#sorry this took so long i had stuff to do

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[alexsnerdycorner]

Animalistic (Logan X Reader smut)

Title: Animalistic

Word Count: 2079

Warning: Smut, slight exhibitionism (if you squint), kitchen sex, oral (f and m receiving), PIV sex, multiple orgasm (f)

Fandom: X-Men/X-Men Movies

Pairing: Logan X Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature, Explicit

Request: I need someone to write a Logan Howlett x reader where reader can communicate with animals and she finds out she can also hear logan’s thoughts (bc that man IS an animal lets be real) at first she doesn’t realize who’s /what’s thoughts she is hearing but gets closer with logan and realizes it’s him when he starts thinking about her

Tags: @grapejollyrancher @pinkiemme

Summary: You’re a mutant who can communicate with animals. Lately you thought you’ve been going crazy, getting images and feelings when there were no animals around. One night you wake from a weird nightmare and find Logan in the kitchen. You soon discover that the nightmare was Logan’s and that you’re not going crazy, but that you can communicate telepathically with him. Smut ensues.   

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up. I’ve had lots to do with work and personal life. I also got sick five times since September. I also made it so the reader can see his thoughts more than hear them – you’ll see how it works out.

Work:

From a young age you could communicate with animals. You got feelings and flashes of images from them. You discovered it first with your friend’s dog. Whenever you were over there you felt happiness radiating off of him and glimpses into his mind. When the dog was hungry you would get images of kibble and feelings of hunger. You would always be the first to know when the dog needed to go outside and use the bathroom.

When you were a young adult your parents discovered your abilities and sent you to live at the Xavier institute. You loved it there. Mostly because it was quiet and there was very little animal activity. You studied there for a little while and then became an animal sciences teacher.

When a man named Logan and a girl named Rogue came to the institute things began to get more complicated. You would feel angry, agitated, or afraid for no apparent reason. You would get images – no memories that weren’t your own. You thought you were going crazy. You were too scared to even tell the Professor.

One night you woke after a terrible nightmare. Too afraid to go back to sleep, you trudged down to the kitchen and found Logan there.

“Hey, Y/N” He said, “What are you doing up? It’s almost midnight.”

“I could ask you the same thing, Logan” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You suddenly felt parched as if you hadn’t drunk anything all day.

“Touche” Logan opened the fridge. He grabbed a soda out, opened it and chugged the contents. Your feelings of thirst were suddenly gone. Weird.

“I had a nightmare and I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” You finally admit to your friend.

Logan let out a mirthless laugh, “You and me both, bub. Wanna talk about it?”

“I…I don’t want to sound crazy,” you said. Pulling at the hem of your nightgown. Logan looked over at you with an unreadable expression. Flashes of male hands sensually roaming a female body went through your mind.

“You could never sound crazy,” Logan said.

“I don’t know about that,” you let go of your nightgown’s hem and crossed your arms across your chest. You looked away from Logan and felt a heat wash over you as you got glimpses of a man kissing a woman’s breasts.

“Try me,” he responded drawing you out of your visions.

“Okay, well, I was in this lab of sorts and my body was hooked up to these wires and tubes and stuff. And I was submerged in water or something and I was in pain. Lots and lots of pain. I looked over to a man, Stryder, I think, and get so angry at him I want to kill him, but I don’t. I don’t know why I don’t. But I pull all the tubes and wires and stuff off my body and start to run but then feel a sharp stinging pain and then I woke up,” You looked back up at Logan whose eyes were wide.

“Stryker. His name was Stryker,” Logan said quietly.

“Yes, how did you…” You trailed off.

“Because that’s my nightmare. My past,” he threw the bottle of soda away.

“What? How… Why?” You stuttered.

“I don’t know, Y/N.” Logan said, “Let’s go to the professor in the morning and see if he knows what is going on.”

“No! I’m not crazy. It was just a coincidence. Must be,” You shrugged.

“I never said you were,” Logan held out a hand to calm you. He licked his lips and you received flashes of a man undressing a woman with a similar nightgown to yours. You felt wetness pool in your panties.

Could it be? No, you thought. It can’t be him.

“Quick, logan, what are you thinking right now,” You spoke up.

“What? I don’t see – ” He began.

“Just tell me.” You interrupted.

“I…Y/N, I don’t see how this is relevant.” His face turned bright red.

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you.”

“Well, I am talking to you.”

“But you’re thinking of me in a different way than just talking to me, aren’t you Logan? You’re thinking about fucking me, aren’t you.”

“What are you on about, Y/N?” Logan cleared his throat.

“I think I know why I had your nightmare. I can communicate with you like I can with animals, can’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan denied it but you knew deep down that it was true.

“Stop lying, please. Ever since you and Rogue arrived several months ago, things have been different for me. I thought I was going crazy and just seeing and feeling things without an explanation.  But it’s been you this whole time, hasn’t it.” You said without taking a breath.

“I suspected a little after we first met. I could feel you in my mind.” Logan sighed, “But it was all just suspicions. I didn’t know for sure, not until just now when you told me about the nightmare.”

“So, what were you just thinking about, Logan?” You stepped towards him while maintaining eye contact.

“Princess, I think you know.” He cleared his throat.

“I do. But I want to hear you say it,” you closed the remaining gap so that he was inches away from you.

“I was thinking how damn fine you look in that fucking nightgown.” He purred, “And I was wondering how you would look without it.”

“Well, there is only one way to find out, isn’t there” you smirked and looked up at him through your heavy eyelids.

In a flash Logan’s mouth was on top of yours, kissing you hungrily.

“My room.” You said between kisses.

“No. Here.” Logan growled while his fingers grazed the hem of your nightgown and his mouth moved to your neck. You let out a moan and your hands roamed his chest over his white t-shirt.

“We’ll get caught, Logan,” you whined.

“If anyone is up past midnight, they deserve to catch a show.”

You would have cared more but the ache you felt for him was too strong. You nudged his lips up to yours and bit onto his bottom lip.

“Oh, look whose got the animalistic tendencies now.” Humor shone in his eyes.

You giggled and went back to kissing him. Logan ran his large hands up your thighs and hooked them onto your nightgown hem. He took the hem and lifted. You complied and he took the nightgown off your body and threw it to the floor. He then moved onto your soaked panties. WHen he saw the pool of wetness in them, he grinned. 

He took some time to look at your naked body. To soak your beauty in. When he had enough of the view he ran his rough hands over your soft breasts, toying with your nipples. He brought his lips down to your breasts and pressed a kiss between the two.

“Ya know, I’ve wanted to do this since I met ya, princess.”

You smirked at him and removed his shirt, “Really? Is there anything else you’ve been wanting to do?”

“Well, yeah, a couple of things, actually. Now that you ask.”

You put your hands on the buckle to his belt and pull it. It releases, “I see. Care to share with the class, Mr. Logan?”

He put his hands over yours and pulled his belt off, tossing it onto his shirt. He popped the button of his jeans and undid the zipper. Then the thought of you sucking a long thick cock came into your head. Logan smiled at you. You returned it and got on your knees. You pulled down his pants and boxers, allowed him to step out of them and then looked up at your daunting task. He was huge. While a little above average length, he was very girthy. Your hand couldn’t fit around him on its own if you tried. You lifted your lips to his cock and gently kissed the tip of it.

”Fuck,”  He let out a gruff moan, “y/n.”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards as you took him into your mouth. You moved your mouth forward and back while you found his eyes locked onto yours. His eyes worshiped you even from this position. Soon you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. Logan pulled back and he slipped out of your mouth. 

“Princess, if you keep it up, I won’t be able to fuck you the way I can smell you need it. Now get up here and kiss me.”

You obeyed. His cock was squished between the two of you. Logan pushed you back into the counter, lifted you up, and sat your bare ass on it. You yelped at the cold granite counter top. Logan stopped in his tracks and looked at you with concern. 

“I’m okay, just cold,” You reassured him.

“Well, let's fix that,” he smirked and knelt down on the floor in front of you. Logan steadied his rough calloused hands on your thighs and bent his head toward your core. You felt a warm wet tongue lick a strip up to your clit. You sighed in pleasure. He worked his tongue and lapped at your clit as he hummed against you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, Logan.”

You could feel the scruff of his trim beard tickle the insides of your thighs as he smiled. You ran your hands through his headband tugged gently. He inserted a finger into your pussy and you gasped, not ready for him to do that so quickly. He worked his mouth and his fingers in unison. You squirmed under his touch. Logan added a finger to your pussy and you swore, “fucking hell.”

“You good, princess?” he said into your pussy, making brief eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” you said breathily, “keep going, Logan, please.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He dove back into your core and licked in circles at the bud of your clit. You moaned and tried to squeeze your legs together, but Logan’s head and other hand stopped you from getting too far. You could feel the knot in your core tightening and tightening, it was not that far off from bursting. 

“I’m close, Logan, Really close.”

“I want you to cum on my mouth, princess,” he said gruffly against your core before returning to his pleasurable assault on your clit. 

Your hips involuntarily bucked up and you cried out Logan’s name. Pure bliss radiated throughout your body. Logan returned to his standing position and brought his lips to yours. You could taste your sweet juices on his lips. 

“Are you ready to take my cock, y/n?” 

You nodded, unable to speak yet. That was all Logan needed for him to pull you to the edge of the counter, line himself up to your entrance, and push his way into your soaking core. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before he started to buck his hips slowly. You wrapped your legs around his waist. He hit your g-spot once, twice, and three times. You moan his name loudly and scratch your nails down his back. In return he pulled your hair not too gently but not enough to really hurt you.

“y/n,” he growled, “do that again and I might just finish before we’re done” 

You drew him in deeper with your legs. He grunted. Your hands roamed his entire body. His one hand toyed with your boob while the other was a steady constant on your back. 

He shifted you to hit your g-spot again. And you shouted out in excitement. The knot in your sore was tangling again. 

“Logan, I’m close.” You whispered into his ear. 

“Me too, Princess.” He thrust into you to punctuate each word. 

He sped up slightly. The knot came undone and you came on his cock. His moves became erratic. And he was not too far after you to spill his seed inside of you. He stayed inside you for a moment as the two of you hung onto each other and panted. 

When you pulled apart he looked you in your eyes and spoke softly, “come to bed with me, maybe company will stave off the nightmares?”

You nodded, still unable to speak. Slowly, the two of you dressed and went up to his room.

You fell asleep in his arms and slept the night away without any more nightmares.

[entitled-fangirl]

Dead batteries.

Jason Todd x deaf!reader

Summary: The reader's batteries to her hearing aids die. Dinner at the Wayne Manor was supposed to go smoothly.

Summary: anything that they sign is going to be in bold italics

Warnings: cursing, insensitivity to being deaf, the whole story not being proofread, Jason being Jason

Masterlist

........................................................

"Baby," Jason's voice called through the apartment. He shrugged off his coat, small concern running through him when there was no answer. He knew she was home. 

He began to walk through the apartment on edge. His gun was tucked against his back in his waistband. Just in case. Just in case. 

He threw the bedroom door open, startling both of them. "Fuck. Sorry," he apologizes with a hand up in surrender. As he took her in, he frowned. "Where are your hearing aids?" He signed.

"Dead," she signed back. "Ordering more." She gestured to the computer next to her. 

He nodded, taking out each weapon from his jeans (which was a lot), placing them on the nightstand, and joining her on the bed. He pulled her into his side, looking over her shoulder. "Until Thursday?" He whispered to himself. "That's a lifetime."

She felt his breath and craned her neck to look at him questioningly. He shook his head. When she didn't let up, he messily signed, "Long time to be without batteries."

She nodded.

"What about your backups?"

She set her computer down, sitting up to properly sign. "Haven't used in years. Better to go without."

"Some backups," he grumbled.

"Will your family be mad?"

"What?"

She sighed. "Dinner tonight."

He mouthed an 'oh.' "No. And if so, I would-"

She placed her hands over his, interrupting his threat.

…

Y/n!" Damien greeted, practically shoving Jason to the side. "I have to tell you about the guy I caught last night. It was so cool! Listen, so I jumped out of the Batmobile-"

"-Damien," Jason sighs. 

"-And it was like 'whoosh,' and I was like all cool and stuff-"

"Damien, she c-"

"And I chased him down this alley-"

Jason watched Y/n's eyes hold the panic inside her as she tried to follow what the kid was saying, but with his energetic motions, she was catching minimal words out of the jumble. Jason pushed Damien's head to the side. "Listen to me when I talk. Damn."

"I'm not even talking to you," Damien argued, going right back to his story.

"She can't hear anything. Her aids are out."

Damien froze. "Oh." 

Damien was the only one in the Batfamily that had yet to pick up sign language. With Cass, they had all begun to learn. And with the addition of Y/n, it quickly became intermixed with their everyday speech. Being a later addition to the family, Damien was slowly picking it up. Very slowly.

Y/n gave him a sorry expression. "Sorry. The batteries are coming Thursday."

He held a hand up. "Woah, woah, woah. I can't hear you when you do that."

Jason huffed. "Go away, demon brat." 

"I'll go when I'm ready," he sassed. "So I'll go now because I have nothing else to say. Not cause you told me to."

…

Dinner was a mix of speech and sign language, the family (for once) having a nice dinner.

Jason and Dick had found amusement in signing across Damien, acting like they were saying something top secret that he couldn't know. In reality, it was just random words like, "time, death,, cookie, day." To which Jason responded with, "leave doctor, dad." And then the two would bust up into hearty laughs, watching Damien turn red.

But the rest of the table ignored it.

"There's a new thing we're working on down in the cave. Wanna see after dinner?" Tim asked with his head down.

Steph heaved a heavy sigh, physically pushing his head up so Y/n could see his face. "Now actually ask."

"Sorry," he smiled with his cheeks full.

Alfred tapped on Y/n's shoulder, waiting until she turned around to speak.

Jason watched her face morph to complete confusion. She had always had problems understanding Alfred's accent. "Deaf," he muttered at Alfred.

"Oh," Alfred flushed. "Forgive me." He began to sign his question.

"She didn't even answer my question," Tim complained.

"She turned away before you finished," Steph reprimanded him.

"I got this," Damien gloated. He hit his fist on the table until he caught Y/n's attention. He spoke in a loud tone. "TIM ASKED IF-"

Jason's hand appeared out of nowhere, swallowing the kid's entire face and muffling him. He began shoving down until Damien had no choice but to go under the table. "I'll fucking kill you if you scream at her again."

"Jason," Bruce reprimanded.

"No, you favor the little shit." He ran a hand over his face. "Do I have to write it across her forehead for you guys to remember? Can't fucking do this-"

…

Dinner went smoothly after a 'Hello, I am' name tag was stuck to her shirt, the blank line reading "deaf" in Jason's messy handwriting. Bruce always had those for galas. 

But the car ride back home was rather silent. Hard to sign in the dark.

Once back inside their apartment, Jason had practically ripped the tag off her shirt. Just the sight of it annoyed him.

"Sorry we left early," she signed with a guilty expression.

He shrugged, pulling her jacket off and hanging it up. There wasn't much to say. They both knew that it had nothing to do with her. 'Love you,' he mouthed as an answer. He pointed at the book she'd left on the counter. "Leaving for patrol soon. Read while I'm gone?"

She nodded. "Almost done with it."

He nodded back. 

The two stood in the living room, just admiring one another. His arms opened and she all but melted into them.

He forced her head up so he could talk. 'Be good for me while I'm gone?' He mouthed.

She gave him a grin, mouthing back 'yeah.'

'Good.' He pulled her chin forward, connecting their lips with a softness that Jason was never thought to have.

...............................................

[writing-mlm]

Hi, may I request a Tim Drake x male!reader story ? The reader is androgynous, has a rock/punk style, is a Japanese exorcist who dislikes heroes, and has an impulsive, shameless, and slightly paranoid personality. A fluff piece, please. Sorry for asking a lot, take care of yourself !

Stay for dinner-breakfast

Summary: Tim’s in a situationship with someone who hates heroes, this is just great. Pairing: Tim Drake x Male!Reader Wc: 3.8k tags/warnings: Japanese reader, way too many Blue Exorcist references, small demon fight

When most people familiar enough with demons or even the Justice League mention needing an exorcist, minds immediately go to the infamous John Constantine. The guy who managed to trick God and Satan, making himself nearly immortal. The guy who, admittedly, could probably control most demons with the flick of his cigarette.

Tim’s mind, however, wanders to a guy he met during his time abroad. When he had to do some Red Robin stuff that took him to Japan. He reminisces about it as if it was decades ago, in reality, it was two years ago. Hardly even two years, if he’s being honest. But he rarely is. 

While Bruce and Dick argue about whether or not they should call up John (the last time they did, Constantine ended up summoning more demons to deal with the initial demons and then blew up a building to get rid of the extra demons) (it cost Wayne Enterprises too much to justify asking that man for help again) Tim fishes out his phone. It doesn’t take him long to find the contact; it’s been what… a week since you’ve last spoken. He’s texted exactly three people within that week; Kon, Bart, and Jason. Jason because he wanted to know if he could join a drug bust he knew Jason had coming up. 

The answer was no. 

The phone rings as he spins in the chair, waiting until he hears that it’s connecting. Seriously, it’s already been three whole rings, what’s the hold-up?

“Whaddya want, hero boy?” You ask without looking down at the phone. Probably because you’re jumping from the ledge of a roof to a lamppost and then to the top of a vending machine. 

“You busy?” He asks, looking at the mole underneath your jaw. He hadn’t known that. Your head tilts from side to side as you make a noise. 

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Glancing down at the phone, you wink and then pocket the phone. 

“There’s a demon in Gotham, could use the help.” He says, barely able to see as you’re fighting a demon. His eyes glance up at the contact name Okumura, unassuming to most because it is someone’s last name but to Tim, it’s so much more. 

He thought it was absolutely hilarious that you were an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother, and had the same hobbies as the anime where the main character is an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother. You didn’t think it was nearly as funny. The first time he mentioned it you kicked him from a rooftop— it was three stories, he was fine. 

“Like now?” You ask, picking your sword— just like the anime character, he’d gladly remind you— and cutting the demon in half with a mumbled but strong prayer. 

“Yes,” He nods, looking at the live feed of a demon messing up the finance district of Gotham. 

“Fine,” You grumble. “You’re lucky I finished my work for the day. See you in a minute.” 

“Kay, bye!” He hangs up and removes an earbud, calling for Bruce and Dick who haven’t stopped arguing. He wonders how they’d get anything done without him. They stop and look towards him as he waves his phone. “I have someone coming in for the demons.” He announces and Dick just hopes it’s not one of his friends from his YJ time. He cannot deal with those kids after finding out they watched Santa Claus get killed by a sentient meteor and then spent the next five months delivering gifts. 

“It isn’t Constantine, right?” Bruce asks, arms crossed and a disapproving glare ready to be plastered on his face. 

“That white man has nothing on me,” You chuckle, entering the Batcave through the door, spinning a set of skeleton keys on your index finger before putting them back into your pocket. Pointedly, Tim looks off to the wall with a see, anime guy look before turning back to the task at hand. 

“Who…?” Dick slowly asks while Bruce is having second thoughts about letting Tim back into the cave ever again.

“That’s Okumura,” He responds, standing up from the chair to greet you.

You’re wearing a pair of jorts— but the good kind, not the weird-looking ones— with hand-bleach-painted crosses on the leg, chunky beige leg warmers over a pair of shiny black loafers and an extremely large sweater that falls off your shoulder as you run down the stairs overtop a black turtleneck. 

There’s a pair of red shades on the top of your head, they curve at the top in a way that makes it look as though you have horns. Tim decides to not comment on the obvious joke he could make. But you can tell he wants to make it because of the glint in his eyes.

“Hello!” You nod without looking at them, too focused on not tripping over the steps, and give the group a small two-finger wave. “Tim calls me Okumura, it is not my name, though.” The hand that was doing the wave meets his hand and you do a funky little handshake before you look over at them for the first time. You frown, looking at their suits. It’s not even a frown, it’s damn near a scowl. You look at Tim who just shrugs; he would’ve thought you knew he was with his hero family.

“I’ll head out the demon; tell them not to follow me,” You tell Tim and he nods, sending you the location of the fight. While he does that, you look around for a different exit when you see his motorcycle parked, ready to go. “I’m stealing your motorbike again!” You call as you’re rushing over to it. 

“Kay!” He replies, head still buried in his phone. The motorcycle reeves to life as you jump on it; Bruce nearly stops you but the door to the cave is opening and you’re off faster than he can move. Slowly, he turns towards Tim with his arms crossed and a lecture waiting to happen.

“You better have a good explanation for that,” Bruce says once the door closes again. 

“That’s my exorcist friend,” He explains with a shrug. 

“You have friends outside of Kon?” Jason asks, a teasing tone to his voice but Tim can tell it genuinely surprised Dick. He doesn’t know if he should be hurt by that. 

“Yeah,” He shrugs. 

“And he’s an exorcist?” Bruce asks, looking at where the motorcycle once sat. He really hopes you don’t break it.

“Yup.”

“How did he get here so fast?” Dick asks, a little worried Tim was hiding a person in the manor.

“Funny story,” Tim smiles, looking up at them before looking down again, leaving them hanging. Jason grumbles, air strangling him while Bruce just sighs and looks back to the live feed. Thankfully you’d already arrived at the scene and to Tim and your credit, you’re dealing with the demons fairly easily. It’s surprising that your face is hidden from the public’s view, he hadn’t seen a mask but he also hadn’t seen the giant sword so. Probably some magic he won’t care about but probably should learn.

“Let’s go, fifteen Joker goons spotted around the site.” In a fluid motion, Tim puts his mask on and follows Bruce into the Batmobile. 

When Tim gets out of the car, he immediately finds you. You’re on top of a demon, riding it in the air while laughing and stabbing a nearby demon. He stops for a moment, wondering how you managed to wrangle a demon enough to sit on its back as if it were a horse. He then sees the knife in its head and he understands. He’s nearly jealous of the sight. 

Tim finally joins the others in the fight, narrowly avoiding the demons spawning from someplace he hasn’t found out yet. But you have, because you kill the flying horse demon and land softly behind Tim, cutting a demon away before it can sneak up on him. He shouts a thank you, pushing two goons back with his staff.

“I said no heroes!” You shout as you’re running past, heading towards a glowing manhole. How he hadn’t noticed it before; he won’t ever know. 

“Did he say no heroes?” Dick grunts, pushing back two goons that tried to jump him. 

“Yeah, he got issues with them.” Tim laughed before he was punched in the stomach by the goon he’d been fighting. He grumbles, holding the spot for a second before he knocks the goon out. “How many more are left?” He asks.

“Four,” Bruce says as he knocks out one of them. “Three.”

He goes to reply when there’s a loud explosion from the manhole and he looks over. Blue smoke rises out from the holes and he abandons trying to help the others fight the remaining goons in favor of finding you in the chaos. He doesn’t know what the smoke is but he assumes it’s some type of Joker Gas and he knows you’re not used to that. 

Putting a respirator on his face, he moves the manhole cover and jumps down. He squints into the blue fog, listening for noises but there’s a lot. There are hundreds of insect demons scurrying around him, hissing from the pipes, and he stops to really listen. He hears a string of coughs and follows it, the smoke getting thicker but he sees the faint outline of you lying on your back. 

“You don’ need a mask,” You huff, waving your hand in an attempt to move the smoke. “It is not poison.” 

“What is it?” He asks, removing the respirator as the smoke starts to clear, escaping up to the manhole. Your figure gets clearer, he can see your shirt and your hands resting on your stomach. 

“Spell,” You respond. “A… boobtrap for the talisman.”

“Boobytrap.” He corrects, putting the small device back into his pocket.

“That is what I said.” You blink, sitting up. He doesn’t fight you on that and helps you to your feet before he stops, hand still in yours. Now that you’re up close, he can really see you and when his eyes trail down, he inhales sharply and looks away.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” He says, covering his mouth with his free hand. 

“What? Did I get ugly? Do I look like you?” You ask, genuinely concerned as you pat your face but calm down when you feel your features. 

“Worse,” He grins and reaches around to grab your newly formed tail. “You really are Okumura now!” You shout, tugging at the tail only to wince because it’s connected to you. It only makes him laugh harder and you shout again, shaking him.

“This is not funny!” You tell him and then pause. “Thhhis,” You repeat and then cover your mouth. His eyebrows raise and, to his credit, he stops laughing. At least until you remove your hand and open your mouth, showing off the newly formed sharp canines. He barks a laugh and then pushes your hair away from your ear and you watch in horror as he spins on his heel to hide his expression. 

“You two okay down there?” Dick shouts from the top of the manhole.

“Fine!” Tim replies through his laugh. 

“That was one voice!”

“Fine!” You reply, even though you’re freaking out as your fingers trace over the suddenly sharp ears on your head. 

“I'm cursed!” You cry, dropping your head onto Tim’s shoulder, your ear nearly poking him in the eye. “This is your fault.” Pushing him away, you pick up your sword from the floor and resheath it with ease. “Never trust a hero,” You grunt, rushing over to the manhole.

“My fault?” He echos, following you out of the manhole. 

“You called me into your freaky city!” Climbing to the top of the manhole, you sit and kick his face. Not too hard, though. He shouts, holding his nose with one hand and the railing with the other. Standing up, you redo your hair over your ears and try to stuff the tail into your pants but it swings wildly and then wraps around something that’s behind you. 

When you look at what it was holding, you find it’s wrapped around Tim’s hand, helping him out of the manhole. 

“I think it likes you,” You grin despite yourself. 

“So, you like the tail?” He asks, checking his nose through the reflective metal of his staff. Thankfully his nose wasn’t broken, but it was throbbing in pain. Red on the end and he’s rubbing it with his free hand. You shrug, crossing your arms. 

“If it holds you like that,” Winking, he rolls his eyes under the mask and looks over at his family. Your eyes follow and you check your phone; there are no texts from anyone but you pretend that there are. 

“Wow, glad we settled that then.” He hums, smiling at you. 

“Mhmm, well, bye!” 

“Wait—“ He grabs the tail as you’re walking away and you grunt, eyes wide as you turn to look at him. Your eyes dart to and from the tail, watching as his fingers absentmindedly play with the soft furs on the end. “Stay for dinner, you did say I owed you.” When you first met, you’d gotten a glorious dinner and he ran into you, spilling it right into a sewer drain. You still think about that day and get upset. 

“Is it…” You cringe as you can’t find the right word. “American food?” He chuckles, remembering the countless videos you’ve sent him with angry and crying emojis. Hotdogs in jello, white bread soaked in water, mashed potatoes made out of potato chips, and boiled plain, unseasoned chicken with unwashed white rice.

“It’s not the American food you sent me.” He promises. “It’s good, I like it.” Your face scrunches as that’s not much to go off of; the man drinks Monster Energy’s like it's water. You’re sure it’s melted off his taste buds at this point.

“But you also like the vending machine cakes.” 

“It was good.” He defends. “But this is really good, trust me?”

“I wasn’t invited by B,” You glance over at the scowling Batman and glare back. Tim grabs your face, turning you to look back at him. You smile at him in a way that makes his stomach flutter and he clears his throat, dropping his hand. 

“Ugh! B, can he stay for dinner?” He asks, pressing his finger against his earpiece. 

“No.”

“He said yes,” He smiles and you struggle to still say no to him.

“I have to speak to the council about this—“ You gesture to your newly formed tail and ears. “Raincheck.”

Tim sighs but relents. 

“We’ll make your favorite next time; as a thank you.” He promises and you nod, waving before jogging up to a random door. The team watches as you pull out the keys and open the door, showing the headquarters of the council you work for. You wave again, your tail waving along before the door closes. 

“Better than Constantine,” Jason says as he looks at the ash on the ground. 

—

“That skirt does not go with that shirt,” Damian stops at Tim’s door, blinking at the oak door as Tim laughs. “I regret buying you VIP and custom makeup,” Now, Damian’s no idiot. He has friends and Jon, much to his chagrin, has gotten him into Roblox. So he knows very well that Tim is talking about Dress to Impress. 

“What? It looks cute!” Another voice defends, a voice that isn’t one he’s familiar with. He’d assumed Tim was talking to Kon, maybe Bart, or even himself. “You’re the one wearing a neon green fur hat when the theme is Victorian!” Carefully, he grabs onto the brass doorknob, pressing his other hand to the door and slowly turns it. 

“It’s camp,” Tim replies. He’s sitting on his bed with his legs crossed and laptop perched between them. Regrettably, he’s in an old band t-shirt and sweats; not company attire Damian would later remark. Across from him, sitting with their back to the door, Damian stares at the dangling sword earrings and then the tattered Eastern Youth shirt overtop a pair of leather pants. But his focus is on the tail swishing back and forth. 

“It’s ugly, just like your face,” You remark. Tim smiles, still looking down at his laptop, and moves his leg to kick you. You grab his ankle before he can and extend his leg, tossing your own over it. He shifts so both his legs are out and you naturally sit with your legs intertwined. 

Damian turns his nose up and leaves the room, the door softly locking behind him. 

“Pretty sure you weren’t saying that earlier,” Tim chides after the door had closed, watching as Damian’s footsteps leave from his door. 

“I did,” You hum, showing how you’d gotten first place and he’d gotten dead last. He rolls his eyes, leaves the game, and turns off your iPad. Next time he’ll just rig the game, clearly, the lobby didn’t understand his vision. 

“You should stay for dinner,” Your face contorts at the idea and you scoot closer to him until your ankles reach his back and his knees are at your ribs. “They’re not bad, not right now, at least.” He adds, messing with your studded belt. 

“I don’t like heroes, Tim,” You remind him. He frowns, eyes meeting your own. “And Bruce definitely will not welcome me after the curse,” Right, the whole demon curse. His eyes move to your tail that’s now wrapping around his left leg, the soft hairs brushing against his calf. While you’re not wrong, Bruce would have a heart attack if Tim was caught letting a demon (it's temporary, the council assured you) inside his house. 

“Fuck what Bruce has to say; I have my place! I run the company now, too,” He shrugs. 

“So why are we at the manor?” You tilt your head and he shrugs again. 

“Alfred offered to make my favorite for dinner because I haven’t visited since the whole demon thing.” You tut, leaning forward so your head rests on his chest. He looks at your awkwardly folded pose and pushes your legs. Getting the hint, you lift yourself and fold your legs underneath you. He lays his head on top of yours, using his phone behind your back. 

The two of you sit in silence until your legs go numb and you turn around, now watching as he scrolls through his socials. He shifts so one arm holds you close and locks his legs over yours while you hold his hand. 

Now, despite how it may look, you and Tim were not in a relationship. Nearly, you’ll both admit that much. But nothing that ever surpassed longing glances and touching that lasted far too long for the two of you to simply be friends. 

And that was for one simple reason.

Tim was a hero. 

You don’t hate heroes, simply a strong dislike towards them. For a multitude of reasons, enough for a twenty-page paper. Tim would know, he had you make one when you first rejected him. You don’t really trust them, all of them except for Tim. And maybe his strange friend Kon, but that’s about it. All of the rest can leave you the hell alone. 

Your phone buzzes and you spare it a glance; a call from your superior. 

“I gotta go,” You tell him but make no move to leave. He just hums, still scrolling on his phone. “There’s probably an attack and I’m needed.”

“That’s crazy,” He mutters, showing you a video of a cat lying down in an empty fishbowl. 

“And Alfred will probably come up soon,” The time is around when dinner is usually ready.

“Probably,” He agrees. Your phone starts ringing again and you stare at it. 

“I really should be going,” 

“You really shouldn’t.” He drops his phone to hold you with both arms.

“I’ll get in trouble,” You look up at him and he just blinks. “They’ll take my keys away.” He relents and lets you stand but you don’t move. He raises an eyebrow and you smile before flicking him with your tail and getting up. 

He spluttered at the hairs, wiping his mouth as you shoved your feet into your boots. 

“See you,” You wave before opening his bedroom door to your boss's room. He sees the woman sitting on the edge of her desk, dangling her phone. She sees him and you quickly shut the door. 

Flopping onto his back, Tim runs his hands down his face and stares at the ceiling. He rolls over and looks down at your iPad, deciding he’ll just keep it until you notice it’s gone.

—

“Still have an issue with me being a hero?” Tim asks as you’re cooking in his apartment. You’re making breakfast for dinner, considering he’d come back at three in the morning and you’d skipped breakfast in favor of dealing with some demons terrorizing school.

“Yes, Tim.” You reply, setting a third pancake onto the plate. He leans against your back, staring at the side of your face while making sure to be careful of your sharp ear. Your tail pulls him closer and he snickers. “The tail has nothing to do with me,” You grumble, side-glancing at him. 

“Even if I say pretty please?” He bats his long eyelashes, making sure that they tickle your face. 

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” You laugh, pushing his face away. With a small snicker, he pulls his face and adjusts his grip on you. Tim sighs into your shoulder and then steals a piece of bacon, narrowly avoiding the slap from the spatula.

“Can I just be the one hero you like?” He hops onto the counter, watching as you continue to cook. 

“You already are,” You watch from the corner of your eye as he flicks his hair out of his face, studying you. He watches you for another minute or two, offering up forks when it’s time to plate the food. He’s clearly thinking as he pours the cups of juice, smiling while he jumps back on the counter before he eventually speaks up. 

“Can I take you on a date, then?” He asks, eyes flickering from the last pancake to your face. Pausing mid-flip, you shrug. Taking a moment to think about it, Tim watches as your tail slowly moves side to side before it settles on the back of the couch.

“It would be faster if you just kissed me, if I’m being honest.” You chuckle and his eyebrows raise. 

“You’re telling me all of this could’ve been avoided with… a kiss?” He slowly asks and you nod, turning the fire off and then moving to be in front of him. He reaches for you, his fingers curling under your jaw as you stare up at him. Opening his legs, you sit between them and mess with the hair around his face. 

“I just wanted to see some initiative,” You hum and he rolls his eyes before crashing his lips into yours.

[red-takami]

Hello red I hope you are doing good! I wanted to ask about your Navariah dr.

Whats it like there?? Can you tell us story-times or anything of the sort? It sounds magical and I would like to know more :)

-🪆

Sorry this took me so long to answer, it's been a weird couple of days. Anyway! I also got this question here 👇🏽 I'll be answering both.

What is it like in Navariah?

In Navariah, the continent is one absolute humongous landmass and is the only one on the planet. There are islands all around the borders and coastlines, some even sort of far from the landmass that belong to Navariah.

In Navariah, there are different breeds of humankind. Lizardis, Deer folk, Eleven's and a race that had gone extinct - the coal.

In Navariah, schooling and education is free. There you're allowed to use your Magic (Soul) for whatever you desire, and can turn that into anything. The place is so large that the difference in geography depends on where exactly you are in Navariah, you can experience, learn, and work with different things.

In Navariah, I am one of the two military commanders/generals, I work under the royals. There are 26 military squads that work in specific areas to keep Navariah running as smoothly as possible.

In Navariah, there are things that I couldn't have ever dreamt about before shifting there. The way Magic, Culture, and the history of Navariah is embedded into everything you'll ever encounter there is unlike anything I've seen. It grew on me of course, hence why I stayed for so long LMAO.

How has being in a different reality other than my Cr for so long, changed me?

Over the years I spent in Navariah, I went to school. I graduated. I gained knowledge of stuff that is taboo here. I fought. I met people. I experienced life in a completely different light than ever before. The literal chemistry of my brain, has changed due to my time spent in Navariah.

See it this way, imagine you spend your entire life in one country with specific things that were practically drilled into your mind since birth. You understand life on earth, in that country surrounded by that land and it's people/culture from a first person view, you know nothing else as personally as you know your home. Then, all of the sudden you make the split decision to drop everything. I mean everything, and leave to another country across the world where things are like white to black in comparison to your old home. You're forced to learn the basics of that land, you're forced to start from scratch as everyone else did there. You grow over time, you begin to understand and SEE things differently than you did before - you gain a specific perspective. That, is exactly what happened when I shifted to Navariah. It was bound to happen you guys, almost a whole decade? Of course I'd be different than before I shifted.

I find myself genuinely thinking about Navariah every single day since I shifted back. It's in everything I do, as if I had just gotten back from that (at first) foreign country and had HELLUVA time and still remember everything like it was a suupperrr long but very enjoyable and productive vacation.

Thank you all for reading this yap. Happy Shifting!

[yezhi1k]

Flowers & Cherries chp.3 (Jinx x Reader)

(Had to re-upload, sorry, it got corrupted on my end, not sure if it showed up for anyone else)

Notes: SMUT ALERT!!! Yes, we finally got here. Sorry for taking so long, work and uni are currently making my life a little hectic. Apologies in advance for any typos, I am sure there are plenty, but I am very very very bad at proofreading. Also, pretty please read the CWs carefully! (also also, as usual, all my stuff is on AO3, under MisanthropicMoose).

Summary: After your whole gang is wiped out, you wake up at Jinx's place unharmed. You are angry at her, and she decided to make it up to you in a very special way.

CW: nsfw, dubious consent, edging, overstimulation, sex toys, descriptions of syringes/injections, very brief mentions of addiction/murder/suicide. Minors DNI!!!

A warm, heavy darkness enveloped you. It was almost humid; waves of it cascaded down your arms and legs, pressurized your head. You wondered whether you’ve died. While you were still alive, you never gave much thought to the afterlife. You liked to keep things simple: you live, then you die, and then nothing. Whether you’re good, whether you’re bad, whether you save starving orphans or set churches on fire. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. It was easier that way, you didn’t feel like you had to keep track of your sins. When your parents were still alive, they took you to a small, dingy church further topside sometimes, whenever your mother’s nervousness set in. You didn’t care much for it then. None of the very few kids there did. Did you care for it now? If you had the opportunity, would you atone for anything? There was plenty to atone for, of course. But would it make a difference?

You brought your attention back to the darkness. It pressed onto you from every direction, like a cocoon. Your thoughts drifted to reincarnation. Many years ago, you found yourself undercover at a brothel. You were looking for someone who frequented it. Who was it? Didn’t matter now.

You didn’t want to look suspicious, so you hired a girl. You couldn’t remember much of her now, except that she was tall and smelled of caramel.  

“So,” you remembered her voice. Velvety, almost baritone, “What are you looking for tonight?”

You remembered the tips of your ears tingling slightly at the question. You knew you couldn’t sleep with her, you were on the job and had to stay focused. But even if you could… You remembered being attracted to her, very much so. Her skin looked silky smooth and reflected, in an almost iridescent way, the light of the candles. You remembered your eyes lingering on her long fingers, wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. Her big eyes, glistening at you from underneath fluffy eyelashes. You remembered shifting on the plush sofa, changing the cross of your legs. You remembered wanting her, in a way you knew people wanted one another. And you also remembered a weird, invisible, all-powerful force holding you in place, not letting you act on those desires. It wasn’t a sense of responsibility or duty, you knew that much. Was it guilt? Was it that, out of all the immoral and low shit you have done up to that point, that was something you felt like you had to atone for?

You didn’t have answers for any of those questions then. So, you said you just wanted to talk. She didn’t seem surprised. You were sure that that wasn’t the weirdest request she has ever gotten. Probably not even the weirdest thing she had to do that night. Easy money, if you will.

You let her do most of the talking. Partially because you were still on the lookout for your client, partially because you didn’t know what to talk about. She sunk into the sofa, swirling and delicately sipping her wine. She told you about her life: she was from a middle-class family, one of those that lived closer to the surface, but still technically in the undercity. She attended an upside boarding school for gifted girls, on a scholarship. Her first kiss was with a classmate, in a broom closet, she told you, leaning in closer and lowering her voice slightly, as if she was revealing a terrible secret. Much later, in her final year of school, she tried a boy. Didn’t like it very much, she confessed, scrunching her nose playfully. You let out an understanding scoff. You have never slept with a man, but having to seduce drunk bastards on a semi-regular basis was unpleasant enough.

She was a good student, excelling particularly in botany. She loved plants, flowers, trees, all of the things that were so scarce in the undercity. Secretly, she dreamt of bringing the lush greenery to the fissures, somehow figuring out a way to make it flourish in the toxic air. It would greatly improve air quality, she said. People would be healthier, and happier, surrounded by plants.

But then, a tragedy, too common in the undercity, struck. Her father became addicted to shimmer. It was a rapid descent. To that day, she did not know how he even came into contact with it, or what compelled him to take it. But he did. And he lost all semblance of humanity. It’s like he was replaced, she said somberly. Her father died, and in his place was a monster. She begged her mother to leave him, to run away, to retreat deeper into the undercity, if that’s what it took. But she stuck by him. She loved him. And during one of his shimmer-induced episodes, he killed her. And then, in a moment of clarity, during which he understood what he had done, he jumped off the bridge between the upper and under cities. Her mother was buried at a local cemetery, and his body was never found.

She left school the day she found out. Everything seemed pointless then. Flowers wouldn’t save the undercity, she realized.

But she had to live. And after several unsuccessful attempts at finding a job, she found herself on the steps of the brothel. At the time, she thought it would be a quick, temporary gig. Just to gather some money to get her life on track. But then she never left. Surprisingly, in this place, looked down on by the rest of the world, she finally felt accepted. At peace, even. Upside, she constantly had to pretend to be better off than she was. She had to act as though she went on vacations during school breaks, as opposed to retreating to the undercity, that her birthdays were spent at opulent restaurants and not in dingy bars, where the air was thick with smoke and gaseous remnants of shimmer. But here, surrounded by other people down on their luck, she felt as though she could breathe freely. Topside air, she said, despite all their plants and flowers, hurt her lungs.

The night went on, the guy you were looking for was nowhere to be seen. You gave her a brief rundown of your life, entirely made up, of course. Then your conversation turned theological.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked.

You furrowed your brow.

“I… am not sure what that means.”

She giggled and put her petal-soft hand on your shoulder, stroking it lightly.

“Well, some people believe that when you die, you are reborn, as someone or something different. Do you believe that?”

You thought about it for a moment. She continued rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder, and waves of warmth rushed through your body.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered, “I like to think that once we die, that’s it. Then there is nothing.”

“That’s a depressing way to think.”

“Works for me,” you shrugged, “I hope that the things I’ve done won’t catch up to me.”

She tilted her head to the side, a lock of hair falling onto her forehead.

“You don’t seem like the type of person to do bad things.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. In a sudden spur of confidence, you reached out and brushed the hair out of her face.

“I do. I promise.”

Were you being reborn now? The cocoon of darkness enveloping you, was it a new womb? Were you about to see the light of the outside world for the first time again?

Your pondering was interrupted by something cold and wet brushing your forehead. A chill ripped through you, starting from your head and moving down to your toes at lightning speed. And then your face was brushed again. And again. And again.

Suddenly, everything went white. Your eyes, now open, rotated in their sockets wildly, trying to find anything at all to focus on. You were blinking furiously, trying to shed the milky film from the surface of your eyeballs. You tried to move, but something was holding your arms and legs down. All you could do was blink and shake your head.

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s okay, I’m here, don’t thrash.” You heard a familiar voice. Jinx. It was Jinx.

Your surroundings came into view slowly. The first thing you saw was the blinding light of a lamp above you. You squinted your eyes instinctively and looked away. With every passing second, other things appeared before you. Walls, painted purple, a desk leaning against one of those walls. You could make out tiny nuts and bolts and other parts scattered across its surface. A wooden door.

You turned your head to the side and came face to face with Jinx. Her eyes were big, almost concerned, but mostly just curious. Being this close, you were able to make out the faintest whisper of freckles on her face. The microscopic cracks on her lips.

She held a moist rag in her hand. When you stopped thrashing around, she smiled down at you and brought the rag to your face. The same sensation as before. That’s what it was.

Your mind raced. You were now able to make out that you were laying on something soft and springy. A bed? A bed! It was a bed! Not your bed though, your one wasn’t quite this big. Then who’s? Jinx’s?

“Jinx?” your voice came out strained and raspy. She raised an eyebrow at you inquisitively.

“Where am I?”

“At my place.”

You scrunched your forehead. An all too familiar, sharp pain was resurfacing.

“Why am I at your place?”

Jinx gently tilted your chin so your eyes would meet hers again.

“Because I blew your gang up, and you got hurt.”

A strained groan ripped out of your throat. Memories of the latest events refilled your mind. You were at the courtyard, and then something in the bushes caught your attention, and then… You started drawing a blank, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Why?” was all you could utter. You weren’t sure how you felt. You were angry, yes. Incredibly angry. Furious, even. But not because Smeech and his goons were gone. It was something else, something less personal. It was the same feeling as the one you got when a neighbor’s toddler toppled over the pile of rocks you spent all morning building as a child. Scorching pain rose from the back of your head to your forehead.

You suddenly felt a warm breath on your cheek. You cracked your eyes open and saw that Jinx’s face was mere inches away from yours. Her eyes looked even bigger now, sadder.

“Please don’t be angry at me,” she whispered. For a moment, both of you were silent. You tried to collect your thoughts.

“Jinx,” you said, as sternly as your dry tongue could manage, “What happened?”

Jinx huffed and left your field of vision for a moment. You tried to sit up, but something was holding your arms and legs in place. You looked up at your hands and saw that they were bound to the bedpost with something resembling a thick ribbon. The same was true for your ankles.

“Jinx?” you called out. Suddenly, a weight came down on you. Before you could process anything, Jinx’s petite figure was sitting on your stomach, thighs on either side of your body. Your breath caught in your chest; she was so close now. Sweet-smelling heat radiated off her body. Her hands were encasing your head, her long blue bangs hanging down on you, tickling your nose.

“Silco gave the order, obviously,” she started. Her chest brushed against yours, and you suddenly felt the hardness of her nipples under her shirt, “I begged him to keep you alive, and he agreed. Tried to get you on our team. But you had to be stubborn,” she whispered the last sentence, dipping her head down to your ear. You instinctively tried to squeeze your thighs together, but the bindings on your ankles kept you in place. You did your best to steady your breathing.

“Why did he decide to kill them? What did they do?”

Jinx lifted her head back up and looked you in the eyes. You could have sworn you noticed a glint of magenta in her blue eyes. But that couldn’t have been true.

“They were stealing shimmer.”

The words took a few seconds to register in your mind. Smeech and his goons were… stealing? From Silco? That was beyond ridiculous, even for someone as dumb as Smeech.

“That’s impossible,” you shook your head, “I didn’t know anything about it. They wouldn’t do something like that.”

“And yet, they did. They didn’t tell you because they would have to give you a bigger cut.”

You blinked up at her. No way. No fucking way.

“They started almost as soon as we hired them. It was small at first, Silco even thought for a bit that his books weren’t adding up because he’s getting old. But then they got bolder. Some even started meddling with the Firelights. Your lot would let them steal freely, and in return they got a portion of the stock,” Jinx’s eyes narrowed, “We didn’t want a big fuss, so we decided to let y’all do your thing, and figure out who exactly was participating so they could be dealt with… privately. But it turned out almost everyone was in on it. The only dummies left out were you, and that one kid you took in several months ago.”

She suddenly grinned widely at you.

“He agreed to switch immediately. Smart kid. But you were just begging to skip right on into the grave.”

 Your head was killing now, and you shut your eyes again.

“Does it hurt?” you felt Jinx’s lips against your ear. All you could do was nod. This wasn’t real. None of this could be real.

She lifted off you, and you heard her footsteps get further away. They then got closer again. You cracked your eyelids open.

She was standing over you with a syringe of purple liquid in hand, looking over you curiously. Your body thrashed. It was shimmer again. Jinx cupped your cheek in the palm of her hand, grazing your cheek lightly with the long nail of her thumb.

“Shh… It’s okay. It’s for the pain.”

Before you could answer, you felt a cold needle press against the side of your neck. A small, pathetic yelp escaped your throat as it broke the skin, and you felt the liquid enter your vein. It tingled, sent a shiver down your spine. A sigh slipped past your lips as the pain started melting away. It was as though a fire was put out on the inside of your head. Your eyelids fluttered down slightly.

But then, a new sensation started taking over. It was small at first, a little warmth at the pit of your stomach. You didn’t even notice it at first. But the warmth grew; it spread from the pit of your stomach down between your legs. You felt something resembling a dull ache, not painful per say, but as though every nerve was firing off at your core. Your thighs tried in vain to squeeze together again, your breath exhilarated. You felt a bead of sweat start forming near your brow.

“Jinx… this stuff feels weird,” your voice came out in a breathy whisper, unfamiliar even to you, “Doesn’t feel the same.” 

The blue-haired girl leant over you, studying your squirming form. Her palm found the top of your head, and she stroked you gently.

“That’s because it’s not the same,” she cooed, tilting your chin to meet her gaze again, “Silco’s stuff is nice. Expensive. He keeps it locked away most of the time. I could break into his cabinet, of course, but I’ve got my hands on this stuff. Almost the same, but it has… a side effect. So, it’s considered a failed strand. I wouldn’t say so though.”

You tried your best to keep your cool as strange feelings roared through your body.

“What’s the side effect?”

Jinx laughed, then climbed on top of you again, painfully slowly. Her pelvis came down on yours, and you couldn’t feel but let out a small moan. You prayed she didn’t notice.

Jinx was sitting on top you now, arms crossed, looking down at you with her head tilted. Your eyes drifted from her face down to the delicate curve of her neck, down her chest and toned waist, before landing on the blue cloud tattoo on her hip. Her hips had the slightest bit of fat on them, and they looked so supple. Grabbable. Bitable, even. What the fuck are you thinking about?

“I think you know,” saying that, Jinx bucked her hips slightly, generating the smallest bit of friction between your bodies. Your head fell back onto the pillow, and you had to bite your lip to stifle whatever sound was about to come out. The fire from your head migrated to your body now.

You desperately tried to stay in control of the situation.

“Alright, very funny. Untie me now,” you hissed through gritted teeth, trying to seem composed. By all accounts, you were not doing very well.

Jinx lifted an eyebrow at you.

“Are you angry?” she asked. You couldn’t help but let a mean laugh rip out of you.

“Yeah? Obviously? You think you get to blow up my entire gang, erase years of my hard work, and that I won’t be angry at you?”

You saw Jinx’s expression fall ever so slightly, before restoring back to the smug look she had on before. She reached out her hand and stroked the side of your neck. Her nails scraped your skin softly. You tried your hardest not to react as she traced a sensitive spot near the base of your jaw.

“I figured you’d be angry,” she muttered, bringing her mouth to the shell of your ear. You yelped as she nipped the very corner with her teeth, “I will make it up to you, though.”

You turned your head and looked up at her.

“And how are you planning on doing that, exactly?” you tried to sound angry, but to your horror your voice came out soft, whiny, needy. Jinx’s eyes had a dangerous glint to them.

“Well,” she started, grinding down on your crotch slowly, watching your face keenly for any shadow of a reaction, “I see the way you look at me. The way you looked at me from the very beginning,” her mouth found your ear again, “you want to fuck me, don’t deny it. I see the way you stare at my tits when you think I’m not looking.”

You tried to interrupt her to defend yourself, but she pressed her finger to your lips.

“I like you too,” you felt her fingers get tangled in your hair and pull slightly. Your chin was tilted upwards now, neck fully exposed, “I was going to fuck you myself, at first. But I figured, you’re older, you’re so serious all the time. You would probably want to make the first move. So, I waited,” her knee suddenly moved in between your legs, pressing up to you, pushing your thighs apart, “I waited, and I waited, and I waited, but you wouldn’t do a thing. Just kept eye-fucking me, and that’s it. You know how frustrating that is, hm?”

Jinx’s knee bobbed lightly, sending jolts of electricity through your core. You clamped your teeth shut, trying not to embarrass yourself. Jinx sat up and looked down at you again. Her chest was heaving a little, and a faint blush spread through her cheeks.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” she hummed, still teasing you with her knee. You felt a wetness start forming, and you feared she would make a mess of her pant leg, “Anything you want. What do you like, hm? Do you like to be rough? You like to pull hair? Want to call me names? Or are you more of a receiver?”

Your brain felt like it was melting. You didn’t know what to say, your lack of experience more evident than ever. Jinx’s face suddenly came down to your neck, and you felt her hot, wet tongue slide from the base of your neck up to the corner of your jaw. You couldn’t hold back anymore; a high pitched, lewd sound filled the air. You felt Jinx snicker against your neck.

“So eager,” she said, looking deeply into your eyes, “So, tell me. What do you want?”

There was no lying your way out of this one. You squeezed your eyes shut out of pure humiliation.

“I… I don’t know.”

Jinx’s nails, still tangled in your hair, scratched at your skull gently. Her voice softened, as though she was talking to a startled animal.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sure whatever you are into isn’t that weird.”

You felt tears of frustration and shame form in the corners of your eyes. The shimmer coursing through your veins seemed to heighten more than just your physical sensitivity.

“I don’t know what I’m into! I’ve never done… this before, I don’t know.”

A silence filled the room. You cracked one of your eyes open and peeked and Jinx. You expected her to laugh at you. Maybe look at you in disgust, or with pity.

But, as your eyes met hers, you saw something entirely different, and your stomach churned. Her jaw tightened, and there was no mistaking it now: the hue of her eyes shifted from ocean-blue to magenta. The grip on your hair tightened, and you let out a pained cry. She looked over you with a newfound curiosity. There was something borderline predatory in her eyes.

“No way,” she said finally, loosening her grip. Her thumb came down onto your cheek and she stroked it, head tilted, studying you.

You stayed silent. You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Jinx planted her hands either side of your head.

“You haven’t been deflowered? Haven’t had your cherry popped?” her voice had a mocking tinge to it. You couldn’t keep looking her in the eyes, and you turned your head to look at the wall. Jinx grabbed your cheeks and turned your face back to her roughly.

“Tell me,” her thumb was grazing your bottom lip now, “Did I get that right?”

All you could do was nod. A devious grin spread across Jinx’s face, and she suddenly pushed her thumb into your mouth. You were too caught off guard to fight her, and her thumb planted onto your tongue. She forced your mouth open and watched you for a moment, smearing saliva all around your mouth and on your bottom lip. You knew you looked pathetic, tied up, Jinx’s thumb in your mouth, and all you could do was keep staring up at her.

“How did you even manage that, huh? You’re so cute, I was sure someone has gotten to you by now,” Jinx whispered. You decided you were going to make a last-ditch attempt to escape. The embarrassment was too much.

“Jinx, untie me, please,” your words were muffled with your mouth obstructed.

A cackle, an almost maniacal laugh, came out from somewhere deep within Jinx, and she shoved her thumb deeper down your throat, almost making you gag.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding. No way I’m doing that now,” thumb still in your mouth, she planted soft kisses up your neck and nipped your earlobe, “I’ve never gotten to break in a virgin before, no way I’m letting you go.”  

Her lips found the sensitive spot on you neck and planted onto it tightly. You felt her kiss and lick at the spot, coaxing whines and mewls out you didn’t know you were capable producing.

“After all,” she muttered in between kisses, “you wouldn’t want the entire Zaun to find out that Smeech’s right hand, the living nightmare of dozens of gangsters, is a little  pathetic virgin,” she suddenly bit down on the soft flesh.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. There was nothing you could do, really. Your limbs were still immobilized, and Jinx was seated firmly on top of you, pressing your pelvis and torso into the bed. And on top of it all, you felt so incredibly warm. Scorching. Your blood became infused with burning humiliation and desire. With one hand still in your hair, Jinx took her fingers out of your mouth and glided them down your neck and chest, leaving a trail of purple shimmering saliva. She grabbed a handful of your breast and squeezed lightly. You didn’t typically wear a bra, being happy with just an undershirt, and you felt her sharp nail graze against your nipple through the fabric. A spark of pleasure ran up your nerves as you tried to stifle another moan. You weren’t sure why you felt so embarrassed; deep down, this is what you wanted since the moment you met Jinx. So, now that she was feeling you up and you were entirely at her mercy, why did you feel such deep seeded shame?

Jinx was playing with your nipple through your shirt now, pinching and tugging lightly, occasionally running the sharp nail of her index finger over the hardening bud. The pressure between your legs built up mercilessly, and you desperately wanted to feel more, for her to do more. You bucked your hips instinctively, trying to generate more friction between your groin and Jinx’s knee. She snickered and tugged harder at your hair, forcing you to look her in the eyes again.

“Are you that desperate already? I’ve barely touched you, and you are already humping my knee,” she lowered her hand from your breast, fiddling with the hem of your shirt now, “I mean, I knew virgins are easy, but you are being outright slutty.”

Without a warning, she latched onto the hem of your shirt and pulled in up over your breasts. Your nipples fully hardened in the cold air. You saw Jinx’s eyes travel down, and she looked over your body with curiosity. You felt as though your face couldn’t get any warmer, and yet with every passing second more blood seemed to rush to your cheeks.

“How pretty,” she muttered, running the pad of her thumb over your nipple. You couldn’t hold in your moan, and it came out in a hoarse squeal. Jinx continued to play with your chest, occasionally moving from one breast to the other. Your thighs squeezed tighter around her as she rolled one of your nipples between her fingers.

She looked you in the eyes as her mouth lowered towards your chest. She planted a soft kiss onto your collar bone, then started slowly moving down. Her lips suddenly latched onto the flesh of one of your breasts, forming a seal. She sucked harshly, coaxing soft yelps out of you as she sucked in more air. When Jinx pulled away, a scarlet mouth-shaped mark was left on your breast, and she admired her work for a second before taking your hard nipple in her mouth. It felt warm and wet as she swirled her tongue around the bud, coating it in a thick layer of saliva. You couldn’t help but throw back your head, not holding back your voice now. It reverberated through the room, bouncing off the walls, and you wondered whether anyone could overhear you. As if reading your thoughts, Jinx nipped your nipple with her teeth, eliciting a louder scream. She then moved over to your other breast, toying with your abandoned nipple with the bad of your thumb as she sucked on the other one. You writhed against her, and she shifted more of her weight onto your torso to keep you in place.

With her lips still wrapped around one of your buds, Jinx glided her hand down to your crotch, palming you through your trousers. The newfound pressure was intoxicating, and you bucked into her hand, almost sobbing from how much you wanted her to touch you. Her fingers circled over your entrance, and you could see now that your wetness soaked all the way through the fabric.

“So fucking wet for me,” Jinx cooed, picking up the pace a little. Her mouth found the lobe of you ear and she took it between her teeth, nibbling softly as her palm continued its attack on your crotch. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Jinx, please…” your voice came out small, higher pitched than normal. She tilted her head, observing your expressions with a mischievous glint in her magenta eyes.

“Please what?” she teased, dragging her nail across where your clit would be under the layers of fabric. You whined and tried to buck into her hand again, but her fingers sunk into the flesh of your hip and she pushed you down forcefully. Her other hand found your hair again and yanked your head back, leaving you panting.

“Please, what?” her voice was stern now. Your lip quivered as you found her eyes with yours.

“Please… touch me more,” you managed in a strained whisper. Jinx’s eyes softened, her grip on your hip getting lighter as she rubbed gentle circles on your hip bone now.

“Well,” she muttered, hooking her index finger under your belt, her eyes never leaving yours, “Since you asked so nicely…”

You felt her work at your belt, sliding it out of its loops and letting it fall off the bed onto the floor with a loud clank. Jinx then pulled at the zipper of your trousers and pushed them down over your hips, leaving them pooled around your knees. You were splayed out under her now, ankles and wrists bound to the bedposts, purple drool dribbling down the side of your mouth, tits exposed and covered in hickeys and saliva, with only a pair of cotton underwear shielding your soaked core from the air of the bedroom. Jinx seemed to enjoy the view, letting go of you and sitting up for a moment, eyes tracing every curve of your defenseless figure.

“What a little slut you are,” she said, softly grazing your clit through your panties, making you shudder in pleasure, “Imagine if your folk ever saw you like this, hm? I bet they wanted to fuck you the whole time you were with them,” she slapped your entrance softly, “And yet, I’m the one that gets to have a taste of you first. Isn’t that funny?”

The pads of her fingers were circling against your barely clothed, dripping pussy now. She started out agonizingly slow, but with every passing second, Jinx picked up her speed, letting louder and lewder sounds spill out of you. You were writhing against her hand wildly, chasing your high; you felt a knot start forming in the pit of your stomach, as if something inside you was going to burst. You’ve never felt this way before, but instinctually you knew that that burst would feel delicious. As you got closer, Jinx grabbed your cheeks with your free hand and forced you to look at her. She was taking in your expression, drinking up your desperation and want. Her thumb made it into your mouth again, smearing your spit all over your bottom lip.

“You wanna cum already?” she asked, the speed of her hand relentless against your crotch. You couldn’t produce any coherent words, resorting to simply nodding whilst letting out an unintelligible groan. Jinx’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she leaned in closer to your face. You felt the sweet hotness of her breath against your mouth, and you tried to lean forward to kiss her, but she yanked your hair, forcing your head to fall back onto the pillow. As you inched closer to your release you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation. You were so close, so painfully close, just a couple more seconds and you would–

Jinx’s fingers left your aching pussy in the last second. You let out a frustrated whine, bucking helplessly into the air, trying to generate any kind of friction, anything to bring you over the edge. You squirmed in frustration, the ribbon against your wrists and ankles digging deeper into your skin.

Your pleading eyes found Jinx’s. She was still holding you by the hair, studying your face, her other hand resting on your lower stomach now. She had a pleased smirk on her face, by all accounts she seemed to enjoy torturing you. Her facial expression quickly shifted into a mockingly sympathetic one.

“Ow, poor baby… What’s wrong?” her fingers traced your abdomen lazily as an aching want raged on between your legs, “Did you really think I was going to let you cum that easily?”

Your head fell back into the pillow in defeat, Below, you felt Jinx hook one of her long nails under the band of your sopped underwear and pull them down slowly, peeling the fabric away from your core and slipping them down to your knees in the same manner as your trousers. You were fully exposed now, and you could feel streams of your wetness cascade down your thighs onto the mattress. Jinx shifted down, planting kisses down your stomach until her mouth was hovering just over your entrance. Her eyes never left yours as she lowered her tongue slowly onto your clit. It was hot and wet, and you couldn’t help but moan as your hips jerked up. Jinx gripped both of your thighs and pulled them apart further, spreading you out in front of her. Slowly, she started lapping away at your clit, sending jolts of pure pleasure up your thighs. As heat started rising from within you again, she picked up the pace, her tongue gliding across your pussy and in between your folds, giving special attention to your throbbing clit. You could see her lips and chin become coated in your juices. Your wetness was also had a purple sheen to it, a common after-effect of taking shimmer. The room was filled with the sounds of your ragged moans.

Jinx’s tongue was dancing wildly over your clit now, and you felt your release rapidly approach again. It felt more intense this time, building upon your unresolved orgasm from before. With every lap Jinx took at your pussy your moans got louder, and you bucked into her mouth. Your mind was liquefying by the second.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. A wave of warmth spread from your groin throughout your body, a pleasant ache spread through your core, rolling through it again and again as screams of pleasure ripped through you. Jinx held down your hips and licked you through your release, every lick sending additional sparks through your body. You chanted her name like a prayer, wishing you could burry your hands in her electric blue hair.

When the fire in your core died down, Jinx pulled away from your pussy. Purple liquid was smeared over her mouth and chin, and she wiped some away with the back of her hand before lunging forward and crushing her mouth against yours. You tasted yourself on her tongue, the shimmer making your juices taste ever so slightly fruity. Her tongue pushed past your lips with ease, and all you could is moan into her mouth as she explored your mouth. Your tongue glided against hers, spit mixing with your wetness in a cacophony of flavors. You were breathless as she pulled away, a string of saliva hanging between your lips. She wiped her mouth and grinned at you.

“How was that?” her voice was cocky. She seemed incredibly proud of herself. You gazed at her through half-lidded eyes.

“So fucking good, Jinx,” you muttered, throwing your head back onto the pillow, trying to catch your breath. A pleasant warmth spread through you. You heard Jinx hop off the bed and move away into the far corner of the room. You closed your eyes, feeling the remnants of your orgasm swarm through your body.

You heard Jinx rummage around her cupboards. Opening your eyes, you saw her approach the bed with a small box. You lifted your head in curiosity, trying to figure out what was in there. She set the box down on the bed, a mischievous grin spreading on her face. You suddenly got scared.

“What’s that?” you asked carefully. You tried to figure it out, but your mind was still swarming from the pleasure, a sweet fog enveloping you.

Jinx glanced over at you and giggled.

“You’ll see.”

You tried to lean forward more as she lifted the lid off the box. In there were laid devices you were unfamiliar with. A couple of them were of a cylindrical shape, some with prominent ridges, others completely smooth. You looked at Jinx in confusion.

She snickered a picked a small, bullet-shaped device out of the box. It was completely smooth, except for a small button at the base. You watched in astonishment as Jinx pressed the button, and the device started buzzing in her hand. She climbed on top of you again, mysterious object in hand.

Without saying a word, she forced your mouth open and shoved the device inside; it vibrated against your teeth. Jinx swirled the object around in your mouth, coating it in your spit. When it was sufficiently lubricated, she pulled it out. Before you could ask what she was doing, she lowered the tip of the device onto your nipple. An intense pleasure shot through you, and you arched your back as the pleasant sensation rolled through your body. The moist, vibrating bullet felt amazing against your skin.

“You like that?” you heard Jinx ask. She was watching your reactions carefully.

“These are all prototypes,” she continues, swirling the toy around each nipple, “You’d be surprised how many people in the Undercity are after a good sex toy.”

The next thing you knew, the device was pressed up to your clit. Your whole body jolted, the sensation was too strong, the pleasure too overpowering. You tried to get away from the vibrator, but Jinx held you firmly in place as she continued her assault on your senses. The pleasure morphed into something resembling a dull pain. You sobbed.

“Jinx, please, wait, it’s too much,” you begged. All you heard was Jinx’s dark chuckle as she pressed the vibrator more firmly against you.

“You can take it,” was all she said. She slid the device up and down your entrance, circling your clit, and your vision went dark with pleasure. Your mouth hung open, your hips bucked and twitched in a directionless manner. Another wave of release washed over you quickly, so intense that it spread through your core in a sharp pain. A wail escaped you as you tried desperately to pull away from the vibrator that was still pressed against you. Jinx was giggling villainously now, evidently enjoying your struggle.

“Good girl, such a good girl… Shh, its okay,” she muttered over you as you cried, desperately thrashing, trying to move away from the toy. After a few more seconds, she finally took it off you. Sparks of pain and pleasure continued shooting through your core and abdomen as you tried to catch your breath. Your clit was red and swollen now, and the mattress underneath you was slick from your juices.

You watched Jinx as she tossed the vibrator onto the mattress and reached back into the box again. The cogs in your brain started turning as you realized what she was up to.

“Please, Jinx, I can’t take any more,” you whined, tears rolling down your face, core burning from overstimulation. Jinx didn’t answer. Instead, she reached backwards and pulled at the knots around your ankles, releasing them. She delicately massaged the red lines left on your flesh, before grabbing you by the hip and turning you over onto your stomach. You were still bound to the bedpost by your wrists, and the bindings around them tightened. You felt Jinx snake a hand underneath your stomach and pull your hips up, pushing your face down into the pillow by the hair. Your ass was now raised in the air, the cool air hitting your pussy, still soaked and throbbing. You couldn’t see what Jinx was doing, but you heard her rummage around in her box, presumably looking for a new toy. As she took her pick, her finger grazed the slit of your entrance. You heard her pick something out of the pile and spit on it. Your insides clenched in horrified anticipation; you were overstimulated beyond belief.

A choked cry escaped your throat as you felt something press up to you, teasing your entrance. It felt bulbous and wet from Jinx’s spit. You turned your head to the side and tried to find Jinx. You saw her, sitting next to you, holding up your hips in the air with one hand and pressing a phallic, ribbed object up to your dripping pussy. It was ribbed, with a large head. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to brace yourself.

“You think you can take it for me, hm?” you heard Jinx whisper in your ear, knowing damn well that it didn’t matter what you answered.

You felt the head of the dildo move between the lips, pushing into you. You whimpered and felt Jinx plant a gentle kiss onto your temple.

“Shh, you are doing so well for me. Don’t be scared.”

The toy slowly stretched you as Jinx pushed it further. With every new inch that entered you, you let out a pained moan, the ribbing on the base stretching you even further. The pillow was wet from tears now. Finally, you felt the base of the toy hit your ass as all of it was now planted inside of you, filling every inch. Jinx stopped moving it, letting you adjust to the size of the toy, your walls desperately trying to accommodate it. She planted soft kisses on your shoulder as you got used to the feeling.

After a few minutes, you felt Jinx start to slowly pull the dildo out of you. As each ridge moved through your walls, a half-pleasurable, half-painful sensation shot through you. You bit your lip as you felt the toy slide back in. Jinx was gently thrusting it in and out of you now, taking care not to go too quickly. The pain morphed into pleasure, and as small moans started spilling out of you, she picked up the pace. Her toy was hitting deep inside you now, the ridges massaging you from the inside. The speed only got faster, and you felt a string of drool fall from your mouth onto the pillow, your eyes rolled back. Your stomach felt tight, it was way too much, every thrust coaxed an animalistic scream out of you. Suddenly you heard a familiar click, and the dildo started vibrating. The combination of vibration and thrusts made you bite down on the pillow as hard as you could, your thighs spasmed and struggled to keep your hips up in the air.

“Does it feel that good, hm? You can’t even keep yourself up?” Jinx’s breath brushed your ear as she pounded away mercilessly at you. Your eyes rolled back into your skull. Another release was on its way, and you could already tell it would be more intense than you could ever imagine. Jinx’s finger snaked underneath you and circled your clit vigorously. Your screams couldn’t get any louder.

“Come on, cum for me. Cum for me, you fucking slut,” she hissed in your ear, “You like to be fucked so much, huh? You like when I fuck you? If anyone else tries to touch you, you will only think of me; my tongue, my fingers, my toys, me,” she took her hand away from your clit for a second to pull your hair, lifting your head slightly. Her mouth pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Tell me. Tell me you are mine. Tell me you are my little whore.”

You yelped as the grip on your hair got tighter.

“I’m yours, Jinx, I’m only yours. I’m your whore,” you whined, trying to choke down your sobs.

Satisfied, Jinx let go of your hair and started circling your clit again. You screamed, and a wave of pain and pleasure washed over you as she sent you over the edge. Your walls clenched around the toy, and you pressed your thighs together tightly as your hips shook uncontrollably. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed onto the bed, still twitching as Jinx pulled out of you.

As you laid on your stomach, breathless, small sequels still passing your lips, Jinx turned you onto your back again and climbed on top of you. She brought the head of your toy to your mouth and you, delirious, wrapped your lips around it, taking it deeply into your throat, cleaning off your juices. Jinx’s eyes were barely visible from underneath her eyelashes, but you could see a dangerous magenta glow emanate from them as she watched you lick the mess off the dildo. She pulled it out of your mouth with a loud pop and tossed it to the side. She quickly untied your wrists, planting kisses onto the raw skin, and plopped onto the mattress next to you. She pulled the covers over the both of you, and her arms snaked around your waist as she pressed her small body up to you from behind. She felt delicate and warm, it was hard to believe that mere moments ago she was ferociously fucking you, humiliating you, calling you names. Your eyes started fluttering shut as you felt her press small, quick kisses onto the nape of your neck. You tried to turn around to face her, but she held you in place.

“But, what about you?” you asked. You knew damn well you were in no position to return the favor in that moment, but that didn’t stop the guilt from bubbling up. You felt her chest rumble against your back as she giggled and brushed a lock of hair out of your face.

“Don’t worry about it for now. We will have plenty of time for that later.”

Tag list:

@kiaralee25

@fvckingeetar

[renn-aissance]

Mom Plays BG3: Ep.2 - “Look at Him, He Wants It”

She’s getting better at moving around. It’s hard to explain but she doesn’t turn the camera to look around before she starts clicking around to move 😀

Mom: “I’m trying to go behind me.”

Me: “You should turn the camera so you can look behind you.”

Mom: “I’m worried I’ll get lost.”

Me: “I know a way to help you from getting lost.”

Both of us: *Silence.*

Me: “The map-“

Mom: “The map.”

Mom: *Slowly turns the camera - Not because she doesn’t know how, she just turns it very slowly for some reason.*

Mom: “I think… I need to walk that way…”

Mom: *Immediately starts clicking the opposite way she wants to go.*

Me: “You can… check the map.”

Mom: *Keeps clicking for a bit then stops.*

Mom: *Checks map.*

Mom: “Oh I’m way off.”

Me (softly): “yeah.”

*Both of us laugh.*

She’s definitely getting the hang of things. She successfully got to Zevlor’s office by herself using the map 🥲 They grow up so fast.

Rundown of what she has done this time:

While we were starting the game up she said “I kept thinking about what happened. It kept me up, I couldn’t sleep just thinking about him (Gale) getting mad. He really rubbed me the wrong way. I don’t know about this guy.”

Saved the kid from the Harpies. Actually, she did that yesterday, but I forgot to add it.

Saved Arabella but after failing two persuasion checks. She was stressed throughout that whole interaction. Before that, she had talked to Arabella’s parents but didn’t know what was going on and told them “thieves deserve to be punished.”

“I didn’t know what they were talking about! To be honest I have no idea what’s going on. Or what any of this means.”

Her first reload. Luckily I had her save before that. She then told them they had their work cut out for them lol.

She took the wyvern toxin from Nettie. (Afterwards I told her “Oh, she tried to kill me when I wouldn’t take it. We fought to the death.” My mom was just like “…Well. Doesn’t mean I have to drink it. I’ll just keep it. I wasn’t gonna take it, are you crazy?”)

We long rested and she talked to all of the companions. I think she really likes Wyll.

Told Zevlor she’d kill Kagha.

She stopped the Tieflings from killing Sazza, but failed a couple of persuasion checks. Left Sazza in the cage.

Sazza: “I don’t need you.”

Mom: “Well… that’s enough of that.”

Also accidentally clicked to search the body of that first Tiefling who died at the gate when the Goblins attacked, and right in front of the one mourning over his body 😬 Gets scolded.

Mom: “I didn’t mean it! Let me see if the other one wants to talk…”

Mom: *clicks on other mourning Tiefling.*

Tiefling: “Can’t you see we’re mourning!”

Mom: “I just came over to say sorry.” (Booked it after lol)

Killed the Bugbear assassin and saved the tiefling by the telescope.

Talked to the Tiefling and learned about soul coins.

When her TAV had the coin in her hand and was looking at it, Gale was in the background smiling.

Mom: *Points at Gale.*

Mom: “Hm. Look at him, he wants it. Uh-uh. This guy’s trouble.”

My mom is not afraid to use the illithid powers. If there’s an option to probe minds, she does it immediately lol.

She went to that area with the spider egg pouch and Raphael showed up there which confused me. (I’ve just always had him show up at the bridge. I had her save). Here’s the thing about my mom - she’s pretty religious and doesn’t like ‘devil’ stuff lol I collect tarot cards and she HATES it lol. It creeps her out. So Raphael shows up and transports her to the House of Hope with the feast on the table and the fireplace. My mom knows nothing about this guy. Her immediate reaction:

Mom: “Now this is more like it.”

I’m sitting behind her so she can’t see my reactions to what she’s doing and I’m losing my shit, wondering if she’ll make the deal or not. She’s been so unpredictable so far so I genuinely don’t know what she’s gonna choose.

Raphael: “What’s better than a devil you don’t know… A devil you do.”

Mom: *Silent.*

Raphael: *blah blah blah wants your soul.*

She doesn’t make the deal. Chooses the options that are like “I would never make a deal with a devil.”

Talks to the companions after and succeeds a check to probe Sharty Bae’s mind.

Talks to Gale last about Raphael.

Mom: “Okay now THIS guy.”

Gale: “Do you feel as flattered as I do? Invited to dine with the devil…”

Mom: “Of course you do.”

Mom: *Turns to me.*

Mom: “This guy.”

Gale made some valid points that she didn’t disagree with. I don’t think that Gale can say ANYTHING without her thinking he’s up to something. He did not make a great first impression lol She did slap his hand before she pulled him out of the portal.

Said he was addicted to magic but still agreed to give him magical items to consume, but she’s not thrilled about the whole thing.

OH YEAH SHE TOLD ROLAN AND THEM TO LEAVE THE GROVE. I’ve done two playthroughs and didn’t do that, so idk if that’s gonna change what happens to the tieflings at all 😬

She also takes time to read whatever notes or books I point out to her. I told her she didn’t have to, but she ignores me to read.

My mom @ Gale:

[florencechase]

So I came across the Mayfair Witches thing with Lestat and Felix, and like pretty much everyone on here I was bummed but then I though about it for a very long time, went through the books again and… here’s how I think they can still make it work. Just as a disclaimer though, I’ve only fully read IWTV and TVL, and am currently like 1/3 through QOTD, so if there’s anything in the books after that that disproves my theory I’m sorry! But since the Lestat/Felix arc takes place towards the end of IWTV, I thought I’d still give it a go.

So the main issue here that people bring up is that if Lestat taught Felix to “cull the herd”, he can’t be book Lestat because book Lestat admits to only killing the “evildoers”, so why would he tell Felix to be so merciless? The answer: it’s complicated.

Lestat, the book and the show version, is unfortunately (or fortunately because that’s part of what makes him so interesting) a man who often does the opposite of what he says. I took a closer look at his first moments with Gabrielle after he turns her, and we have a similar situation in which he’s teaching her how to kill. Here’s an excerpt from it:

“I found a victim as soon as we had crossed the river […] [a]nd as I lured the victim out of the tavern, as I teased him, maddened him, and then took him, I knew I was showing off for her, making it a little crueler, more playful. And when the kill came, it had an intensity to it that left me spent afterwards.” (TVL, p. 147)

When he’s teaching others how to kill, he likes to show off. Simple as that. I’m sure the victim he chose was a criminal, like most his victims, but the point is he never told Gabrielle that. To her knowledge what Lestat just did was brutally murder some random man. Two pages later we have the following passage when Gabrielle makes her first kill and it’s the guy on the horse she ends up stealing the clothes from:

“I was shaken. The innocence of her victims didn’t trouble her. She didn’t fight my moral battles. But then I didn’t fight them anymore either, so why should I judge her? Yet the ease witch which she slew the young man – gracefully breaking his neck when the little drink she took was not enough to kill him – angered me tough it had been extremely exciting to watch. She was colder than I. She was better at all of it, I thought. Magnus had said, “Show no mercy.” But had he meant us to kill when we did not have to kill?” (TVL, pp. 149-150)

Lestat obviously doesn’t feel comfortable killing innocent people, but there’s not one scene in which he either tells someone he’s having moral dilemmas with it, or tells others they shouldn’t kill innocent people. It’s his thing, and it’s his struggle, but he never shares it until he writes about it in TVL. Here’s another excerpt that highlights this:

“When [Louis] says I played with innocent strangers, befriending them and then killing them, how was he to know that I hunted almost exclusively among the gamblers, the thieves, and the killers, being more faithful to my unspoken vow to kill the evildoer than even I had hoped I would be?” (TVL, pp. 434-435)

The key phrase here is “how was he to know”, so Louis had no idea! All this time he spent with Louis, and he never told him that’s what he was doing! Which brings me back to the show, to the reunion moment where Lestat tells Louis “I don’t like to point out my virtues.”

Of course, in the context he’s talking about not telling him he saved him at the trial, but it’s a pretty general statement about himself and it’s true, so far, in the book. He only kills innocent people, never tells anyone about it. He saves Louis at the trial, never tells anyone about it. And while I’ve seen some theories about how him not telling Louis he saved him was part of some pact he made with Armand, I’m just going to take things at face value here until the show proves otherwise.

Lestat always claims he’s “evil” in the books, but he does a whole bunch of stuff to disprove that. I think part of why he doesn’t let people know his good deeds is because there’s a part of him that wants to be perceived as the “evil monster” that he sees himself as. It’s the biggest irony ever for Lestat out of all vampires to claim he’s evil when he’s never acted with malicious intent (in the books, but I would even say in the show as well but the show is more complex in that regard).

The big thing about Lestat, which would also set him apart from show!Louis is that he does his thing and lets others do their thing. He doesn’t interfere with others, doesn’t tell them how to live their lives “the correct way”. Sure, he has many heated discussions about it with Nicki, but those are not him telling Nicki he should live according to his philosophy just because he thinks it’s the correct way to view life. Nicki hates himself at that point, which just gets worse with his way of thinking, and Lestat’s trying to pull him out of that. Nicki’s worldview is actively harmful to him and at least part of the reason for his eventual demise. But that’s not really relevant here, so I’m just going to leave it at that.

Which brings me back to Felix and Lestat. Did he, at some point, go out of his shack to kill people to show Felix how to do it? Not necessarily. The show doesn’t say he did, he could’ve simply just told him how to do it, he did after all figure it out himself too. It’s pretty intuitive I suppose for a vampire, and even when Claudia does her first kill Lestat isn’t shown killing first. He waits in the car with Louis and Claudia manages just fine.

Lestat knows what’s in their nature as vampires, but he himself doesn’t follow it at all times. It’s implied in one of the excerpts above, when he says he’s “being more faithful to [his]unspoken vow to kill the evildoer than even [he] had hoped [he] would be.” He’s not holding himself to any strict rules or high standards here. He’s trying his best, and if he takes an innocent life, he probably feels uncomfortable about it (while he secretly enjoys the feeling) but he’s probably just like “oh well.”

And with Felix, it could absolutely be a situation of do as I say, not as I do. He teaches him what’s in their nature, but he himself chooses to do differently. That, to me, sounds quite a lot like book!Lestat.

Besides, another aspect I’d like to point out is the definition of the word “cull”. Since English isn’t my native language, I had to look it up to really get all the nuances it implies. Here’s what google says:

“Selective slaughter”. Now here’s where I might be wrong and please correct me if I am, but since there are parallels to Darwin in MW, couldn’t that also imply selectively killing a particular group of people? As in, weed out the evildoers, or the weakest who don’t have a chance of survival anyways (as Lestat does after Louis tries to kill him)? The latter would make sense with the Darwin parallel. What we see in MW may be skewed through Felix’ perspective. I haven’t watched MW, but these things happen all the time in IWTV. Killing mercilessly may be only his interpretation of what Lestat said.

TL;DR: Lestat understands vampiric nature well enough to teach others how to kill “like a vampire” when he himself still chooses to do differently. He also doesn’t “like to point out [his] virtues” which is why he never actually told anyone he only kills criminals.

[middlepartmatt]

im sorry this took a bit long, but I was emotionally struggling due to the hate and the drama going on. so this is my side of story…. not trying to add more drama or anything but she did ask for my phone number, which I was very VERY uncomfortable of… as its weird giving ur phone number to someone u met in FEW DAYS… yes days.. she was kind of persistent about it but I eventually said no and closed that subject. and the most importantly, I had NO IDEA she texted/flirted with minors. all of this stuff posted by these blogs are completely new to me and im equally as shocked and disgusted as yall are…

I never actually liked @/sturniololuv08’s CNC fics (I legit didn’t even know wtf that meant until recently she explained it to me and I told her that was NOT my cup of tea) I did like her treehouse fic’s and I supported it as I would for other writers fics!

And, whenever I asked her age, she always said that she way older than me and just said 5+ years older so I thought maybe she was like 23 or 24… I lit DID NOT KNOW SHE WAS 28?!?!

Moreover, just wanted to say please please please no hate to my friends/ mutuals. if u wanna hate someone, hate me. I literally cannot bear my friends being encountered with any hate as they do NOT deserve any of it.

I also wanna thank the tumblr users for posting ur uncomfortable experience/s with her. if yall didn’t post, I wouldn’t have even known about it… and also everyone for being with me, worried about me during this difficult time. it actually legitimately means A LOT to me!!

(pls I do not wish to be asked any questions regarding this matter as im still mentally drained from it.. I appreciate it)

I love all of u guys so so very much!! <3

[mask131]

This is about Neil Gaiman's work - this is NOT about the rape accusations, but it is about the aftermath of them. I wanted to make a post for some times now about works you could read that were similar to Gaiman's works if you wanted to go see something akin to his fictional world without directly supporting him. Which would have been a VERY easy post since Gaiman kept listing everywhere the works that influenced directly or indirectly his own novels and creations. But I realized other people were already doing this, so I just thought "Heh, let's not bother with this".

And then I randomly stumbled upon this post which is trending on Tumblr. And this post got me a little mad. Because while I do agree that several of the facts in there should be more well-known and more talked about... I also think this post is quite unfair in its depiction of how Gaiman acted towards his inspirations.

People are currently screaming that Neil Gaiman plagiarized stuff by "taking huge inspiration from things and not crediting people". Except... he did credit people. It's just that his fans never bothered to go look for what inspired him. I was there back in the old days - so I saw exactly how it went. Don't start telling me Neil Gaiman purposefully stayed "silent" about the works that inspired him - I clearly saw how people were just apathetic. Myself when I compiled lists and made posts about all the works that preceeded Neil Gaiman or that he explained were his inspirations for things, people didn't bother and had no interest... but when I made a list of Gaiman's work suddenly everybody reblogged. Whether Gaiman plagiarized or not is not the thing I want to talk about today - but I want to HEAVILY criticize the way people are saying "Neil Gaiman never said he took X from X" when in fact, he did, and people were just too lazy to do their research. (Or, if you take the "Gaiman is a villain " angle, Gaiman counted on the fact people would not bother to read the original books and he won his bet!)

I am deeply sorry for this rant but it is a little trigger for me, since I have been studying and exploring the "chain" of inspirations and rewritings throughout literature and the fantasy genre (half for university work, half for personal hobby), and I have seen people literaly ignore all the bibliographies given to them under titles like "If you want to read more of the sort". [For example the original post talks about how Martin was very honest about how he took inspiration from Druon's book series. Fair. But nobody is talking about how he indeed kind of "plagiarized" Memory, Sorrow and Thorn. A lot of people don't know about this series, despite said series having literaly almost all of ASoIaF's supernatural - in fact, the reason Martin seems to be under-using his own supernatural creations, like the White Walkers, is precisely because they don't come from his mind and they are just a copy of Williams' Norns and he seems to not really know what to do with them. But that's a talk for another day.]

EDIT: I realized the post got very long, so all my personal objections and my argumentative points against the post I linked above will be under a cut. And if you want a conclusion to my long rant below the cut, it is this one: You can shit all you want about Gaiman, but at least get your facts right. It is not because someone turns out to be a bad person that you must feel the need to blast cultural misinformation. Heck, I will directly compare it to how the entire Internet wished and wanted Rowling to have "plagiarized" Gaiman's Books of Magic, because of their similarities, only for Gaiman himself to point out, no, it was not plagiarism, it was just a set of similarities and coincidences due to both works coming from a same British culture with a specific background in children literature and fantasy works. It just happened that people didn't know anything outside of Harry Potter and Gaiman's works and so assumed it was the only two pieces of a much vaster puzzle...

Yes, Neil Gaiman is very derivative. Yes he is very imitative. But he never hid it? He always said he was, he always pointed out the works that influenced him, he always listed the stuff that he based his own works upon - down to sometimes helping these works come out of obscurity when they were too forgotten (like the Lud-in-mist novel?). People are doing a "surprised Pikachu face" today but... he never hid his derivatiness. In fact it was a certain part of the "charm" people found in his work back in the days. He never hid anything, it's just that a lot of people didn't want to see it or didn't care about it...

Gaiman posted an entire page on his blog for American Gods (back in the early days of Internet, he had a blog to follow his writing process for American Gods, weeks after week, you can still find it somewhere) listing the three dozen of books that inspired him/that he took elements from/that he learned stuff from. People can accuse him of having plagiarized Zelazny's work in American Gods because of one scene - Wednesday having Shadow drive into the "Backstage", which is a rewrite of the "driving to Amber" scene from The Nine Princes of Amber. But the accusation of "plagiarism" becomes a bit muddled when you know that A) Gaiman has been screaming for years about how the main source of inspiration for American Gods were all of Zelazny's mythological works and B) He literaly dedicated American Gods to Zelazny, first page you open.

When does an homage becomes too much? When is plagiarism allowed? Is taking after public domain a bad thing? What are the moral consequences of your work overshadowing your source of inspiration? These are questions I am not wanting to answer today and this post isn't about them - plus things are even more complex when you remember Gaiman was one of the most fervent defensers and advocates of fanfiction, reacting positively to it and encouraging people to do it a lot ; as well as one of the main celebrities on Tumblr to warn people to NOT send him fanfics so that it wouldn't cause legal troubles of potential plagiarism.

Anyway, my actual angry rant is below.

I/ Tanith Lee and Sandman

The post that got me angry starts with Tanith Lee. I do agree that it is a shame Tanith Lee is not more talked about and didn't receive as much fame as she deserved. I do agree that Neil Gaiman's work was heavily inspired by Tanith Lee's writing. I do agree Gaiman's work overshadowed Lee's own (for a long time I didn't know she was the first one to do a vampiric Snow-White twist, before Gaiman's own). However I have to recuse the idea that Sandman is a rip-off of Tales from Flat-Earth.

It doesn't help that the person who made this original claim clearly doesn't know very much about either Lee's Flat-Earth or Gaiman's Sandman (with easy to debunk claims like how "Delusion" is one of Gaiman's Endless - no, the character does not exist). For example the poster rightfully compares how the top-dogs of the supernatural pantheon of Lee's Flat-Earth are the Masters of Night, Death and Delirium, wth the Master of Night's physical appearance echoing Dream of the Endless' appearance... However the comparison stops there, unlike what the poster tries to claim, because the Master of Night is a demon who rules over hatred, fear, curses and malevolence first and foremost - and is this world's equivalent of Satan/Iblis - and is not a personification of dreams, imaginations and sleep like Morpheus. Also, unlike what the OP claims, the Demon Princes are not like the Endless, "eternal entities beyond gods" - on the contrary, it is shown by book one the Demon Princes CAN be killed, and that there are gods who are a distinct species far above the Demons.

It is also incomplete to try to claim that having Dream and Death be siblings is a "proof" of Tanith Lee plagiarism... Because Gaiman is very explicit in his narrative of how Dream and Death are transpositions of the Thanatos & Hypnos/Thanatos & Morpheus twinship present in Greco-Roman mythology (Ovid's "Gates of Horn and Ivory" are literaly there in the first issues). Plus, since we do have the original manuscripts and the proposition draft Gaiman sent to DC (it is in the bonus of collected editions and in companion books), we know Gaiman originally had just three Endless in mind, Death, Dream (who was a reshape of DC's Sandman super-hero), and Destiny (who pre-existed in DC's universe), Delirium only coming far later.

That being said, I am feeling very sad for Tanith Lee through the testimony of her friend - how, again, she had trouble becoming a recognized author despite her work being very influential and frequently talked about for the fantasy genre (all the fantasy manuals and guides and encyclopedias of France list her among the authors to be read), and I do feel her distate for Neil Gaiman's work vampirizing hers is very justified. But to jump into saying Sandman is a copy-paste or a full on rip-off of Flat-Earth is unfair and very limiting. Flat-Earth was one of the inspirations of Sandman, but it doesn't own "everything" to it.

Plus, the OP also gets very angry at how Gaiman "never" talked about Tanith Lee and ... you know how I got to learn about Tanith Lee, and how I got encouraged to read her? Through Gaiman's Tumblr blog, where he regularly listed her as part of the authors that inspired him/the fantasy authors he enjoyed/the authors he encouraged others to read. I saw her appear like five different times on his Tumblr, and without him I probably wouldn't have started getting curous about her. So he did talk about her and he did present her as one of his inspirations and favorite authors... At least on Tumblr, and for several years.

II/ Coraline and Thief of Always

The comments mention Coraline and the Thief of Always as possibly being another "plagiarism" of Gaiman... I remember when Neil Gaiman was asked on his Tumblr about how similar Thief of Always and Coraline were, and he simply answered with the fact he and Barker had a similar thought process and came up with akin works though very different in the results.

You could say it is a form of copy or plagiarism (though Gaiman at least did an effort to make Coraline the almost opposite of Thief of Always in several ways). But I will have to point out that that Neil Gaiman and Clive Barker know each other, and that it has been reported, talked about and evoked a lot of times how they hanged in the same circles, with the same people, and exchanged thoughts, and talked about their mutual creations. We know Gaiman talked of the early Sandman issues when they were created with Alan Moore and Clive Barker, while Moore talked of his creation of From Hell. We also know that a part of the Sandman's universe was indirectly created by Barker - as Gaiman explained the idea for naming Desire's domain "The Threshold" came from a story Clive Barker had planned but never wrote, exploring the puns "threshold" could offer.

To my knowledge Clive Barker never claimed that Gaiman plagiarized him or stole from him with Coraline? But I might be wrong.

III/Other details

The comment about the "Lovecraft and Doyle" comparison is clearly taken out of context, because it was literaly about a story which WAS a literal Sherlock Holmes meets Cthulhu fanfiction, "A Study in Emerald". The commenter seems to think this comment applied to Gaiman's entire work? No it does not.

I don't know anything about the Lenny Henry situation, I will have to look for this.

[ilikekidsshows]

Different Anon from Abuser AU ask. But I need to vent somewhere.

I hate the fact that even if u excluded Adrien and Alya bashing u still could see fic where writer demonized them for something they didn't do/something they did do but blow out proportion by Marinette standom.

Like I found many fics that tagged Adrien/Alya redemption (I didn't see the tag at first, only that it doesn't have bashing tag and from summary it Lila exposed fic). Redemption from what exactly? For not letting her killing her social life because she low-key look albeist from outsiders perspective and advice her to take the high road? For not believing her accusations to new girl in town because Marinette have no proof and have history being nasty to love rival?

How those fics literally have Marinette beat them down to compliance, have a reason why your wrong speech, and give them no choice but to follow her every whim and practically reek of,

See, she's not racist or victim blaming abuse victim or anything. It doesn't matter if they were treated worse second to Lila only she gave them a chance! They should be grateful!

Anyway I excluded those tags too now and ml fanfiction got better.

Until season 5 final happened and now too many fanfiction focus about how Marinette felt bad gaslighting her boyfriend and how Adrien feeling being sidelined on those fic. Ugh.

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That’s what happens when certain attitudes get normalized. Like, long ago, while I still loved the show, the normalization of Alya and Adrien salt was something that got discussed. How people who weren’t even writing saltfics or redemption fics would still include some kind of mention of Adrien, Alya and the classmates apologising for the common saltfic talking points even when the fic wasn’t about that because that’s how normalized the thought that they’d done something wrong had become. People thought they had to address it, even as a throwaway line. While that doesn’t make the fic itself salt, facing a sudden salt trope in a non-salt fic really took me out of it.

I’m saying that, like, even with the typical saltfic tags excluded from searches, looking up Miraculous fanfics can be a game of Russian Roulette on whether or not an innocuous-looking fic will actually include salt or just salt reminders. And now, as you said, we have the canon abuse apologia to contend with. Because, like, how would the fic authors even tag that, when they’re literally just writing the same stuff that’s going on in canon?. Maybe, if we’re lucky, the fandom might mature enough in the future that we’ll get a “canon-typical abuse apologia” tag. I wouldn’t put too much faith into that, though.

Miraculous fanfiction has a pretty big problem with this kind of thing, which is why fanfic recommendation lists are pretty popular in the fandom, at least from what I’ve seen. I suggest looking up “Miraculous fanfic recommendations” or “Miraculous fanfic recs”, because those recommendations usually list out what the appeal of any given fic is, so you can screen out any “Marinette is so sad about gaslighting Adrien, let’s feel sorry for her for the next ten thousand words” fics.

[fatehbaz]

patience being tested. being forced by a bizarre unfortunate situation to adhere to university requirement technicality by taking this simple basic elementary "introduction to environmental history" class.

this class is from facilitators/program which do, like, "history of the American frontier" or "history of fishing and hunting" and still basically subscribe to that old-school twentieth-century idealization and celebration of characters like Teddy Roosevelt and reverence for a mythical arc-of-history-bent-towards-justice narrative of the often-clumsy but ultimately-benevolent US federal government and its mission to "save nature" through the miracle of "sustained yield," while heroic federal land management agencies and "heritage" institutions lead to way, staffed by exceptional individuals (appeals to nostalgia for the frontier and an imagined landscape of the American West; ego-stroking appeals to flattering self-image that center the environmentalist or academic). where they invoke, y'know, ideas like "ecology is important because don't you enjoy cross-country skiing in The Woods with your niece and nephew? don't you like hunting and fishing?" which makes it feel like a time capsule of appeals and discourses from the 1970s. and it invokes concept of "untouched wilderness" (while eliding scale of historical Indigenous environmental relationships and current ongoing colonial violence/extractivism). but just ever-so-slightly updated with a little bit of chic twenty-first-century flair like a superficial land acknowledgement or a reference to "labor histories" or "history from below," which is extra aggravating when the old ideologies/institutions are still in power but they're muddying the water and diluting the language/frameworks (it's been strange, watching words like "multispecies" and "Anthropocene" over the years slowly but surely show-up on the posters, fliers, course descriptions, by now even appearing adjacent to the agri-business and resource extraction feeder programs, like a recuperation or appropriation.) even from a humanities angle, it's still, they're talking at me like "You probably didn't know this, but environmental history is actually pretty entangled with political and social events. In fact, we can synthesize sources and glean environmental info from wacky places like workers' rolls in factories, ship's logs, and poetry from the era." and i'm nodding like YEP.

the first homework assignment is respond to this: "Define and describe 'the Anthropocene'. Do you think 'the Anthropocene' is a useful concept? Why or why not?" Respond in 300 words.

so for fun, right now in class, going to see how fast i can pull up discussion of Anthropocene-as-concept solely from my old posts on this microblogging site.

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ok, found some

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I think that the danger in any universal narrative or epoch or principle is exactly that it can itself become a colonizing force. [...] I’m suspicious of the Anthropocene as concept for the very reason that it subsumes so many peoples, nations, histories, geographies, political orders. For that reason, I think ideas like the Anthropocene can be a useful short-hand for a cluster of tangible things going on with the Earth at the moment, but we have to be very careful about how fluid and dynamic ideas become concretized into hegemonic principles in the hands of researchers, policymakers, and politicians. There’s so much diversity in histories and experiences and environmental realities even between relatively linked geographies here in Canada [...]. Imagine what happens when we try to do that on a global scale - and a lot of euro-western Anthropocene, climate change and resilience research risks doing that - eliding local specificities and appropriating knowledge to serve a broader euro-western narrative without attending to the inherent colonial and imperial realities of science and policy processes, or even attending to the ways that colonial capitalist expansion has created these environmental crises to begin with. While we, as a collective humanity, are struggling with the realities of the Anthropocene, it is dangerous to erase the specific histories, power-relations, political orders that created the crisis to begin with. So, I’m glad that a robust critique of the Anthropocene as a concept is emerging.

Text by: Words of Zoe Todd, as interviewed and transcribed by Caroline Picard. “The Future is Elastic (But it Depends): An Interview with Zoe Todd.” 23 August 2016.

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The Great Acceleration is the latest in a series of human-driven planetary changes that constitute what a rising chorus of scientists, social scientists, and humanists have labeled the Anthropocene - a new Age of Humans. [...] But what the Anthropocene label masks, and what the litany of graphs documenting the Great Acceleration hide, is a history of racial oppression and violence, along with wealth inequality, that has built and sustained engines of economic growth and consumption over the last four centuries. [...] The plantation, Sidney Mintz long ago observed, was a “synthesis of field and factory,” an agro-industrial system of enterprise [...]. Plantation legacies, along with accompanying strategies of survival and resistance, dwell in the racialized geographies of the United States’ and Brazil’s prison systems. They surface in the inequitable toxic burdens experienced by impoverished communities of color in places like Cancer Alley, an industrial corridor of petrochemical plants running along the Mississippi River from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, where cotton was once king. And they appear in patterns of foreign direct investment and debt servitude that structure many land deals in the Caribbean, Brazil, and sub-Saharan Africa [...]. [C]limatologists and global change scientists from the University of London, propose instead 1610 as a date for the golden spike of the Anthropocene. The date marked a detectable global dip in carbon dioxide concentrations, precipitated, they argue, by the death of nearly 50 million indigenous human inhabitants [...]. The degradation of soils in the tobacco and cotton-growing regions in the American South, or in the sugarcane growing fields of many Caribbean islands, for example, was a consequence of an economic and social system that inflicted violence upon the land and the people enslaved to work it. Such violent histories are not so readily evident in genealogies that date the Anthropocene’s emergence to the Neolithic Revolution 12,000 years ago, the onset of Europe’s industrial revolution circa 1800, or the Trinity nuclear test of 1945. Sugarcane plantations were already prevalent throughout the Mediterranean basin during the late middle ages. But it was during the early modern era, and specifically in the Caribbean, where the intersection of emerging proto-capitalist economic models based on migratory forced labor (first indentured servitude, and later slavery), intensive land usage, globalized commerce, and colonial regimes sustained on the basis of relentless racialized violence, gave rise to the transformative models of plantations that reshaped the lives and livelihoods of human and non-human beings on a planetary scale. [...] We might, following the lead of science studies scholar Donna Haraway and anthropologist Anna Tsing, more aptly designate this era the Plantationocene. [...] It is also an invitation to see, in the words of geographer Laura Pulido, “the Anthropocene as a racial process,” one that has and will continue to produce “racially uneven vulnerability and death." [...] And how have such material transformations sustained global flows of knowledge and capital that continue to reproduce the plantation in enduring ways?

Text by: Sophie Sapp Moore, Monique Allewaert, Pablo F. Gomez, and Gregg Mitman. "Plantation Legacies." Edge Effects. 22 January 2019. Updated 15 May 2021. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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Geologists and other scientists will fight over [the definition of the beginning start-date of the Anthropocene] in scientific language, seeking traces of carbon dioxide that index the worst offenses of European empire which rent and violated the flesh, bodies, and governance structures of Indigenous and other sovereign peoples in the name of gold, lumber, trade, land, and power. [...] The stories we tell about the origins of the Anthropocene implicate how we understand the relations we have with our surrounds. In other words, the naming of the Anthropocene epoch and its start date have implications not just for how we understand the world, but this understanding will have material consequences, consequences that affect body and land.

Text by: Heather Davis and Zoe Todd. On the Importance of a Date, or Decolonizing the Anthropocene. ACME An International Journal for Critical Geographies. December 2017. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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From Aime and Suzanne Cesaire, C. L. R. James, Claudia Jones, Eduoard Glissant, through Sylvia Wynter, Christina Sharpe, and so many others, critical anticolonial and race theory has been written from the specific histories that marked the Black Atlantic. [...] Glissant also reminds us, secondly, of how cunning the absorptive powers of [...] liberal capitalism are - how quickly specific relations are remade as relations-erasing universal abstractions. [...] This absorptive, relations-erasing universalism is especially apparent in some contemporary discourses of […] liberalism and climate collapse - what some call the Anthropocene - especially those that anchor the crisis in a general Human calamity which, as Sylvia Wynter has noted, is merely the name of an overdetermined and specific [White] European man. […] [T]he condition of creating this new common European world was the destruction of a multitude of existing black and brown worlds. The tsunami of colonialism was not seen as affecting humanity, but [...] these specific people. They were specific - what happened to them may have been necessary, regrettable, intentional, accidental - but it is always them. It is only when these ancestral histories became present for some, for those who had long benefitted from the dispossession [...], that suddenly the problem is all of us, as human catastrophe.

Text by: Elizabeth Povinelli. “The Ancestral Present of Oceanic Illusions: Connected and Differentiated in Late Toxic Liberalism.” e-flux Journal Issue #112. October 2020.

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The narrative arc [of White "liberal humanism"] [...] is often told as a kind of European coming-of-age story. […] The Anthropocene discourse follows the same coming-of-age [...] script, searching for a material origin story that would explain the newly identified trajectory of the Anthropos […]. Sylvia Wynter, W.E.B. DuBois, and Achille Mbembe all showed how that genealogy of [White subjecthood] was [...] articulated through sixteenth- through nineteenth-century [historiographies and discourses] in the context of colonialism, [...] as well as forming the material praxis of their rearrangement (through mining, ecological rearrangements and extractions, and forms of geologic displacements such as plantations, dams, fertilizers, crops, and introduction of “alien” animals). […] As Wynter (2000) commented, “The degradation of concrete humans, that was/is the price of empire, of the kind of [Eurocentric epistemology] that underlies it” (154).

Text by: Kathryn Yusoff. “The Inhumanities.” Annals of the American Association of Geographers, Volume 11, Issue 3. November 2020.

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As Yarimar Bonilla suggests in regard to post-Irma-and-Maria Puerto Rico, “vulnerability is not simply a product of natural conditions; it is a political state and a colonial condition.” Many in the Caribbean therefore speak about the coloniality of disaster, and the unnaturalness of these “natural” disasters [...]. Others describe this temporality by shifting [...] toward an idea of the Plantationocene [...]. As Moore and her colleagues write, “Plantation worlds, both past and present, offer a powerful reminder that environmental problems cannot be decoupled from histories of colonialism, capitalism, and racism that have made some human beings more vulnerable [...].” [W]e see that contemporary uneven socioecologies associated with the rise of the industrial world ["the Anthropocene"] are based [...] also on the racialized denial and foreshortening of life for the sacrificial majority of black, brown, and Indigenous people and their relegation to the “sacrifice zones” of extractive industry. [...] [A]ny appropriate response to the contemporary climate emergency must first appreciate its foundations in the past history of the violent, coercive, transatlantic system of plantation slavery; in the present global uneven development, antiblackness, and border regimes that shape human vulnerability [...] that continues to influence who has access to resources, safety, and preferable ecologies [...] and who will be relegated to the “plantation archipelagoes” (as Sylvia Wynter called them) [...].

Text by: Mimi Sheller. “Thinking Beyond Coloniality: Toward Radical Caribbean Futures.” Small Axe (2021), 25 (2 (65)), pages 169-170. Published 1 July 2021. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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Indigenous genocide and removal from land and enslavement are prerequisites for power becoming operationalized in premodernity [...]; it was/is a means to operationalize extraction (therefore race should be considered as foundational rather than as periphery to the production of those structures and of global space). [...] Wynter suggests that we […] consider 1452 as the beginning of the New World, as African slaves are put to work on the first plantations on the Portuguese island of Madeira, initiating the “sugar-slave” complex - a massive replantation of ecologies and forced relocation of people […]. Wynter argues that the invention of the figure of Man in 1492 as the Portuguese [and Spanish] travel to the Americas instigates at the same time “a refiguring of humanness” in the idea of race. [...] The natal moment of the 1800 Industrial Revolution, […] [apparently] locates Anthropocene origination in […] the "new" metabolisms of technology and matter enabled by the combination of fossil fuels, new engines, and the world as market. […] The racialization of epistemologies of life and nonlife is important to note here […]. While [this industrialization in the nineteenth century] […] undoubtedly transformed the atmosphere with […] coal, the creation of another kind of weather had already established its salient forms in the mine and on the plantation. Paying attention to the prehistory of capital and its bodily labor, both within coal cultures and on plantations that literally put “sugar in the bowl” (as Nina Simone sings) […]. The new modes of material accumulation and production in the Industrial Revolution are relational to and dependent on their preproductive forms in slavery […]. In 1833, Parliament finally abolished slavery in the British Caribbean, and the taxpayer payout of £20 million in “compensation” [paid by the government to slave owners for their lost "property"] built the material, geophysical (railways, mines, factories), and imperial infrastructures of Britain and its colonial enterprises and empire. [...] A significant proportion of funds were invested in the railway system connecting London and Birmingham (home of cotton production and […] manufacturing for plantations), Cambridge and Oxford, and Wales and the Midlands (for coal). Insurance companies flourished [...]. The slave-sugar-coal nexus both substantially enriched Britain and made it possible for it to transition into a colonial industrialized power […]. The slave trade […] fashioned the economic conditions (and institutions, such as the insurance and finance industries) for industrialization.

Text by: Kathryn Yusoff. "White Utopia/Black Inferno: Life on a Geologic Spike". e-flux Journal Issue #97. February 2019. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

[mohntilyet]

i read the wigmaker job recently and there’s an idea that really stuck with me, which may well have been discussed before, but it’s really been itching at me. it came from this exchange near the end –

“i don't want to quit.” / illario sat back. the distance between them suddenly felt much wider than a table. / “even if it kills you,” illario whispered. / “death is my calling,” lucanis stated, matter-of-fact. “just as yours is to become first talon.”

(the bits before and after this give important context, too, but these specific lines are what gnaw at me)

i. really wonder if this conversation – and the long-standing beliefs held by both of them that it’s indicative of – contributed to giving lucanis to zara.

like, illario coming to terms with the fact that lucanis really just will. not. stop. for ANYTHING. his cousin WILL get himself killed doing this and lucanis won’t have any regrets. he’ll leave illario to go this alone. (no one to follow after anymore.) combined with the envy of knowing that lucanis is and always will be caterina’s favorite, and she will likely pick lucanis to be first talon even tho lucanis does not want this At All…

i wonder if he thought that, well, if lucanis is going to die anyway… maybe it’s better to have it happen sooner, rather than later. why put off the inevitable? especially if this is the one thing that could shift caterina’s gaze to illario and give him what he’s wanted – what he’s earned.

lucanis wouldn’t be happy as first talon anyway (honestly, illario seems to see that what lucanis is NOW isn’t so much ‘happy’ as it is ‘obedient and content to accept the scraps that gives him’), and he’s GOING to get himself killed doing this, anyway… and sure, they COULD wait it out. wait for lucanis to do something foolish enough that he can't just walk away from it. maybe he’ll even last long enough to be made first talon (if caterina can ever bear to loosen her grip from the title) and be miserable for a while. years even, maybe. before he, again, does something he can’t walk away from.

OR. or. or illario could cut through all the pointless waiting and get right to the point. go straight to where this was always going to end up.

(and maybe part of it is an extension of anticipated grief, too – the loss will be agony. if illario controls when and how it happens, he can control his grief. …except he hasn’t accepted the inevitability of lucanis’ death quite as well as he’d thought and when he gets sloshed at the wake, real grief seeps through the cracks)

i dunno. something about both of them viewing lucanis’ death as a foregone conclusion and how illario Might have had that shape his decisions.

YEAH . YEAHHHHH. i do also think the “to reason” exchange is what solidifies it in illario’s mind. lucanis is like 'this has been a productive if tense talk with my cousin. surely he sees sense now.' and illario is like ‘what the fuck. i think he wants to die’ <- okay im exaggerating a bit but i do absolutely see the end of wigmaker’s job as the start of lucanis-illario’s downward spiral. there’s a reason that it’s something lucanis is stuck on during inner demons, and the exchange that you have very nicely broken down is what he hears echoes of, this is where he knows it started to go wrong

probably the worst part is lucanis WOULD have worked himself to death and it takes the series of events in veilguard for lucanis to see other options for his life, and still he ends up being shoehorned into first talon by the end of the quest. i thought his quest would parallel iron bull’s, in that rook shows them that living outside and away from crow influence is possible, and that he is much more than the weapon they turned him into, but it ofc doesn’t go through like that. it’s genuinely a bit heartbreaking that lucanis finally has support and like. FRIENDS. but with the way the game ends he’s pulled back into the crows and to a life that will be about protecting a cousin that the organisation he runs hates, and for as long as caterina lives, unable to say no to her. and meanwhile after lucanis has made connections outside of the crows, illario has absolutely nothing left (prison of his own making i get it but i still want to get his ass out of there. 😭) so the codependency that they used to share is gone as well. maybe lucanis has a foot out the door but i genuinely have no idea how illario goes on after this

[kerizaret]

On souls and love

[arttsuka]

Is it Wrightworth and Spirk ?

Ye...

[skrunksthatwunk]

i am losing to the demon trying to possess me (devilman. the 52 y/o media franchise)

>:]

EDIT I FORGOT THIS ONE