#none of them are less valuable than the other

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

You are such a good writer, it actually somehow breaks my heart when a story ends. How did you get so good? Any tips or tricks for people who want to start writing also?

anonnnnnn T_T you’re so so sweet. that means the world to me !!!! i love you !!!!!!!!

honestly i . still have a Lot to learn when it comes to writing so i don’t know if i’m very qualified to give tips </3 but!!! as basic as this answer is, i really do think the only ways to improve are through reading and writing. writing is obviously vital since you won’t get anywhere without actual practice, but so is reading!!! it’s so important to observe and notice different writing styles, and to find out what kind of writing you enjoy. by reading different works, no matter what they are, (my biggest writing inspo source is a video game lol) your brain will naturally store up words and expressions and techniques :3 it’ll make writing so much easier, i promise.

also, remember that it’s more than okay to imitate, especially when you’re starting out!! no one finds their writing style immediately. it’s totally fine to latch onto your favorite authors and try writing like they do — that’s what i did too!! (thank you richard siken + hit award-winning indie rpg disco elysium 🙏) so just try to have fun with it and experiment !! i believe in you!!! <33

[micer2012]

a reflection on MatPat's plagiarism

Hello, my name is Della, or micer2012, and 2 years ago Game Theory plagiarized three Tumblr posts of mine, making a video that now holds almost 6 million views.

My posts explaining his plagiarism made their rounds on Reddit, Tumblr and Twitter, but despite the Hermits and Pooka commenting on it (generally in support of me or saying they don’t know enough details about the situation to say either way), MatPat and his team have never owned up to anything, and no mention of my name is present on the video. The one Reddit post they made denying it (which was made before my detailed takedown, which they have never responded to (though the mods on the r/GameTheorists Reddit were kind and made sure it stayed up)) didn’t even mention me by name, just referring to me as “a tumblr user”. (Though one of the screenshotted comments in the body of the post does say my name)

This experience was baffling, but it’s overall had a positive impact on my life. r/Hermitcraft gave me a Golden Apple Award (post of the year, 2021). My inbox was filled with excited fans, wanting to ask me questions or pose their own theories, far more than the hate I got. (Though the hate I got from Game Theory fans was VERY funny. I wondered why none of them gave me shit about saying “MatPat misgendered Evil Xisuma” before realizing none of them read that far into the post.)

And getting on a more personal, and much more important note, I met most of my current online friends through this, including my partner. It helped me grow closer with my irl friends as well and gave me an entertaining story that I tell whenever I have the chance. It was one of the first things in my life that really made me feel like my talents, my autistic hyperfocusing and analyzing of things I love, could be valuable. Useful. Exploitable. It blew my mind that MatPat thought an autistic kid’s ramblings about a Minecraft Youtube joke character were good enough to steal. To put an audible sponsorship on. To get 6 million views off of.

And that’s why I’m writing this post, this update years later. As you might’ve been able to guess, Hbomberguy’s Youtube video on plagiarism reopened this wound. It was really hard for me to sit through, it took days of pausing and taking breaks, because I had experienced everything he was talking about firsthand. 

In my 10 page long takedown post, I wrote about how his rewording of my sentences made him say things that were incorrect, just like Filip did. The content farm production style that made big companies like Cinemassacre take one creator (AVGN/MatPat) and turn him and his content into a brand, a voice that reads out scripts by other people with other opinions/theories, is a history shared with Game Theory. What really hit me was Harris talking about how big creators only do this to people they think they can get away with doing it to. How they view their victims as lesser, as not deserving of their words, repackaging them as their own to give to an audience that can gain from hearing them, but deserves better than to have to listen to the original victim.

That’s the thing, I 100% think a video version of my theory to expose to a bigger community than “Evil Xisuma Fans on Tumblr” is a great idea!! Near the end of the video Harris talks about how video adaptations of things could be a great market, even an accessibility tool, and I completely feel that about my posts. I wrote them quickly assuming the reader was someone well versed on Evil Xisuma lore, after not even watching most of the CarnEvil series, and the diagrams I made to explain them are even less comprehensible. Harris makes a joke that I completely agree with, 

“I’m sure some of my videos would do very well if someone translated them into English.”

I don’t think I would’ve ever made my posts if I didn’t have autism, and a special fixation on Evil Xisuma and Hermitcraft. I made them because I felt the character was being done an injustice, and because I wanted to share with other superfans this theory that might explain it away. I do think that MatPat plagiarizing me was ableist. I used to wonder a lot if this would’ve happened if my posts were articulated better, if they had been peer reviewed, if the posts themselves had been spread to a wider audience before MatPat made his video. At one point when the discourse was fresh (before I had the time to write out my 10 page rebuttal), a bigger YouTuber (100k subs at the time) messaged me and started talking on Discord, interested in possibly making a video on the discourse, but I think my style of typing and general enthusiasm drove him away. You can tell by a single look at my blog (or my original 3 posts!) that I don’t usually type like this. This post you’re reading now has been peer reviewed and edited, and took me hours to format correctly. That video could’ve been huge, the entire outcome of this MatPat situation would probably be much different.

I also used to stress a lot about “being the one who ruined Evil Xisuma’s story”. If you didn’t know, to me S8 Evil Xisuma’s story got wrapped up pretty quickly and unsatisfying (in my personal autistic opinion). (though this might’ve been due to s8 being experimental and ending early with moon big) There was no real culmination of the plot points and arcs going on, and I don’t want to blame myself, but when Xisuma said on stream (when the MatPat thing was first going on) that he didn’t want to focus on the discourse or draw more attention to it, it makes a lot of sense to me that he just wanted to wrap it all up as quickly as possible. For a while I beat myself up about it, of ruining the story of this character I love, but it’s not my fault. If anyone’s, it’s MatPats, but I don’t think it’s useful to just blame someone else. That’s how the story ended up going, and that’s fine. This is Evil Xisuma we’re talking about, their inconsistent lore is what made them such an interesting character. And notably, Pooka made an animation with an awesome culmination of Jeff, the Dreamer, Evil Xisuma, and his own sona’s story, and it makes me so happy to watch. Whatever Pooka does is of course his own choice, but I’m glad he got to give this personal story his own ending (if it is an ending, and not just the start of a new chapter!). 

Typing this all out and getting it off my chest has made me feel a lot better. For a while I wanted to make my OWN video essay about Evil Xisuma’s lore and CarnEvil’s lore, actually going episode by episode to explain it instead of just assuming you knew as much about Evil Xisuma as I did. That idea is still not off the table, but MCYT isn’t something I’m that into right now. Maybe if something else comes out about Evil Xisuma I’ll get back on it, but for now I’m fine with letting that go. But I want to make other videos, share other theories and analysis… if I have the freetime I’d love to make YouTube videos, and if I don’t have the time I’ll continue posting to my tumblr and infodumping to my friends. Apparently my infodumping is valuable enough “content” to steal! Writing this out has made me feel a lot better though, I’m really glad I got it out.

If anyone ever wants to talk to me about the things I’m obsessed with, or reach out to me as a source in a bigger discussion about Game Theory or other channels, my inbox is more than welcome :] Thank you for reading! 

Sincerely, a tumblr user.

[kiragecko]

Story Idea

Telekinetic supervillain who REALLY loves historical architecture. Living in a superhero universe where heroes keep crashing through stained glass windows and leveling entire streets. As well as the normal corruption causing building to be demolished or “restored” in extremely destructive ways.

Kinda has Poison Ivy vibes, without any of the femme fatale trappings - her entire focus is preserving historical valuable buildings, and she doesn’t really care if humans that get in the way die. But she also isn’t going out of her way to kill people.

And the leader of the local superhero team can see where she’s coming from. And decides that just throwing her in jail every time she acts up is a sign they’re failing in their duty to protect the city. Instead, he starts trying to gain her trust. He doesn’t care that much about buildings, but he works on lessening his team’s collateral damage. He promises the supervillain that he’ll try to pressure the city government if she brings problems to him rather than taking them into her own hands. Eventually, he convinces her that she can protect the city’s infrastructure better by being on his team than she can on her own.

She’s incredibly helpful! She will keep burning buildings from collapsing until everyone can get out and the fire is extinguished. She’ll hold skyscrapers up while supervillains reign destruction down around them. She’ll deconstruct traps and grumpily direct her teammates towards the hidden mastermind who set them up. And when the crisis is over, she’ll see what can be salvaged and rebuild it if possible.

But she’s a PR nightmare.

Former Supervillain refuses to help people. She DOES NOT care. Your kid is trapped in the burning building? That is not her problem. Go bother someone else. Dude is holding a bunch of people hostage? It’s fine, he’s not causing any damage to the building he’s in.

People DO NOT like this attitude. People do not accept that she’s part of a team, and other heroes are capable of filling the “empathy” and “human rescuing” gaps.

And she’s high maintenance! The team frequently end up in situations where protecting lives is in conflict with protecting property. They take missions that mean very little to them, because they’re important to her. And the leader is constantly having to talk her out of rampages, pressuring the government to drop lucrative and unethical contracts, and making sure she’s sticking to the plan in the field. And she isn’t interested in interpersonal relationships or social niceties, so none of them are even doing this out of friendship!

-

Sometimes, you help someone not because they’ll be grateful, but because it will make your community better. Sometimes, you help the local drug addict not because he’s likely to turn his life around, but because he smashes less windows when he has a warm, quiet space to stay. And sometimes, keeping that community benefit takes a long term commitment.

I want to see a superhero team turn a villain as harm prevention and then willingly bear the cost of keeping that villain from causing harm. Not because it’s rewarding (though there are rewards) but because it’s more effective than any other method. And I want the villain to go along with it because the heroes actually found a more efficient way for her to reach her goals.

And it being messy for everyone, but I want them to make it work. And it to be worth it, in the end.

[azriels-human]

In Your Dreams: I ☁️🌙☁️

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Okay this is my first time writing in years but Az is Bringing me out of retirement. Opinions and ideas are always appreciated. Enjoyy😌

Summary: Az isn’t very fond of the newest member of the Night Court so much so that you even plague his dreams.

Warnings: This is a smut series. MDNI

part II

Song inspo:

“Az, you’re back!” Cassian’s booming voice probably alerts everyone in The House of Wind of his arrival just as Azriel touches down on the balcony.

Az can’t help the small smile directed at his brother. After being away on a mission for days, he appreciated Cassian’s loudness, it means home, comfort, relaxation-

Or so he thought until his eyes land on you, lounging on a sofa, book in hand but your empty eyes set on his own.

His smile instantly vanishes, replaced by a displeased glance before turning away.

Azriel cannot stand you. The newest member, a pick pocket from the Hewn City turned spy pupil for The Night Court. A dark presence that made him physically ill.

It’s no surprise you’re sat in the far corner of the room. Azriel hasn’t seen you speak to anyone beside Rhysand since your arrival. Even then, it was only about the minuscule missions he’d been sending you on the last 3 months.

Azriel simply nods at Cassian and Nesta. Words failing him as that illness returns deep in the pit of his stomach.

He can feel your uncanny gaze still focused on him, despite his obvious distaste for you. He knows that is precisely why you do it too.

Gods, you are the bane of his existence.

With a slight twitch of the brow, Az makes his way toward Rhysand’s study ready to give him yet another ear full about you.

How Rhys had even given you a position is beyond Azriel considering you were a straight up criminal.

Azriel had been on a mission in the slums of the Hewn City, the worst part, in fact. A part so small and forgotten that crimes are a first nature.

He just found the information he’d been looking for and his mood was nothing less than happy knowing he’d be back home soon.

That was until a cloaked figure had bumped him and continued on their way.

Naturally being in a more poor part of the city, Azriel pats his left hip making sure none of his weapons or money had been swiped. But they hadn’t.

It isn’t until he brings his left hand to move his own cloak and double check that he realizes his siphon is gone.

“How the fuck…” Azriel hasn’t been caught off guard like this in a long while. How could they swipe a stone embedded in his leathers without him feeling a thing?

Azriel wasted no time looking over the crowd to find the grey tattered cloak gracefully zipping through the crowd.

He follows just a swiftly. His eyes glued to the figure as he maneuvers past on goers.

The thief, as if sensing him, looks back for half a second before darting through the crowd, ducking and jumping over items and people. Still managing to move past them without bumping into anyone.

Az mutters a breathy, “Asshole” when he takes note of that.

At this point Azriel begins to push past the crowd. He can’t let them leave with it. Something that valuable, not just on market but to himself personally, will not fall into some slick criminals hands.

Just as they are about to round the corner Azriel sends his shadows in a silent command to detain the culprit. The shadows weave through the crowd even more speedy and graceful, wrapping around the hooded figure and yanking them back.

Their back hits the ground with an ‘oomf’ before they quickly try freeing themselves from the shadows constraints.

Azriel grabs their collar in one hand, lifting them up and bringing them to his eye level. The other hand snatching back the hood of the cloak.

He nearly gasps upon laying eyes on you. The bewitching darkness in your eyes bore into his, reaching for his soul as if you’d take it right from him.

Taking advantage of his perplexed state you kicked him in the stomach causing him to let go and his shadows to withdraw.

Azriel groans holding his middle and coughing once, twice.

You don’t hesitate to run down the empty alley but Azriel is quick to snap back.

You don’t make it half way through when he winnows in front of you. You slam into his chest and fall again, mud splattering the two of you. Azriel’s shadows bind your wrists above your head as he straddles your thighs.

You thrash beneath him, growling and clawing. His hands scanning over your arms, sides and hips until he felt the bulge of it settled on your hip…beneath the waistband of your pants.

He looks up at you, amusement dancing behind your wicked eyes as if he were being tested, ‘a will he, won’t he?’

His eyes flicker from yours to your somewhat now exposed navel. He can’t just…reach in there.

But he can’t just let you have it. He wouldn’t be wrong to take back what is his.

He scoffs, reaching under your waistband and pulling up a belt with a pocket attached causing you shriek almost inaudibly.

Azriel pulls the dull blue siphon from the pocket and looks back at you. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t half amused himself.

A strange girl from the slums of the Hewn City stealing his siphon and testing his honor as a male.

Though he is not crazy enough to indulge the amusement. You are a thief. Not just a common thief but a a thief able to pick a very valuable possession off of a very cautious male.

“What is your name?” Azriel asks still hovering over you.

You only glare back.

“I asked what your name is.” Azriel grows impatient above you but you do not respond.

It could have been over. He could have let you go and steal from some other fool who wouldn’t notice but…he didn’t want to. Perhaps your crime against him was too personal and punishment seemed fit.

“Get up.” Azriel roughly pulls you to your feet, shadows still binding your wrists. Your struggles are deemed futile when he whisks you away to his High Lord.

Azriel all but stomps into Rhys study, shutting the door behind him. “Your newest addition has a staring problem.”

Rhysand looks up from his notes to see his irritated brother throw himself into the seat across from him. “What happened to ‘hello’ ‘how are you’?”

Azriel sighs. “Rhys.”

Rhys leans back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. “What harm is a bit of staring? Maybe she likes what she sees.”

“Please.” Azriel rolls his eyes. “She likes nothing and no one.”

Rhys shrugs. “She’s not so bad, Az. You’re just pissed she was able to pick something off of you.”

“I’m pissed that you gave her a job instead of consequences.”

“How couldn’t I? I’d rather have someone that can out sneak my spy master on my side.” Rhysand teases.

“She did not ‘out sneak’ me. Her methods were textbook. Not sneaky at all.” Azriel grumbles his blatant lies. He knows not just any theif, not even an exceptional one, could do what you did.

Rhysand chuckles. “Whatever you say, brother.” He clears his throat. “I assume you found the shop?”

Azriel shakes his head. “I did not but I heard rumors of where it will turn up next.”

Rhys had assigned him a rather odd case, a book of lethal potions stolen from a temple in the Hewn City by a traveling shop now supplying those lethal drugs. Reports saying it makes users hyper aware, a party drug when used correctly but as expected there are those who abuse it, turning them aggressive and eventually killing them when too much is consumed. Azriel has spent the last week trying to track the shop down with nothing to show for it until today.

“Where?”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “Coincidentally, in two days it will be in the same part of town…she…is from.”

Rhys chuckles at his brother’s pettiness once again. “She must really get under your skin with her staring.”

Azriel shakes his head, “Rhys, I’m telling you there is something off about her.”

“She’s been here for 3 months without incident. What do you suppose she will do?” Rhy asks entertaining the idea purely for the amusement of seeing a riled up Azriel.

“Steal. Spy. Hells for all we know she could be plotting everyone’s death.”

“Well, then I guess I should fear for your life when she accompanies you on your assignment?” Rhysand lifts a brow in mock questioning.

“Absolutely not. She will not be accompanying me anywhere…ever.” Azriel laughs at the notion.

“She knows her way around, she is successful in her missions and you need to get over your bruised ego and get along with her. She is supposed to be your pupil.”

Azriel shakes his head but before he can deny his High Lord, Rhysand continues.

“You will be taking her with you to retrieve the book and shut it down. That’s final.” Rhysand crosses his arms.

Azriel hesitantes but ultimately nods, dreading the thought of having to spend any amount of time near you.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel is sat in the lounge, a book in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. His eyes read over the page for the millionth time before he slams it shut and rubs his temple.

Sleep had evaded him, unable to stop thinking of this damned mission he has to take you on. At the fact that he must push away the alarms going off in his entire being when you are around.

Azriel knows something is wrong with you. It’s your expressionless gaze, the eerie aura that follows you and the stillness of your existence, even just standing around you’re still as a statue. You’re like a ghost. His own personal poltergeist.

As if on cue, he shadows curl up his neck whispering of your presence.

His stomach drops. He’d be damned if he had to endure you anymore than he has to.

Just as he retreats into the shadows in the corner of the den, you glide straight past the room entirely. Not even peaking into the only lit room of the house.

He knows it’s ridiculous but it irked him that you didn’t even look. Had you no curiosity either? And if you aren’t coming to the den, where are you going?

Regardless, he definitely isn’t going to find out. He has no intention of being anywhere near you. He wouldn’t subject himself to that.

…

But he wants to know. What if you had some secret hobby or routine? Something that made you…a person.

Why should that matter to him!? He doesn’t give two shits about what you do. His own curiosity only further proves how offbeat you are. He certainly will not follow you and he definitely won’t care what you are doing.

…

But what if you were up to no good? What if you were stealing from the High Lord every night after he goes to sleep?

Now that he can’t allow.

Azriel emerges from the shadows, peaking out from the door frame to find you at the end of the hallway. You enter the library and shut the door closed behind you.

He slips through the hallway and into the library, careful not to make a sound.

The empty library felt cold in your wake though there was no sign of you. You weren’t sitting on the sofas or searching for a book. There is only silence in his company.

Azriel strides through each row of bookcases lined throughout the room to no avail.

And now you’ve even disappeared like a ghost.

A beam of light enters at the back of the room earning his attention. The balcony.

Azriel stealthily crosses the room, concealing himself behind the bookcase closest to the balcony.

There you were. Sitting on the marble bench, staring up at the sky. Not causing any trouble.

Well, he has his answer, he can leave. He can go about his sleepless night.

But once again he did not want to, despite those alarms going off and the growing pit deep down. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

So he didn’t for a very long time.

He only watches your ominously still figure watching the sky. You do not look away or blink or breathe it seems. Not even a twitch of the fingers.

You just cannot be of this world.

“Azriel.” You call softly.

His heart drops into the swirling void in his stomach as chills sweep across his skin and the hairs of his arm stand.

You’d sensed him there. For how long? Though he doesn’t care what you think of him, he did not need you telling anyone he’s some stalker creep.

“You can come out.”

Azriel contemplates. He can leave as he should have done an hour ago but you already know he is here. Then again, maybe if he leaves you’ll think you were mistaken.

All of those options fly out of the door when you look back, directly at him.

He winces at his lack of options and being caught. How did you even know? He’s the fucking spy master and now he can’t even hide from you?

Azriel lets out a deep exhale, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath before coming out into your full view.

You look right into his eyes as he approaches you. Each step feels like a crushing weight as he struggles to maintain his composure.

“What are you doing out here?” Azriel asks firmly, not a shred of friendliness behind the words.

You only look back to the sky.

Were you ignoring him now? After telling him to come out?

Irritation begins to fill the void in him. The audacity. HE is the one ignoring YOU.

“What are you doing out here.” A command rather than question this time.

You subtly shrug.

Azriel rolls his eyes.

For a while the two of you are silent. What is he even supposed to say to you? You are the one that called him out here.

He isn’t surprised that you hardly speak but that doesn’t change the fact that it is annoying.

“You don’t speak much.” Azriel states plainly wanting to escape the awkward, silent tension.

“That’s your perception.” You match his blunt tone provoking his wonder. How could it be his perception when you don’t speak to anyone?

“I haven’t seen within 10 feet of anyone here.”

“That’s because you disappear anytime I’m in the same room as you.”

Azriel didn’t know what to make of your straight forwardness. Though he tends to speak directly himself, he’s not fond of such attitude. But coming from you, it seems fitting. “Perhaps I simply don’t enjoy your company.”

“Curious.” You look at him, standing up and making your way back into the library. “No male has ever complained about my company.”

Azriel follows close behind, watching your every poised step.

“As a matter of fact I’ve been told I’m quite the pleasure to be around.” You glance over your shoulder. That familiar sinister delight returning to your eyes, the same look you gave him when he realized where it is you held his siphon.

Azriel nearly trips on over his own two feet. The void beginning to whirl again. He cursed himself for needed to clear his throat. “Is that so?”

You stop abruptly and pivot on your feet, coming face to chest and tilting your head back to look up at him. His stomach leaps at the sudden proximity and your intense stare. He steps back.

“With my bright and bubbling personality, how could they not?” You raise a brow.

Azriel didn’t know if it was relief from the cut tension or the actual joke or both but he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Not to mention my breasts and ass.”

Azriel’s shock couldn’t have been anymore evident. His lips part unable to form a single word, not that his brain could form a single thought.

Azriel hadn’t thought of you in any way other than suspicion but now, standing before him, he can’t help but notice your deadly beauty. The enthralling darkness dancing behind your eyes and those plump pink lips. The thin strapped shirt clinging to your ample breasts. The outline of your peaked nipples. The perfect angle he has of your soft cleavage.

“That was also a joke.” You clarify and turn on your heel continuing towards the door. “Kind of.”

It most certainly was not a joke.

The loose shorts gripping your waist do nothing to hide the outline of your backside. Each step you take further away from him only giving him a better view of the swish of your hips and the bounce of your ass.

“Goodnight, Spy Master.” You bid farewell without so much as a glance back.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel couldn’t stop thinking of you, yet now it’s in whole different light. He would have never thought you to be so vulgar, in a cruel way maybe but not in a humorous way.

You’re so quiet and reserved and unsettling. He didn’t think you capable of making a joke, let alone a sexual one.

He couldn’t deny that it is a rather riveting piece of information. He should have known when you all but challenged him to reach into your pants a few month ago.

The memory of your tits sitting nice and pretty, your waist and full hips, your ass, all flood his mind.

Lying in his bed, Azriel turns onto his back, shaking the thoughts from his head.

He needs sleep. And he needs it now.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Exhaustion cannot begin to describe what Azriel felt. He needed not just to rest but recharge, and there is nothing better than laying down after a hard days work.

After what felt like forever he finally reaches his bedroom, twisting the nob and shutting the door behind him. He sighs, shutting his eyes and resting his head against the door.

“Azriel.” You call just as softly as you had earlier in the night.

Azriel whips around to find you sat on the center on his bed, feet under you and hands politely placed on your knees, as if you’d been waiting for him.

Azriel scans the room. Possibly a prank brought on by Rhysand but it’s only you in here.

“What are you doing in here?” Azriel hisses, sending a vicious sneer in your direction. And he thought ignoring him was the hight of your audacity but to enter his private quarters at such late hours?

“I haven’t been on my best behavior, have I.” You tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence.

Azriel’s brow pinches. “What?”

“I’ve displeased you in some way.” You slowly stand from his bed. “I can’t have that.”

Azriel swallows hard as you inch closer with every word. “After all, I am a pleasure to be around.”

Azriel can only watch. Your shorts doing little to hide your exposed legs and soft thighs. That fucking shirt hiding your tight nipples.

You come to halt with only centimeters between you, looking up at him with that deceptively virtuous gaze.

He could smell you. An intoxicating scent of amber and jasmine. Like a garden in the fall.

Azriel’s heart thunders in his chest. Not fast but hard. He was sure not only you but everyone in the house could feel it. His whole being pulses with each thump as you reach for his chest.

“Let me be a pleasure.” Your delicate fingers just barely touches his chest, drawing a line down his chest. Then lower. And lower. And lower-

Azriels eyes widen as he snatches your hand in his. His chest heaving, trying to gulp down the air that slips away from him. You, however, seem un phased, eager, if anything. “W-what do you think you’re doing?”

The scent of his own arousal permeates the air he desperately tries to breathe.

With half lidded eyes and a slight pout of your lips, you take your wrist from his loose grip and place your palm over the back of his hand, brining it up to your cheek and leaning into it.

Azriel’s blood turns cold at how tender your touch is, gentle as the embrace of death. Your skin warms his palm as you drag his hand down the side of your neck painfully slow, his thumb tracing the column of your throat.

Gods, he wanted to bite it. To latch himself onto that spot. If it was possible to envy one’s own hand, he’d turn green.

“I see how you look at me.” Your voice low and sultry. “You despise me.”

You move his hand down your collar bone, to your chest, settling between your breast. Something deep inside Azriel twists and knots, his cold blood turns hot as it rushes into his pants.

“Let me fix it.” You groan, trailing his hand further down to your stomach. “Let me show you…”

Azriel bites the inside of his cheek to keep his own sounds at bay. His brows pinch together at the sight of you. The rise and fall of your swollen, flushed breasts. Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and the look of pure carnal desire.

“…just how much of a pleasure I can be.” You whisper breathlessly when you lead his scared hand beneath the waistband of your shorts.

Azriel chokes back a guttural groan when his fingers reach the slick folds of your cunt. Looking into his eyes with a feral hunger, you guide his fingers in sensual circles around your most sensitive spot. Hushed whines hum from your chest, purring at his governed touch.

His middle finger twitches against your clit, testing for himself. You respond with a low moan.

Azriel’s eyes flutter shut trying to reason with himself.

This was wrong. So fucking wrong. Azriel can’t even stand the sight of you yet here he is with his hands down your pants for the second time, and he felt just as he had the first time, he wanted to ruin you.

Another flick of his fingers causes you to throw your head back.

Azriel growls. A fire ignites in his chest, coursing through every nerve of his body as he gives in to you.

His fingers take a course of their own, rubbing your center with fervor. A noise somewhere between a yelp and moan escape your parted lips. You grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself as pleasure over takes you.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” Azriel leans forward to whisper in your ear. His warm breath tickling your skin as he asks, “Who made you this wet?”

You only moan, digging your hands into his bicep.

Still massaging your clit, he brings his free hand to strike the fat of your ass earning a very loud moan.

“Tell me.”

“You!” The stinging sensation mixes with your pleasure, encouraging you further. “You made me this fucking wet.”

Azriel hums, gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “Mhm. Keep being a good girl and I’ll forgive you.”

His attacks your neck, teeth clamping down hard in what he knows will scar but he didn’t care. He wanted you marked. Proof that he could take control, even over someone with such a silent attitude as yours.

You hold back a scream. As much as it hurt, he knows you like it. “Dont hold back. I want to hear the pretty noises you make.”

Azriel’s tongue laps at the column of your throat, finally nipping at the spot he craved minutes ago. Your moans vibrate against his lips.

He pulls away to look at you. Eyes shut and jaw hung in ecstasy. His cock twitches in pants at how good he can make you feel.

The sight was anything but dark. Dare he say heavenly.

Suddenly, your eyes open, fixating on his. Lust and desperation laced in your stare as you plead, “I want your fingers in me. Please, Az.”

Azriel smirks down at you arrogantly. “Yeah?” You nod frantically, your moans and pants driving him absolutely wild.

“Whatever you want.” Azriel pulls away from you, sitting at the edge on his bed, knees spread as he pats his lap. “Come here, pretty girl.”

You stand between his legs but before you could straddle him, he grabs your wrist, roughly turning your back to him.

His textured hands glide down your back, feeling every curve until he reaches your shorts, yanking them down in one swift motion and leaving your rear exposed for his viewing enjoyment.

He gathers as much of your ass in his hands as he can, squeezing, caressing and parting for an even better view. Your slit and inner thighs glistening from your wetness.

He does dare to say heavenly.

“So fucking pretty.” He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your ass cheek and quickly slapping it right on top.

You jerk forward with an amused hum.

Azriel grabs your hip and brings you down to him. Your full weight falls onto his solid cock, strained in his leathers. He moans at the impact.

Azriel’s hands trail up from your hips, over your stomach and under your shirt and to your breasts. You whimper as his fingers lightly trace over your firm nipples and kneed at your breasts.

He should stop. Should have never even started when he hates so much but Azriel revels in it. The way you feel, the way he makes you feel. His lips latch to your neck sucking as he rolls your buds between his fingers.

“Azriel, please.” You breathe, writhing against him.

He groans, flicking your nipple harshly and immediately finding your center. The tip of his middle finger sliding up and down, toying with your hole.

“Please! Please put it in.” You whine, reaching up to tug at his dark locks. The sensation pushing him over the edge.

Promptly, his middle finger plunges into your cunt, pumping at a hungry pace.

“Oh, fuck! Azriel, yes!” You grip his hair stronger, receiving another painful bite and a slap on your tits in return.

Azriel adds another finger and you clench around them. “So fucking tight, angel. I bet you’ve never been fucked so full with two fingers, have you?”

You shake your head and throw it back over his shoulder when his fingers disappear in you to the knuckle.

“One more for me.” Azriel hums, a warning rather than a request as he teases a third finger against you.

“I…I don’t know.” You hesitate.

Azriel guides you to look at him, your face inches from his. His brows pinch and with a slightly patronizing pout he nods. “You can take it. Don’t you like how full I make you feel?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I can take it.”

“Good girl.” He breathes with a smug expression. Azriel can’t get enough of you like this. Pleading. Submissive to his every whim. The satisfaction of seeing that stoic demeanor dissolve because of him.

Azriel slides a third finger in slowly. Hells, you’re so fucking tight around his fingers, he can only imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

You release a long, aching moan and arch your back against him.

Azriel gasps at the sudden movement against his pants. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to make him explode. “F-fuck, y/n. Keep doing that.”

You grind in his lap, feeling his length throb beneath you. “Like this, Az?”

“Gods.” Azriel’s fingers sink into your cunt, over and over. Your screams of pleasure blend with the sopping sounds of your wet pussy.

Azriel was absolutely sure this was heaven.

“I’m so close! Mm, you gonna make a fucking mess out of me?” You rut against his cock.

“Fuck yes.” Azriel’s free arm wraps around you pressing you further into him and he fucks you with his fingers. “C’mon. Make a mess for me, Angel.”

“Azriel!” That’s all it took for you to crumble in his lap. Your entire body trembles and euphoria seizes control of your body. Your screams informing all of Veleris of who made you cum so fucking good.

As you ride out your orgasm, Azriel lifts his own stuttering hips to grind against yours. The full weight of you quivering and fidgeting against him builds a blissful tension deep within him. And with the string of his name still being sung from your lips, the coiling pressure couldn’t hold anymore.

“I’m gonna-”

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel shoots straight up out of his bed and on to his feet, panting and looking around his room, illuminated with the first light of day.

But there was no one. No you.

Azriel blinks and wipes his eyes. It was a dream?

He looks around once more.

It couldn’t have been a dream. He’s dreamt of many females but never anything so…real.

He could still feel the weight of your body flushed against him. He could still feel the blissful aftermath of an orgasm.

Azriel looks down at his stained tented pants. His half hard cock still dripping on his thigh.

What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would he dream of that? Of you.

Mor? Sure. Elain? Once or twice, but you? Someone he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with?

Azriel huffs and makes his way to his bathroom to clean up, angry with himself and his deplorable dream. A nightmare, he decides, considering it involved you.

[grandline-fics]

Hi hi! I wanted for so long request for crocodile but I wasn’t sure at all if you wrote for him! Thankfully you made a fic with him so I have confirmation now ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

What about a fic with crocodile of course with a reader who’s smart but very dumb about love and don’t get all the hints he gave to her. Like he tries to seduce her and she’s too innocent stupid for take the hints? Like he takes her to diner and else and she still saw him as a good friend? Or partner of crime. Either at the end she falls for him or either crocodile falls in friendzone as you want, up to you 🙌

DESCRIPTION: You’re completely oblivious to the obvious

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Crocodile

WORDS: 954

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I hope you like what I was finally able to come up with for this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

Crocodile had no time for stupidity or anything that could be considered a case of his time and you were certainly worthy of his attention and notice. You were an individual who caught his eye the second you walked into the Cross Guild headquarters, introduced to him and Buggy by Mihawk as the newest recruit. He’d heard your name before, having gathered a stellar reputation on the Grand Line as a skilled individual but until now he’d never had the pleasure of putting the face to the name. You’d greeted him and the Clown respectfully enough but from the way you held yourself and stood so relaxed it was clear counted yourself as an equal with them and not a subordinate. Ordinarily that kind of attitude would have left him irked but given your reputation and knowing how valuable having someone of your skillset was he allowed it without any comment. 

Over time you secured your place with Cross Guild seamlessly and swiftly bolstered the entire operation’s reputation just as Mihawk knew you would, something he would smugly bring up during petty disagreements between himself and the other group founders. The more time you spent with him, the more Crocodile found himself certain that he needed to pursue romantically. You were shrewd, powerful, could match him easily with your wit and tastes. The only problem was that in his pursuit you had yet to catch his less than subtle hints. As smart as you were, in terms of romance you seemed utterly clueless. 

During the conversations you’d shared he’d come to know a lot about you and obviously he used that information to his advantage. The second he knew about something you liked, he was using his resources to acquire it all to gift you. Seeing your eyes light up when presented with the items no matter how big or small, even if it was something that had no immense cost to him was definitely the highlight of his day. You would always thank him and cherish the gift, still unaware of what you’d possibly done to deserve more kindness from the man. On the recent occasion you were presented with another amazing gift you looked up at him with a bright smile. “You really didn’t have to, on my next mission I’m going to get something better than this to make it up to you.”

“Not necessary.” Crocodile had insisted, the calm smirk still on his face as he watched you playfully scowl at him. This wasn’t the first time you’d had this exchange with him and as always he’d follow it up with an offer. “Have dinner with me tonight and we’ll consider the matter settled.” 

As always you smiled and accepted his offer, but like always you merely seemed to view it as a meal between friends and nothing more. However that afternoon your eyes were finally opened to the reality of the situation when you were showing Mihawk your newest gift. 

“Honestly the two of you are exhausting.” He sighed making you look at him in confusion. “Okay, you’re more confusing than he is. Honestly the man has more patience than I do to let you be this dense.”

“Did Buggy break a bottle of your favourite wine or something?” You asked dryly. “You’re less pleasant today.”

“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why Crocodile gives you so many gifts, requests you join him to lavish places when he goes on his own missions, asks you to dinner, and talks to you everyday?” Mihawk asked, his intense golden eyes fixed on your face as he listed all Crocodile’s actions around you. Infuriatingly you merely laughed and shrugged your shoulders. 

“Because he’s nice.” You explained simply. “You know him, Mihawk, that’s just how he is. You founded this whole enterprise with him. He likes to give gifts and is friendly. What else is there to say?”

“Nice? Friendly?” Mihawk repeated, slowly blinking at how bad this was. “Want to know how many times I’ve spoken to Crocodile this month? Twice. You’re the only one who he treats this way because he likes you deeply.” 

You held back the urge to laugh as the revelation threw you off. Part of you wanted to dismiss Mihawk’s claim as ridiculous but now that it was pointed out to you, you thought over everything. Finally you saw it, just as Mihawk had said, Crocodile only treated you this way. Now you began to see why others gave you a strange look when you talked about him so positively and it also explained why the mention of the man brought a look of fear to their eyes. “Oh…”

That evening when Crocodile went to fetch you to take you to the restaurant he’d chosen for your meal he was surprised to see your appearance was different. You always looked amazing but this evening your features and body were even more emphasised. “What’s the occasion?” he asked smoothly as his gaze moved appreciatively over your form.

“Well I thought I’d finally make more of an effort for you.” You explained with a smile, looking at him with a deeper stare that Crocodile hadn’t seen before. “I thought this would be the best way to make it clear to others that we’re dining on a date and not just as friends. You don’t mind do you?”

“Not at all.” Crocodile’s signature smirk grew into a satisfied grin as he slipped his hand around your waist and began to walk with you out of headquarters for all the others to see. From his spot on the balcony Mihawk’s expression grew smug. This was most definitely another thing he was going to take credit for at any given opportunity. 

-----------------------------------------------

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[platonicyanderereverie]

ok how about gn reader x fatui harbingers. BUT the reader is OBBSESED with cooking and is damn good at it to.

Make this some headcanons lets see your skill.

Thank you for your request‼️ (You can definitely tell I have favourites😭)

Platonic yandere fatui with a reader that loves to cook.

(No Tsaritsa or Pierro in this one unfortunately😭)

[Warnings: none? Other than usual possessive/protective behaviour]

Capitano

Capitano would be a bit confused by your ambitious nature in the kitchen. Cooking is not exactly what he would deem the most useful skill from a combative standpoint, but he doesn’t mind overall. Being able to prepare a nutritious meal is a rather valuable resource, after all.

He wouldn't object to tasting what you prepare and would seem rather pleased, standing in his usual quiet, stoic manner if you offered him something you made. Although he believes you shouldn't be getting your hands dirty with such menial tasks- rather than, let's say, learning to fight...seeing your passion for it, he doesn't seem all too bothered. It simply means more for him to protect.

"It's good...you seem to enjoy doing this."

Dottore

Dottore would show a slight interest in what you do, mostly observing how crafty you can get with the minimal resources you can find to make something yourself. If you were to offer him a meal, he would accept, dissecting the flavors carefully on his tongue and, with his inquisitive nature, asking about the process. The measurements you used or if you just eye balled it and so on and so forth.

If he feels like it, Dottore might even test you, observing how creative you can get with the resources you have and perhaps throwing random hurdles your way in the form of difficulties in the kitchen. That being said, if he is pleased by the results and your dish turns out well, you will receive praise. It’s really rather simple.

"It seems, you compensated for the lack of variety in vegetables with the broth itself, interesting..."

Columbina

Columbina rather enjoys watching you bustle around in the kitchen, simply observing with a smile. She's more than willing to taste what you make, even making requests at times. She seems to just enjoy watching you obsess over something she deems rather silly.

Columbina will be less pleased, however, if it comes between your time with her. If you want to run off back to the kitchen, you'll have to wait until she finishes her song- then you can go craft up your little meals. It's a flawless arrangement in her eyes.

"Don't run off just yet...I'm not done. When I am, I'll come with you."

Arlecchino

Arlecchino is rather glad you have something you're passionate about. The children and the household seem to enjoy your cooking as well, so it works out rather well.

She’ll humor your little workings in the kitchen. The children of the hearth often crowd around the table in awe to see what you've made. Any dishes you present to her will be judged with high standards, but seeing how skilled you are, that shouldn’t be a problem.

"It's tender and flavorful, as expected. Well done."

Pulcinella

Pulcinella is delighted by your little passion, finding the way you obsess over it cute. He'll often gift you little knickknacks or tools to use in the kitchen.

Pulcinella gladly eats any meal you present to him, finding pride in how well they turn out. He pats you on the head when he finishes, for him, it's a skill made to be shown off.

"Delightful as always! Hmm, how about I get you a new plate set?"

Sandrone

Sandrone is rather disinterested in your cooking escapades but allows them nonetheless.

She might even offer up a few gadgets for you to try and use in your recipes to speed up the process and make it more practical. You'd merely be wasting more of your time than you already do by declining.

"Why not use this to speed up the process?"

Scaramouche

Scaramouche thinks your little obsession is laughable at best. The concept of human cuisine is not exactly something he thinks about often.

He might not always accept your little meal offers since, chances are, unless the dish is bitter to a certain degree or lacks any sweetness, he won't like it. But he still might humor you, all while teasing and judging sharply. In the off chance he is impressed, you might not even be able to tell.

"Hah... is this what you've been wasting your time on? You truly find enjoyment in slaving away in that darned room?"

La Signora

Signora would have been highly critical of what you made as well, but she would allow it, finding how you worked away amusing.

If you offered her a meal, she would sigh in an exaggerated manner, as if begrudgingly petting an insistent puppy. She decides to humor you.

"It's something, alright. Your skills would be of better use elsewhere, but I suppose it's enjoyable nonetheless."

Pantalone

Pantalone might be the only one actually against your little obsession because, honestly, why would you want to get your hands dirty? He has chefs at your beck and call, and you choose to tire yourself away in the kitchen?

He acknowledges your skill and finds it rather amusing how desperate you are, seeing all the ingredients at the disposal of the chefs. However, he truly doesn't think you should be going around filthying up the clothes he's given you. But alas, he will still eat what you offer him.

"It's good, great even, but really, my dear? The chefs would have been more than happy to make it for you if this is what you've been craving. But I suppose your stubbornness can't be helped."

Childe

Childe is actually happy about how ambitious you are when it comes to cooking. He will often use it as an excuse to drag you into family dinners and boast about your skills.

Inviting you over so your skills can be displayed to his whole family is going to become a rather recurring situation, so be prepared. He's also more than happy to gift you any kitchen supplies you need, all while not-so-subtly pushing you to help out in the kitchen.

"It turned out amazing comrade! We really need to do this more often. Teucer is still raving about the food you made!"

[starless-nightz]

Hi! I just saw your daughter of Hera headcanons and I adored them! Can I please get something similar but instead as the daughter of Hestia? Thank you!

Being a daughter of Hestia HCs

note -> I love Hestia so much shes one of my favorite greek gods <33

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, platonic! Hestia, everyone at camp likes you.

People are surprised that Hestia has a child. The goddess of the hearth is, of course, a virgin goddess and works to keep peace among the gods, so when you arrive at Camp Half-Blood, it's something of a shock to everyone—Hestia rarely takes a direct part in demigod affairs, and the idea of her having a daughter is unexpected.

You're instantly seen as a soothing presence. The moment you enter the campsite, people notice how your presence seems to bring peace with it. Fights seem to die down when you're near, and tension just melts away. The other campers start looking to you for comfort and advice instead of seeking battle advice or quests. They come to you when they need to be heard or if they had a long day of training and want to unwind.

You spend a lot of time around campfires. You are a daughter of Hestia, and you only feel at home around the fire. You would usually busied by tending it, to keep it burning steadily. You're less concerned with combat and quests than some of the other campers. But you provide a much-needed service: keeping the camp's heart-cordial and warm.

Your cabin is a home for all the others. Just because Hestia herself didn't have a cabin, you're probably sorted into Hermes' cabin, or you've been given your own tiny spot. Whichever the case, wherever you go, your space becomes a haven to the campers. A place to lock themselves up and relax, talking it over, or just being with themselves, not judging each other. You always keep one warm blanket around, should any camper need one, or an extra mug of hot chocolate.

You have a gentle approach to leadership. You do not like to bark orders or rush into battle, yet people hold you in high regard. Your quiet wisdom and soothing way with mediation make you a natural peacemaker and the others often ask you to help negotiate conflicts among the campers. Even the more hot-headed children of Ares or Hermes listen to you when tempers flare.

Your powers are subtle, yet so very valuable. You do not yield fire in a destructive manner, as Hephaestus' children do. You can control hearth flames and bring warmth and comfort with you where you go. You can light fires that never burn out or summon a small flame to soothe someone's anxiety or stress. Your powers are more about protection and nurturing than about combat.

Older campers, especially those who have been through wars and quests, respect you. They have fought enough battles; the tranquil natured attitude is a change of scenery. You are there to remind them it's not all about the fights that make life worth living. Some even open their hearts to you, sharing with you their deepest fears and worries, knowing you'll never betray their trust.

You are attached to nature and home. Like Hestia, you find delight in simplicity and small quiet moments. You love helping in the kitchens, planting flowers, and just sitting with others by the fire. All these so-called ordinary activities happy for you, and you make other people notice the beauty of them too.

People come to you for advice and comfort. Even campers who are more inclined toward fighting or adventure will be drawn to the calmness you bring with you. Children of Athena might look to you when they're troubled by strategy; children of Apollo might come to you when they need emotional support after healing someone else. You're never too busy to listen, and people learn to rely on that.

You're often underestimated, and that's really okay by you. Most anybody who assumes that you aren't a fighter also thinks you won't be much use on quests or in battles. But when it comes to anything involving the heart, family, and loyalty, you're second to none. The way that emotional intelligence and quiet strength keeps people off guard till your role proves to be utterly important.

Chiron and the other leaders trust you highly You're one of those people whose opinions are sought often at camp morale or in case of disputes arising. Chiron values your sober-mindedness and your ability to look at things from every side. You're the one he trusts to help mediate issues between cabins, and your input is quite valued in camp meetings.

Around campfires, you are usually the life of the company. While others may sing or tell stories, you can sit by the fire, stirring and keeping it bright. You seek no attention, but your presence will be felt in the warmth of the flames and the serenity it gives. Without you, the campfire would just not be the same.

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠. (𝐡𝐜𝐬)

INCLUDES: kazutora hanemiya, ken ryuguji, manjiro sano, hajime kokonoi, hanma shuji, keisuke baji, izana kurokawa

CONTENT WARNING: some misogyny

NOTE: I made these into headcanons, hope you don't mind 🤍 your gang is called 'jotei rengou' (literal translation: empress union) idk it sounded cool

— KAZUTORA.

When Kazutora finds out about your gang, he's surprised, to say the least - and not in a good way. To him, women don't belong in the delinquent world and he'll act hostile towards your gang in response, immediately seeing you as an obstacle to overcome, something to get rid of before it can cause too much trouble.

He has some deeply ingrained beliefs about strength and power so he finds it hard to believe that a women-only gang could rival any of the male-dominated gangs of Tokyo anyway.

However, when a fight breaks out between your gangs, Kazutora finds himself intrigued and slightly impressed by your strength. He watches you, analyses your technique, and he eventually recognizes that you are worthy of your title and are obviously not here by mistake.

He ends up developing a strange but genuine sense of respect and admiration for you — though you'll never catch him admitting that out loud.

"So...you're the girl who claims to be leading one of Japan's biggest gangs?" he looks you up and down. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a woman."

"Ha. I wouldn't expect you to. I've heard a lot about you, Hanemiya. You've got quite the reputation, you know?" you smirked. "But let's see if you can back up that talk with action."

— DRAKEN.

Draken's calm nature leads him to be open-minded and respectful towards you and your gang — doesn't matter if your first encounter is friendly or a little less amicable. He's surprised to see that a gang like yours exist, that's for sure, but he admires your strength and leadership qualities more than he worries about the 'women only' aspect of it.

He probably wouldn't want to get involved with you, though. He's totally against hitting women no matter what, so, with Mikey's approval, he'll try to find a common ground with you and offer compromises that could benefit both sides in order to avoid confrontation.

He might also harbour a tiny crush on you or one of your gang members.... But that's none of anyone's business.

— MIKEY.

Mikey takes you and your gang very seriously right from the start, and he quickly learns that: 1) you're not to be messed with, and 2) underestimating and belittling you would be a huge mistake.

However, just like Draken, fighting and hurting women in any way is a no-no. Not because he doesn't think you're capable of fighting back, far from it, but because keeping women safe has always been one of Toman's top priorities. He'll only fight you if he absolutely has to, that means only if your gang is pure evil or an actual threat to Toman.

On the contrary, if your gangs grow closer over the years, he'll gladly accept a friendly fight with you or your girls.

Although he doesn't really show it, Mikey is very admirative of you — a feeling that only intensifies when he finds out that the Jotei Rengou actually shares most of Toman's beliefs and is really similar to it in multiple aspects. He's also surprised by your strength and strategic thinking, which earns his silent admiration.

It kind of makes him want to welcome women into his own gang.

— KOKONOI.

Koko will treat your gang like any other gang. The fact that you're all women matters very little to him. You know what you got yourself into when you entered the world of street gangs and delinquency, therefore you must know what you're doing and you probably know how to fight back.

Koko immediately sees the power and influence you hold over your gang as you lead and command them, and he soon starts to see you as a valuable ally or potential rival, depending on how your gangs' first interaction unfolds.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by your backstory and your rise to power, because he knows you must've gone through hell and back before people actually started taking you seriously and accepted you as one of Japan's most notorious gangs.

"I don't remember inviting outsiders to my territory."

"I couldn't resist the chance to meet you!You're a hard one to find, you know?" he said, opening his arms and sticking his tongue out. "I've dreamed of this moment, Jotei Rengou."

— HANMA.

The first time Valhalla and Jotei Rengou come face to face, Hanma laughs. He laughs because it's evident to him that you don't belong at the head of a gang, and he makes sure you know how unserious he thinks your 'pathetic little gang' is.

He tries to provoke you by insulting you and your methods, clearly wanting to test your patience. However, he quickly realizes that you're not easily swayed by his manipulation tactics, having no trouble firing back at him.

Hanma finds you intriguing, and although he won't openly admit it, he's secretly impressed by your ability to stay calm and command respect and loyalty from your gang members — who all look extremely hot and badass, he must admit.

Hanma quickly starts thinking about how he could use your influence and power to his own advantage. He sees you as a potential ally or a stepping stone to achieve his goals.

— BAJI.

Baji is absolutely thrilled by the idea of facing such powerful women as opponents.

Though he can't do much without Mikey's approval, he sees this encounter as an opportunity for a great adrenaline-pumping battle. A rival gang is a rival gang, your gender doesn't hold him back in the slightest.

He's heard the rumors and whispers about the Jotei Rengou so he knows how serious you are about this — and although he'll approach you with a his usual cocky attitude, the last thing he'll do is underestimate you. The things he knows only fuels his determination further, and he looks forward to testing his skills against such interesting opponents.

"Well, well, well...what do we have here?" Baji smirks. "The Jotei Rengou and their infamous leader in person. Bold move showing up here, ladies."

"Hey, let's cut the small talk and make this interesting, shall we?" you smirk back, getting off your bike. "I'll show you what my gang's made of, and you boys can try to keep up."

— IZANA.

Izana is intrigued, but he doesn't take your gang seriously. He's heard of you and the damage you've done around Tokyo, but he's convinced that someone else is behind your crimes. He firmly believes that a woman's strength couldn't possibly match up to a man's, let alone his own.

But when you effortlessly take down some of Tenjiku's strongest members, Izana's initial arrogance towards you immediately starts to fade. He finds himself getting more and more frustrated as your fighting style proves to be just as efficient as his own.

Despite being impressed, Izana refuses to let his feelings show. Instead, he starts analyzing your moves, determined to find a weakness to exploit and make you regret ever crossing his path.

[mercurygray]

Advice for a Long Fic

Someone asked me recently for advice about writing a long fic, and I started making a list before realizing this was probably a post rather than a message.

I know I've said most of this before, and none of it is new advice. As with any advice, take what you think will serve you and leave what you think will not. Everyone's process is different.

-*-

Start a new folder in the place where you save your things. This is your new big project folder. You are going to save all the things here.

Decide whether you are going to write the whole thing and then post it, or post it as you go. There are benefits to both of these approaches. I am a post it as you go person, and I have friends who think this is the dumbest approach imaginable. It is whatever works for you and causes less anxiety.

I have a spreadsheet for all of my characters. While I didn't reference it too often while I was writing, the act of making the document helped solidify people in my mind a little. It was also nice to have in case you felt like doing an askbox game on a slow day.

Come up with a naming convention for the things in the big project folder. When your chapter is 'done' it should be switched to the naming convention. Mine was Darkening Sky - Working Chapter Title (for things that were still in progress) and Darkening Sky - 35 - Chapter Title for things that I'd finished. This helped me find things later after I'd been working for three years and would not have remembered what was in a document.

I personally like the model of doing a separate document for each chapter. This allows me to move these episodes around at will without the danger of possibly deleting a large chunk of text. This does not work for everyone! If you like one big document, use one big document.

The other reason I liked lots of little documents is that it gave me the opportunity to slot in other things that I didn't think were originally going to be chapters. When I first started working on TDS, I had a lot of flashes of ideas for different things throughout the whole story, and I wanted to get them down all at once. Some of those made it into the final story. Some did not. Some of them were written for one part of the story but got recycled into a different part. But they are all in the big document folder in case I needed them.

I also did something for TDS that I've never done for a story before - I wrote down all the different story beats and show beats on notecards and I laid them out on my floor underneath cards that had the show episodes on them. (You may have seen pictures of this.) By putting the plot points on notecards, rather than a list, I had maximum flexibility to move them throughout the story and could visualize over a larger space where the story was going. This also allowed the story and the characters to go places I did not think they would go.

Give yourself grace and time. It will not all happen overnight. It does not need to all happen overnight. The people who are expecting it to all happen overnight are not the people you need in your life.

Having said that, a schedule can be a wonderful and valuable thing. I was trying to post a chapter every two weeks during the pandemic, and then when work picked up again I scaled that back to once a month. The schedule was not for the readers. The schedule was for me. Having something to keep myself accountable was helpful to me to prevent burnout (a chapter a day, no thank you) but keep myself moving forward.

I am going to say something provocative here: There is Writing the Fic, and there is Doing Fandom On The Fic. Doing Fandom On The Fic is the "New chapter coming soon!!!" sorts of things. I would be very cautious about feeling like you need to do the second thing. Work on it first. When it is done, it will promote itself. (If you have already created the Doing Fandom thing as a part of your creative process - great! share that! But don't go out of your way to Make Something Just To Have Something.) There is a time and place for the second thing, and it fills a specific need, but there is a different and I would argue more effective way to do that, which is -

Find a Pit Crew. This is an endurance race, not a sprint, which means at some point you are going to look at what you have on the page and you're going to want someone to tell you that you are doing a good job. You're going to need someone to change your tires and change your oil and talk to you at ten o'clock at night when you want to rip everything up. This is not a big public server - this is one or two trusted friends who will listen to your bonkers AUs and what your characters ate for breakfast. Create a server for you and those two people and go have fun. If no one else shows up to this party, you and those two people are still having a great time, and that is what counts.

[fandomsimagined]

Don't Go Dark - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Title: Don't Go Dark

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Female!Reader

Summary: Kaz Brekker realizes that he has feelings for his healer.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: What you could expect from Six of Crows

A/N: This is my first time writing for Kaz, so if it's out of character, I apologize. I kind of gave up and phoned it in at the end so if you can tell, I'm sorry. Very loosely inspired by the song Don't Go Dark by Bleachers.

For most of his life, Kaz Brekker called the Barrel home–despite the fact that there was really nothing homey about it–and there was one thing that he knew for certain about the dreadful place: that it always had a tendency to contort even the purest of things into something nasty. No one was good-natured for the sake of it. If someone was kind, it was usually a ploy, as he very well knew. That was one of his first lessons in survival. Love was a weakness that oftentimes had disastrous consequences. The only thing to come from the Barrel was carnage. The currency was blood, and he’d paid his share and then some with his own, and with others. Only the most ruthless and ungodly people prospered, and prosper he did. 

Believe it or not, he did remember the short life he had before the Barrel. He remembered his father and their farm, and he remembered after his father died when Jordie sold the farm with the promise that they would find fortune in Ketterdam. That was when he’d learned the most valuable lesson that there was to learn. That the only person he could truly count on was himself. To love nothing and trust no one. If he loved nothing, then there was nothing to be used against him. Nothing that anyone could take from him. It got lonely, but it had kept him alive for this long, a feat not many accomplished, so that was how he lived. 

She was different. She didn’t live under the same guise of violence as the rest of Ketterdam. She didn’t have the same mentality: that things can always–and most likely will–get worse. She didn’t hold grudges. Not like Kaz did. Kaz was fueled by vengeance and spite. He took whatever was thrown at him in stride with the knowledge that he would find vindication by dealing a much harsher punishment. 

The winter chill bit to the bone, an unfortunate truth for Kaz especially, whose bones were already not in well-working order. His limp was more pronounced as he made his way to his office (formerly Haskell’s). The Dregs were still bustling about, doing Saints knows what, but none would bother him. It was late, the state of his face was less pristine than when he’d left, and his permanent scowl was even more noticeable than usual. No, they would leave him be.

The meeting with the Razorgulls had gone as well as he’d expected, which was not well at all. They weren’t too happy to see him, still holding a grudge over Pekka Rollins’ quite unfortunate downfall. They’d landed a couple of punches, but he always had the upper hand, and they were smart enough when it was over to abandon Fifth Harbor entirely.

His office door was slightly ajar, something that didn’t bode well. He knew that the healer would be waiting for him, but she was never so careless to leave the door open, as there were quite a few documents and collectibles that he preferred to keep away from the other Dregs. 

He pushed the rickety door open and immediately he could feel that something was off. She was sitting in the extra wooden chair that he kept there (mostly for her and Jesper since he rarely gave anyone else the privilege to stay in his office for long periods). He sat in his desk chair, his gloved fingers thumbing through the papers that he’d left. Nothing important, just something to keep him occupied. 

Kaz Brekker noticed everything; meaning that Kaz Brekker noticed her trembling hands, though she tried to disguise it by keeping them folded in her lap. He noticed her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks that she’d tried to hide, and he noticed that she was jumpier than usual. Something had happened, that much was obvious, but he wouldn’t push. If she wanted to talk, she would, otherwise, it was none of his concern. Though, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger at the mere idea of anything happening to her.

“Again? Kaz, you really should be more careful.” It was no surprise that she was born a healer. It was quite literally in her nature to be caring. She was born to fix things. 

“Why? If I were to die tomorrow, all of Ketterdam would breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe even cheers to the occasion,” Kaz scoffed. It sounded grim, but it meant that he was good at what he did, so he saw it as an honor of sorts. He was in control.

“I wouldn’t.” She frowned. She moved to stand above him, getting leverage so she could properly heal his face. Her lips were pursed in concentration as her fingers hovered over a gash on his cheek. It was a strange feeling. It was like he could feel the skin stitching back together as she worked. It was like an itch. “I quite like having you around.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Kaz raised his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What are you getting at? A raise?” 

“Oh please, why would I even bother trying to flatter you?” She rolled her eyes. “Not when I know all I have to do is compliment Jesper’s hat, give him a few kruge to gamble away, and he’ll talk you into whatever I want.”

“And here I thought that you were too soft for the Barrel.” Kaz smirked. 

“I’m serious, what are you going to do if I’m not around to fix you up?” 

He thought about the statement carefully. The implication of the words. That was the confirmation he needed to push for further information. She’d opened the door. “Are you planning on going somewhere?” Maybe that’s why she was acting so strange. She seemed like the type to get all weepy about leaving. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea himself. It would be harrowing work trying to find a new healer. Especially a trustworthy one, but he wouldn’t stop her if that’s what she wanted. He just wouldn’t pretend to be happy about either.

“No!” She exclaimed quickly. “No, of course not.” Her quick response and furrowed brow were a relief. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. Not yet, anyway. 

“Well, if you’re not planning on leaving, then I suppose I don’t have to worry about it then, do I?” Kaz spoke bluntly, though he supposed if she listened close enough, she would hear the twinge of satisfaction hidden beneath. It was selfish. Ketterdam was a grim place, but he didn’t want her to leave. She made it a little less grim. 

Her fingers moved eloquently, drifting over his broken nose, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her palm. It did him well not to think about how close she was to him. It would probably send him into fight-or-flight mode if he did. 

He winced as he felt the bone setting back into place. It was nothing that hadn’t happened before, though he wasn’t sure that he would ever get used to the damn itch that plagued the area as she was working her magic. That wasn’t what bothered him, though. What bothered him was that she hadn’t spoken again, something that was quite unlike her. Normally she would be scolding him or telling him all about whatever had happened at the Crow Club that afternoon. No, she hadn’t spoken and she hadn’t provided any elaboration to her previous statement. 

“Is everything alright?” He pressed further. If it was anyone else, he would’ve left it be. A problem for another day, but this wasn’t anyone else. 

“No… I mean…” She started and paused, turning to face the wall to her side as if avoiding looking at him. He was relieved that she wasn’t planning on leaving the Dregs just yet, but there was something bothering her and he couldn’t deny being slightly concerned about what it was. Had something happened at the club while he was gone? Surely one of the others downstairs would have mentioned something to him when he walked in if it had. But, there was no way to be sure. 

She turned back to face him, taking a shaky breath as if trying to figure out what to say. “This afternoon while I was on my way to the club, a man grabbed me. Put a knife to my throat and said that if I didn’t give him all of my kruge, then he would slit my throat, watch me bleed out, and then take it all anyways. It wasn’t even much, just seventeen, but he was willing to kill me for it.” He clenched his jaw as she recounted the story. He wouldn’t interrupt, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t already plotting on what he would do when he found the bastard. She reached up to fiddle with the necklace chain that she always wore, but it was missing. He’d taken her locket too.

“I was sure he would kill me even if I gave it to him, I saw his face for Saints’ sake, but I just… It made me think about if something had happened to me, then who would be here to make sure that you didn’t get yourself killed? I mean, you’ve almost done it several times with me here and I’m one of the best healers in Kerch, not to pat myself on the back or anything…” She was one of the best healers in Kerch. That was why he’d recruited her in the first place, and that was why she was under his protection. Though, he thought that she might’ve been exaggerating. He was pretty sure, he only almost died twice, and only once was his fault. 

“Who was it?” Kaz said through gritted teeth. It was unlikely that it was anyone from a rival gang. It wasn’t a secret that she was associated with the Dregs and they weren’t stupid. Pulling a stunt like that would start a war, especially since it was in Fifth Harbor. That was his territory. No, the only one that bold would be the Dime Lions, but they would’ve killed her to send a message. This was probably some random person off of the street if he had to guess. Looking for a quick buck, so they thought why not steal it? What they didn’t know was that they’d stolen it from the wrong woman. 

“Kaz-”

“Who was it?” He repeated. 

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, that I might not be here next time you decide to go and get yourself all bloodied up, and what if it’s more serious next time?” He didn’t like the way that she was talking so casually about the prospect of dying. Like it was inevitable, and she was making her final arrangements before she went. 

“Listen to me carefully. Nothing’s going to happen to you because I won’t let it.” It was a statement not a question. He would make sure to get the message across that not only was she associated with the Dregs, but she was under the protection of Dirtyhands himself, and he would make sure to send a very clear warning as to what would happen should anyone get the bright idea to lay a finger on his crew again. 

“You’re not always going to be there to protect me, Kaz. We all know it’s only a matter of time. People like me don’t make it very long  here. I’m not strong, or smart, or resourceful enough…” Her eyes were glassy, trying to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. He was confused. None of those things could have been farther from the truth. She may have been soft, sure, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t smart or strong. She had to be strong to have put up with him for so long. He wasn’t known to be the most facile person in the world. 

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” Kaz’s voice was gravelly. It was rough. In fact, he’d often heard it described as the voice of a demon, or the devil himself. There was nothing soothing about it, yet he saw her shoulders slump in what seemed to be relief. That even though the Saints had never looked out for her, he would. 

She didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. That was that. There was nothing left to be said. He didn’t make promises that he didn’t intend to keep. He lied, he stole, he killed, but he didn’t break his promises. And there wasn’t a promise that he ever intended to keep more than that one. 

She silently worked on mending the split on his cheek. The Razorgulls had gotten a couple of good shots in. More than he thought, and he was starting to feel it, though he wouldn’t for long. 

“Stay at the Slat tonight.” He finally broke the silence. She didn’t live far, but clearly she wasn’t safe and he couldn’t have that.

“What?” She shot him a puzzled look. It was seemingly out of the blue, and he didn’t exactly give much room for any discussion. 

“I want you to stay at the Slat tonight. It’s late, you shouldn’t walk home in the dark.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaz perused the selection at Alwynn’s pawn shop. When he’d noticed that her necklace had been stolen, he knew that it had probably ended up in a pawn shop somewhere. No one stole jewelry off of ladies on the street to wear. No, clearly he needed money. 

He’d expected to have to go to more than one shop to find any relevant information, but no. It was almost too easy. He’d spotted the necklace on a display in  the front of the store. He recognized it immediately. The dainty gold chain could’ve easily been confused, but the locket that dangled from it, couldn’t be. 

“Mr. Brekker, I didn’t think of you as the jewelry type,” Alwynn gave a short laugh. 

“Well, Alwynn, there are quite a few things you don’t know about me.” 

“That, I’m sure of.”

“How much did you buy it for?” Kaz inquired.

“Bought it for twenty-five. Selling it for forty-two.” Kaz wasn’t surprised. Alwynn had always been a crook. 

“Who brought it in?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t say. Merchant-client privilege, I’m sure you understand.” Alwynn appeared nervous now. Good.

“I’ll pay double the price.”

Alwynn thought for a moment. “His name’s Griffin. He came in yesterday afternoon. He’s been staying in the alley beside Burke’s.” 

“Thank you, Alwynn. It’s been a pleasure as always.” He was well aware that he probably could’ve stolen the necklace or threatened him without spending the kruge, but he decided to, for once, pick his battles. He slid over the proper amount of kruge before making his way to the door.

Kaz found Griffin exactly where Alwynn said he would be.He’d clearly been staying there, the pile of rags on the ground and empty bottles were scattered beside them. He almost felt sorry for him. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Kaz approached Griffin, making his presence known. The man, probably around twenty or so, must have been at least a little intelligent, because his expression was a mixture of fear and confusion. 

“Good evening Griffin,” Kaz crooned. “You know, I heard from a close source of mine that you met a lady around this area yesterday afternoon.” 

“I meet a lot of ladies around here.” Griffin scoffed.

“Well, this particular lady said that you threatened her. Stole her money and a necklace. Surely you would remember that. Unless, you make a habit out of stealing from women. Do you?”

“What?” 

“Do you only target women to  pay for your alcohol addiction, or was this particular lady just a special case?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered. 

“How much did you take?” Kaz growled, ignoring the obvious lie that had escaped from his mouth. He didn’t need an answer. He already knew. 17 kruge and her necklace (which he’d gotten thirty-five for at the shop), but he wanted to hear him admit it. 

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even if Kaz didn’t already know he was lying, it wouldn’t have been hard to tell. The sweat beading at his forehead, the way his eyes darted, the fact that he had around fifty-two kruge worth of bottles at his feet. It was too easy. 

“This wouldn’t happen to jog your memory would it?” Kaz held the chain out. Griffin’s face went pale. It was as if all of the color had simply vanished. “So, I’ll ask again: how much did you take?” 

“Not a lot, just seventeen kruge, and I’ll-”

“You’ll pay it back. In fact, you’re going to pay back the seventeen that you stole, the eighty-four I had to pay to buy the necklace back from the crook you sold it to, and an extra thirty kruge for making me get out in this dreadful cold to track down you and this necklace.” Kaz felt it to be a fair trade. For him at least. 

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Well, I suggest that you find it before the week is out. Paid in full, and after that, I don’t want to see you back in Fifth Harbor again, and if I do, I’ll make sure that you end up at the bottom of the Harbor.” He turned to walk back towards the street, but he turned back before he got there. He swung his cane, hard, at Griffin’s right hand–his dominant one–earning a howl of pain. “Next time you decide to steal jewelry from a woman on the street, I would suggest selling it to a shop that’s not only a few feet away from where you’re staying.” 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s this?” She looked puzzled at the pouch of kruge that he’d dropped on the table in front of her. Kaz didn’t answer, and realization flooded over her face. “Kaz…” she gave him a stern look. “You didn’t kill him, did you? I would feel really guilty if you killed him.”

“Relax, I didn’t kill him.” Kaz scowled. “But, he won’t be bothering you or anyone else around Fifth Harbor anymore.”

“That really makes it sound like you killed him…”

“I did not kill him. I simply reminded him that it’s not very polite to threaten women.” Kaz rolled his eyes. “Besides, if I’d killed him, I wouldn’t have gotten this back, would I?” He draped the gold chain over his gloved fingers. It was beside the point that he’d found the necklace before he’d found Griffin, and that he could’ve easily gotten it back had he killed him. She didn’t need to know that. 

“You got my locket back?” She gasped in disbelief. She took the chain, eyes wide. “How? Wait…” she paused. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“I’ll have you know that you’re missing out on quite the lovely story, then,” Kaz teased. 

“I’m sure. I think it’ll be far lovelier if I never find out, though.” She chuckled. “Because something tells me it involved some of your more extreme measures.”

“Not extreme enough if you ask me. He got to keep all of his fingers. You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re making me soft.”

“Thank you.” She offered him a gracious smile. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaz had never been one to fear others. He was fairly confident in his ability to fight his way out of a skirmish, should one come up, so why would he? He’d fought off far more men than the three in front of him on his own. What could he have to fear?

He had never been afraid, but all it took was a few goddamn words and his blood turned to ice. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to that healer of yours, wouldn’t it?” A threat. A barely subtle attempt at one. In any other case, he probably would’ve laughed it off. Come up with some witty response. He didn’t have it in him. What if it wasn’t a bluff?

“If you touch her, I swear to you, I’ll gut you,” Kaz snarled. It wasn’t the smartest move. Now, there was no doubt that he cared. That they could use her against him. 

“The Bastard of the Barrel does have a heart, eh?” Rowell sneered. His last encounter with the Razorgulls hadn’t ended as smoothly as he’d hoped. They’d gone searching on him. Trying to find–well he supposed they did–find leverage. They’d finally found Kaz Brekker’s weakness. 

The words echoed through Kaz’s head. “Rowell, if you touch her, I can always pay a visit to Broad Street. I seem to recall that’s where your wife and daughter are? If I find out any of your men touched my healer, I’ll put a bullet in their heads myself.” He was good for it. Rowell knew it. He had never been above killing, and that was when he didn’t have something to lose. 

Rowell’s face contorted in alarm. Kaz knew where his family was. Kaz had just as much leverage as he did. The only difference was Kaz was far more ruthless than Rowell ever imagined. 

“You may think you’ve found my weakness, Rowell, and maybe you have, but you should know by now that I don’t respond well to threats. If you’re going to do something, do it. Otherwise don’t waste my time and your breath just telling me about it.” With that, Kaz began his trek back to the Slat. For the first time in quite a long time, he was scared. They could very well call his bluff. By this point, Rowell could have already gotten to her by now. He’d spent so much of his time focusing on protecting her from the Barrel, that he’d forgotten that association with Kaz Brekker was the biggest threat of all. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been weeks since Rowell’s threat. He hadn’t taken it lightly. He didn’t think Rowell was brave enough to do anything, but if he’d noticed, it was only a matter of time before others would too, if they hadn’t already. 

He’d decided to keep his distance. That was the only way he knew how to keep her safe. Kaz Brekker was the most feared man in the Barrel because he had nothing to lose. If it came out that he did in fact care for anything… well he had a lot of enemies that would waste no time doing everything in their power to take it from him. 

He’d been avoiding her altogether. She was hurt. He knew that. It was better for her to be hurt than dead. 

He was making his way up the stairs to his study, ready to shut himself for the night to plan for the upcoming job he’d secured. It was nothing big, probably him, Jesper, and a couple of the newer recruits for the Dregs. Test their loyalty before anything major. 

He saw her near the bar talking to Jesper, laughing at something he’d said. He swiftly turned away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Xavier (ironically one of the new recruits he was planning to take) grab at her waist. He was quite intoxicated, slurring a remark that he couldn’t hear, but was almost certainly derogatory. She politely pushed him aside, muttering a soft ‘no thank you’, but Xavier wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Kaz didn’t even have time to think, really. He didn’t have to think. It was instinct. He ignored the pain in his leg and crossed the room. He’d never been the biggest fan of Xavier, so he didn’t feel too guilty about the punch that landed on the boy’s jaw. His knuckles throbbed from the contact, but he ignored it. When Xavier offered to try and return the blow, Kaz dodged the jab and cracked his cane over his back. 

“This is a respectable establishment, and that means when a woman says ‘no’ that’s the end of the discussion.” 

Kaz avoided her gaze, and made his way up to his study, but he was followed. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Kaz muttered, sitting in his chair, finally resting his leg. 

“You’ve spent weeks acting like I don’t exist, and now you’re getting in bar fights to defend me? And what? You’re just going to go back to ignoring me?” She was hardly a confrontational person, so Kaz knew that she was angry by the sudden outburst. “I don’t get it. What did I do to make you decide that you hate me?” 

Surely she didn’t really believe that he hated her. “I don’t hate you.” He still didn’t look up. 

“So, what is it then?” She was blinking back tears. He felt guilty, a feeling that he didn’t even know he was capable of. 

“You seriously don’t get it?”

“No, I don’t get it!” She shouted. 

“I care about you!” He blurted. “Far more than I should.” His confession earned a scoff. “You don’t believe me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “No, I don’t believe you. Why would I?”

“Why? What would I possibly have to gain from lying to you about that?”

“I don’t know, but I never know anything with you!” 

“Fine, if you don’t believe me, then go. If you think I’m lying then why are you still here?” He didn’t believe that she didn’t believe him. She wasn’t stupid. He knew she wasn’t. 

“I just want to know why! Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I already told you the truth, so what do you want from me?” Kaz suddenly felt defensive. “I care about you, and people noticed. Rowell threatened you straight to my face, and I realized that if people thought that you meant anything to me, then they’d come after you. They’d kill you to get to me, and that can’t happen.” 

“So, it was that easy then? You got scared that someone was going to come after me so you decided to just stop caring? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“That is not what I said. What I said was that if they thought that you were important to me, they would come for you. I never said that meant I stopped caring.” Kaz huffed. “This is the only way that I can be sure you’re safe.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I have a stake in this too?” She was letting the tears fall freely now. “I don’t care who comes after me.”

“I can’t lose you.” Kaz shook his head. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I can’t guarantee that people won’t come for you. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I haven’t exactly made a good reputation my priority.” Kaz attempted a joke, but really it served more as a warning. A glimpse into what being close to him would entail, which would mean always looking over your shoulder. 

“Believe it or not, I have actually caught on to that part…” She let out a soft chuckle. 

He reached up, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. He took the opportunity to rest his gloved hand on her cheek. He felt his body tense. His hand fell. Flashes of the nightmare that he’d endured. Jordie’s cold grey skin. The smell of waterlogged rotten flesh. It was as if he was back in the harbor. Surrounded by nothing but death and decay. 

She seemed to notice his ordeal. Concern flashed through her eyes. “Are you feeling alright, Kaz?” He’d never told her about his brother. He’d never told anyone, really. As far as he was concerned, Kaz Rietveld had died in that harbor, but that wasn’t all true. If it had, he wouldn’t be damn near hyperventilating because he’d touched her. It was stupid. He was stupid. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. She probably thought he’d lost his mind.

“I think you need to rest,” she suggested. “I’ll run downstairs and grab you some water, I’ll be right-” 

“No.” His voice came out hoarse. 

“Kaz, you look like you’re about to pass out, I think you should drink something.” 

“I want you to stay.” He sounded needy like a child and he hated it, but he also meant every word. “Please stay.” He grabbed her hand. Only this time, it was easier. He wasn’t thinking about death and despair. He wasn’t thinking about Jordie. He was thinking about her. 

[strawberryflavoredvenum]

Creepypasta insecurities

Toby

🩷his tics(duh)

He isn't as bothered by it as he used to be but every once in a while, he'll get a particularly noticeable one and others will look at him. He hates when people he isn't close with brings them up.

🩷 Sometimes he worries that he is being annoying. Sometimes he actually is being annoying. He is a lot more talkative now that he's been a proxy for a while. He isn't used to socializing so he doesn't always understands social cues. He has the tendency to overshare or interrupt people.

🩷His muzzle leaves a red mark on the bridge of his nose and he hates it. Luckily other proxies don't see him without it for very long. Just to eat or around bed time.

Jeff

🩷He is not the most hygienic person and he hopes it's not noticeable. He wears axe but that makes it so much worse. One time someone left old spice at his door anonymously. It made him feel really bad but he did use it.

🩷Jeff doesn't feel much shame. Mostly because he chooses to block out any memory of his past. Liu is a constant reminder of what happened and though he does love his brother, it's hard to be around him sometimes.

🩷When Sally first met him she cried. He laughed at the time but he still thinks about it and feels bad. It made him feel bad, especially when Sally wasn't scared of most of the other killers.

🩷He has big hands and long fingers. Sometimes they feel out of place and he doesn't know where to put them. He did trex arms as a kid but it was corrected by his parents. Now he just puts them in his hoodie pockets.

Lj

🩷His arms are much too long for his body. It's useful when killing people but they get in the way sometimes.

🩷He is also much much bigger than the other proxies. That combined with his clown aesthetic makes him stand out a lot. He feels out of place.

Ej

🩷 Sometimes his eyes drip onto things or people. Other proxies do not take kindly to it and reactions have ranged from annoyance to aggression. He keeps his personal space.

🩷Jack isn't shy but he is a reserved guy. He doesn't get too personal with most of the proxies. It's not that he doesn't want to talk more, but he doesn't know what to say. By the time he comes up with a response to one topic, the conversation has moved on already.

Nina

🩷 The whole 'jeff obsession' is so embarrassing to her now. She moves on from one obsession to the next pretty quickly. Now that she thinks about it, Jeff isn't even that cool. She likes to pretend that it never happened.

🩷She has an unstable sense of identity. Switching from one aesthetic to the next, much like her obsessions. It seemed to come so easily to everyone else.

Ben

🩷Others do not take him seriously. It's not something that Ben just feels, it's the truth. Despite how much he contributes to the team, he isn't given the same respect. He doesn't want to just be comic relief. (he makes sure none of them end up on the internet/news. He helps wipe their images and records so they aren't found. He can also spy through screens and get valuable info.)

🩷He is much older than Sally, yet they are constantly made to hang out. He gets that Sally needs supervision but he doesn't get why he has to be the all-day babysitter. It's not that he doesn't like Sally, but he rather have peers his own age. (I hc him as an older kid. Like 12-13 or something. I'm not that into Ben drowned so maybe this isn't accurate.)

Helen

🩷 He has a small and lanky build. Not particularly tall either. He is one of the weaker creepypastas and it bothers him sometimes. It also makes him feel less safe being around everyone else.

[factual-fantasy]

28 Asks, thank you! :} 🚑🧡

@glitchhayden418

I haven't gone into detail about my symptoms, how its effected my life and what tests I've had done because that's obviously all very personal.. but yeah, there's some ideas about what could be wrong. But I don't think anyone knows with 100% certainty what it is. If the leading theory turns out to be correct, I'm staring down a life long condition and will have to put in constant effort every day to be comfortable.

If its NOT that, well. I guess that route is not fabulous either. But I'm hoping its not the first option.

I say "sick" just to be vague, I don't think we know what's wrong yet or what to properly call it. I WISH I could just call 911 and could be whisked off to be cured of this horrible thing. But dozens of appointments have told me its not going to be that easy. 😔

I don't see why I would need a manager to help with my blog.. I can manage it just fine! :0 And I don't get as many asks as people might think I do..

Discord however... wellll.. 😅

@ramiel-hourglass

Huh? <:0 I'm not making another goober- at least I have no plans to right now.. I WANTED to make one for the 30k celebration but I couldn't really come up with anything that felt right.. plus rn I'm pretty content with the fam as we are! :)

Also thank you! I hope you have a wonderful day too! :)))

@multifandomgummybear

SCREAMMMSSSS THANK YOU SO MCUH!!!! :DDD 💞💞💞💞

@fandomcenteral (Big number post)

Thank you!! :DD And aww! Cute kitty!! :}}}

@wolfie-777

XD Man what has he been up to-

@1nksp1ll

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭😭💞💞💞💞

@neo-metalscottic (Face paint post) (Ratchet call out post)

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD And FRRRR I'm shocked that no one else ever notices or points it out. You'd think at least Optimus would know/notice...

For Starscream's brothers, that will all depend on what they're like in other continuities. (Which is where I'll get most of my ideas for them from)

Do they typically look the same in other shows/comics? Are they usually called clones or his brothers? Do their alt mods look the same in most transformers adaptions? It'll all just depend,

Now for Pretaking, I'll have to rewatch that part of the show and remember all the consequences that all had. Maybe I'll bring some back? Maybe I'll revive none? Maybe I'll revive ALL of them? I wont be able to decide until I see all the details for myself 😅

Ratchet will give me a scan in the big scanner do-hickey and I'll server him Energon cubes on a plate 😌

@for-my-hyperfixations

Thank you so much!! :DD And of course you may!! :}}}}

@beryl-shade

I don't play Fortnite or know much about it, so I've never considered making an OC for it.. <:(

(Referencing this post)

Imma play devils advocate here and say that Ratchet DOES have a decent excuse.... if their stockpile of Energon is low, he of all bots can afford to cut back a little.. 😔

But this does NOT mean that he is less valuable than the other bots 👁️👁️👁️ Ratchet you better be taking notes

@digi-tor (Referencing this post)

XD Thank you! :)))

Paid requests is something I might look into.. but for now I'm just trying to get my Ko-fi and Patreon set up 😔

@v0idish-t3ars (Referencing this post)

I have tried to get good sleep this past week but its just really hard with this stuffy nose and sore throat 💀

(Referencing this post)

XD Do you know how hard it is to sleep with a sore throat and stuffy nose? As for Ratchet... 👁️

I've seen him.. 💀 Man what are they doin to FNAF now-a-days.. things are getting weird-

(Referencing this post) @briandraws

XDD I sure do! Well enough to see that Ratchet hasn't refueled 👁️

(Referencing this post)

XDD To be fair he's got a bit of an excuse, Energon is hard to come by.. 😔

(Referencing this post)

I haven't gotten much sleep these past few days, and I doubt I could scare Ratchet into actually refueling XDD💀💀

@badlyblurry (Referencing this post)

RATCHET EAT FOOD RN OR IM GONNA WRITE ANGST ABOUT IT🫵🫵🫵(YOU DON'T WANT THAT CURSE RATCHET)

(Referencing this post)

AUHDAFHJ LIKE ACTALLY THO 🤣🤣🤣

@aboutchicken298

RATCHETT LES GOOOOOOOO 🗣️🗣️😭💞💞💞

@caronaro-flipaclip

Thank you! I hope the same for you! :))

I've thought about watching rescue bots.. since people keep suggesting it to me and because its set in the same continuity as Prime.. but MAN do the tones just seem way off.

Prime feels like a very mature adaption of transformers. It talks about war and death and disease.. desperation, starvation.. showing dead bodies and brutal (robotic) gore and bodily horror. There's not any silly episodes about having to rescue a cat from a tree or real heavy focus on the casual lives of the 3 kids. Prime feels very serious and rooted in realty basically.

But then I look at rescue bots and,,, I just cant imagine it carrying the same vibe. 3(?) transformers completely out and the open and working with humans.? A very kiddie type art style..? Idk, I just don't think its gonna feel attached to the original tfp at all. (Please politely correct me if I'm wrong-)

(WAHAGG THABK YU SO MUCH!!! 😭😭💞💞💞) I'm answering this ask a bit late- but yes this is what I intend on doing :)

I'm trying to get a Patreon and Ko-fi set up. I plan to post exclusive WIPs and sketches, drawings days before I post them to tumblr, and anything else I can think of <XD I'm even seriously considering posting Octonauts artwork to my Patreon to weed out a lot of the kids who aren't willing to listen and trace/repost all my artwork.

I don't want to pay wall too much though,, I keep thinking about those people who have told me how much my art means to them. I would hate for them to not be able to see it anymore..

But at the same time, money is tight <:( I'll keep thinking about all that even after my Patreon and Ko-fi are up and running.

(Link in ask)

I've seen fanart for it here and there, but never listened to the soundtrack. :0 Thank you for the link! :))

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDD

[vikkirosko]

verosika, charlie, emily and carmilla carmille with pico!reader who is super protective

Headcanons Super protective

🌈 Charlie Morningstar x Reader 🎶

Charlie has always been kind. She aspired to see the good in others and to believe that even the most terrible sinners can improve if they want to. Many people didn't touch her because she was a princess. But there were those who didn't give a damn about it. And because of that, she could be in danger. That's why Vaggie and you were usually with her. Vaggie often stayed at the hotel hoping that Charlie would be okay, but you very rarely left her alone when she went somewhere. You were too worried about her and knew too well what to expect from sinners, so you often accompanied her

Every time you accompanied Charlie, many of those who wanted to at least insult her were afraid to approach her. You could look scary, and if someone didn't immediately realize that you shouldn't try to hurt her, then you'd pull out your gun, ready for what you'd need to use it for. When someone really tried to harm her, you were ready. You didn't care who it was, angel, demon, sinner. You were ready to tear them to shreds, even if the opponent was obviously stronger than you. You weren't going to let anyone hurt her, even though sometimes your zeal bothered her

Sometimes Charlie felt like your concern for her was bordering on paranoia. You were suspicious of many people, and it took you a really long time to start trusting someone. It took you a long time to get used to each of the hotels, and Alastor was still clearly causing you concern, but Charlie tried to help you worry less about it. She comforted you and hugged you when your anxiety got out of control. She understood that some of your concerns were justified, but not all of them wanted to harm her, and that's exactly what she tried to convey to you so that you knew about it and didn't worry about her every time she was going somewhere

It was really hard for you to stay calm. You cherished Charlie and didn't want her to get hurt, and if you had to get your hands dirty in blood to protect her, then you were ready to do it. You weren't afraid for your own life, which worried Charlie, but you considered her life more valuable than yours. That's why she tried to protect you from yourself. The last thing she wanted was for you to die protecting her

🗡 Carmilla Carmine x Reader ⚔️

Carmilla was strong. She was an overlord, she was involved in the manufacture and sale of weapons. She had lived in Hell long enough to protect herself and her daughters. But none of that was reason enough for you not to worry about her. You knew perfectly well that she had many enemies among sinners, which meant you had to protect her. For many who saw you next to her, you were her bodyguard, and only those who knew her well enough knew that this was not the case. You were her partner, the one she loved, but that didn't stop you from combining both roles

You knew that when she was doing her job, she was usually safe, but you preferred to stay by her side. The only reason you could leave her without your protection was because you went with her daughters when they delivered orders. They were family to you, and you weren't going to let anyone hurt them, for which Carmilla was grateful. But when you were sure they were safe, you were always with Carmilla. Every time someone in your opinion tried to threaten her, you started to look really scary. You didn't even have to try hard for this, but if someone didn't understand the simple hints, you were ready to shoot them in the leg, shoulder or something else to show by example that it's not worth threatening someone who is under your protection

On several occasions, she witnessed your emotional balance crumble when she was in danger. At such moments, you were eager to fight without feeling sorry for yourself. You didn't care about your own wounds or the fact that you might die. You weren't going to let her get hurt, but in your eagerness to protect her, you might not have noticed the threat looming over you. That's why she had your back, because she didn't want you to die. She knew she couldn't stop you from getting hurt, but that doesn't mean she'd let you die

When you were injured, Carmilla made sure that you would receive proper treatment or stayed with you so that he would not follow her again when he was injured. She didn't say it that often, but you were really important to her, which meant she had to protect you the same way she protected her daughters. Even if she had to go up against the angels to do it, she was ready to do it, knowing full well that you would have done the same for her

👁 Emily x Reader ✨️

In Heaven, most of the inhabitants were kind, including Emily. She was a true angel who believed in forgiveness and redemption. Were you like that? No. You've seen a lot of bad things in your life, you've seen that even in Heaven there were cruel people who could hurt you and they wouldn't get anything for it, which means you had to prevent it. You should have protected Emily, who was a ray of light to you in your dark life. Even if you had to go against all the angels and demons for her, you were willing to do it

You often went with her. Emily wasn't against it, on the contrary, she was glad that you kept her company, although some moments bothered her. She was worried about how aggressively you could look at others, and when it came to Adam, only the fact that Emily was holding you back stopped you from attacking him. You saw some of them as more of a threat to her than others, and she didn't understand the reason for that. She was the only one who could calm you down, and so far there have been no casualties. But no one knew at what point you would snap and attack someone to protect Emily. Even she herself didn 't know

Emily hugged you a lot. She stroked your back reassuringly and whispered to you that there were no enemies around. You were usually silent at such moments, but one day, when you were particularly tired, you quietly said that this was not the case, and that Heaven was full of snakes, the existence of which she did not even know. You didn't tell her more, but your words bothered her. Emily thought you were being paranoid right up until the moment she found out the truth. Until she found out that every year angels killed sinners. Only then did she realize the meaning of your words. You knew about it all this time, but you didn't say anything, not wanting her to be in danger, but now she knew everything and couldn't calmly continue to live as before and do nothing about it

You continued to protect her, and the more the situation escalated, the more protective you became. You once told Emily that if she ever fell, you would follow her to Hell. Your words made her heart sink. She knew that your feelings were sincere and that you never lied to her. She wanted to believe that it wouldn't come to that, but she was pleased that even if she ended up in Hell, she wouldn't be alone. She will have you by her side, who has always been ready to protect her from any threat, even one that she has not realized for so long

💋 Verosika Mayday x Reader 🎤

Verosika was famous, and the fact that she had a bodyguard seemed quite logical. But every time people saw you next to her, they were sure that she had two bodyguards. You weren't, but you were acting as her protector. You were her partner, but you still accompanied her to make sure she was safe. You were even overprotective, but she even liked seeing you get mad at others because of her. There was something burning about it that attracted her and made her smile contentedly

You kept her fans at a distance from her, knowing full well that they might be overly active. Most of them didn't even dare approach her when you were next to her, perfectly aware of your aggressive gaze. In Hell, the situation was about the same, but there you weren't afraid to hurt especially annoying fans who tried to violate her boundaries. You did much worse to those who tried to harm her. They tried to kidnap her several times, but each time the kidnappers died before they could do anything properly, because you were always on your guard. You weren't going to let anyone hurt her

She saw perfectly well that you could see a threat where it wasn't really there. It was at times like this that she distracted you from it. Even though Verosika and you have been in a relationship for a long time, you were easily charmed by her gentle voice and allowed her to distract you from feeling worried about her safety. She only did this when she knew for sure that your anxiety had no real reason and she liked to see you soften next to her

Verosika knew that when you were with her, she didn't need any bodyguard. Sometimes you were really overprotective, but she could trust you with her safety. You were willing to do a lot for her, including staining your hands with blood. It was something you had already done to protect her, and you were ready to do it again if the need arose

[eebeewrites]

Mafia Boss Elf DILF BF x !Femchubby Reader Part 5

Part 1-Part 2-Part 3-Part 4

“So, what did you learn?” Ronan sat the head of the table, several of his associates on each side of him. Normally, a meeting like this would’ve taken place at the estate, but it was deemed too risky due to recent events. They sat in a meeting room next to one of their labs, sitting below a restaurant supply store; one of their more subtle fronts.

He couldn’t help but feel nervous; he hadn’t left the three of you alone in weeks. The odds of something else happening were incredibly low, but not zero. Even having his gun on him failed to make him feel safer. He lit a cigarette, trying to relax as his crew delivered their findings.

His second in command sighed. “Well, good news is the only person that saw your face is dead. Bad news is someone is wants to encroach on our territory.”

“I can handle that, but coming to my house and shooting at my children with a God damn sniper rifle!?” It was hard to keep a level head, raising his voice as he spoke.

The man sighed. “Roselyn Arzell was arrested a few months ago.”

One of the other Elvish crime families, they had a monopoly on the casinos and brothels in the South. They sold mostly non-magical drugs, and rarely did the family’s cross paths; what would she want with him?“So?”

“So, her son’s in charge now. Rumor has it he’s working with the feds, and wants to get into the Anthurium trade.”

He raised an eyebrow, “what? Why?”

“They cut him a deal. He said he could find you in exchange for his mother getting out. Regrettably, you’re a bigger score than the old lady is. He gets you out of the scene, he assumes he can swoop in and take your clientele.”

He leaned back in his chair. He had stayed hidden for decades. He’d seen Roselyn once, when things were much more peaceful. He’d never seen her son. Sure, there were always going to be disagreements among the various crime syndicates with the city, but this was extreme. A turf war was one thing, but going after his children and making a deal with the police? A deal he had no chance of fulfilling, nonetheless. It seemed ludicrous.

“So why go after the kids? None of this makes any sense, unless the bastard’s fucked in the head.”

“He wants to scare you, probably. They’re banking on you hunting them down for vengeance. They’re trying to coax you out, rile you up, and get you to come to them. Then, the feds swoop in, and you’re done.”

It had almost worked. He had beaten the assassin they sent to a bloody pulp, and today he was fully prepared to take care of business; the assault rifle hidden under the trunk made that clear. He took another drag of the cigarette, the smoke lingering in the air as he thought. He flicked it onto an ash tray. “So, here’s a solution. Make their deal invalid.”

They looked concerned. “What do you mean?”

“They want to make a trade. The feds don’t have me, but they have Roselyn. Not to be an ass, but I’m far more valuable. However, Roselyn dies, deal falls through. They don’t have anyone left to trade.” He seemed already committed to the idea, unfazed by its implications. “Plus, that’ll turn her son away from us, and direct his anger at the feds. After all, they’re the ones that couldn’t keep his mother safe.”

His associates looked at each other in disbelief. A prison assassination wasn’t unheard of, but it was incredibly hard to orchestrate, much less pull off. “Ronan, you’re seriously saying we send a prison hitman to kill a seven-hundred year old woman?“

“What of it? If they wanted rules and decency on the table, then they shouldn’t have gone after my family,” he shrugged. “Simple as.”

Everyone around the table looked on edge. Attempting to murder his two children was a bold, yet idiotic idea. They had to expect some sort of push back, but murdering the head of another family would surely signal the start of war. “Sir, you realize there’s no way we don’t face some sort of retaliation with this, right? I’m not saying let this slide, but…this could get ugly. Fast.”

He paused for a moment. Would it still be safe to stay at the house if he did this? They knew where he lived, Still, doing nothing seemed silly, he wasn’t just going to let this go.

His second let out another heavy sigh. “Look, if we’re going to do this, you need to lay low.” The only reason Ronan had escaped public view for so long was by getting other people to do his dirty work for him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t capable, even if other family heads saw it that way. But the more elusive he was, the harder he was to go after. However, the incident a few weeks ago proved he hadn’t completely covered his tracks.

“I already-”

“No, like seriously lay low. Treat it like house arrest. Not just you, your family. The house is fucking massive, you shouldn’t really need to leave anyway.”

“I mean, that shouldn’t be difficult,” he shrugged.

“And not just you. Your kids, they can’t leave either. Anyone you want to keep out of harms way, they’re not leaving that house.”

He thought it over. He’d need to deliver some disappointing news, but it seemed like the best option; a means to an end that would keep his family safe.

“Wait,” another man spoke up. “They know where you live. If you’re all there, what’s stopping them from coming back? Give it another try.”

He exhaled; he was right. “Then we need to send a message. Do whatever, but stay away from my family.”

“Great, perhaps that’d be easier to do if you hadn’t beaten the man into a puddle,” his second in command sighed.

“Sorry I wasn’t more merciful towards a man who tried to execute two kindergartners,” he scoffed. “I’m sure we can think of something. Find someone who works for them. No personal ties, just someone on their payroll. Someone whose head we can leave on his doorstep without invoking too much wrath before we take our Roselyn. Just enough to make him too scared to come back. I’ll lay low for now, start figuring out logistics for the prison hit, and this will be over before it started.”

He out the cigarette out. He could only hope his confidence wasn’t misplaced.

————

For them to stay in the house, Amara would need to quit ballet. She did not take the news well.

“I hate you! I hate you so much! You’re the worst dad EVER!” She screamed and sobbed into her pillow. It was a tantrum typical of a girl her age, but Ronan still wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“Amara, it’s not forever,” he tried to reassure her. “it’s just to-”

He was promptly interrupted by her screaming. No words, just a loud shriek.

He had warned you this conversation would be happening. You offered to be there, but he insisted he could handle it on his own. He didn’t want to pull you away from Adriel either, who seemed to have calmed down as the day went on.

You could hear bits of the conversation through the wall, and Adriel was unfazed by her reaction. He had just been showing you his Minecraft world, talking through every little structure he had built.

“I wonder why she’s upset,” he asked quietly, looking over to the side wall.

“Well…” you sighed. Adriel was quiet; he was perfectly content staying at home in their little bubble. In fact, it seemed he preferred it. “We’re going to have to stay in the house for a bit, just to keep everyone safe.”

“Oh. Okay. So she can’t go to ballet?”

“No, not for a bit.”

“So I don’t have to go to ballet?” You remembered how he didn’t seem entirely thrilled to be in the waiting room.

“I guess not.”

He seemed pleased with your response, smiling as he redirected his attention back to his game, tuning out his sister’s tantrum. “She just needs time to calm down. That’s what Daddy says when she gets upset.”

For twins, the two seemed like opposites. Adriel was quiet and introverted, and it didn’t take much for him to get teary-eyed. Amara on the other hand was confident and bold, but had a tendency to overreact, often crying in anger rather than sadness. Despite their differences, they still seemed to care for each other. Now, they were the only friends they had.

You heard the door open, and there was Ronan, looking utterly exhausted. “Adriel, is it okay if I go talk to your dad?”

He didn’t even bother looking away from the screen, just nodding his head. “Yeah.”

You met Ronan out in the hallway, gently shutting the door behind you. The temptation to say “I told you so” was there, but you resisted. “I take it things didn’t go well?”

“That’s an understatement,” he sighed. “I mean, it’s not like I can explain to her why, and I knew she’d be upset but…” he frowned, staring at the floor. “I didn’t think she’d say she hated me.” Her words hurt. Sure, she was just a kid speaking out in anger, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

“She’s angry.” You leaned against the door, “try to see it from her perspective. It’s been weeks since the incident, it seems like everything is fine, and now you’re telling her she can’t go to the one place she sees her friends.” It was the only place she saw other children at all.

“Yeah, but we didn’t know if everything actually was fine. Now we know it might not be.”

“But she doesn’t know that.” You looked over at her bedroom door, “do you want me to go talk to her?”

He nodded. “It couldn’t hurt. I’ll stay with him for a bit,” he said as he motioned to Adriel’s room. You seemed to have a way with words he didn’t; perhaps you could help her understand.

You walked inside; the grandiose nature of their bedrooms never ceased to amaze you. Like Adriel’s room, it was a wide, open space. Amara’s room had pink walls, a large canopy bed, and plenty of chests for toys and dress up costumes. Both of kids rooms were triple the size of your own room growing up. They were spoiled rotten, but it kept them busy in lieu of traditional school and activities.

“Amara?” You called out. She was curled up under her blankets crying, holding tightly onto a unicorn plushie that was nearly as big as she was.

“Leave me alone!” She sobbed, keeping her face away from you.

You sat down on the bed, speaking softly. “I heard about what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just…I just wanna see my friends and dance!” She cried. “I don’t know why I can’t go see my friends!”

You sighed, trying to find a way to explain what was going on without frightening her. “You know, it’s not going to last forever. It’s only temporary.”

“But why?! I was still able to go to ballet when you were resting!”

“Sometimes, things change. Think of it this way. Imagine you were doing a dance, but the whole time, you were doing one of the moves incorrectly, and maybe you didn’t know.”

She looked up, a serious looking scowl on her face. “I would know.”

You tried to hold in a laugh. “Let’s pretend that it’s someone else then. They’re dancing, and the whole time they’re doing a move wrong. What would they do when someone tells them they’re wrong?”

“They’d fix it.”

“Right. They learned something new, so they changed what they were doing. Listen,” you held your arms out for her, and she crawled into your lap. “We’ve learned that there’s some scary people out there. And maybe going to ballet so soon wasn’t a good idea.”

“But nothing else bad happened.”

“But we don’t want anything bad to happen. We’ve learned something new, and we’re going to adjust. It stinks, I know,” you kissed the top of her forehead. “But for now, daddy just wants to put a pause on ballet. It won’t be gone forever. Just so we can make sure we’re safe, and that no other scary people are coming to hurt us. Just in case.”

She nodded. She still didn’t seem thrilled with the answer, but understood. “I’m still going to miss my friends.”

“I never said you couldn’t. It’s hard, but you’re brave. You’re tough, right?”

She nodded.

“So it’ll be hard, but you’ll get through it. And once we know everyone is safe, you can go right back to ballet with your friends,” you gently petted her hair, her head nuzzled up against you.

“Okay…” she trailed off, drying her red and puffy eyes. “I’m sorry I told daddy I hated him.”

“Why don’t you go apologize to him? I’m sure he would appreciate it.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck, giving you a squeeze. “Okay mama.”

You smiled, “good. Feel better?”

“A little.”

You rubbed her back gently. “Maybe later you can teach me how to do all the fun ballet moves, alright?”

Her eyes lit up, “really?!”

“Really. Now go talk to daddy, and then maybe we can all find something fun to do together.” You watched as she crawled off your lap, listening to the sound of her little footsteps tapping along the wood floor as she ran off.

She opened the door to Adriel’s room, her father sitting on a large bean bag chair; he seemed to have taken your spot from earlier.

She was hesitant, walking inside slowly. “I’m sorry daddy. I don’t hate you,” she walked up to him, sitting on his lap as she gave him a hug.

A warm smile appeared across his face. He embraced her happily, gently patting the top of her head, relieved at her change of heart. “Thank you for telling me that. I don’t want to be mean, I just want to keep you safe.”

“I know,” she mumbled into his chest. There was no doubt she was disappointed, but she understood.

Now came the waiting.

Part 6

I know this was absolute lightning speed but full stop I had a flare up yesterday and had to call out of work, so I laid in bed and wrote this on my phone LMAO

I hope you enjoyed! Happy new year gamers, here’s to more tooth rotting fluff with questionable father figures.

TAGLIST: @damnitimasimp @sketchlove @madam8 @jar0fhoney

[winksasleeplesseye]

SUMMARY: Leon is falling deeper and deeper into perceived bliss, but something else is at play. Is he really with you or is something else more complex going on?

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.8k (just about)

WARNINGS: slight smut, noncon voyeurism

[PREVIOUS][MASTERLIST]

"She's an intriguing figure, isn't she?" Thompson's voice cut through the sterile hum of the machinery, clinical yet there was an underlying tone of fascination. But he couldn't control the set of his jaw, perhaps a…hesitation? The observation room was so quiet, a pin could drop and every person present would hear it.

Most all the scientists watched as Leon turned again in his bed, fingers twitching against the sheets, reaching for someone who wasn't there. Brows furrowed, a soft murmur of your name falling from his lips.

"He's predictable. His attachment patterns, but one can see why he is so…enthralled by her," Dr. Morales noted, running a hand in a through line of his vitals as they pulsed with longing. "Let's see how far he's willing to go. Increase the sensory fidelity."

Thompson's eyes lingered on the photo of you, caught in a candid moment as you entered a government building. The tilt of your head as you wore a more reserved smile, less like the figure in their dream reality. Your physical attributes certainly left an impression on anyone you encountered so he could understand this….fixation? Not to mention, your shared history with Leon.

Raccoon City. That's where you had met, shared a connection of some sort. The pictures didn't lie.

The motel you had escaped to, another girl and a child, and Leon. Both of you to one room, them to the others. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put the pieces together.

He gripped tighter to the clipboard, "This tampering of this nature….it's…."

"Necessary," Morales interrupted, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. Data poured in every minute, every part of it valuable. "Don't you know that when you know your enemy, what drives them…that trumps ethicality? Would you concur?"

Thompson couldn't respond, he shifted his gaze back over to Leon. A twitch, another smile. Breaking through tension that lived on his face in his waking world. Raw, real human emotion displayed in front of them, yet none of the scientists moved from their positions. Eyes laser sharp focused on the data.

A knot formed in Thompson's chest but in the end, he was in no position to question this.

Leon threw on his jacket, one not too dissimilar to the brown one he'd lost in Spain. He figured you'd have liked to steal it from him. "You wear that like a badge of honor," he heard you again, voice laced with playfulness. The sound of your voice cut through the silence of his apartment, his hand lingered on the zipper.

He can't keep doing this.

He audibly groaned, "Give me a break."

It wasn't that he was frustrated by you, just frustrated how he'd come to enjoy the intrusion of the version of you he knew didn't exist. If he were to tell anyone about this….especially Chris, they'd throw him in the psych ward, and Leon and a straitjacket should never be in the same sentence.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his keys and stepped out for the day.

The office was no different than it was the day before, same beige walls and same dull sunlight filtered through the window. Leon's office streamed in some of that light but somehow it didn't compare to how it was with you. While in the midst of his daydreams and repeated routine of paperwork and reports, a knock at his open door caught his attention. He never really liked keeping his office door closed, something in regard to cramped spaces unsettled him.

His eyes turned toward the door to find—oh, for goodness sake. Chris.

Chris was dressed more casual than usual, not wearing his standard tactical gear that Leon had seen so often. Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes at his presence. Did Hunnigan snitch on him?

He wore an awkward smile, "Sorry to interrupt, you got a minute?"

If there's one thing Leon knows about Chris, it's that he doesn't let up so if he didn't indulge him now, the guy would not leave him alone for the foreseeable future. Just the thought of not hearing the end of his lectures was enough to get Leon up. He's definitely letting Claire know that maybe she shouldn't have introduced them.

"What do you want?" Leon questioned, pushing himself away from the desk. He tried not to sound too frustrated but it was seeping through.

Chris' face screwed up momentarily, "What's got you so tense?"

An image came to him uncontrolled, one he'd felt, seen, heard just earlier as he showered. You stood behind him as the water streamed over both of you, your arms wrapped around his bare torso. You rested your cheek against his back, your touch a balm against the weight he'd carried.

"You're always so tense," you had murmured, your voice soft, your hands trailing over his shoulders. He had turned in your arms and kissed you then, slow and unhurried, allowing the world to melt away. The memory still clung to his skin. God, he really needed to get a grip.

"Nothing's got me tense," Leon responded, voice becoming more defensive than he'd like. Way to rouse more suspicion, Kennedy.

"Sure. And I'm retiring next week," Chris wore a half-smile as he stepped further into the room. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but you look like hell. Have you been sleeping?"

The itch of Chris' gaze on him was like a weight he couldn't shake. The shift in the air was subtle but not subtle enough for Leon not to notice.

Leon fidgeted with his pen, running it between his fingers. "Plenty. I took a great nap during my morning existential crisis."

Chris crossed his arms, sitting in the chair accross from Leon. "Ha, ha. Hilarious. You're not fooling me, Kennedy. I've seen guys walk this line before, it doesn't end well. If something is going on, talking about it can't hurt—"

"There's nothing going on," Leon cut him off, sharper than he intended.

Deep down, Leon is aware he's being a bit of a dick but right now all reason and logic wasn't computing in his head.

Chris sighed, his more relaxed demeanor giving way to something more serious. He leaned forward, as if trying to bridge the gap between them. "I'm not here to lecture. You've got people who'd go through hell for you that you're pushing away. Don't forget that. But just know…I'm here too."

"Thanks, Doc. Should I lie down on my couch now, or later?"

Chris raised a brow. "Your choice, but I'm not writing a prescription for more whiskey."

Leon didn't look up as Chris left. His words sat like a weight in his chest long after the sound of his footsteps retreated further and further away.

Damn it. That was a lost cause.

Chris couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that something was off with Leon. More so than usual.

He hadn't been answering the phone and Leon would at least call him back once to assure him he hadn't done something stupid. It's why he came to the office, better that way so he can't avoid him.

But even a blind man could see how tense Leon had become. Jumpy, even. Leon was never one to be jumpy. He certainly was more of a dick than he usually is, too.

Chris could only walk away from Leon, letting him stew in whatever he had going on. That didn't mean he had no other options. He walked with purpose to the only other person who'd give him something. Hunnigan. The polished, poised woman sat at her desk, fingers flying across the keyboard and screens lit up with reports that reflected off her glasses.

Chris actually hated to disturb her work flow but he had to talk to someone.

"Hunnigan, hey," Chris greeted, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Got a moment?"

She glanced up from her screen, eyebrows raised in surprise but maintained her composure. "Sure, Chris. What's up?"

Chris hesitated. "You…talk to Leon much lately?"

Hunnigan could only scoff, "When don't I talk to Leon? Is everything okay?"

"That's the thing, I'd have thought you knew something. He seems off."

"What's your definition of off? This is Leon Kennedy we're talking about, he thrives on bad decisions and enough caffeine to stay awake for 20 years."

Chris wanted to laugh but decided against it. "Have you noticed anything? He seemed distracted. Denied anything was wrong, but I know him."

Hunnigan paused for a brief moment, a flicker of concern crossing her face.

"Now that I think about it…he did seem a little spaced out a week or so ago. Nothing too crazy. Just looked like he was in another world at the coffee maker. I don't usually tend to point out his appearance but his eyebags had eyebags."

"You think he's not sleeping?"

"That or he's having some late nights. But if you're concerned then so am I." Hunnigan's face softened only momentarily before reverting back to a strong resolve.

"I think we're in agreement." Chris spoke, a more serious tone to his voice. "Can you get me anything you can on his last mission?"

Hunnigan nodded, expression set in determination. "I'm on it."

If there was a point of no return, Leon is sure he'd made it there. The evening began like any other, lulling himself into the dream he never wanted to end.

He'd be lying to himself if he pretended he didn't want all that was offered to him in this dream space, the more he dreamed of you, the domestic life you'd shared with him…he wanted you in his life like this. It was undeniable. He craved it more than anything he had ever craved.

His decisions held no dire consequences in this place. No longer did he hold the fate of the world between his fingertips, they could slip through without so much of a grasp to pick up the pieces.

Tonight, somehow, things seemed more vivid, more alive. And certainly more passionate than all the other times he'd stumbled into moments with you. Your nails scratched down his chest in a way that sent chills down Leon's spine, an almost overwhelming tingle. Your warm breath fanning against his neck—it felt so real, too real. Your front molded against him in a way that made his heart pound. Could you feel how hard it was hitting against his rib cage?

A knot of guilt twisted in his chest, but he pushed it aside, letting your kiss consume him as though it could anchor him here forever.

"Look at that," Dr. Morales said, a grin tugging at his lips. Their connection was becoming more real than they anticipated. Data continuously streamed in as they watched the scene from the monitor. "It's like he's getting more than emotional satisfaction in this…it's almost physical. Like he thinks Y/N is really there in the room."

Dr. Erickson snorted, uncharacteristically. "If you think about it, Mr. Kennedy is getting action…even if it's just in his head."

Dr. Morales head shook as the scene on the monitor continued, juxtaposed with Leon as he laid in his bed. There was no hiding it what was going on. Leon's body responses aligned with the dream. Leon's hands splayed all over your bare skin as he held onto you desperately. This wasn't their intended goal, Leon getting the dream girl and living a dream life. The dreams were meant to test parameters for psychological breakdown. The data was baffling, to say the least.

His heartbeat spiked, body temperature rising the more and more he lost himself in the taste of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Jesus, did you know how much that drove him crazy? Without another word, you pushed him down onto the mattress, the springs creaking underneath his weight. Every sound seemed louder in the space of the room. The rustle of fabric as you slowly undressed, the clink of his belt as you pulled it from his body, the hasty breaths between them as he kissed you once again.

He tried not to stare too long as you straddled him but he had to take in all that you were, "You're gorgeous."

Your smile is brief as you brace your hands on his chest, "And you're sweet, but enough talking."

Once ready, Leon guided himself to line up with your wet folds. With one last glance between them, your eyes screwed shut, the breathy sigh that left your lips sent an indescribable feeling through him. Leon wanted this to last but the way you squeezed around his length—shit, this couldn't be a dream.

But even still, his mind nagged him. Was it possible this is all orchestrated? That someone—or something—-was controlling it all?

He tried not to—

"Fuck…" He couldn't think clearly, why did he want to when you were making him feel like this?

On the monitor, not a single detail was hidden, every body part, every sound, every movement—it was all there. Some of the scientists at the monitors turned away, others scooted closer in a sick curiosity.

The sensations he was receiving translated to Leon's sleeping form. Cameras zoomed in as he gripped at the sheets, knuckles turning white as clung for dear life to the fabric. His face, stoic in waking life, was now etched in pleasure—eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, his expression a mixture of longing and ecstasy.

The camera feed zoomed in slightly, Dr. Erickson could see the subtle rise and fall of Mr. Kennedy' s chest as he breathed harder. All the telltale signs of physical arousal. His muscles tensed in response to sensations that weren't really there. His free hand running down your back, judging from the movement in the air where you certainly were not. Dr. Erickson noted a slight tremor in his fingers, as if he really believed you were there, that he was touching you. He could even see Leon's mouth moving, quiet murmurs that the audio didn't fully catch.

Dr. Erickson felt a prickle of discomfort at how intense it had become. Even the auditory data peaked through—your voice, crystal clear as you did not hide your pleasure at all, even simulated. Both of their voices, faces etched in a rapture. Your mouth parted as pleasure overtook you, breaths ragged.

"He's deep in it," Thompson muttered, observing the infrared screen as Leon's body temperature continued to rise. A typical human body displayed in colors in green, yellows, and blues but Leon had red spread across body from his torso to his feet. "His brain waves are almost off the charts. The sensory stimulation is overwhelming—this isn't just a dream to him. His body cannot tell the difference between this and reality. Should we stop this?"

"We interrupt now and we risk damage, let this play out." Dr Erickson instructed, he turned towards his colleagues, some actually taking his spot at the screens for a closer look.

Dr. Morales placed a hand on Thompson's shoulder, an almost wicked smile on his face. "Increase the duration next time, let's see what it takes to fracture his grasp on everything." Thompson could only watch as his boss walked away, he tried to ignore the lurch in his stomach at what everything meant.

The heat surged between both of you, Leon's grip tightening as he pounded into you. Stars burst behind his eyes, letting himself soak in every sensation. He gasped your name as if it might tether him, as if clinging to your hips could keep the world from slipping away.

His movements stilled, a final shudder coursing through him as he spilled into you, a guttural groan passed from his lips.

And like a splash of cold water, Leon jolted from his bed. An ache in his muscles, a warmth in his bones, your breath fanning against him that shouldn't exist. His hands rubbed at his face, trying to rub the remnants of the experience from his mind, running a hand through his sweat-filled hair. His heart hit harder than a drum against his chest, rhythm unsteady.

He lifted the covers off himself. A telltale spot on his sweatpants. His lower half still pulsed from what he had just…felt.

A wet dream? What was he, a 16 year old? He huffed at such an immature act, considering 16 is the last time he had a wet dream.

Something wasn't right. Despite the fire that burned his skin from where his fingers had traced the outline of your back, how the heat flooded his body from the deep, soul-deep release—it had felt so whole, so real…it still didn't feel right. The way his body responded to yours, yours to his. Like they were both there, together, in the same place, in the same moment.

"Just a dream," Leon spoke out loud, as if a mantra. But that didn't explain the feelings in his body that said otherwise. The lingering desire. The heat. The ache. A heavy ache.

Just a dream, that's all it is.

Just a very vivid dream. That makes the most sense.

But, if this was only a dream, why did it feel like someone else was pulling the strings?

[chososwifey24-7]

I saw an idea with this prompt, and I honestly couldn't help myself. So here is a story with nanami!

Clock maker nanami x fairy f!reader

Genre: fluff

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A meticulous and hard-working man. Well known for the delicate designs in wood, the attention to detail, the pure skill.

Plenty came to purchase from nanami, knowing they were getting a good product, but many came with clocks to fix, or simply to get rid of. That was the case with this client.

"Look, I'm telling you right now. I haven't seen this thing work in 4 months. It was my late wife's. A family heirloom if you would. I thought a man like you would have better use of it."

The man in front of nanami held the clock in front of him with shaky hands. The wrinkles on the man's face speak his age.

"Of course, but wouldn't you like it back if I were able to fix it."

Nanami was humble. He knew he could fix it but preferred to be humble on that rare off chance that he couldn't fix it.

"No, you can keep it. What use will I have of it? Also, I don't have the money to pay you."

The man left as quickly as he came with no other words than those. Left with a limp in his step, and nanami with a broken clock in need of fixing.

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Nanami sat at his work bench, absolutely stumped. He had replaced the batteries in the clock a few times, got it to work, and then it stopped.

He wanted to take it apart, but the screws were a bit tight. He tried to work them out none the less. To his surprise after he loosened them a bit they came out with no problems.

He peeled off the back, and to his discovery, a woman lay inside. No, not just a woman. A fairy.

Dormant and asleep soundly. Her knees hugged to her chest, her wings folded delicately on her back, and her hair done in a little bun.

It was rare to find fairies these days. Most gone into hiding because they were valuable on the market. The question was how this one ended up here.

Nanami shone the light into the clock to see if there was any way that he could take her out without hurting her.

Upon the light hitting the fairy, she woke up with a start. She coughed and sneezed a bit from the dust collected inside the clock, before her gaze met nanami's.

Nanami gave a small smile of reassurance before backing up slightly. He didn't want to startle the poor thing.

The woman shot up out of the clock after stretching her wings and looked for the nearest exit. Seeing a slit from the window in the small clock shack she zoomed for it.

"Wait!"

Nanami shouted, slowly putting his hands up in a defensive position.

"I won't hurt you, please."

He held out his palm gently and looked at her with a soft smile.

She looked at him slightly worried. Rightfully so. She had been sleeping and holed up in that clock for about 4 months.

She slowly flew over to nanami and landed in his palm. She couldn't have been taller than 4 inches.

Nanami smiled at her and leaned in, and examined her beautiful facial features. She leaned back a little, surprised by nanami's curiosity.

She reached a curious hand up of her own and touched his glasses tenderly. She tilted her head to the side and in her own voice. Which wasn't quiet at all, surprisingly, began to speak with nanami.

"What's your name?"

He smiled a little more.

"Nanami, and yours?"

She looked at him and repeated his name to herself a couple of times to get the hang of it. She then processed that he'd asked her a question.

"I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you."

Nanami nodded and returned the phrase. He watched her closely as she inspected around his clock shed. All of the tools and clocks.

She was simply fascinated. She stopped in front of one of the clocks, and her delicate hands ran over the design. The pretty flowers and leaves. It adorned the gorgeous gold outline of the clock.

She turned back to nanami with a smile and flew towards him timidly.

"You made that?"

She asked gently, landing on nanami's shoulder, and looked at him.

"I made the wood design and replaced the framing, but the clock itself was brought to me as a gift. From a very dear friend of mine."

She nodded at every word he said and smiled lightly.

She enjoyed nanami's warm presence. His soft smile, his tired eyes. She found it intriguing that he worked himself so much that he was tired, but it suited his facial features.

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The next few days were spent getting to know each other. Likes and dislikes, and she even ended up helping nanami around the shack.

Most of all, she enjoyed watching him work on the masterpieces of frames for clocks and how he could quickly and easily fix a clock.

Every now and then, she would grab a tool nanami asked for, or she would remind him to clean up his desk when she saw it getting slightly disheveled.

It became more light atmosphered with her around. It became more like a home than a workplace for nanami.

Their most recent project was slowly coming to a close. The clock that she was found in. Nanami was simply finishing up the frame for the beautiful clock.

He added a few touching details and his most favorite. A carving of her in the frame, along with her a few flowers and beautiful leaves.

He had fixed the clock itself fairly quickly. A few cogs needed replaced and the batteries. Now the finishing touch. The frame.

He slid the clock into place and eyed his work with pride. He dared to say it was his best one yet.

She let out a little gasp when she saw the frame and looked at nanami with wide, excited eyes. She loved it.

She flew to nanami absolutely ecstatic and hugged one of his fingers.

"It's perfect!"

She squealed as she turned back and forth between looking at him and at the frame. He only let out a light chuckle as he responded.

"Just like you."