of you are so good for each other, and why he likes you so much. You are one in the same, and you always take care of one another. When he needs someone to ramble to, you are his person, and when you are feeling down, he is the one that picks you up. More than anything, he loves you, and knowing that you are in it for the long haul brings him more joy than he could ever express to you.

He has been in love with you for a very long time. The teasing, the "jokes", the attention and affection that he gives you are very real, and he has been waiting for you to realize his feelings for a very long time. He hasn't told you yet for that reason, not to mention how funny he finds your obliviousness. The man sets his book onto the desk and stands from his seat, grabbing a big, fluffy blanket from his bed and returning to his seat. He slides right next to you and wraps the blanket around both of your shoulders comfortably. His arms rest crossed on the desk and adjusts the blanket on his shoulders a little before tucking his head against them closely, brown eyes taking the time to admire your sleeping face. Nothing could wipe away the lovesick smile on Niran's face as he is blessed with this moment, where he gets to cherish the peace that is designated for just the two of you. Curse the heaviness that weighs into his eyes as they slow to a close, for he wanted to look at you just a little bit longer before falling asleep.

You do not expect what you see when you awaken the next morning. Your eyes peel open to a familiar face, fast asleep directly in front of yours. It takes you a few seconds to realize how close Niran is to you, your spatial awareness clouded by sleepiness. But oh, once you recognize that there is no space between your faces, your cheeks are set ablaze. You are wide awake now, eyes blown completely open and body still as stone. Your instincts tell you to back up, but you are far too flustered to bring yourself to move. There's also part of you that doesn't really want to move. You have been in close proximity to Niran when you have cuddled before, but now, you can take the time to gaze at him uninterrupted. His sleeping face is relaxed and his hair falls into a pool of angel wing white behind his head. Compared to the smug persona that he dresses himself with on a daily basis, he looks serene in this moment. Oh, how you wish that you had the ability to stop time, because if you could, you would pause everything just so that you could look at him more.

…Fuck.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai. any and all support is appreciated! <3