#not making theories or anything smart like that if that’s what you’re thinking. just. well.

[eye-of-yelough]

playing 4D chess in my brain right now about veilguard you know how it is

[toovaeloe]

curse biologist!reader x assistant!gojo hc’s

content: gojo pining off his ass . little flirty lab partners . tw for sliiighhtest mention of an autopsy and related tools . warning for gojo poppin’ a stiff one in the lab cause he’s a freak like that (ur a freak like that), so mildly suggestive

mdni

curse biologist!reader— the higher ups want you dead and gone, that’s for sure. You, who has a cursed technique that turns cursed energy into something tangible. After applying your technique to a cursed spirit, it becomes visible to a naked human eye, and instead of disintegrating, leaves a corpse behind. You’re dangerous. Crazy. And well…too weird. But they just hate progress, don’t they?

Not Gojo. He really doesn’t think you’re doing any harm to be honest (and he’ll do just about anything if it creases another wrinkle into Gakuganji’s ugly mug)

I mean, who else has been able to make waves in the integration of curses into science like you have? You’ve uncovered an exponential amount about the inner workings of curses in a few years when the rest of Jujutsu society’s had centuries, only to scratch the surface. It’s really admirable how you deep dive into the nitty gritty, as he calls it.

assistant!gojo— who loves being your little go-getter. Your own personal cursed spirit Fetch-Fido— maybe if you squint hard enough you’ll be able to see floppy ears perked to attention in his snowy hair or an eager tail whipping up a hurricane behind him as he brings you back his latest catch: a detained grade 2 curse manifested by the fear of monsters under the bed. Yeah, he knew you’d like something like that.

assistant!gojo— loves witnessing the way your eyes light up and it’s as if he can see the cogs immediately gearing to life in your smart little brain. He’s saluting exaggeratedly with a puffed out chest when you give him the go ahead to kill the thing after you’ve had your hand at it. It’s all he can do not to ask for a pat on the head and praise of how well he did. Getting a “Good boy,” out of you is on his mental vision board.

assistant!gojo— sticks around for the autopsies. Likes watching you poke around inside the creatures and is waiting on your hand and foot through the entire process. Scalpel? Bone saw? Enterotomy scissors? The bread knife??? He’s even starting to become attuned to your whims, tool already in hand before you extend your palm.

If you murmured an awed, “look at thaaat,” he’s quick to huddle in close under the pretense of observing whatever oddity that’s intrigued you. Only to squish his cheek against yours with a feigned, “hmm…mhmm…” nodding stiltedly, and not so discreetly nuzzling his face closer to yours with an impish glint in those azure eyes as he casts a sidelong glance to your skeptical neutrality.

assistant!gojo— staring at you with the widest puppy dog eyes as you discard your gloves and begin sketching diagrams of the latest brain you’ve picked apart, comparing it to the contradicting one of another curse, and contrasting from the drastically different human model you have. He can listen to you babble for hours, if only absorbing every other word of your theories on why a curse’s blood runs violet or how you’re so excited to get these samples to the lab. He’ll still chip in with his own question or hypothesis from time to time, because he’s curious too, but more than that he loves the way you answer.

assistant!gojo— purposely uses candy and sweets as a metaphor whenever you plead with him to explain how he views the electromagnetic spectrum through those eyes of his, just because he thinks it’s funny how desperate you are to know. To this day you can’t decode however the fuck that analogy about laffy taffy and rock candy was supposed to relate to infrared waves.

assistant!gojo— Satoru can’t decide what’s worse; the fact that he can’t get you out of his head or the fact that you want inside of his head

This whole situation is basically him giving you googoo eyes and kissy faces as you scribble down something on your clipboard and try to stick him with a needle

assistant!gojo— who’s willing to be a bit of a lab rat for you. He’s all giggles as he prances up to your vertical operation table, huffing lightly when you strap him against the cool steel. “Don’t be shy now, y’could go tighter than that. You know I like it when you tie me up,,” he encourages oh so unhelpfully.

assistant!gojo— chiding you to be careful when you begin application of the biosensors across his chest, cause he’ll get “a little too excited.” You don’t pay mind to his little quip until you see his already irregularly R-R intervals spike impossibly short on the electrocardiogram readings. And then again as you finish hooking him up to the machine.

assistant!gojo— thinks you might be overthinking what environmental stimuli might have caused that anomaly, or maybe judging by that poorly veiled smile and half-hearted “My mistake,” you’ve purposefully placed that one sensor node a little too low on his pelvis this time. Now that he’s thinkin’ about— yeah—there definitely wasn’t any need for you crouch so low until your nose was practically level with the apex of his thigh. Or for you to look up at him in a way that had him failing to suppress a shiver and his breath hitching when you smoothly rubbed the padding of the damn thing into his hip with your thumb. Aaaand fuck, he’s bricked in the lab. (again.)

He’d kill to know what’s going on in your noggin. And frankly he’s dying to get the pants off his fave smartypants.

a/n: as soon as I got this idea i was like ooo biting my lip and bigbig smile,, onto something? am I onto something??? would anybody maybemaybe read a one shot with this concept 👀? okay I love you byyyee

[avocado-writing]

Omg Avo could I please have an Astarion x fem!virgin reader 👀 he can taste it in her blood and decides to reward/tease her for allowing him to drink from her 🤭 you’re literally the best I love you so much

notes: MWAH love you too darling. working on a longer astarion x virgin reader piece so this is just short and filthy 😌

pairing: astarion x reader

rating: E

You’re trying to tell yourself it’s not sexual. 

You’re trying. 

It could just be two friends helping each other out… in theory. You could let him feed from you while you’re asleep, awake the next morning none the wiser save for a smarting pain in your neck and a little wooziness. 

But you don’t. You insist you’re conscious for the experience. And you absolutely cannot hide what it does to you. 

You’re in Astarion’s tent, sitting in his lap as he rests his back up against a comfortable pile of cushions; your shirt unbuttoned and rolled down so that it gathers at the top of your breasts. They’re heaving in a way which borders on obscene, hardened nipples rubbing up against his chest, and you know he loves it. You can feel the smile beneath his fangs while he drinks deeply from the wound he’s made in your neck; hot wild blood thrums through you and blossoms onto his tongue, making you shiver all over. 

He breaks to meet your eyes with a grin, mouth all ruby with you. 

“There we are, pet. Don’t try to hide it. I want to hear you.”

“Ah!-Astarion,” you choke. Your voice is thick, getting caught in your throat with the heady pleasure wracking your body, and it only makes him more pleased. “People will hear…”

“Let them, darling. Let them all know what I’m doing to you. How much you love to be taken apart by me, piece by piece, until you’re just a shaking little mess.”

You moan properly at that, rutting down into his lap like an animal. He chuckles and you feel it reverberate through his body, where your skin presses against his. 

“I know so much about you, darling. Things your sweet blood gives away. I know you’re a virgin. I can taste it.”

That shouldn’t be as erotic as it is; in fact you ought to be so embarrassed that you bury your face to try and hide the heat in it. But all you can think about is how good it is, rocking your hips down to grind against the bulge in his trousers. His stiff cock catches your clit through your clothes and you gasp, totally spellbound.

“Pretty thing like you, never penetrated before? Well. At least before me…”

As punctuation to end his sentence, he runs his tongue across the dual fang marks over your jugular. You whimper, outright whimper at it. 

“Do you want me to slide a finger inside you? Two? My cock, all hard and ready for you?”

You nod, rocking down harder. Anything. All of it. Please. 

“It’d be easy, wouldn’t it? I know how wet you must be, practically dripping through your pretty underwear. No resistance at all, you’d take me so well.”

“Astarion, please, don’t tease me…!”

He leans back and admires you, taking in the sight. 

“Why rush? We have all night.”

You groan in equal parts frustration and excitement. 

Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate

[jazzyoranges]

Hi love can you please write some Wednesday hcs 🩷

Wednesday Addams headcanons

Of course since you asked so nicely, anon 🫶🫶

You fall first, Wednesday falls harder

- when you first met Wednesday, she fucking hated your guts.

- you were the worst parts of Enid and Bianca. constantly hyper with sarcasm and quick remarks in your blood

- not to mention your not-so-small rivalry with the young Addams

- you were her academic rival. you made her actually have to study just so she’d be one step ahead of you

- but you never let up, always striving to be the best just like her

- and unfortunately through all of it Enid was in the middle of trying to keep the peace, but you two had a hunger for victory that was unmatched

- you liked to rile up Wednesday, and somehow she always fell for it against her will

- you’re the first one to discover you don’t actually hate Wednesday

- in fact, you realize your need to best the Addams stems from admiration

- admiration for being effortlessly smart. admiration for always willing to learn more. admiration for her dedication to best you

- you definitely fell first

- but that didn’t stop you from always giving it your all to also make Wednesday sweat a little

- instead of constant insults exchanged, conversation flows easy between you two. real conversation where you’d ask Wednesday to help you study and she’d say yes

- Wednesday is second to discover she doesn’t hate you

- the thought makes her scared. Goody said she was destined for loneliness. her own feelings would be her demise

- so she drove you away

- no more studying together, no more conversation, no more you.

- it takes you a while to get the message. with your never giving up personality, you were persistent to talk to Wednesday

- that is until she tells you straight up

- Wednesday feels regret once she sees you realize she’s being serious. she’ll regret the words she spoke that night for the rest of her life

- you no longer care for your rivalry, always letting Wednesday win when she knew you could best her

- everyone thought you finally accepted defeat and the Addams won the war between you two, but the truth couldn’t be more different

- Wednesday had lost. she lost her challenge. she lost the war. she lost you

- you still talked to your friends now and again, but now you’d spend your time by yourself. probably stuck in your own thoughts, Wednesday thinks

- Wednesday thought you were only avoiding her like the plague, but you were avoiding everyone like the plague

- in fact, you were avoiding Nevermore entirely

- she’d see you study at the Weather Vane and even sneak into your dorm late at night after a walk in the woods

- so after much thought, she would sneak into your dorm as well and apologize

- that night, Wednesday tells you words that come straight from her heart. she’ll never regret what she said for the rest of her life

Wednesday shares her love by acts of service

- Wednesday doesn’t forget anything about you

- she knows how you’re the best procrastinator to ever exist. your inability to keep plants alive. how you have two left feet but the voice of an angel

- Wednesday knows what you love, what you hate, and what you’re neutral about

- Wednesday knows how unorganized you are so she takes it upon herself to force good habits onto you

- catch a man a fish, he’s hungry tomorrow. teach a man to fish, he’s never hungry again

- yet Wednesday still finds herself cleaning up your messes willingly

- even when you adopt some of her good habits, Wednesday continues to do many tasks for you

- tidying your room, getting you breakfast, and always asking you if you needed help with anything

- in her own Wednesday way, of course

- at first you thought it was because she thought you were incapable of doing simple tasks

- you asked her straight up about it, not wanting to assume and create miscommunication

- she reluctantly denied your theory

- only when you visit her home is when you understand why

- Wednesday was like a small Gomez.

- you’d see the man do tasks for his wife she herself could do, so you asked him why he does it to maybe understand Wednesday a little more

- Gomez tells you he thinks his love shouldn’t waste her time on small tasks, but spend her time with him instead

Wednesday says “i love you” first

- you’re watching a meteor shower in a small clearing when Wednesday turns to look at you

- moonlight illuminates your face perfectly, highlighting her favorite parts of your face

- the curve of your lips, a taste she could never get sick of

- countless nights have been spent just kissing your lips until they were red and Wednesday wanted more. which, you happily obliged

- the apples of your cheeks, a perfect space she could pull you closer with

- you were taller than Wednesday. either she got on your level or you got on hers. Wednesday always opted for the latter

- the gorgeous eyes that only belonged to you

- she’s seen them angry, sad, and happy. they were the closest thing she had to looking into your soul

- Wednesday’s heart works faster than her mouth that night

[twoa-plus]

it’s 2:00am and this is more of a character thing than a genuine theory but *claps hands for the drama* same coin theory. what if both of the stans are bill

or like. a parallel to him. like i said this isn’t a super serious theory i’m mostly just back on my character analysis bs lol

so i haven’t gotten to talk abt this much but i am a firm believer in that there is not a superior stan. from a personality perspective this is obviously entirely subjective, but i mean that there isn’t a superior one when it comes to their objective traits and how useful they are

ford is. ford. i don’t really have to say anything here he’s super smart can play the piano or whatever etc etc. however one thing that i will say that i think is important here is that i am like. 99% sure this man has a higher tolerance to The Horrors than other humans do. dude spent 30 years in that portal and came out pretty much the same level of crazy, and we all saw what happened to fiddleford. i know fidds saw bill take off his exoskeleton or whatever but u can’t convince me that ford traveled the multiverse - with all sorts of monsters and non-3d dimensions and god knows what else - for 3 decades and didn’t see some shit that would make anybody else lose it. like at this point u could tell me this guy could have a casual conversation over tea with cthulu and be fine and i’d believe u

as for stan - and i mean this in the absolute best way possible i love this guy - he’s like the world’s most charismatic cockroach. he’s fantastic with people and just straight up refuses to die. for the first point i don’t just mean this in the conman way, when it comes to the people that actually matter stan always manages to win them over in some way or another (soos, wendy, the kids, ford, etc) and one does not simply survive for a decade on the street without needing the occasional favor from someone who actually likes you. “oh but rico-“ man when u’ve been living as a homeless criminal for a decade and the list of people that want to kill u consists of 1 person and the government u’ve done pretty damn well. anyways as for the cockroach point, he’s alive and has his memories. i don’t even have to say much here stan went through all of That, lived through the series itself including The Literal Apocalypse, metaphorically (something something people are just a collage of their life experiences) died at the end of it all and then came back to life. that’s hardcore as hell man. in a less literal interpretation of the “refusing to die” bit, he’s also just. insanely determined. the biggest example is ofc him never graduating highschool and yet teaching himself god knows how much math and science and whatnot over the course of 30 damn years because he just refuses to believe that he can’t save his brother. stan pines is a force of nature i swear

[additional note while im already ranting about this guy, im not a personal believer in the “stan is just as (academically) smart as ford” theory. first of all i feel like this entire theory is kind of rooted in the idea that he has to be/be on the same level as “the smart one” to have value, which is an idea that the stans’ entire backstory is based around criticizing, and i think stan has something just as if not more valuable than freakish intelligence - raw fucking grit. he wasn’t the one to open the portal back up because of some intellectual advantage, he was the one to open the portal back up because he wanted to, god damn it, and best of luck to you if you’re gonna try and stop him.]

anyways as for the same coin thing, everybody knows the stan part. his casual references to the impending apocalypse, “you’ve been buying gold, right?”, him being such a good conman, etc etc. while i’m already ranting about stan’s determination, bill’s got that too - he’s been trying for like thousands of years to take over the world and he just Won’t Stop. point is there’s a lot of character traits they share

(i know in the original same coin post a pretty major point is stan not making a deal with bill, but i think that could probably be pretty easily explained without the need for divine intervention. the only times bill makes a deal with someone without them summoning him first is after he’s kind of left on a loose end with gideon, and everyone knows stan wouldn’t fall for his lies in the first place)

bill also shares a lot of traits with ford, though. both have some kind of physical anomaly (bill’s eye & ford’s hands), both can see/understand things others of their species can’t, they’re both egomaniacs (listen i love ford but the guy has issues), etc. u could even argue that, at least at the time they meet, they have some kind of connection through their loneliness

so. with the theory of “bill was reincarnated to make up for what he did,” what if it wasn’t just stan? what if he was split in two, and his “reincarnation” is both of them? they’re flawed enough to make it a lot harder for either of them to take over the world (ford’s lack of social skills & stan’s lack of freakish academic knowledge), and they have something bill doesn’t - each other.

bill is alone. that’s his whole problem. he killed everyone he loved, treats everyone new he meets like shit, and now he’s Like That. throughout it all, the one thing the stans have always had - even if it was just in their memory - is each other. “oh but ford-“ shhhh. shhshhshshshhsh. shut up. ford has Problems but i genuinely don’t think he ever stopped loving stan. love is weird, first of all, and secondly he clearly never stopped trusting him. no matter what he might say about stan being a liar or a conman or whatever, who’s the one person he goes to when he’s forced to admit he needs help? ford is a weird guy and has an… odd way of showing it but he loves his family just like the rest of the pines and i will die on this hill

i’ve been writing this for over an hour straight and i think my brain is melting but i’m sure at this point u get the idea. both of the stans, together, serve as a parallel to bill, and the one thing they have that he doesn’t is love. that’s what killed him.

something something killing an interdimensional dream demon with the power of friendship and this gun i found

[thefandomenchantress]

We’re all familiar with the Xander-Ace arm wrestling scene. A lot of people cite it as one of their favorite funny moments from the series. And yeah, it is pretty funny when you don’t think about it too much.

The joke is pretty much, “Haha, Ace is such a wimp! He’s totally freaking out about a minor injury like it’s a really big deal!”

I don’t know if it was just me, but I sort of had this internal notion that Ace must’ve mentioned that his hand really hurt or something, and the joke was that he was wimp because it was such a minor injury, and it probably didn’t hurt at all.

But, uh. He never says anything about his hand hurting. Here are the lines he says (not all of which are featured in a text box, since Teruko and Xander are talking over him):

“AAAAAHHHHHH MY HAANNNDDDD!!!!”

*falls on the ground, gets up, screams again*

“OH GOD! You’re gonna put me down like a horse with a broken leg!!!”

“I’d rather die than not be able to eat cereal with my hand!!!”

“I’M NEVER GONNA BE ABLE TO RACE AGAIN!!!!”

Listening to all of the voice lines again, it seems less like Ace is panicking because his hand is hurting, and more like he's panicking because of what may happen to him if his hand is indeed badly injured. So it's less so about the injury itself, and more about what may happen because of it.

He first, of course, panics over Xander being a threat. That's completely expected, since making Xander angry just broke a table and assumedly hurt him in some way or another.

The cereal line is a bit confusing, especially considering his secret. A while back I came up with an out-there theory that he said that in order to try and deflect any suspicion about his secret, since an eating disorder can weaken your bones and if he got hurt too easily, people might begin to suspect something. So he rather clumsily brought up the subject of how he did in fact eat food. If we consider the fact that he's lying here, then him saying he'd rather die than do something makes a lot more sense, since we know he doesn't mean that at all. But in hindsight I may have been overthinking it...Still, I can't think of a better explanation, other than dismissing it altogether as a throwaway joke that didn't have much thought put into it.

The last line is what really makes this interesting. Ace hates his talent and anything to do with it. And yet one of the things he's panicking about the most is how he may not be able to race after sustaining an injury. And I think that this moment probably gives us our earliest insight into just how far Ace will go in order to race. In his first FTE with Teruko, he claims he doesn't do much work at all for his talent, until his performance anxiety forces him to. By saying that, it makes it sound like his talent doesn't completely dominate his life.

But this scene, in the same exact episode of his FTE, quickly proves to the viewer just how desperate Ace is to continue his talent, to the point where his own well-being becomes less important than it. Ace's extreme reaction to being injured isn't because he's a wimp that can't deal with pain, it's because he's spiraling about what this could mean for his career and, therefore, his status as a failure. "What if this injury prevents me from racing?" is the question that comes first, causing him to panic instead of being able to focus on how bad the injury actually is.

...I guess the thing that made me want to write about this scene is just how...Smart it is. It does so much at once. On a first viewing, it's really funny, and it still is on other viewings. Yet in hindsight, it's easier to notice just how distressed Ace is, and that no one is taking that seriously. No one ever takes his fears seriously, and in the end his fears drove him to murder, proving how important they really were. Even if his worries seem silly from an outsider's perspective, they're very real to him. And that's something that no one in-universe could realize until it was too late. This scene does an amazing job summarizing just how the cast's attitude towards Ace helped push him to becoming a culprit.

...Or maybe I'm taking the silly arm-wrestling scene too seriously, haha.

[the-bitter-ocean]

( ACT 3/ ACT 4 SPOILERS) This is part 6 of the many responses/ dialogue options I wrote for the conversation that Rewind and Mirabelle have on what Rewind’s identity truly is. To understand the full context you can find the original post here. Writing is under the cut:

{{ “So I suppose you must have a lot of questions for me don’t you? Theories as to who I might be?”}}

{ You do. You can’t help but feel overwhelmed by all of this.}

{{ “Let’s make this like a game so you can get to know me a little better. How’s that sound hm?”}}

{You nod slowly, still unsure.}

{{ “You get one guess for this so pick whatever feels right in your heart.”}}

{One guess?}

{Something about the way Riri speaks to you feels familiar. }

{ Someone dependable and willing to help you even in the most dire of circumstances. }

{ Someone who’s shown to care for you deeply over the course of this whole ordeal and in turn you have done the same for them as well. }

=> { You’re one of my allies. }

{“.. Are you.. Um. one of my allies ?”}

{Riri stares at you confused.}

{{“Which ally of yours do you think I am, Plum? I’m curious” }}

{ Rewind is….}

=> { Siffrin.}

=> { Isabeau. }

=> { Odile.}

=> { Bonnie. }

=> { Siffrin.}

{“… Um well.. maybe Siffrin?”}

{Riri confusion grows even more. She shakes her head}

{{“Mmm..Why’d you say that?”}}

{“.. We’ll you’re so mysterious .. and uhm you make fun of me sometimes, but it doesn’t feel like it’s meant to be in a mean way?”}

{“You seem so..nonchalant? Like you’ve seen it all before.. and well that’s the type of way Siffrin was when I asked him for help on the journey so..it just makes sense?”}

{“I don’t know. It just reminded me of them was all.”}

{Riri goes quiet. She’s lost in thought.}

{{ “..I remind you of your Rogue? For that reason..? That’s very..”}}

{She sighs clearly wanting to say something more, as if to correct you but brightens up in tone again}

{{ “Silly of you! I tease you because you just have the personality that makes it so easy for me to do!”}}

{{“You’re so adorable, don’t you know that?”}}

{Riri gently boops you on the nose. }

{You sulk.}

{{“..You guessed wrong. Sorry Plum!”}}

—————————————————————————————————

(ALTERNATE RESPONSES)

{Rewind is….}

=> { Siffrin.}

=> { Isabeau. }

=> { Odile. }

=> { Bonnie. }

=> {Isabeau.}

{“…Are you Isabeau?”}

{Riri confusion grows even more. She shakes her head}

{{“Wh- Huh?! You think I’m your Fighter? For what reason?”}}

{“.. Well you’re like really uplifting if that makes any sense? It seems like you just know how to cheer me up before I even could begin to tell you if I was upset. ”}

{“.. Isabeau is really good at that sort of thing. Plus you look.. really stylish? Ah in hindsight it’s probably a stupid answer, sorry.”}

{“I don’t know. It just reminded me of them was all.”}

{{“…No, I’m not your Fighter.”}}

{{“As cute as it is that you think I’m anything like him, it’s not true.”}}

{{“I think that even someone who excels at Changing like him… would have a hard time changing into something like me.”}}

{ What’s that supposed to mean-}

{{“Anyway you guessed wrong. Sorry Plum!”}}

—————————————————————————————————

{Rewind is….}

=> { Siffrin. }

=> { Isabeau. }

=> { Odile. }

=> { Bonnie. }

=> {Odile.}

{“…Are you Madame Odile?”}

{Riri confusion grows even more. She shakes her head}

{{“….? You think I’m your Mage? Why?”}}

{“.. You just.. seem to be really knowledgeable about a lot of things and you’re very..reflective?”}

{“You get really quiet sometimes- like you’re thinking of a bigger picture that I couldn’t even begin to understand, y’know?”}

{“..Madame is really good at planning strategies and figuring out the best ways to solve a problem, kind of like what you do when you talk with me.”}

{“I don’t know. It just reminded me of her was all.”}

{{“…Hm. That’s awfully sweet of you to say but no! I’m not your Mage.”}}

{{“If I was anywhere near as smart as her, I’d have solved both of our problems regarding this whole time loop business by now.”}}

{ “Huh? Wait but-“}

{{“Anyway! I hate to say it but you guessed wrong. Sorry Plum!”}}

—————————————————————————————————

{Rewind is….}

=> { Siffrin.}

=> { Odile. }

=> { Isabeau.}

=> { Bonnie. }

=> { Bonnie.}

{“…Are you Bonnie?”}

{Riri confusion grows even more. She shakes her head}

{{“..?! You think I’m B-..Your Apprentice?”}}

{Rewind looks at you dumbfounded.}

{ Rewind puts a hand over where their hypothetical mouth would be, if she had one and laughs at you.}

{{“Do you really think I’m that childish?”}}

{“Wh- NO!! Not like that at all!!”}

{“You’re just hard to read. N-Not in a bad way!”}

{“I don’t know why.. but I get the feeling you’re trying really hard to not get close to me?”}

{“.. But I don’t think you hate me either. It’s clear you care a lot about me and want to help me. So it’s just a little confusing on where I stand with you.”}

{“..Bonnie gets like that too sometimes. They want to help however they can in their own unique way even if they can be stubborn about it.”}

{“I don’t know. It just reminded me of them was all.”}

{Rewind looks away from you.}

{{“That’s a very strange conclusion for you to reach.”}}

{{“No, I’m not your Apprentice.”}}

{{Rewind puts on a sing songy tone as she speaks.}}

{{“I’ll have you know I’m an adult, thank you!”}}

{{“I consider it a good thing… im thankful that I’m not your apprentice.”}}

{{“I don’t want to even think about the possibility of someone that young being in my..”}}

{{“…”}}

{…?}

{“Being in your what-“}

{{“Moving on now! Point is, your guess was wrong. Sorry Plum!”}}

[mint-yooxgi]

Yearning - Yandere!Phoenix!Mingi

Yandere AU & Phoenix AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Mingi X Implied Chubby!Reader

Words: 1,710

Warnings: Implied stalking, and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Felt like getting this out tonight, so I hope you all like it!! Again, I feel like these are tamer than what I originally had in mind, but some of them are going in a different direction than I though. Hehehe, I don't know, I still like them! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Fourth of The Feral Drabbles

You’re a strange one, aren’t you? You don’t let anyone get close to you, do you? At least, not really.

I’ve seen the way you shy away from their touches. It’s like you know that they don’t deserve you, just as I do. Only I should get to caress your delicate skin. Only I should get to touch you. Your body is a canvas meant to be painted by me, and me alone.

You know that already, don’t you?

You’ve seen me watching you. I know you have. I’m much more in tune to your reactions than you think, especially when heat is involved.

Perhaps that’s just the way I’ve always been. Or maybe, perhaps, that’s just the effect you have on me. Either way, I always make sure to watch you carefully. I want to know your every reaction to everything, so I can replicate the good ones as desired. I want you to see me in a good light all of the time. There’s no room for error. Not when you are involved.

I can never help myself when it comes to you. I always want to know where you are, and who you’re with. I long to know what you’re doing, and especially how you’re feeling at all times. It drives me crazy not being able to be by your side at all hours of the day. Watching you isn’t enough, I need to be with you, and I want you to need me, too.

You’re guarded, that much I can tell. I mean, you certainly live up to your nickname of Ice Princess, wouldn’t you say? You hardly give anyone the time of day. It’s as if no one is worth your time.

Good. They don’t deserve you, anyways. At least you know how much value your life has, and how important you are.

I wouldn’t expect anything less from my twin flame.

I want you to know, that I am worthy. I will make myself worthy.

I have a theory: you don’t give anyone the time of day because the treat you like a princess. 

It’s the princess part, isn’t it? You long to be treated like the Queen you are, don’t you?

You don’t have to worry much longer, My Queen, a fitting King is on his way.

You know, my kind… we mate for life. We’re extremely territorial and possessive of our mates, especially once we’ve imprinted. You’re lucky I haven’t had a chance to court you yet, otherwise those friends of yours… well, let’s just say ‘burnt to a crisp’ would be putting it lightly.

They don’t care for you. I’ve seen the jealousy in their eyes when you turn away from them. They always want what you have, and they hate how effortlessly it comes to you. You’re too smart for them. Too beautiful. Too desirable.

I must admit, taking out my competition lately has been a bit difficult, but I’ve made tremendous progress this past month alone. You’re even acknowledging me on your own, and going out of your way to start conversations with me! I knew playing it cool would work - that seems to be the type of people you’re drawn to. None of this loud and boisterous displays of passion some people attempt to smother you in.

I have to admit, though, there are times where I wish I could scream my love for you from the rooftops. I want everybody to know how much you mean to me, and to be jealous that only I can have you, and only you can have me. 

I’m not blind, I see the way your friends look at me when you all walk passed. I hear them whisper as their heated stares lock onto my figure. I know I’m desirable, too.

The only one I care about, though, is you.

Oh, how I revel in your gaze when I feel you looking at me. Honestly, it’s embarrassing how much I preen myself just for you. I’ll admit, my posture has never been the greatest, until I met you.

It’s almost comical how obvious I can be; my friend tease me about it all the time. My kind, we’re not subtle in our ways, but either you don’t notice, or you choose not to.

Perhaps you don’t want to believe I could ever fall for someone like you…

Is this why you don’t let anyone get close to you? Because you’re afraid of getting hurt?

Well, My Little Dove, you don’t have to be afraid any longer. I will never hurt you, because I will never leave you. I only want you, and I will only ever want you.

Do you want to know the dangers of my love for you? It’s a little thrilling, isn’t it? To know that there’s always risks when it comes to love. At least, I find it amusing, and once you feel the same as I do, I know you will, too.

See, my kind, as I said before, we mate for life. But, not just this life. 

Every life.

Our love is reborn through the ashes with each incarnation. No matter how far apart we are, or who we are, we will always find each other. That’s what it means to love a Phoenix.

Once an imprint, always an imprint. Nothing can change that.

My heart is yours. It burns for you. It yearns for your cold touch to quell the flames that have long since kindled the fires of my passion for you. I am devoted to you in every way imaginable. You just don’t know it, yet.

I desire you, My Dove. I have desired you from the very first moment I heard you utter my name. Never has it sounded so pure, so perfect falling from any other’s lips but your own. It was meant to be yours. I was made to be yours, and you were always meant to be mine.

Fuck, I want to know what my name sounds like falling from your lips after I’ve kissed you breathless. I want to wrap you in my embrace and ignite that same spark of desire in you that has always burned within me for you. I want to feel you gripping at my hair, pulling me in closer to you as you cling to my body as I light the fires of my passion upon your own.

Fucking tug on my roots as you pull me back into your core for more. I want to feel you dripping down my chin, suffocating me with your luscious thighs as I get lost in your pussy for hours. Let me make a beautiful mess of your cunt, lick it clean, and then do it all over again, and again, and again.

I want you to moan for me, like I’m your one and only salvation, and you’ll find rapture in my every touch. I want our breaths to become one, never knowing where one ends and the other begins. I want to taste you until I become drunk on everything you have to offer, and then I want to drown you in an ecstasy so deep you’ll never want to come back up for air.

I want my touch to sear across every dip and curve of your skin, so that you feel my desires for you even when we’re apart. If you cannot feel my love for you by the time we’re done, I haven’t finished fulfilling my duties of your perfect lover. By the time I’m finished with you, my name will be the only thing on your lips, my body the only thing you can feel, and my devotion to you the only thing on your mind. 

And your heart…

Your heart will be mine.

Long have I desired to burn my mark on your heart, just as I know you’ve already branded mine. I will accept no other. I cannot.

My greatest desire, though, is far tamer than any of this. Yet, it is probably the most significant. The most intricate and intimate of experiences I could offer you.

I want to show you my wings.

I want to show you my wings, and watch as that wondrous expression of yours lights up your face. I want to see you in awe of the colours, and the contrasting feathers which are quite plush and so delicate to the touch. I want to watch you reach out to feel them, but hesitate slightly, unsure of if you should or not, and then I want to smile and nod at you, encouraging you to fulfill your every desire.

And, oh, how encouraging I would be!

We don’t let just anybody touch our wings, you know. It’s a sacred practice, reserved for the most intimate of lovers.

That’s how much you mean to me. I want to share in that intimacy with you, and only you.

Fuck, and then once you’ve traced the contours of my wings and run your fingers through my feathers, I would make the sweetest love to you. I would hold you so fucking close, whispering how deeply my affection for you lies with every movement I make, my wings on full display as I bring us both to ecstasy together.

I can practically hear the way your voice calls out my name so desperately for me now…

Many nights have been spent playing out this fantasy, but I’m afraid it never fully captures the full effect of the moment. I know it’ll be even more special and intimate when the time comes, and I can only imagine how your delicate hands will feel gripping me, and stroking along my wings during the moment.

Just thinking about it now gets me so sensitive.

You truly have no idea what you do to me.

I just have to get closer to you. You’re starting to open up to me, I can feel it. I’m slowly but surely melting that cold exterior of yours. Or maybe, you’re just cooling me down to your level. We’ll be together soon. We have to be, or else I don’t know just what I might do.

I’ll be wrapping you in my embrace soon enough. 

I’ll make sure you can handle the heat.

[socialjusticeinamerica]

This is outrageous. Kennedy is a Qanon, anti-vaxxer, and deranged kook. He is not a scientist, a medical researcher, or a doctor. In fact he has no expertise at all regarding drugs, vaccines, or nutrition. He was a pretend attorney hired because of his family connections.

The common man thinks all rich people are smart and everyone with a degree is automatically an Einstein level genius. Studies have shown that the public has been conditioned to follow the lead of any tall man in a suit, or woman in business attire.

Just because someone dresses like a business person and knows a little more about issues than Joe Sixpack doesn’t make them a f—king expert. It’s easy for the ordinary person to believe in conspiracy theories when they don’t know how anything works.

The Dunning-Kruger effect doesn’t literally mean too stupid to know you’re stupid. Rather it is a cognitive bias in which people with limited competence in a given field overestimate their abilities. Neil deGrasse Tyson on his podcast Star Talk describes this as a hobbyist thinking they are on par with highly educated scientific researchers.

We have the entire MAGA movement thinking they understand everything because they read a blurb on the internet from random strangers with no credentials. Worse yet most of this “I did my own research” crowd are unwittingly being strung along by professional propagandists.

The Joe Sixpack crowd thinks Trump and Musk are highly educated and have a grasp of everything under the sun. In fact they each possess a bachelor’s degree in economics and nothing more. You couldn’t teach elementary school or be a librarian without a master’s degree. They are totally outclassed by the majority of politicians, statesmen, world leaders, financiers, scientists, medical professionals, and virtually everyone they come into contact with. They each have only two things going for them. One, they were born rich and two, they promote themselves endlessly to the masses as stable geniuses when in fact they are drug addled fools. Again the lower class thinks they are rich so they must be smart.

RFK Jr thinks because his law firm handled some environmental cases, mostly unsuccessfully, he is an expert on medicine and science. In point of fact he is merely the hobbyist Neil deGrasse Tyson has described. The hobbyist who doesn’t understand the big picture or the finer points of how anything works.

Public, and private education, hasn’t failed us. In red states which are now the majority, Republican politicians and oligarchs who own for profit charter schools have deliberately dumbed down education in their states. It is not the fault of the teachers who are mostly well educated and good intentioned fighting an uphill battle against the willful ignorance of Republicans who want an electorate of sheep that simply obey without question. Pile on top of that the radicalization of the red states masses by right-wing propaganda outlets and you have a recipe for disaster. For profit charter schools are underfunded, have lower paid staff (unqualified) and are not held to the strict standardized testing criteria public schools face.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

TW: angst, uncomfortable situations, bdsm content, fire, blood

“What in God’s fucking name are you doing?” You ask yourself as you dig out the silky dress and golden bangles to wear tonight on this BDSM safari date. 

In theory, you know you absolutely cannot be Julian’s submissive. After a lot of googling, and a lot of video watching, the conclusion is that your smart, mindless mouth will have you bruised and crying more often than cumming, which sounds unpleasant (something you and your vagina can both agree on). It's not that the thought of his big hands swatting your rear as you lay over his broad lap is unappealing. In fact, you like that vision a lot. It’s the fact that he wants to do much more than spank you. Maybe that’s why he likes you, you realize, because you’re so bad at listening that he won’t need much of an excuse to fuck you up. 

Yeah, great thought to have before a date.

Your phone rings, and you’re not surprised anymore when you see Tom’s number pop up. He’s been calling almost twice a day now, that desperate ring cutting through your daily life so often that you have to keep the tone on silent most of the time. 

You suppose this is just his way of making sure you don’t forget about him while you’re taking back roads and long detours home to avoid his face. Ludlow scares you, but not in a way that Julian’s Mr. Hyde does. No, Tom’s fear factor is that you can’t go two seconds without thinking about him. 

The silky dress sits very nicely on your soft body, hugs and fans and dips in the right places. You can’t help but admire yourself in the mirror; hell, what’s a little bit of vanity every once in a while between you and your house plants? It’s not often that you feel good about yourself in the way the dress and the hairline bangles cinching your wrists make you feel. Eat your heart out, Julian.

Eat your heart out, Tom.

Julian looks good enough to eat, and you just might do exactly that before this night is over. You’re sure he can at least stay hard while you’re sucking the head of his beautiful cock (even without your arms tied behind your back), or you really hope so. I mean, you’ve never won any awards or anything, but the people pleaser in you has never had complaints, either. 

“You look wonderful.” He hands you a towering potted phalaenopsis orchid with a festoon of blooms so dark purple they’re almost black and leans down to kiss your warming cheek. You feel bad for the plastic wrapped flowers, so you ask him to come upstairs for a minute so you can settle them in their new home. 

“Wow, you love plants,” he muses, fingers playing at the waxy tip of your flourishing Queen of the Night cactus in the window.

“Well, I can’t have a cat or a lizard or snake or dog, so.” You give a tiny shrug, clipping off stems into the sink. 

“Snake?” He asks, leaning against the counter and watching you work. 

“Yeah, like a Ball Python or a Corn Snake.” 

“You just keep getting more fascinating, y/n.” You have your back turned, but can still feel his weighty stare, and it makes your skin crackle and pill, distracts you from the task at hand, causing the slippery scissors to veer and slice into your palm, glassy beads of blood forming at the base of the cut immediately.

“Shit,” you say, grabbing a towel from the counter and pressing it into the wound. 

Julian comes to your aid, a knight in shining armor ready to slay those dastardly scissors as he plucks them from you and tosses them onto the opposite counter. “Oh, darling.” He takes your sliced hand, uncovers it, blood immediately pooling into the basin of your palm and dribbling over the spillway of your wrist onto the kitchen tile. 

“Julian, it’s fine,” you tell him, trying to pull back half heartedly. 

“Wait.” The command of his tone makes your heart squeeze out a couple extra rivulets of blood for the floor. Black eyes travel up from your hand to your own, and you honestly have no idea why he is suddenly in this hellish mood again, but fuck, it really does do things for you that you can’t mention in chaste company 

“The floor is getting bloody.” You shift—more like squirm—under his shadow.

“What a waste. May I?” His eyes can’t decide what they want to look at—your crimson stained palm or equally if not more bloody face—and you forget that he asked a question as they hood and darken. 

He tugs you forward a tiny step, then kisses your fingertips, pokes his tongue out to lick at the sensitive skin there. “Y/n?” He murmurs against your pointer, inquisitive and, what? Hungry? Is that what you’re getting from him? 

“Huh?” 

“Can I taste you?” His lips tickle down your fingers, peck the top of your palm. 

Well, at least he’s not whipping your feet. “Yeah.” 

He presses the flat of his tongue against the fresh, oozing cut and licks a long stripe through the carnage. You have to grab onto him because your knees buckle and your vision swims black, but he’s got you anyway, arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up like you’re not made of heavy bone and fat and meat, protecting your pretty dress from that bloody floor. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, full Dr. Mercer mode again, lips still stained dark red, acting as if he didn’t just transform into a creature of the night before your very eyes. Your head and cunt throb in a strange, floaty numb tandem as you surface from the haze. 

You’re a nurse. You see blood all the time, get covered in it, have to scrub it out of your hair and from under your nails and use special laundry soap on your scrubs to avoid having to buy new ones every other day. That’s why you’re so confused as to why you almost passed out at the sight of Julian licking it off your palm in one of the most erotic displays you’ve ever witnessed in your measly life. 

Again? Asks your damp cunt. 

Hush, you admonish, ushering her back into her little broom closet chastity prison. 

“I’m fine.” You wonder why it took moving to LA to realize what a shit liar you are. And then, because you can’t really help asking with a giggle: “Are you a vampire?” 

He chuckles, fails in licking the settling red hue off his lips, and then guides you to sit on your sofa with the towel pressed against your palm. He gets you a cool rag from your bathroom, and presses it to your forehead. “Hold that there for me,” he instructs. “Where’s your first aid kit?” 

“Under the sink,” you thumb behind you. “But I’m fine, Julian.” 

He plucks a tiny kiss on your wrist. “You know, lying to me is bad for you.”

“Oh?” Your vagina asks, “and why is that, Doctor?” 

Julian is too easy. Sure, he prefers to have the upper hand, but as soon as you challenge him, he’s almost squirming with excitement. You wonder if you could make Tom squirm like that, see all the tough masculinity turn soft and peach pink with a well placed, “cuff me, Officer Ludlow.” 

“Because lying is naughty, and do you know what happens to naughty girls?” He leans in as if to kiss you. 

You lean right back, mouth open to taste your own thick residual copper on his sharp tongue, and sincerely hope the answer is they get fucked until they can’t walk. “Enlighten me?”

He boops your nose. “They don’t get kisses. Now, stay here.” 

You glare daggers at his cute butt as he makes to golden retrieve your first aid kit. 

“Thank you, Doctor.” Fuck me, Doctor. You bat your eyelashes at him while he cleans up your cut. It’s big, but surface level, warranting a tight wrap and no steri strips. 

You boldly brush the fallen, velvet hair from his eyes to see that toothy, knowing smile a little better.

“My pleasure.” 

“So…are you into that? Blood?” You’re not sure how else to word it or If there’s even an actual name for the act of eating blood for pleasure. Vladsexual? Bathory Kink? 

“That and other carnal taboos. I suppose I’m a bit of a roue.” 

“Okay, so what else?” 

“I don’t want to scare you.”  

“Too late, Julian.” You make it sound lighthearted, sugarcoat the truth, but if you’re going to get into this shouldn’t you know more about what he wants? 

“I won’t lie.” He looks at you, presses the finishing slice of tape over your gauze wrap. 

You retrieve your doctored hand to cradle on your ribs and maintain his gaze to the best of your ability. “I know.”

“I enjoy pain play. But that’s an umbrella term.” 

“Like hot wax? Caning?”

“Yes. You’ve done some research.” He seems like he’s thinking hard about how to word something, but there’s probably no eloquent way to put what he’s about to say. “Cutting. Piercing.” 

“What about infection?” 

“Aftercare, honey. You make sure it’s nice and clean. Do you want me to stop talking about this? You look paler again.” He rests his hand over yours. 

“It’s like you switch into someone else when these things.. come up? It scares me a little.”

He nods. “Part of the point would be to make you scared.” 

“That would help you?” 

It looks like he understands what you mean by that, and his face droops a little. Seems you’re both still thinking about that last disappointing date. “Yes.” 

“There are going to be people getting hurt at this club?” 

“Yes.” He cards a hand through his hair and it lays back perfectly where it once was. “There are other parts to it. Parts that are good. I would take responsibility away from you, make sure you eat nutritiously and often, give you a solid routine, pamper and spoil you.”

Why does that part sound worse than the getting cut and pierced bits? The thought of someone controlling your life, what you eat and do, it’s entirely unappealing. Maybe you’re a mess, but you like to be independent and free spirited. Tom was right about you wanting someone on your side, someone to take care of you and go to bat for you, but you’d still like to be on the field when it happens instead of tied up helplessly to the bench. 

You’re not saying anything, so he speaks up after a pause of tense silence. “We don’t have to go.”

“I know,” you say, “let’s leave before it gets too late.” 

***

You’ll be honest. You expected people on leashes scantily covered in leather, big medieval tower guards in hooded black cloaks, heavy metal equipment bolted to the walls and floor, maybe a stage with grandstand seats like in a fucked up little leather circus. 

However, the doors of the club are fairly normal, if not painted blood red. Dark, sultry, heavy bass music welcomes you as you walk inside. Most of the interior is classy, but unexpectedly underwhelming. The inside is carved marble, high ceilinged, low lit, tinged with dark red and purple lights. 

It reads like a vampy career fair. 

Banquet hall open floor, a pop up bar in the corner, booths and alcoves swollen with spectators dressed in bespoke club wear from Versace, Valentino, and Chanel. Some people choose to hide their identities with finely crafted leather masks. Some people chose to flaunt their faces openly, and you’re pretty sure you recognize at least one B level rockstar and maybe an actor from a distance.

The first thing you see as you go further inside is a man trussed in intricate rope, hanging from the ceiling. Not too bad. Actually, fairly tame, all of this. Well, more tame than the internet showed you. Mostly heavy bondage, maybe a nipple clamp thrown in here and there. Julian leads you to a carpeted venue with floor cushion seating in the far left corner and goes to retrieve some liquid courage. 

He hands you a wine glass of rosy, sweet liquor and you gulp it down immediately. 

“Slow down,” he says, squeezing your hand in reassurance. 

Instead of calming you, his bossy words incite annoyance. You’re a grown ass woman who needs alcohol to deal with something he wants you to attend, and you’ll be damned if you’re not going to drink as much numbing potion as you like. 

“I could actually use another one,” you tell him, standing and stretching. “Want some?” You eye his nursed, sipped from glass. 

He surprises you by handing you his credit card instead of arguing.  “No, thank you. Get as much as you like.” 

“Julian, I am not taking your card-“

You’ll never stop being surprised at how fast he can be. He’s so slow, thoughtful, calculated in his work that these sudden, long limbed movements startle you, especially when they bring him right against your body. 

He tucks his Chase back into your extended palm, frames your feet, and wraps a covering hand around your collar. “You are taking it.” 

The double entendre is not lost on you, and it brings that too often ache back into your toes and fingers and clit and every tip of your body, really. 

You want so horribly for his beautiful, cervix kissing cock to be inside you instead of swelling up against your tummy. And, you’ve never been a big fan of PDA, but, when in Venice…

You slip your hand between his hard and your soft, and palm that pretty trapped appendage, using your body to press and grind and get a better understanding of how deliciously he would fill you up.

Your power trip of the night is Julian groaning aloud, then halting this indecency and glaring down at you with a monstrous sneer. Before he can speak, you pipe up, soft and feminine, voice tinted with subtle hedonism. “Yes, Doctor.” 

You grab a mixed glass of vodka cranberry and take two extra shots courtesy of doctor money. Liquid courage. It's gonna be alright. Tell yourself that all you want, though, you still don’t feel completely safe here. Which is ridiculous because it’s an adult space with consenting people. Maybe it’s not your physical health you’re worried about so much, but rather your fragile psyche. 

When you get back with another shot and your mixed drink, the show has already started. You nestle down into the cushion beside Julian, and he scoots closer to press shoulders in what you think is an attempt at reassurance until he starts talking in your ear about the scene unfolding before you. 

“She’s bound to the chair with wool.”

“Wool? Why?”

“Fire resistant.”

Your heart slams faster against your ribcage, hands turn cool and clammy. 

“They have a wool blanket ready in case things go south.”

“Are they going to burn her?”

“Not seriously.”

What in the fuck is that supposed to mean? A burn is a burn, right? Whether first or second or third, it can still have detrimental effects on a person’s health. He’s a damn doctor, shouldn’t his years of medical training raise a hand to why this is potentially life threatening?

Despite the protest of your nervous system, you can’t look away. The man in the scene rubs something on her naked skin, in the middle of her chest, almost down to the hairless mound of her sex. “Isopropyl alcohol,” Julian says. He places his warm hand in the middle of your back like he’s trying to manually start your lungs back up. “Breathe.”

You do, let out a big whoosh of air and then take another in. The man lights a torch. 

“Fire torch,” Julian says, voice leagues deeper. His hand travels down, nuzzles into the small of your back and makes you let out a little noise that you’re grateful he can’t hear over the music and bustle of the club.

He presses the flame to her sternum, and she hisses, flinching away from the heat, from the flint that lingers on her skin. He extinguishes that same mini bonfire with his palm almost instantly, then creates more. The orange flame reflects on the tears of her cheeks, illuminates the fear in her blown pupils. 

Julian rubs little circles into your back, hips, grins when he hears you groan as his thumb slips up the hem of his dress. 

It goes on, and Julian has stopped explaining. Stopped moving those skilled fingers.  You’re confused, so you look over at him, and realize that you have not seen monstrous from this man yet—not until now. His handsome features are pulled in such an expression of raw, primal hunger, all for that woman’s pain.

You’ve seen that look on a man’s face before. It did not end well for you.

It’s that look on his face that gets you up on your feet, and you say in a voice you yourself hardly recognize, “I have to use the restroom.”

Julian looks disappointed, but he nods. When you’re confident that he’s not going to leap up and follow you, you make your way in said direction on shaking legs. However, once you round the corner out of sight, you are making a B-line for the exit, moving so quickly you almost stumble over your own feet, the desperate animal running through the woods, away from the hungry wolf. 

[1moreff-creator]

hii!! so idk if you saw, but i recently posted a theory abt how xander and eden were survivors from a previous killing game.

you’re super cool and smart so i was wondering what you thought of it lol

(this sounds like free promo for my theory but i promise it isn’t)

(i just want opinions on it bc i can’t tell if i did a good job or not)

Hey there! Yeah, I saw it, and I think it’s a pretty good theory! I enjoyed reading it, your writing style is fun. Below are my full thoughts on it. For anyone else, please read the original first, this is going to be incomprehensible otherwise.

Also don’t worry about looking like you’re “promoting” your theory. It’s Tumblr, no one gains anything here, we all just lose. What would you even use the promotion for lol.

Also also you people have gotta stop giving me so many compliments it’s feeding my god complex /j

CW: Violence and blood, death, Danganronpa V3 Spoilers

[Background]

Admittedly, I don’t know how literally connected V3 is supposed to be to this whole situation, given the difference in the settings and the like. Especially since Teruko’s only mentioned remembering “that other killing game”, implying she doesn’t know about the 50 others despite vaguely knowing about the THH one. However, it is perfectly valid to bring up V3 as a meta point (which I think is what you’re doing?); the idea exists, so DRDTdev could have certainly taken it for DRDT. In any case, it sure is an interesting premise!

[The Survivors]

[Xander Matthews]

“[Post]: he has the personality for self-sacrifice.” True!

[For the sake of clarity, I refer to this scene as “the pre-prologue scene”, given that we see it before the Prologue title card appears]

““Them” could be the other people in the killing game. [...]

And, most of all, he says that he has to end the killing game. How the hell would he end a killing game without having been in one? (don’t answer that)”

I mean, solid reasoning! The idea that Xander was actively in a killing game while this scene happened has been thrown around, such as in my “original killing game” theory that we don’t talk about ‘cuz it was insane, because it’s a pretty reasonable conclusion to draw from the dialogue, as you said. For a while now I’ve sorta assumed that Xander was speaking of ending the killing game before it began, but there’s both semantic arguments to argue your theory and that one. The way Xander speaks in pre-prologue seems to imply the killing game is already underway, which is a point to you, but the secret David received mentions “The killing game is all your fault,” potentially implying there’s only ever been one modern killing game (“modern” as in, after THH). I think the idea of Xander actively being in a killing game in pre-prologue is stronger, though, I’m only bringing this up to account for all possibilities.

And “them” could be whoever so :p

[Xander Picture]

“When was this?

Why would he be in the same outfit, while having both eyes?

It makes sense if he was in a previous killing game, doesn't it?”

Well I mean. It could be. It could also just be from the time the cast (or most of it at least) was in the same Hope’s Peak class. Keep in mind all the outfits the characters were using at the start of the prologue are the same as the outfits they first went to Hope’s Peak with, as otherwise they’d have pointed out that their clothes changed between the moment they “lost consciousness” (the last moment of their memories, which is going to Hope’s Peak) and their appearance in the killing game place.

So, I propose that, seeing as it originated from LGI, this image could just be the first time David actually met Xander in person, or some other notable memory between the two of them. Of course, I have no evidence for this as much as there’s no great evidence for your take either. Basically I’m just saying this isn’t a very strong point in my books, but it’s not like I know any better than you what’s going on here :v

[Eden Tobisa]

“First of all, there’s the similarities between her handwriting and the handwriting of the note that Xander received. [...]

The T’s are the same, the E’s are the same, the A’s are the same. Don’t deny that it’s a strong, and the most likely, possibility.”

Uh… I don’t agree :v

I’ll give you the i’s and maybe the capital T’s, but I think the e’s and the a’s are too different for me to really consider it a possibility. It’s hard to explain this, so I’ll try to make some Paint diagrams to exaggerate the differences to get my point across.

-The T’s are pretty similar, but Eden’s have a slight curve towards the bottom, which the other note’s T’s seem to lack. In the diagram, you’ll find the recreation of Eden’s letters to the left, and the recreation of the “kill Teruko” note’s letters on the right.

-The e’s in Eden’s handwriting have a circular head, while the other note’s is almost triangular.

-Similarly, Eden’s a’s are a bit more circular than the note’s, which are sharper and triangular.

This all leads me to believe that the dev explicitly used different fonts for the two (assuming they dev used a text writing tool and didn’t draw the notes by hand, which I feel is a reasonable assumption). When coupled with the fact that Eden could potentially have been defending Teruko in pre-prologue (unless there’s more context we’re missing, Xander wanted to kill Teruko & Eden attacked Xander -> Eden didn’t want Teruko to die), I don’t think Eden wrote that note. Sorry :v

[Eden CG]

Now this is evidence of Eden being in the same killing game as Xander (of course, assuming Xander even was in a killing game in pre-prologue in the first place, which is as of yet unconfirmed). The CG itself heavily implies Xander and Eden were in the same place when the whole eye-fork situation happened, being that Eden is the person who hurt Xander before the pre-prologue scene (pre-pre-prologue?). If that happened in a killing game, then clearly, Eden was there!

“Why would the two of them have images of their past selves wearing the exact same outfits?

Oh, wait a second.

In V3, we see Rantaro’s past self. He was wearing the same outfit that he did in the killing game. And he was a member of a past game too.

And it’s not like we haven’t seen them in other outfits. Xander has been seen in another outfit in his bonus episode.”

I mean. As I mentioned, the characters probably just frequent these outfits, given they were wearing them when they first went to Hope’s Peak. The Eden thing is a bit more notable because, unlike Xander’s which could just be from any point of Hope’s Peak time, that image has to be from the pre-prologue situation. But the idea that she was wearing that because it’s just an outfit she wears often isn’t too far fetched to me. This isn’t a point against your theory, I just don’t personally find the outfits to be the most convincing point of evidence for it.

[Eden’s secret]

“Why is this secret so mundane? (At least in comparison to the others)

Wouldn’t it make more sense to say something about what she did to Xander?

Of course, that could just be because they didn’t want her to know about something she did during the missing year.

But it could also be because it happened during the last killing game.

That one’s a stretch but I just thought I’d put it out there.”

Well, you recognize it’s a stretch, and I agree. If Eden doesn’t remember the Xander thing, then the secret which would be most effective for her would be something different, and apparently she doesn’t really have many serious secrets outside of her sexuality. Keep in mind these secrets don’t necessarily have to be the worst thing the person in question did, as stated by Veronika in 2-13.

“Why specifically these two?

Dev didn’t have to post the colored picture of Xander.

It’s clearly important.

Same for Eden.”

Also not a point for Xander imo. Dev posts a lot of stuff that isn’t necessarily important, such as the Veronico Christmas comic or the “long hair style” images. That is to say, dev posting it isn’t sufficient evidence of something’s importance, you gotta find something important in the content itself to claim that.

And even if the image is important, it could be important in a different way. There is the whole “why does someone turn their back on who they’re talking to” caption or whatever, which could for example be trying to draw a connection between David and Xander in this scene and Mai and Teruko in the 1-6 dream sequence, among other interpretations.

But that’s Xander. I will agree with you that the Eden one is important because it appears in the main series and has a clear connection to the pre-prologue, though.

“Why would he say this?

Unless he knew Teruko in the past, of course.

My guess is that Teruko was named the mastermind during his game. Whether or not she actually appeared, who knows. But she was to blame (supposedly) (to his knowledge) for the killing game. And apparently, killer her would do something important.

This ties in to the note that told Xander to kill Teruko as well!”

I would actually argue that Xander in the pre-prologue doesn’t think Teruko is the mastermind, because “ending the killing game” and “killing Teruko” are two separate goals. If you assume that killing the mastermind ends the killing game (which is a fair assumption I think), and Xander believes Teruko is the mastermind, then what he says is “I have to end the killing game. And even if I can’t do that, I have to end the killing game a different way.” Doesn’t really track does it?

But “ending the killing game” and “killing Teruko” do seem to be aligned goals, at least, so it makes sense to think that Xander believed she had some sort of involvement in it, which is sufficient for your theory I think. Of course, this is very speculative, we don’t know a lot about why exactly Xander wanted to kill the girl.

Btw, what is Teruko’s deal in your theory? Is she another “sacrifice”, a recycled mastermind or traitor of some kind, or someone who was known to the participants of the previous killing game but didn’t participate until the one seen in DRDT? I feel like that ended up a bit unclear lol.

“Who do we think were the survivors of their game?

My first guess was maybe a couple of the AltDRDT characters, but I’m not sure.”

I mean yeah, there’s kinda no one else we can really point to lol. As you said, it’s a guess, so I’m not gonna bother you about the lack of evidence, but yeah. That is a lot of survivors, though, so I’m gonna guess that if this theory is right, the survivors of the old killing game are other people who are probably unknown as of yet.

Overall, a really neat read, and a fun theory! Pretty plausible, too, at least the idea of the pre-prologue killing game and Xander and Eden (and Teruko?) being in it. I disagreed on some points, but that’s only natural with highly speculative things like this. I thought the post itself was well written with a pretty unique style, easy to understand (even if I feel some points could have used a bit more elaboration, but that might just be me), so there’s that. Hope this was enough, thanks for the ask!

[jqmalikhsgib]

astrology

seven

aaron made it his mission to keep their weekend free. he wasn’t gonna let anything get in the way of his date with you. he even went as far as putting his cellphones on do not disturb. it’s something he hasn’t done since haley gave birth to jack.

you were also really excited. you’d went shopping for a new dress and maybe even spoiled yourself with a matching pair of shoes.

ever since aaron asked you out he’d been extra touchy. he’d make up some excuse to have you close or to simply hold your hand. you both agreed not to be too close when jacks around. you wanted the first date to go well before telling jack anything.

your date was tomorrow night. currently you’re on the phone with spencer. he’s been going on and on about a new docu-series he’s been watching. he gives his theories on who he thought the unsub was.

you simply laugh. he rarely watched tv. when he did it was some show or movie about a killer or serial killers he didn’t know anything about. he liked to see if he can guess who the killer is before they revealed it.

it’s why you never watched any documentaries with him. he’d always ruin it for you.

“why do you watch the show if you already know who the killer is with the little information you have. i bet it didn’t even take you fifteen minutes.”

“i just enjoy it, yn.”

“you’re literally a cop—”

“agent. actually a doctor.”

“right. my bad doctor spencer reid. what have you been up to besides that? read any good books lately?”

“actually yeah! i recommend slaughterhouse five.” spencer goes to tell you the details about book. meanwhile aaron comes into view. you smile at him as he wraps his arms around you. he sways you both back and forward.” you giggle. spencer thinks you’re laughing at what he’s saying and joins along.

aaron kisses the back of your neck gently. you try to shoo him away before he turns around. he turns you around and kissed you passionately.

every time he kisses you it feels like your breath is being taken away.

“so, what do you think? gonna give it a read?”

normally you never ignore spencer. but aaron make you feel all fuzzy. he truly made you feel like a dumb school girl.

“yeah, spence. could i call you back? im in the middle of making lunch for me and jack.”

“alright. love you.”

“love you too, bye.” you ended the call.

“aren’t you suppose to be at work?” you whisper.

“yeah. i have to head back. just wanted to see you on my lunch break. im so excited for tomorrow night.”

“speaking of. what did you tell jack?”

“i didn’t tell him much. just that his aunt jess was gonna take him to the zoo with his cousins. he’s excited.”

“yeah?”

“mhm. he’ll be gone the whole weekend.”

you blushed. having the whole weekend to yourself with aaron. you squeezed your legs together just from the thoughts. it’s been a while since you’ve had sex. you’re not the type to have one night stands. you have to have some connection with the person you’re sleeping with.

you know you have one with aaron. you’re just nervous you won’t be any good. you’ve only had about three partners in your life. aaron was a bit older than the guys you’ve dated in the past—not saying much, really. you’ve dated men at least ten years older than you by the time you hit your twenties—you didn’t wanna mess anything up.

aaron noticed the gears in your head spinning. he caresses your cheek gently. “honey, what’s going on? tell me?”

“im not very—experienced.”

aaron eyebrows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

“aaron. ive only been with so many people. i just—i don’t wanna mess anything up. i don’t wanna be bad.”

aaron smiles at you. “oh, honey. trust me when i say, whatever we do, you’ll be perfect because you’re you. you’re perfect, beautiful, caring, amazing, smart. you’re everything that ive ever wanted in a while. you’ll do just fine because i lov—”

aaron stops himself before he finished. he takes a deep breath before giving your lips a small peck. “because i love you.”

you’ve never smiled so big. you kissed him passionately. aaron was much taller than you are. he had to lean down just to kiss you. you stood on the tip of your toes and run your hands through his hair.

aaron groans in your mouth. when you finally pull apart you look him dead in the eyes. “i love you too, aar. more than you know.”

aaron smiles. “i should get back to work. ill see you tonight, okay?”

you hum.

“love you.”

“love you too. be safe, okay?”

aaron nods before heading out. you get back to making a sandwich for jack. throwing away the bread that was left out too long.

when jack gets home you make sure he gets his homework out. you hand him his sandwich and a little bag of chips.

“do you want apple juice or fruit punch?”

jack thinks before pointing to the fruit punch. “good choice!” you smile. you pour him a small cup before ruffling his head.

you sit beside him with your own sandwich. jack looks at his math homework with a frown. you look down. you grab the paper and hum.

it was an easy math question for you. but for an eight year old it’s a little bit difficult. you talk him through the problem. when he got the answer you smiled.

“see! you’re a genius.”

“just like uncle spence?”

“just like uncle spence.”

jack continues to finish his homework. once he was done with his sandwich you put both of your plates in the sink. you wash the dishes. once finished you hear your phone ring. frowning when you see your mom calling.

you haven’t heard from her in a while. the last conversation you had with your mom didn’t end well. she had yelled at you when you told her you’re moving to virginia. she didn’t understand why you wouldn’t move back home. when you explained that you wanted to be closer to spencer she simply asked why. she yelled and said that he’s not your family.

that angered you. you told her that spencer was the only person that was there for you when you decided to take your art seriously.

you ended the call when she called your art a ‘silly little hobby that wasn’t good enough to be displayed for the world to see.’

that hurt you more than anything she’s ever said to you. your father tried to apologize on her behalf. he was a bit more level headed and forgiving than your mother. he still thought you needed to go to college. gain some degree and have a decent career. but he still allowed you to enjoy this journey you’re on.

you declined the call.

“im finished with my homework, yn. may i go play in the yard?”

“yes. just be careful, okay? and no sneaking off.”

“i won’t. will you be coming out too?”

“in just a second. i promise.” he nods his head as he heads outside. your phone rings once more. this time it’s your father calling. you knew he’d just pass the phone to your mom.

you declined the call once more. you walked outside and smile at jack. he was kicking his soccer ball back and forward. when he made a goal you clapped.

“go jack!”

jack smiles. your phone rings once more. you groan before finally answering.

“yes?”

“you haven’t called me in a while. i was worried about you.”

“im fine mom.”

“how’s virginia?”

“it’s great.”

“did you find a place?”

“i have.”

“where are you staying? please tell me it’s a nice neighborhood at least?!”

“it’s nice. what is it you need mom?”

their was silence over the phone. you were already over the conversation. you didn’t have time for another lecture. your mother wasn’t gonna ruin your good mood. you’re way too happy to have her tear that apart.

“i just—i miss you, baby. im sorry i hurt you, okay? i think your art is beautiful. i just—i wished you had a back up plan. you’re so smart, baby. i just don’t want you to look back ten years from now and regret not going to college sooner.”

“i won’t mom. i love what i do. i have sold my art for good money plenty of time and i still do now. i just wished you believed in me as much of others do.”

“i do. im sorry.”

“it’s okay. how’s dad?”

“he’s a workaholic. been busy on this big bus! i tell him he’s too old and need to relax. he doesn’t listen.”

“you know how he is. other than that is he doing well. health wise?”

“great bill of health. whatever you do baby, don’t fall in love with law enforcement.”

your heart skipped at beat at that. you wanted to tell her it was too late. you’d already fell for an fbi agent.

but you also didn’t need her meddling anymore into your life. you knew once she found out you’re seeing someone she’s gonna wanna know absolutely everything about him. and knowing your mom, she wouldn’t approve of aaron.

not only because he’s older, but because he’s a single dad who has an risky job. riskier than your father. she’d immediately tell you that you’re making a mistake. you didn’t need her input! you loved aaron. you also loved the sweet adorable little boy who was now running towards you.

“listen mom, im at work. i should get back. ill call you soon. love you. bye.” you ended the phone call before she could get another word out. your focus now back on jack.

“you thirsty, buddy?”

jack cuddles up to you and gently nods his head. “alright! let’s head inside.”

aaron arrived home a few hours later. jack had already fallen asleep. he was too excited for tomorrow. he knew his aunt was picking him up in the morning.

he kept telling you how much he wanted to see the tigers and the giraffes. you kept smiling at how adorable he looked.

“hi, honey? did i miss bed time?” aaron lies next to you on the couch. you’d been enjoying some down time. watching the docu-series spencer discussed with you earlier that day.

“yeah. he tired himself out. played a little bit of soccer in the backyard.”

aaron rest his head on your lap. you run your fingers through his hair. “how was work?” you asked.

“a lot of consulting on cases and a whole lot more paperwork.” he explained. he frowns when he sees what you’re watching. “you shouldn’t watch this, sweetie.”

he sees things like this on a daily. he wanted to steer it away from you and jack as much as possible. you didn’t need to see the horrors of the world. you’re too precious for that.

you simply giggle. aaron knowing you grew up around crime scenes since the moment you were born. not only your father being a detective. but your mom was a prosecutor. you’ve seen it firsthand.

you can go back to the photos your father brought home. seeing the crime scenes.

“it’s alright aaron. ive seen far worse! once my dad brought home a case of a serial killer in our area. id peak at the scene photos when he wasn’t looking. very disturbing.”

aaron frown deepens. “how old were you?”

“maybe twelve? i don’t remember much. just knew this case affected him the most. i think it’s cause the man killed a little girl. she was a bit younger than i was.” you shake your head at the thought.

“im sorry you had to see that. your eyes are made to see beauty. not slaughter.”

your heart almost burst. you kiss him gently.

“excited for tomorrow?” you whispered.

“definitely! are you?”

“a bit nervous. but im super excited! where are you taking me?”

aaron smirks. “i should get to bed. gotta get up early tomorrow to run a few errands.”

aaron gets up and heads upstairs.

“aaron?!”

“goodnight, honey. sweet dreams.”

[hestella]

Hannibal Lector x reader: A new face part. 2

A/N: Someone teach Tumblr to me. It's too complicated. I'm not done watching Hannibal cause it's too hard to watch and I'm not smart enough!

Warning: Blind reader, depiction of violence, sexual violence, cannibalism, well it's Hannibal, A lot of mistakes, etc, etc.

Part 1

“Humans have constantly, somehow, throughout the entire history, made some being, or even beings, that were superior than themselves and called them God. The existence of a ultimate power has been created in all known civilizations that sustained long enough to have a written language, and for even those we don’t know had a language, we assume, that there was some type of god within their society, only they couldn’t afford writing it down.” 

Y/N’s voice echoed around the lecture hall. She was wearing a classy, somewhat antique 3-piece suit that had a dark blue color, which went well with her leather shoes too. 

Hannibal sat in the corner, watching and listening to her lecture. He didn’t see himself as much as a philosophical guy, but to be honest it was quite interesting. Her aura and her appearances made it more interesting, more mysterious along with the fact that she was lecturing about philosophy.

His thoughts were similar to others. Other students seemed to be fascinated by the subject. There seemed to be students of all backgrounds, one wearing a lab coat, one who looked like an art major, he even saw some older people who looked like other professors too.

She did not walk around the room like Will. She stood still in a podium, not even using a slideshow to teach. 

“but then, how, one might wonder, and why, could all these pre-historic people collectively think to make ‘god’? Perhaps, it has something to do with evolutionary theory?” She paused. “Any guesses?”

A few students raised their hands, but Hannibal internally tilted his head, how could she possibly see who raised their hands?

“..wow, nobody? I must be blind,” she made a joke, causing the students to laugh. “Don’t be afraid to speak out, please, I may not be able to see, but my hearing’s fine.”

“Apologies, professor. I..I think the essential part of that question is whether or not the pre-historic people knew what they were making was a real God. It may have started from scratch, like, you know, the things adults tell children to explain natural disasters and so.” A student, a bright girl, said. 

“Great. And your name is?”

“Marissa Schurr, professor.” She answered.

“Marissa, do you have any personal beliefs? I’m not asking about religion, just anything.” Y/N looked towards Marissa, her white eyes staring at her. 

“..I..I don’t know, professor, well I’m an atheist, but probably,” 

Y/N smiled faintly. “I understand. Who believes the ‘3 second rule’ here? Or even, who believes the number 13 as unfortunate or, related to death? 7 as the lucky number?” She asked the whole. 

The vast majority of the people whispered among themselves and nodded, few raised their hands.

“I assume most of you guys do believe those. None of those ‘beliefs’ I mentioned are true, we know that, but why do we believe in it?” She paused once more. 

“It’s because us, as humans, and other intellectual animals, find comfort in things that make sense. Myths can be seen as complete lies, but they are logical, sometimes because the majority of the people say it’s logical. For example, the number 13 was the amount of people that had the last supper with Jesus Christ the night he was betrayed, according to the Bible. That is why we think 13 as bad, or unlucky.” The students nodded and jotted down notes as she spoke.

“If I were to say, the reason why it rains is because someone living in the sky cries, and the rain is their tears falling, most of you will obviously, not believe me. But, if you were primitives, and knew nothing about how rain falls, you would have believed me, and the person in the sky would be your God.” 

“Would it, though, professor? I mean, just because you’re a primitive doesn’t mean you’re stupid, or dumb,” another student pointed out. 

She smiled. “To be honest, we don’t know. Why? Because we’re not primitives. We can’t unlearn what we learned. So, I’ll give you a project to find this out. Everyone take notes on this.” 

Everyone shuffled to get their papers. 

“Find a young human, a child, or someone, that doesn’t know how it rains, and also an atheist. Explain and persuade them that it rains because of some other reason, involving a deity of some form, and tell me how it goes. I’ll cold call anyone, so be prepared.” 

She held her hands together. “And that’s the end, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else in the middle, see you next time.” 

All the students stood up, thanking her. She nodded and waved everyone good bye, reaching for her white cane, which was folded inside the podium. 

Hannibal waited until everyone was out, and headed towards her, purposefully making little noise. 

“That was an impressive lecture, Ms. Y/L/N, or should I say professor?” He suddenly spoke. 

“Dr. Lector! I felt someone familiar,” she looked towards him, a light chuckle coming out.

“How did you know it was me?” Hannibal asked. 

“It’s hard to forget a charming yet profound voice like yours, doctor,” she gave him a smile.

“Ah, you flatter me, Ms.Y/L/N.“ Hannibal’s eyebrows were raised at the unexpected compliment.

“What do I have the pleasure of hearing it again? Another case?” She asked, packing her simple bag.

“Not quite. Agent Crawford wants me to evaluate you too. Take a close eye.” Hannibal said, everything not entirely truths, but also not a lie.

“Ah. Crawford.” She muttered as she held her white cane. 

“I wish that’s okay with you?” Hannibal asked. 

“..Agent Crawford seems quite desperate for my help,” she muttered. “..don’t you think? I’m just not sure if I can be that much of help, despite having you analyze me,”

“You don’t think you’re worth a eval?”

“I don’t think I’m worthy to use taxes, to be exact. The payment is from the FBI, no? Funding of the FBI is from taxes…” she tapped her walking cane as she got off the podium. 

“You’ve done plenty, maybe more than plenty for the FBI in return, Ms. Y/L/N. And not every fund from the government necessarily comes with a return, either.” Hannibal followed her from a respectable distance. 

“Will, maybe. Me? I don’t think so.” she chuckled lightly. “It’s somewhat unethical, you know, wasting money. Especially the money collected by the government, from the people of this country…” 

Hannibal listened to this elongated philosophical rant, about the duties of a democratic country. She was more talking to herself rather than talking to him, not letting him get the upper hand of the conversation. 

Autism? His mind thought of it. But she didn’t seem to have trouble communicating. ADHD? maybe. 

Or, she just was ranting unrelated stuff to avoid him analyzing, not knowing he just did.

She tapped her cane to began to leave the lecture hall, except that there was a slight height difference between the podium and the floor, causing her to stumble. 

Hannibal rushed over and gently placed his hands on her arms to steady her. 

“Careful.” He said. 

“Thank you, what is it?” She asked, feeling the floor with her feet. 

“There’s a step down between the carpet floor and the podium.” 

“..there wasn’t one on the other side,” she muttered, slowly stepping down. 

“Yes, there wasn’t. Must’ve been a mistake,” Hannibal confirmed. 

“…well, thank you again. But I have another lecture to give today, unfortunately,” she said facing Hannibal. 

“No worries. I’ll book your session whenever you’re comfortable, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

=-=

“Wildlife hunters tend to hunt within a narrow limt. They don’t hunt the younger ones, or their parents, they don’t use extensive traps to find them, and they don’t kill endagered species. If they do, they tend to honor their bodies, at least to pay for the nature’s lose and its effects.” She told to the people performing autopsy on Cassie Boyle. 

“Since when did you become a wildlife expert?” Beverly Katz asked. 

“Last night,” Y/N shrugged. “The point is that this isn’t what the Shrike would have done to his victims. This is simply disgrace. He even put the last victim’s body back as an apology. That man would take the girl’s lungs while alive and stick her body to deer antlers? I don’t think so.”

Will nodded, satisfied that she was able to back up his point. 

“Then who do you suggest did this?” Jack asked. 

“Why are you so afraid of admitting there’s a copycat?” She asked. 

There was silence. The people who knew Jack felt their own hair stand up at her question, sensing some sort of nervousness.

“Oh, I’m not afraid, it’s just that there’s 2 killers out there instead of one!” Jack replied with heavy sarcasm.

“The copycat won’t kill another like this one. It’s a…one-time thing.” She answered. 

“And how do you know that, exactly?” Jack asked, clearly annoyed. 

“If the copycat wanted to kill to confuse the FBI into thinking there was only one killer, they would have done it already. But it’s too different, and they know it.” She replied calmly. 

“Why would they do that?” 

“…curiosity,” she replied. 

“A dare,” Will answered. 

“Hold on, you two are telling me that the copycat killed a person just to try it out?” Jack looked at them both weird. 

“..that’s what I think,” she muttered. “The timing’s strange. It’s right after the case was posted on tattlecrime, the copycat might have been interested.” She shrugged. 

=-=-

It was very early in the morning when she heard a ring on her door. 

She spent the night with Will at the motel in Minnesota, and she had to go back to Baltimore to continue her job. She just had the time to change and sleep a few hours before having to wake up and go give a lecture again. 

She stirred awake, not entirely sure if the doorbell was her imagination or not. 

But the bell kept ringing, so she reluctantly got up from the couch and grabbed her robe from where she remembered she had put. She leaned on the door. “..who is it?” She asked in a quiet voice.

“Y/N? It’s Hannibal.” 

At first she thought of who this ‘Hannibal’ was, then she realized and quickly opened the door. The scent of the morning dew and a faint smell of raw meat was the first thing she felt. 

“..is, is it not,” she touched her wrist braille clock to check the time. “..4 in the morning?” She asked, confused. 

“It is, Ms.Y/N. I came with breakfast. Thought it would be a good way to start.” 

She was still processing. “..okay, come in,” her mouth moved, however.

He stepped in, looking around. Her house was clean, nothing on the ground or visual accessories. 

“…why, um, why did you come here, again?” she asked, still sumbfounded. 

“I brought you breakfast, a little ‘get together’ time. I cooked it myself.” 

“You cook?” she muttered and hurried to turned on the kitchen lights and get out forks and knives. 

Hannibal comfortably sat on one side of the island table, taking out the things he brought. “I take extra caution on what I put in my body. A simple salad, with eggs and roasted salmon to cover the protein.” 

“..oh, actually, um..” she hesitated to say. “..I’m quite strictly vegan, so I don’t think I can eat it,” she said. “…I’m truely sorry,” 

“Are you know? That’s unfortunate. Luckly, I’ve made a simple vegan Ceasar salad too,” Hannibal took out another container and gave it to her. 

She looked surprised but got the container anyways, her nature being unable to refuse. “o,oh?” she studdered. 

In reality, it was Hannibal’s plan to test her. He wanted to see if she was really vegan, and how strictly she was vegan, acting like he didn’t know her appetite at all. The ceaser salad wasn’t even vegan, it had anchoive, well, which she didn’t have to know that.

“Please, feel free to eat it,” Hannibal insisted, not giving her time to refuse. 

She reached for her fork and hesitantly started to eat it. “…it..it’s good. Delicious,” she admitted. 

“My pleasure,” Hannibal said. “..forgive me for my curiousity, but do you cook? And if so, is there anything different, considering that you’re visually impaired?” 

“I don’t really cook, not really. If I used to cook before…before I went blind, I probably would have continued, but…I just never found food to be that worthy of spending my time.” She replied. 

“Ah. Do you drink, then?” Hannibal asked, planning what kind of wine he should give her in case he wanted to invite her to a dinner party.

“uh, I drink water, that’s all. Not really…alcohol,” she replied. 

There was silence, and then a laughter. 

“Sorry, I just…I’m so sorry.” She laughed, eating the salad. 

“Don’t be, it’s not like all people drink,” Hannibal didn’t smile, but Y/N, who could only hear his voice, assumed he was smiling. 

“I do have wine, and some whiskey, I think, if you want them.” she cleared her throat. 

“Why do you have wine if you don’t drink?” Hannibal asked. 

“Well, I get gifts, even though I tell them I don’t need them at all,” she muttered, standing up and heading towards a wine celler. 

“Really? They send you wine gifts?” Hannibal asked, while he took out a vile of GHB from his pocket and covered the sound of it unscrewing with the sound of him clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s what they can give to me without getting awkward, you know?” She chuckled. 

He made a chuckling sound, but his face was still. He reached over to her salad and spread the clear GHB equally on it, before she returned with a wine bottle. 

“Do you know what this is? That’s the newest one, I believe.” She said, handing him the wine.

“A Chianti, italian wine, One of the best. I’m surprised you have it,” he looked at it, observed with quite genuine amazement. 

“Is it? Oh well, that’s my gift for this amazing salad,” she smiled and sat back down.

Hannibal stared intently at her, seeing her every movements when eating the salad with the extra ingredient he just put, GHB. He couldn’t help a smile creep up his lips as he saw she ate, her plate getting empty each second. Sep.24 edit: Asperger’s —> ADHD

Tag list:

@wolfgirl-205

(the urge to just write non-plot smut.....is the way I know I'm ovulating)

[corvusblackk]

thoughts on force shifting? (eg, you shifting, then you shift someone else to where you are!)

i think it’s possible (i mean i know it is) but like what do u think about it? would you do it? and your opinion on you?

this is a very hard question, but so am i so let’s dive into it (i’m adjusting my imaginary glasses in a smart way).

i didn’t ever think about forced shifting because when you do that you’re shifting yourself into a reality where the other person shifted i think? i cannot for the life of me explain this because i don’t have a clear idea either as i never tried anything like this before.

i’ll speak personally so you can hopefully understand, cause when i struggle in figuring out problems or questions i talk a lot and out loud to myself and i usually come to conclusions alone that way so let’s try this.

i believe in the consciousness theory, right? therefore i think i’m the only being that is actually “real” and “independent” in the whole multiverse. do i believe that there are other consciousnesses other than me? yes, but i haven’t tried looking yet.

do i believe that people here are still real? that’s tricky. i do believe they’re real, but they’re still a result of my assumptions, therefore they’re not truly “independent”. i can still form connections with them though, of course, but they’re still ME.

when i want to shift to another reality with someone i met here, can i make them shift with me? yes, it’s possible of course, but that would still be another version of them, a version where i “shifted” them (not their wife), because at the end of the day it’s still me.

this theory can give an identity crisis, i know well, i’m struggling so much just by talking about it right now, because it makes me feel alone. and i would try to do a forced shift to someone if there would be a reason for me to do so, but that would still be up to me if they shifted or not, because they’re me??? FOR FUCKS SAKE CAN I JUST STOP AND NOD AND SHIFT PEOPLE AND FORM NORMAL CONNECTIONS WITHOUT HAVING TO DEAL WITH THE GINOURMOUS FEELING OF ABANDONMENT AND LONELINESS DEAR LOUWRD

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 11)

Platonic Whitebeard Crew & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior (somehow I think I managed to loop Teach into it now too, so congrats, you've charmed a bastard man). If you find yandere content uncomfortable, please do block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any relevant variations to 'one piece yandere'.

Do not tolerate this behavior in real life.

Stay safe and have fun!

If my mental math is correct, I should finish this in 4~ish more chapters. So we're nearing the end!

Also, surprisingly sympathetic take on Teach's backstory, didn't know I had it in me. This is assuming the fan theory that he's from a winter island and was with Whitebeard since he was young, btw.

Word Count: 2,099

Teach grinned as his new crew set the sails to leave the small island he’d recruited them from. Dawn was just breaking and he wanted to make good time—just in case he already had tails from his old crew. He wasn’t entirely sure how much of a head start he had given the rush he was in to ensure Thatch didn’t eat the fruit. Decades looking for it and he nearly lost his chance again.

He adjusted your limp body under his arm for a moment, enjoying the palpable feeling of his power increasing from the contact. The shadows seemed to writhe hungrily at his senses, eagerly awaiting his command in a way they simply didn’t without you. You… well, you were a bit of last minute surprise as well. Sure, in theory, he could just take your fruit but he wasn’t confident it would work the same way. And he couldn’t risk wasting it if it didn’t. Besides, you’re the perfect bait.

He has the power. He has the plan. Now he just needs the reputation to become the Pirate King. And what better way than taking down his old crew one at a time? Sowing chaos to fracture them until Oyaji is too weak to stand against him and properly claim rise to his lofty goals as ‘Blackbeard’. Killing Thatch would certainly get someone on his ass, though he was torn between commanders as to who it could be. Izo was sore enough about losing old friends, and Marco may feel responsible as first mate. But Ace—well, he was a spitfire at the best of times and his old commander to boot.

Taking you was sort of like kicking the hornet’s nest. While also becoming even more powerful in a single move. How could he not do it?

The minor issue of ensuring you never have a chance of squirming away was easily solved with a bit of chain. It’s not like you were particularly strong, though you were smart enough to not do anything too risky—which he appreciated really. Though he’d prefer you sticking around willingly if only to not have to carry you every time you fell asleep.

Teach chuckled a little to himself as he returned to his newly minted quarters. You were wearing down pretty fast the longer he was ‘on the run’. No real chance to properly rest or recuperate from what must be a stressful situation—for you at least. If he neglected to feed you every now and then it only helped ensure you were weaker than before. Who knows, he might not even need the chain if this kept up.

Teach set you down on the sparse bed, unhooking his end of the chain to secure it to the latch on the wall. It wasn’t like he was going to use the bed himself. He paused a moment to watch as you curled up against the wall, completely dead to the world.

Heh. Cute.

He didn’t get why Oyaji recruited the way he did. Pretending to be a big family when they were actually just a band of pirates taking what they wanted. Too soft for a man with the strength to do anything he desired. Too many vulnerabilities. But every so often he thought he understood it… a little. Late night parties with lighthearted competition. Long running arguments about inane subject that both parties are a little too invested in to be serious.

Teach reached down and removed your glasses, examining the cracked lens. Bending it in the light to watch it refract as he considered your position. His prisoner and, technically, first mate. Though he wouldn’t be having you fight—not that he’d trust you to fight for him right now. He had the absolute upper hand over you. Chose to stay his hand. Because you had use to him.

He heard you shudder a little and paused, setting the thick glasses down. You were cold—weak body sensitive to the relative chill in the room. Unbidden, he remembered long, cold nights on his home island in the snow. Powerless and unsure if he’d survive to see daylight again.

Until Oyaji found him. A small, frail part of his chest ached at the memory. The sheer relief that he was safe now. His next meal guaranteed at no cost. No more cold, lonely nights. Even now, he calls him that. Oyaji. Despite fully planning to kill him. The idea didn’t conflict in his head. It was simply the way of things. Old replaced by the new. What higher respect could he pay his father-figure than personally ensuring his demise to further his own prospects? To step out of the shadows and get rid of one of the few people alive that can remember the sad, pathetic child in the snow?

Perhaps this strange sense of sentiment was his own, personal weakness. Crafted by a man too weak of heart to truly conquer the seas.

Teach shrugged off his coat, laying it over you gently. Chuckling when you stopped trembling.

He was a pirate. He could indulge in whatever vice he wanted… though perhaps cautiously. It wouldn’t do to deride Oyaji for something he, himself, was guilty of in excess.

He didn’t get why Marco took you. Why Oyaji agreed to take you in. Well, aside from your devil fruit. But the soft glove approach smacked of weakness given your surprisingly stubborn refusal.

But the slow, rolling satisfaction that settled in his chest knowing that he made sure you weren’t cold… he thought he could understand Oyaji a little better now. Why he kept picking up strays everywhere he went so indulgently in the same way he’d sneak sips of good booze when the nurses weren’t looking.

It was a strange, frail sort of pride to partake in. Pride at providing. But Teach learned at Oyaji’s knee to take enjoyment from the little things in life.

Besides, it wasn’t like you could sell him out or take advantage of what scraps he gave you. As long as you behaved, he supposed there was no problem in these small gestures of kindness. So long as you never forgot your place, that is.

--*--

Luffy laughed, loudly and with glee as his older brother teased his crew. He was so proud of the people he’d recruited so far and wanted Ace to see what he did. Those bright, beautiful sparks that drew Luffy like a moth to flame. The spark that Ace himself had since they were children that only grew since they parted. Ace was still hurt, a little broken inside, but it had healed since they last met.

“Why are you here, anyhow?” Nami asked, “I thought Whitebeard mostly stuck to the New World?” Ever inquisitive, Luffy’s smile widened at how clever his navigator was. Ace scowled, tipping his head towards the man he brought with him.

Pineapple. Well, Ace called him ‘Marco’ but obviously Pineapple was better. Tall and blond with bright blue eyes—achingly reminding him of Sabo but different enough that Luffy could barely see the ghost of his other brother.

“We’re tracking down a traitor. He tried to kill one of our own and kidnapped another.” Pineapple scowled with dark eyes. Luffy’s crew was shocked—giving Luffy the impression that this was an even bigger deal than he first thought.

“A nakama-killer? Who?” Ussop asked breathlessly, “What kind of monster would make it out from a Yonko ship after that?!”

“Teach.” Ace hissed in a way that reminded Luffy of the few times he said Bluejam or Celestial Dragon. Fire flickering between his teeth. “He goes by ‘Blackbeard’ now. Promise me if you run into him you won’t fight him, Lu. He nearly killed Thatch. You’re not strong enough to fight him yet.”

Luffy made a noise of surprise, both at Ace’s words and the name.

“Hey, didn’t we already run into him?” Zoro asked, glancing at Luffy for confirmation. Luffy remembered the weird pirate well. Poor taste in food and rude as hell.

“Yeah, we did actually. Weird guy with a weird laugh. With the tired four-eyes.” The two looked at Luffy sharply. “I almost got in a fight with him but he weirded me out.”

“Tired four eyes?” Ace asked with a pissed off expression. Luffy felt a small twinge of guilt for not helping the stranger at the time, but something inside him whispered ‘not yet’.

“Yeah. They were connected with a chain. Thought he had a slave or something but Nami said it wasn’t quite right.” Luffy explained. Nami nodded, tensing slightly as the two looked at her for more answers.

“Well, usually slaves just have the collar. And he didn’t make any demands or order them around. They just had to… follow him. He even yanked them by accident and apologized. Most slave owners don’t bother with that.” Nami huffed.

Luffy pouted. They looked promising. He even felt… weird when they were around. Like he was stronger somehow. His heart like a steel drum in his chest. Like he felt when he was around his nakama. But they lacked a… spark. Like they lost it and Luffy didn’t know how to give it back. Almost tried anyway but his crew stopped him.

He hoped that next time they found that spark again. He’d love to have them on his crew.

Ace nodded.

“We’re getting close, at least. Hopefully we’ll catch up to them soon. Who knows, we might be able to introduce you guys properly!” Ace grinned, the edges a little sharp like he was suggesting dine-in-dashing when they were kids and hunting crocodiles was too much of a hassle. Luffy grinned.

“I wanna meet them again! Hey! Hey! Ace, do you think they’d join my crew?” Luffy cackled when Pineapple and Ace jolted at the question. Ace narrowed his eyes, clicking his tongue with a thin smile.

“Oi! Don’t go stealing from my crew, you little shit!” Ace hooked his arm around Luffy’s neck stretching it out as he gave Luffy a noogie through his hat.

Luffy squirmed, crying out at the unfairness.

“Ack! Aaaaccee~! They look cool. Though really tired! I promise to take good care of them! Ace!” Luffy complained. Arms failing uselessly as Ace kept him pinned in place. “Ace!”

Luffy’s crew watched with wide eyes as Pineapple smirked from his spot against the wall.

Okay, that felt a little like Sabo.

--*--

You looked out at the growing island, Banaro, chain wrapped around your waist so it wouldn’t drag across the deck. You knew that Teach would come over shortly to reattach it to his bracelet. For the past couple of months, he’d given you relative freedom while at sea and restricting your movement once they got close enough to an island. For the most part, you’d been avoiding the crew, which Teach encouraged.

Probably to make sure you didn’t get any outside help, not that you felt confident you would have received any if you’d asked.

The closest chances to escape you’ve noticed was the revolutionary early into your capture with Teach and Straw Hat—surprisingly. Not that you think Teach knew that.

Though the occasional spotting of a sea king was also promising, Teach had them firmly sail in whatever direction was away from potential pods. Kill joy.

Anyway, it wasn’t that Straw Hat was stronger than Teach, he was definitely a bit too green to manage it given Teach’s decades at sea.

But… that devil fruit of his.

It called out to you. Boundless as the horizon. A drumbeat that vibrated your soul. A call to… something. Something just out of your reach. And you had the sense that if you had only known what that ‘something’ was, Straw Hat would have thrown hands the minute he saw you.

The pirate seemingly breathing in sync with his fruit, only held back by how weak he was currently. Which was a strange thing to sense. Usually fruits were just not utilized well. They didn’t typically hold such obvious power that the user simply was unable to access it at that time.

It felt elastic. Snappy and twisting in a way that you found delightful. Made you want to laugh without even hearing what he was saying.

You smiled a little. Strangely optimistic for the first time in a long time.

Pirate King, huh?

… Somehow, you felt as though Straw Hat Luffy would shake the world. And despite being a ex-marine, you looked forward to it.

Hopefully, you’d be in a position to see it for yourself.

[baileypie-writes]

How about Smile Precure villains with smart but shy S/O? Romantic or platonic depends on the character.

A/N ~ Sure! I only did Joker and Wolfrun, bc they’re the only ones I write for(I decided not to write for Akaoni anymore). Hope you enjoy!

~Joker and Wolfrun with a Smart but Shy Parnter~

~~~💜~~~🖤~~~💙~~~

Fandom: Smile Pretty Cure!

Fanfic Type: Headcanons

Reader: Gender neutral

Relationship: Romantic

Characters Included: Joker and Wolfrun

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 679

Warnings: Akaoni slander

~Masterlist~

~Smile Pretty Cure! Masterlist~

‼️Glitter Force stans DNI‼️

~~~🃏~~~🖤~~~🐺~~~

~Joker~

~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~

~ Joker is quite the smart man himself, but not the type that you are. You’re good at math and science, he’s just good at messing with people’s heads. So he’s impressed by your knowledge.

Joker: “I must admit my dear, you are quite the smart cookie.”

(name): “Oh… yeah. I guess I’ve always been smart.”

Joker: “No need to be embarrassed. It’s quite impressive.”

(name): “Oh… thanks.”

~ He finds it a bit of a shame how shy you are. He believes that someone with as big of a brain as you should be showing it off. And that just what he encourages you to do. He always tells you how you should go out and show your knowledge to the world.

(name): “Look Joker, I don’t like attention. So I don’t want to go show off or whatever.”

Joker: “But you deserve it! Most people don’t have the brain capacity to store so much knowledge. In fact, maybe you should help them become smarter. You should try Akaoni first.”

(name): “Well, you’re not wrong. Akaoni could use- wait, no!”

~ Joker tries his best to get you out of your shell. He mostly does this by asking many questions, getting you to talk more and more until you begin rambling. He finds it adorable how flustered you get once you’ve realized how much you’ve been talking.

(name): “-and I find this theory interesting because- oh wait. How long have I been talking for? Oh gosh…”

Joker: “It’s alright, my dear. I don’t mind. Now, what were you saying?”

(name): “Wait, are you getting me to talk on purpose?”

Joker: “Of course not! Now, why do you find that theory interesting?”

~ When with others, he often brags about your knowledge for you. He lets people know how incredibly smart you are. He only lets up once you let him know how much he’s embarrassing you. He apologizes, but still believes you deserve to be known for your smarts.

Joker: “You lot don’t have the brains to even comprehend (name)’s knowledge. Just hearing their intelligence would put you into a coma!”

(name): “Joker… please.”

Joker: “Honestly, they could defeat the Pretty Cure without even lifting a finger! They could just outsmart them!”

(name): “Oh gosh…”

~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~🃏~~~

~Wolfrun~

~~~🐺~~~🐺~~~🐺~~~

~ For the most part, Wolfrun couldn’t care less how smart you are. Knowledge isn’t something he worries about. But, while he won’t admit it, he’s pretty impressed, and even intimidated by your big brain.

Wolfrun: “Hey, when did we get grapes? Whatever, guess I’ll eat them.”

(name): “Wolfrun no! You’ll die!”

Wolfrun: “What? What are you talking about? It’s just grapes.”

(name): “Grapes are deadly to dogs!”

Wolfrun: “Ugh. I’m a wolf, (name).”

(name): “Wanna risk death?”

Wolfrun: “….no.”

~ He finds it almost offensive how you barely talk, despite how much you have stored in your mind. If he didn’t know you so well, he’d think that you were using your shyness as a cover. But still, sometimes he fears that you’re planning something.

Wolfrun: “What are you planning in that big brain of yours?”

(name): “Planning? I’m not planning anything.”

Wolfrun: “You sure?”

(name): “Wolfrun….”

~ Unlike Joker, he doesn’t try to get you to talk or become less shy. He just lets you be. He honestly prefers this, because that way, he can do all the talking. He likes to talk.

Wolfrun: “I mean, I know Akaoni’s stupid, but come on! Even a five year old wouldn’t make that mistake!”

(name): “Haha! Yeah.”

Wolfrun: “Huh. You know, you really don’t talk much more than when we met.”

(name): “Oh, yeah. I’m just not a big talker.”

Wolfrun: “Eh, not like it matters. Anyway,-“

~ Like mentioned before, Wolfrun can be a bit intimidated by your knowledge. He automatically feels this way when anyone is better than him at anything. So while he doesn’t like being proven wrong, he knows not to challenge your brain.

Wolfrun: “C’mon, (name). There’s no way that’s true!”

(name): “Wolfrun, I’m telling you it is!”

Wolfrun: “No way!”

(name): “Do I need to remind you how often I’m right?”

Wolfrun: “…no.”

~~~🐺~~~🐺~~~🐺~~~

~~baileypie-writes