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fawnnlvr · 1 month ago

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IMAGINE THIS spencer reid x academicrival!reader

summary: a timeline of spencer reid and his academic rival turned girlfriend in the span of a twelve years.

author's note: this layout is so different from my others but i am just going to keep it up. this is also inspired by the big bang theory and young sheldon and all the clips of it i watched on tiktok because i did not watch the show. that one scene with sheldon and that little blonde girl who is in every show and movie as a child prodigy. i hope you guys now what i am talking about but that inspired this entire thing. ♥︎

the two of you were born child prodigies with incredible minds that had the powers to rule the world.

spencer was used to being the youngest and the smartest until you showed up in his college classes being just a few months younger than him, yet sharing the same space he inhabited.

your joyful personality irked him to no ends as you treated education and learning like it was just a hobby while it was his life. he wasn't sure how it started but the two of you, at age thirteen, were competing to be the top of the class.

all the other college students simply gave up when it came to trying to outdo the two of you. the two of you were front row and center at every lecture due to the heights and late growth spurts.

unfortunately, the two of you were in many of the same classes despite being different majors. as the years flew by, the rivalry only grew stronger as the two of you competed by peer review when the professors grew tired of choosing favorites. who can write the best report paper to whose research was more useful, even to who had the best coffee order— everything under the sun was competition.

"i decided to get a doctorate" spencer told you one day and you almost dropped your papers, "just so everytime we meet, you will have to refer to me as doctor."

"no chance in hell reid. if you're doing that then so am i. suck it." you told him with a strong fire of determination in your eyes. the two of you were seventeen.

at age eighteen is when things took a turn. spencer had temporarily left to visit his mom in las vegas and get her help, and you unfortunately tagged along because you couldn't do airplanes but needed to get to vegas to visit your sister. meeting at the airport and unfortunately getting assigned seats right by each other, new perspectives were unlocked.

despite gaining an understanding for one another due to all the changes occurring, one thing that stayed constant was the rivalry. in a way, this one constant was a thing that saved the both of you.

you both knew that you were adults and it was childish, but you basically grew up with one another. he was there for you when you were harassed by college frat boys when you turned of age and you were there when he was ridiculed by the same frat boys for being a scrawny nerd.

there were many encounters were you only had each other to lean on and despite claiming to hate each other, you and him always showed up when needed. something that no one else can claim in their involvement in your lives.

now the two of you were there for each other as you each started another chapter of life.

"fbi?" you laughed, "there is no way you are passing the physical tests, spencer." the two of you were now twenty one and both went by doctor.

"h-hey! i can do it. the training will last for 16 weeks. i can improve by then." he puffed his chest out, straightening his posture.

"it will take a miracle or many exceptions, all of which you would need to be extraordinary to get."

"i am extraordinary. i quite literally have a doctorate in chemistry and working on another one — and i have a bachelor's in psychology. all at the age of twenty-one. i would like the see the fbi find someone better than me."

"you're forgetting that i exist." you reminded with a sly smile and you saw him freeze.

"i thought you're aiming for nasa!"

"i am but i might just have to apply for the fbi academy to prove just how much better than you i am." you shrugged and spencer felt even more determined.

"don't even joke about it. i have had to see you on this campus for the past nine years, i might loose my mind if i have to deal with you again for the rest of my life."

"how hurtful." you huffed, crossing your arms as you sipped on your overpriced coffee that you made spencer pay for. "i don't want to see you more than i have to as well." a bit ironic since you were on a small coffee get together with him.

"glad we can agree to something." he stated, taking a sip of his overpriced coffee as well.

"well since we are already at it. do you think we can agree that this meal definitely deserves a slice of that strawberry shortcake—"

at twenty two, it was finally time for the two of you to say goodbye. at least that is what you both thought. spencer was going to the fbi academy at quantico, virginia and you had suddenly gotten a job offer at the nasa headquarters in washington d.c, virginia.

"nineteen dollars for two coffees." he interupted and you closed your mouth. broke people should never talk, as that one saying went that spencer made up the last time he was forced to pay ridiculous priced food.

a dramatic goodbye, turned into a twisted fate of ill-fortune. your letter had came in the day spencer was to leave and a dramatic departure speech unsued for a good ten minutes full of the sweetest things spencer and you wanted to get off your chest before this was goodbye.

you opened the letter before he did his entire goodbye speech and you didn't feel like interrupting him. once you revealed the truth, spencer went all red and felt like fainting but instead had opted to grab his luggage and walk out the door and try to flag down a cab.

it was hard to stop yourself laughter after the small giggle slipped out due to how red he got and you had to chase him down your apartment building. he couldn't even look you in the eyes, averting his vision to the clouds above. taking your hand, you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

"spencer, please don't be mad. that was honestly the sweetest thing you — actually anyone, in thst matter has said to me."

"no— it wasn't supposed to be like this. it was supposed to end—"

"i don't want it to end." you told him, honesty clear in your voice as he finally had the courage to look at you in the eye, "i like us— i mean this. what we have now is something i truly cherish and i don't want that to vanish. i don't want to be apart from you."

spencer furrowed his eyebrows.

"for too long i mean!" you quickly added in, "i mean gosh ew, nerd. you will have fbi money soon so that means it will be in my best interest to keep you around—"

you couldn't continue your tangent because he had pulled you into a hug. yes, the germaphobe spencer had pulled you into a hug. this was the first hug he ever initiated and it was the first time you had noticed simply how gentle his touch was as he held you in his arms. you wrapped your arms around his chest without a second thought.

then a sniffle. spencer sort of flinched back, trying to pull away but you clasped your hands behind his back, making it impossible. "are you... crying?"

another sniffle. "no." the croak in your voice gave it away, "allergies."

"you little liar. you totally will miss me and that's why your accepting the position in virginia and not california where your favorite actors are."

"shut up spencer."

"you'll see me in five months. it'll be fine and when i become an agent and i get my first pay check, we can go to that seafood place you really wanted to go but only has a few locations nationwide."

"they have it in virginia?"

"i already checked." he admitted and you raised your head from his shirt to look up at him, teary eyed but your eyes held a skeptical look. then, a smile.

"you were already planning for me to be there weren't you."

spencer pushed you off of him and he didn't respond.

"you know doctor reid, if i didn't know any better i would say that you are deeply in love with me."

"in your dreams. bye liar." spencer waved down a cab who pulled up within seconds.

"see you at the captial." you cheekily stated, hands clasped behind your back as you smiled at spencer getting into the cab.

"not looking forward to it."

"liar!"

he shut the door.

at twenty three, the two of you somehow ended up being roommates and sharing an apartment together. weighing the pros and cons, you both decided that this act would be very beneficial since the rent would be cheaper, the location was in between both of your guys' work places, and it would be more comfortable to live with a familiar presence.

at twenty four, a drunken night had led to drunken kisses. as the saying goes, "drunken words are sober thoughts". thoughts of consequences were thrown out the window as soon as the clothes were thrown on the floor. waking up, the two of you screamed in horror before having a talk about all the unresolved tension and words that needed to be said that one day the two of you were exchanging goodbye messages.

finally at twenty six, you went by mrs. reid.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #fawnnlvr writes

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good-advice-ganondorf · 10 months ago

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Majora's Mask and what it means to be grown up

(aka my collected analysis of the Legend of Zelda Majora's Mask)

I will say that generally I don't think Termina is purgatory, or a dream, or anything like that. To me, Termina is kind of like a Silent Hill type parallel world, where you face your deepest traumas.

First, the parallels between Majora's Mask, and the child section of Ocarina of Time.

The first dungeon for both games is in a vast wooded area, there are woodland races inhabiting both areas, the Kokiri for Ocarina of Time, and the Deku for Majora's mask. The second dungeon is in a great mountain, inhabited by the Gorons. The third dungeon is in a vast body of water, inhabited by the Zora.

Then, things split. After Jabu Jabu, Link becomes an adult. After Great Bay, there's Ikana Canyon. A land of nothing but Death.

Who caused the death of Ikana? Who else but the king, Igo Du Ikana. Ikana was plunged into disrepair, after Igos started a war with a clan of Ninjas, to receive a powerful artifact, in a great and mysterious temple. Sound familiar? It should, this is exactly what Ganondorf did, after Link was sealed away for seven years. But Ganondorf was successful.

But Ikana isn't completely occupied by the dead, no. Pamela remains, with her father, turned into an undead monster. Much like Sheik, the last Sheikah, who is revealed to be Zelda. And her father? He's never seen, but I'd imagine it would be easy enough for Ganondorf to become king, if the other one was no longer around. From a man, to a corpse.

So, if Ganondorf is a parallel to Igos, and Zelda is a parallel to Pamela, what about Link? He's a little different. I believe that, along with Kafei and Tingle, all three of the transformation masks are a representation of Link, and his feelings towards being forced to grow up.

Tingle is, as we know, a 35 year old man who thinks he's a fairy boy. Similar to how link was a 10 year old boy, who thought he was a fairy boy. I believe Tingle is a reflection of what Link could have been if he never left Kokiri Forest. An adult hylian man, thinking he's a Kokiri.

On the contrary, Kafei is distraught at the idea of becoming a child again. He's weaker, he can't marry his fiancee, and everyone treats him like well, a child, despite his maturity. I believe this is how Link feels after becoming a child again. He used to be a strong adult, and even if he's not as mature as Kafei, he still went through a lot, and knows a lot more about life now. Kafei even reuses Link's model and animations.

There's a reoccurring theme in Ocarina of Time where Link just doesn't belong anywhere he goes. He's an outsider to the other races, because he's a hylian, but he's also an outsider to the hylians, because he was raised as a Kokiri. I think the transformation masks reflect that.

The Deku Butler's Son is what he could have been as a Kokiri. He could have been a happy little boy, living with his father, and his community. But Link and the Deku butler's son both left home to explore, and as far as both the Kokiri and the Deku are concerned, neither came back.

Darmani is what he could have been as a Goron. A powerful hero to the Gorons, celebrated by them for clearing Dodongo's Cavern. A close link between the goron elder, Darunia, and their sons. Both him and Link remain after death, lamenting on their histories as heros.

Mikau is what he could have been as a Zora. Maybe not a cool as hell guitarist, but a husband to Ruto, and Prince of the Zora Who would stop at nothing to keep her happy and safe, like infiltrating a fortress, or climbing inside of a whale.

Even the Fierce Deity is just Link, but back as an adult. As if so much changed so rapidly, he felt like he transformed into something less like himself, and more like a powerful god. He could have continued being strong, and powerful, the defeater of Ganon, but he had to become a child again. He has to stay as a small, and unknown child.

The ages of the masks even match the human life cycle. According to the debug menu (and if you subscribe to the theory that Link and DBS's ages were swapped), DBS is 5, Link is 12, Darmani is 30, Mikau is 78, and, Fierce Deity is 17, likely due to his model being recycled from adult Link's. Link starts the game in the body of a 5 year old, then a 12 year old, then a 30 year old, then a 72 year old, and finally, a God.

We don't exactly know how Link feels. But I can't imagine it would be easy to go from a child, with no concept of death, to be thrust into a position where he's forced to fight and kill an adult man so much stronger than he is. And then everything was just reversed. Like that. As if it never happened. And only Link remembers the impending doom he faced. All he can do is remember Ganondorf's reign. Almost like he's reliving the same few days, again, and again, and again.

#the legend of zelda #loz #tloz #majora's mask #ocarina of time #analysis #zelda theory #link #hero of time

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leebrontide · 3 months ago

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Here's a thing I love in other's work and try to imbue into my own work: I love it when characters really inhabit their bodies.

I feel like, the last 20 years of Hollywood making everyone plastic and similar and airbrushed to hell and back, even book characters have started to feel disconnected from having a physical reality. They are identical dolls with different hair colors. You might get a description of how someone is generically good looking here and there.

But in many genres none of these bodies feel alive or specific.

And other than "how hot are you" they're often not treated as moving through the world differently. But if you're 5ft or 6ft you're going to interact with people and objects in your environment differently. If you're skinny or fat, if you're well muscled or not, impact how you move. If your features make you look older or younger than you are impacts how others react to you. That's before we even get into disability or race.

When I do see these variances depicted it's often just for purposes of self-loathing or cheap representation of bigotry.

Show me people sitting differently on the same furniture. Show me characters who sweat or have to blow their nose. Show me characters with fat rolls and gaps in their teeth who aren't there as the buts of jokes. She me characters who walk through a crowd differently.

I don't know. I just. I want characters who have bodies more than when they're injured or horny.

#writeblr #writing

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anim-ttrpgs · 17 days ago

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A Queer Reading of the “Vampire” Trait from Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

As our fanbase has emphasized, many of the paranormal Traits in Eureka have a strong queer reading, so for pride month I’m going to go over the one that was most intentional. Of course, this is not the only possible reading of this Trait, Eureka is well known for its paranormal Traits being readable through the lens of disability, etc.. The fact that it can be read so many different ways is intentional and something I’m very proud of.

Anyway, everyone knows that vampires are unholy demonic spirits, the very antithesis of Christianity, burned and warded away by crucifixes and holy water. They control world politics from the shadows in Satan-worshipping cabals and the Vatican has special task forces of vampire hunters that are the only thing that stands between vampires and world domination. Even just interacting with them can corrupt you into becoming one of them. Everyone knows this, it’s just a fact about vampires. Except it’s not. The official stance of the Vatican since the very concept of vampirism was coined has been that they don’t even exist and even believing in them is heretical. In historical folklore, vampirism is not even consistently or commonly said to spread by bite or death from a vampire. They aren’t exactly a common occurrence.

The Holy Bible of course doesn’t say anything about vampires, it barely even says anything about demons, and “Satan” isn’t who you think he is.

Despite this, any vampire coming into existence any time within the past thousand years is still likely to experience immediate rejection from Christianity. At best, the condition is said to be a result of great sinfulness in life, of being the kind of person that most people don’t like and just kind of tolerate as long as they stay on the edges of the community.

Imagine if you didn’t fit in. Through some irrevocable trait, you’re different from other people, shunned, gossiped about. Unlike even those who do accept you and your differences. You won’t bring new life into this world, only take up space in it. Eventually, something gives, the old you perishes, and the new you, your true nature, comes out of the grave, and it’s terrifying.

People mourn the loss of the old you, while whispering about how they always knew there was something deeply wrong with you from the start. They treat the new you like it was never the same person. No matter what the Bible actually says, it can only be the result of something evil inhabiting your body. You can’t go near other people, especially young women, without risk of being struck down in fear. Why would you have come if you didn’t mean to take them by force, or worse, turn them into one of you. They cry out desperately to the Lord for protection, your Lord, the infinitely forgiving Lord that you lived your whole life in the Creation of. You, uniquely, are beyond His love.

It’s no surprise that when shown a crucifix, or standing at the threshold of a home, especially a house of God, no matter their intent, vampires hesitate.

If anything about this feels familiar, it’s also pretty close to the lived experiences of many we now call queer or LGBT. (as discussed in this other post, almost every bit of language associated with the LGBT community is extremely recent.) Rejected by the community they grew up in, rejected by God, allegedly. If you read the Bible with any shred of historical context, pretty much any reference to “sodomy” obviously refers pretty specifically to the Ancient Greek and Roman practice of pederasty, and Jesus Christ Himself certainly never spoke against “sodomites.” What it actually says in the Bible, though, won’t get you anywhere when everyone knows that homosexuals go to Hell for all eternity.* It’s a “fact” entrenched in our culture, it’s in our art, it’s something almost nobody examines. Whether vampires are the protagonists or antagonists of a vampire story, they represent the antithesis of Christianity.

*(Hell being something that is also barely even mentioned in the Bible and even so the whole point of Jesus dying on the cross was so nobody goes to Hell for all eternity.)

This doesn’t make vampires inherently the good guys, or a uniquely oppressed class in the world of Eureka, they can be and often are extremely dangerous, but why wouldn’t they be? They’re people with a need that society brands sickening, and maybe even they do themselves.

Every vampire in Eureka grew up with some branch of Christianity, and experienced that social rejection in some way or another. It’s written into the very mechanics and numbers of the Trait itself, and they’ll have to wrestle with that alongside all the mystery solving. It’s a weakness they’ll have to overcome or be undone by.

If they find strength in their faith and reconciliation with God in a way that does not necessitate the rejection of the self, despite rejection by so many that claim to carry His banner, good for them.

If they completely turn their back on a community that threw them out when they were most in need, good for them.

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alexispunkkk · 2 months ago

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animal

♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰

god only knows — chapter 5

read the series!

last chapter | next chapter

- warnings: religious trauma + guilt, kissing, kinda forcing yourself onto joel (?) I wouldn’t consider it dubcon or noncon tho!!, mentions of masturbation prior to this chapter, super super descriptive sexual thoughts, arousal in a religious context, blasphemous themes, mentions of the bible, sexual repression, extreme hypersexuality, emotional breakdown, emotional and physical intensity, seduction, emotional vulnerability, grinding if you squint, breakage of consent boundaries, so so much craving and yearning ugh it's awful, joel is a SWEETHEART and i love that man

- summary: showing up at joel's in the middle of the night in an absolute craze--one that he both feeds and puts the fire out of

- word count: 5.8k

on ao3

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You don’t change your sheets. Not right away, at least.

There’s something so sacred about the way your body trembled as you whimpered Joel’s name, finishing and gasping into your pillow with your church dress hiked up to your stomach. Something you can’t bear to wash out yet. It turned a corner in your life, leaving you on your knees again.

But not for God anymore. For something more physical than that.

The feeling of truly touching yourself for the first time, allowing your body to let go and succumb to what’s imprinted as your brain as impure, felt incredible. Like you’ve been missing out on it for so long–loserish, almost. Twenty-one and never having an orgasm or sex before.

It’s always been in a way to keep your devout innocence, like your father and the church had taught you to. Save it for marriage, don’t touch yourself. You’ll go to hell.

But there you are, laying in your bed with a small patch soaked into your sheets, evidence of what you’ve done. Finished with a man’s name on your tongue. For once, you don’t feel dirty. You feel refreshed. Replenished, discovered.

You’d lit a little candle when you came back to your senses after the orgasm. Usually, it was lit for prayer–now, it feels like something entirely different. The room smells of vanilla and smoke, air thick and heated alongside your own feverish need and confusion with what’s happening to you.

The shame seemingly vanished, changing color. Nothing is pitch black and suffocating anymore, but more of a deep red. Open and wanting.

Exploring yourself like this for the first time, genuinely exploring yourself, seemed to open up a whole new world. It’s no longer worth it to save it, fuck that. God can go fuck himself if it felt this good to finish, and you’ve never even known.

And Joel. Oh, Joel. He’s now the only thing possibly occupying your mind. Like the Lord doesn’t even exist.

For the next six hours, you don’t leave your room. Don’t go downstairs for the lunch your dad offered, not even when you smelt dinner cooking later. Joel is completely inhabiting your thoughts, along with a mess of hypersexual images that you would’ve slapped yourself for envisioning just a few years ago. An entirely new spectrum.

Joel bending you over, fucking you dumb into your mattress. He’s hitting deep inside your cervix, where your fingers can’t reach. His probably could. The cross above your bed would be gone. Joel’d have his head buried between your thighs, sucking relentlessly at your clit like it’s the sweetest treat he’s ever tried. Joel’d pull at your hair while you’re kneeling between his legs like he’s an altar, his cock stuffed deep down your throat until you gag and cry real tears. Utterly sinful, but beautiful. Nothing has ever felt so good compared to this, compared to finally opening the window to sexuality after a quarter of a lifetime.

It’s overwhelming, actually, but in the best way. Everything seems to unravel in the next few hours and you’re in an absolute frenzy, fixated on the mere thought of Joel while your hand travels back between your thighs every few minutes.

Like you’re unable to stop. You couldn’t finish anymore, but it still felt good. You came to like the feeling of overstimulation, especially the thought of Joel being the one doing so.

He’s got you in a psychosis. A dirty, religious, sexual, sinful psychosis.

You’re tired by nightfall, but not ready to give up. Your mind finally travels back to the thought of church, remembering what Joel told you–he likes to go there, alone, every night around midnight. So maybe, just maybe, you’d show up to see him.

But it’s a little too far: showing up at church two hours after finishing on your fingers with an image of Joel painted in your mind. Sure, you don’t feel as guilty anymore, but doing that would lack basic decency.

Instead, you’re at the edge of the bed, a quarter past twelve. There's a little lipstick smudged on your mouth, the one you bought and hoped to use in college. Sadly, it wasn’t worn much. Saved for a proper occasion, and tonight felt like the right one.

The top of the package read ‘burgundy love,’ a corny but accurate representation of the color smeared unfamiliarly on your lips. It’s foreign to have makeup of this color on, but you want to feel sexy. Especially after today. A journey of sexual discovery most definitely calls for cheap red lipstick.

In like manner, you have a thong you bought last summer with your friends on college break. They insisted on getting matching ones during a trip to the mall, as a gag, and you couldn’t opt out–plus, it could’ve made use one day. Today’s that day.

The fabric is lacy and untouched, resting perfectly on the supple skin of your ass, barely covering much of it at all. It covers your cunt enough, but will surely be soaked through in ten minutes when you’re thinking about Joel again. Girlish, sexy, feminine. Makes you feel just how you want to feel.

You’ve always known you’re pretty–the women in town praised you as a young girl, telling you you’d be a model and whatnot when you grew up. And sure, you feel pretty. But you’ve never felt sexy before, not like this. It’s truly an awakening for you, an overwhelming punch to the gut to masturbate and put on a thong and partake in all these little things that most girls would’ve done by sixteen.

Your legs are shaven and bare, recovering from scrubbing them so hard the past few days. But still soft, moisturized with your favorite vanilla lotion. It’s paired with a matching perfume scent, sprayed on all the most important spots: collarbones, behind the ears, wrists, behind the knees, and your ankles. Nice and slutty.

An oversized button down, one roughly resembling Joel’s (at least in your sick mind) gets thrown over the little thong and bra set you put on for the first time in your life. It’s black and thin, usually only worn when doing deep cleaning or on laundry day. But tonight, it feels ceremonial. Like armor.

Like sin dressed up for worship.

You know Joel goes to church almost every night around midnight, he’d told you the other time you saw him. And you may or may not have watched him once. Not on purpose, but you caught his truck driving down the old road while staring at the window, and just had to get in your father’s truck and follow.

As bad as it is when you’re in a weird state of sexual hysteria, something called to you. Told you to follow, told you to go. But, to keep the smallest bit of decorum, you couldn’t bring yourself to step into a church again today after the events earlier.

Instead, you go.

To Joel’s.

Slipping on a pair of tiny pajama shorts with the button down, you retouched the lipstick and gave your eyelashes an extra curl. Another spritz of perfume, a gargle of mouthwash, and you’re out the door. Sheets still unwashed, of course.

You get in your dad’s old truck, trying to start it up as quietly as possible in the late hour. Now it’s twelve-thirty, and Joel’s sure to get home soon.

The drive isn’t long, you know where he lives from going there as a child to barbecues. From dropping things off for him with your father as a teenager. From last Friday when you watched him return home from his usual late night church trip.

Joel, at least, is attempting to hang onto his religion. Even if it’s difficult and not very effective, he’s been going to church extra–every night, almost. Praying and trying to reconnect with the Lord after whatever it is that caused such a horrible disconnect with him and the church.

He’s still a man of God, just not as strict as he used to be. Slipping into the same habits and hole you’re falling into, but gripping harder onto the edges. He’s stronger, has more restraint than you. Maybe it’s because of his age, maybe it’s his faith. Or maybe it’s just you who belongs in Hell.

You, on the other hand, have managed to become a complete mess in six hours. After returning from church and spending just a few hours in your bedroom, you gave up on hanging onto the Lord like Joel is. Slipped away, unregrettably. You’ve somehow managed a complete turn, abandoning the girl you were trying to grip to and switching to one who’s addicted to one of the worst sins.

Within minutes, you’re waiting on the man’s porch. Getting there was kind of a blur. Dark sky and trees and cemeteries that you drove by, giving the night an uncomfortable chill.

Your hands are folded in your lap like a child who’s done something bad and doesn't want to admit to it, your throat dry from today’s activities, and the cold air biting at your bare knees. You’ve been practicing, planning. Not exactly praying, you’re not sure what to call it anymore.

When his car door opens, it pulls you out of a trance. You’d zoned out, didn’t even notice his truck pulling up in the gravel driveway, slow and steady. He slowed upon seeing you, not wanting to scare you.

He walks out, and you flinch. His shirt half unbuttoned like he’s already ready for bed, hair mussed and eyes dark. He stops moving and sighs at the sight of you sitting on his porch chair–seemingly innocent, for now, at least. But hiding the worst feeling yet. Also hiding a little thong soaked through and the thought of him fucking you deep in your mind.

He sees the lipstick, the way you’re holding your elbows as if trying to hold yourself together. There's a thin line of resolve drawn across your eyebrows, making you look somewhat confused. He can’t really read you this time.

“Sweetheart…” Joel starts, almost like a soft warning but also a question. “You alright?”

He moves again, slowly stepping toward the porch and clicking his keys to lock the truck. You hear the sound of it, stealing a glance at the vehicle before looking back at him.

Looking back at his looming figure, the graying chest hair just barely peeking out where his shirt is unbuttoned more than usual. You can hardly see, lit only by the light of the porch in the dark. But he looks handsome as ever, distressed and sexy. He’s everything to you. Your new God.

Your neck cranes when you look up at him as he approaches, like you’re still kneeling to something holy.

“No.” You answer honestly. “But I think I figured it out.”

He’s skeptical of you–you’re acting different. Normally, you’re scared, shaking like a leaf whenever you see him ever since that night at the church. Too freakishly casual now, like you’re hiding something.

Which you are, of course. Hiding the desperate need for him, for his body, that’s threatening to escape you. You can’t scare him off, though. Not at his own house. He’s helped you, after all, so that’s not the goal.

“Yeah? What’s that you figured out?

You sit up in the chair when he asks you, pulling your leg up to set it underneath you, sitting on it. Your heel digs between your legs, trying to nonchalantly settle the now familiar wetness and aching that’s building while the two of you speak.

“God never felt close. Feel like I should give up.”

Joel doesn’t speak, lets you continue.

“Been reading my Bible cover to cover all week, scrubbing myself raw in the shower and starving myself in hopes that it would help. But I still feel it.”

His eyebrow quirks, eyes widening at the suggestion. He steps forward again, stepping his right leg up and propping it on the steps of the porch. Makes your eyes flicker down between his legs for a second, imagining a bulge that isn’t quite there yet.

“Feel it?” He questions, tilting his head and running a hand through his beard of salt and pepper scruff. Hands look big. Beautiful.

“Yeah. Feel you, Joel. I feel you like I’m supposed to feel Him.”

His brows knit this time, something like pain flickering across his face–or maybe interest. Arousal? Confusion? You can’t tell. Neither can he. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“I don’t know what it is. Not love. But I’m scared it’s something worse.” You feel nervous telling him this, the weird flash of confidence from earlier slowly dissolving under his hard gaze. Your voice quivers for a second, quiets. “Like, devotion. I don’t know.”

Joel’s jaw tightens like he’s bracing for an impact upon hearing you admit you’re devout to him. It’s bad, you both know–but he doesn’t want to guide you away. He wants to help you. Or fuck you. Whatever it is, he’s gonna be gentle.

You’re trembling, hands held in little weak fists now instead of open palms, no longer ready for a prayer.

Joel still doesn’t speak. Just stares, leg propped up as if begging for you to look. You do. Again and again, flickering between his face and crotch desperately.

“I lit a candle for you.” You continue, more breathless, ashamed and proud all at once. You feel the confidence coming back the tiniest amount when he doesn’t tell you to leave, doesn’t seem disgusted by the idea. “And I’m wearing the lipstick I bought in college. Never got to wear it. Thought it’d make me seem like a whore.”

“You’re not a whore,” he answers, too quickly. It’s the one thing he wants to remind you: you’re not a sinner, not a whore, not disgusting. Only human. But his expression is unchanging, still somewhat blank and hard to read. Joel’s never been too good with his show of emotions.

“I know. Maybe. But tonight it made me feel worthy.”

He nods, takes a careful step forward. Arms crossed, not too close yet, but standing next to the porch chair you’re sitting in. He hasn’t noticed your heel between your legs, pressing into the ache that he’s worsening by the moment.

“You’re overwhelmed,” he finally continues, gently this time. Letting something show, at least. “Don’t gotta explain yourself to me.”

“I want to, though.” You whisper, eyes glancing up when he moves closer. Closer, closer, but so slowly. Until he’s almost above you, arms uncrossing. One hand holds the back of the chair behind your head, the other on his hip. Almost caging you in on that chair.

“I need you to hear it.”

At that, he nods. He reaches and gives your head a single stroke, reminding you of how he’d held you in the church that night. Stroked your hair the same way, whispered the sweetest reminders to help you out. But it worsens your case. Soaks you. You’re dripping by now.

Joel steps back, getting his keys from his pocket to open the front door. Score.

He opens it, walking in and turning to wait for you. Keeps his hand on the door, above your height, letting you walk under it so he can close it again in one swift motion. Slow and smooth and cautious. Perfect.

You’re pacing now, nervous energy unraveling in real time, getting better or worse every few seconds. You’re in his house. Alone with him. Wearing sinful lipstick and a stupid slutty thong all for a man almost three times your age. A man of God. Who’s somehow become your religion.

“It’s like I discovered fire–I can’t unfeel it.” You start, breathless and messy while you try and move around the room mindlessly.

He shushes you, but doesn’t say anything, grabbing your shoulder to stop you. Keeps his hand there, grounding you to the best of his ability with that rough gaze but gentle, warm touch. Sure, it helps calm you down, but it also adds timber to the fire burning in your lower stomach. Need.

“You’re–Joel. Joel, you’re like warmth to me. I found it, I need it so bad.” You continue, giving up now. He’s here with you, and you’re already dressed for the occasion. You didn’t wear a thong for nothing, so you practically beg him. Give in. Submit. “Please, I know it’s wrong. I know the Bible says it’s wrong, and you’re gonna tell me it’s wrong. But, please. Joel.”

You finally stop, and he freezes in place. Stares, his chest barely rising with his breath like it’d been knocked out of him with your words. There’s nothing seductive about it yet, to Joel. He’s not smirking, he feels more like he’s witnessing and breaking something sacred. He’s almost scared to see you break down like this after the way you’ve been struggling for the past few days.

He saw the way your collarbones have been showing extra in your church dress, face thinning out unnaturally. Saw your legs scrubbed red and raw to cleanse yourself of sin. Now, you’re standing in his living room, begging. Entirely unholy and making a complete 360 of the girl he once knew. He’s terrified, he feels awful for you.

Your whisper is softer now after admitting all that, after seeing the look on his face that demonstrated a sort of fear.

“I didn’t come here for anything. I just wanted to tell you–”

You begin, but he cuts you off.

“You sure?”

The question drops like a stone, stopping you in your tracks. Shocks you, almost. His voice is careful, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something specific now. An answer, a reason to stop you before it goes any further.

You know you’re lying. Of course you came here for something. You wore something for Joel, put on lipstick and put perfume on the back of your knees. Lotioned your thighs and showered and shaved just for him. Maybe you don’t want to admit it, or maybe you do. Joel makes everything more confusing.

But all you do is nod.

It’s not permission, not yet. Faith, maybe.

Neither of you speak for a moment, the silence between you stretching out like a held breath. Your heart is beating against your ribs like it wants out, as if it could crawl up your throat and confess everything your body hasn’t yet exposed. You could explode right now, tell Joel what you did today. Tell him you thought about him the whole time, too.

The way he’s watching you is tender, understanding so deeply that it feels like he’s mourning.

“You’re not a bad person, kid,” he says, quiet.

Your throat tightens uncomfortably, keeping in the wild mix of emotions. Just barely.

“But it feels like I am. Like I’m trying to make you one.”

That makes him wince again. The thought of you feeling so bad and him being part of the cause breaks his heart. Little does he know, though, that tonight it’s not a grief thing–not more of that religious shit you’ve been crying about, but something else for once. You want him so bad that it physically hurts, and that’s what's breaking you.

“No.” He denies, shaking his head. “You’re not.” His voice is firm now, just a bit. He’s trying his best to get you to believe him harder than you want to believe it yourself.

“You’re scared, you’re lonely. And you’ve been carryin’ that for a long time now.”

He’s partially right. Of course, that’s true. He knows it and you know it. But he’s focused on the wrong issue right now, being gentle because he thinks you’re upset about church or God again. Thinks you need some help, some comfort. Doesn’t know that it’s because you’re so needy it pains you, doesn’t know that’s the reason you even showed up in the first place.

You blink fast, playing into the bit so he doesn’t figure you out.

“Yeah. I don’t know what to do.” You whisper.

He steps closer, and you don’t move. His hand comes up, slow, so slow, brushing a hair back from your face. The same way he touched you in church, but somehow softer–almost reverent. His big fingers trace your temple and jaw, the curve of your eyebrows.

And you feel it in every inch of your starving body. Especially between your legs again. You’re absolutely pounding, the same way you were on the way back from church earlier this afternoon.

Your thighs squeeze together, but Joel is too focused on your eyes to notice, trying to be a hero and read you. A hero isn’t what you need right now. You need a body. Touch and taste.

A few moments pass where he stares at you. The clock on his mantle next to the little carvings of birds he made ticks, so slowly that it gives the allusion that time is slowing now. All you can do is feel Joel. Feel his warm hand on the side of your face, feel his breath ghost against your skin like a spirit.

You’re expecting him to continue, to tell you the same lines he’s been reusing each time he sees you. You’re not dirty, you’re only human. But this time, you don’t want to believe that. Maybe you want to be dirty, rebel against the Lord after the torture the church has put on you these past few years.

After a day of obsessively touching yourself to the thought of Joel, he seemed unrealistic. Unreachable. Sexually, at least. He’s here physically, wanting to help you. But you’d never imagine any fantasies would come true.

As if a prayer was answered, by some strange supernatural form of luck, Joel leans in.

He fucking kisses you.

It’s not of lust or need on his part. It’s soft, just barely there, like he’s afraid to scare you away. Quiet and intentional, his lips warm and slow against yours. Makes you feel like you’re alright for once even if something is breaking open inside of you. In his mind, you’re going through more guilt right now–you’re upset and scared and needing comfort.

But to you, it’s the most sensual thing you’ve ever felt. To be fair, you’ve never experienced something so intimate. A lousy kiss with a college boy you didn’t learn the name of until three days later, three days after he drunkenly left your room and left you with nothing. But this is sexy. So incredibly intimate, making the ache worse–a million suns burning in you.

Joel is solid in front of you, though. The fragile moment juxtaposes your first kiss, making you forget about it entirely. Surely it wouldn’t even register in your brain anymore. He’s cradling the sides of your face, trying to make you feel good, but you’re going insane.

He tastes incredible, a little soured by the taste of cigarettes and maybe some beer from earlier that day. But you don’t mind. He’s perfect in your eyes, in your mouth. In the feeling between your legs, in the heat crawling up your neck and in your lower belly where a fire is increasing past comfort.

You let his kiss and touch settle over your skin and sink into your bones, finally allowing touch for the first time in your life. Both grace and sin in human form. Sexy but soft.

Joel pulls away before it deepens, not allowing himself to get carried away because he knows it’s not what you need right now. To him, it’s not somewhere either of you are ready to visit.

But when he looks at you again, his forehead rests against yours and his thick thumb brushes against the corner of your mouth like he’s blessing you.

“We’re gonna figure this out.” He murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. He’s gentle, too gentle. Fatherly with it, almost. The way he treats you so softly and kisses your forehead, it’s like he’s only trying to save you. You may have appreciated that a few days ago, but it’s not what you need anymore. Not enough. Not nearly.

The absence of his lips against yours almost hurts. You’re craving him so badly, and now you’re cold again. Starving. There’s only a breath of air where seconds ago there was fire and weight.

It’s not just romance and comfort, but need. A low, deep ache curling in your belly in replacement of hunger. Him. So, so painful. You crave him, crave the weight of him pressed into you. The scratch of his beard on your neck. You want his voice in your ear, breath on your neck again, telling you that you look so beautiful in the lipstick and pretty little red thong you wore just for him.

But it’s just the little kiss. He doesn’t want more, and you need more. Your fingers are twitching at your sides like they don’t know what to do with themselves–searching for something to cling to, to hold and feel. Joel. Your body is screaming.

You move before you think.

In an act of utter desperation, your hands reach for his shoulders, gripping him and tugging him impossibly closer like a lifeline. You press your mouth against his in another kiss: this one messier and harder, no longer delicate. Outrageously frantic. Your breath hitches, your smaller stretch of chest flush against his big one, fingers finding the soft of his neck. Finding everything you can. The buttons on his old shirt, the little patch of hair on his stomach that leads to things you can’t seem to get out of your head. You want to undo the buttons, strip him, take him.

To show him you’re not the little girl he once knew. You’re a woman, in lipstick and perfume and everything, and you’re done pretending you believe. You want him, he’s all that you believe in.

Joel stills.

His hands catch your elbows gently, face moving quickly away to stop the desperate excuse of a kiss you pressed to his lips. His grip is firmer, pulling your hands away from his warm skin that you want to take a bite of. To lick and worship and savor.

“Hey–hey.” He whispers, shaking his head. “Uh-uh. Slow down.”

But you can’t. You cannot stop.

Your thighs clench together, the low pulse between your legs somehow quickening more. The ache that began in the church closet today and never went away buzzes in your fingertips when they meet his stomach again, trying to push up his shirt while your lips drag back to his.

You press your hips forward into him without realizing, lips leaving his in mere seconds to drag across his jaw animalistically. Across his throat, groaning ferally against his Adam’s apple like a dog in heat.

“Please.” You practically whimper, almost crying out to him. Like a plea to the Lord. Him, now. “Joel–I just–please.”

“Shhh,” his hands envelop your wrists, pulling at your arms to anchor them in place and stop them from dragging into uncharted territory.

When you ignore him and keep gnawing at his skin and kissing everywhere you can get, he toughens up–firm, harder than you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey.” He growls, yanking at your wrists to finally capture your attention. And he gets it this time.

You look up, eyes once hazy with lust and now a little worried. You thought he wanted it–he kissed you, after all. How could he be stopping you now?

“Look at me. Enough.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to look, don’t want to stop, don’t want to listen to what he’s saying. The notion of having Joel–a physical body, something arousing–instead of God, was supposed to be freeing. There were no longer rules, no more restrictions about what or what not you could do, what you could touch.

The only thing you want to do is burn everything to the ground until only he’s left with you. His touch. This.

He says it again, tightening the grip on your wrists.

“Look at me.”

This time, you do.

His face is flushed, jaw clenched tight–you’ve never seen him like this. He’s always quieter, keeps to himself, doesn’t let much emotion show. But he looks full of it now, full of something you can’t quite understand–not rejection, not disgust. But a similar ache to yours. Like it kills him to have to pull away like this, but he forces himself to.

“You’re not in the right place right now,” he starts again, trying his best to stay gentle, thumb brushing softly against your knuckles while anchoring your wrists in place. “This ain’t gonna fix you, kid. Not like this.”

The gentle approach doesn’t work. Tonight, you’re something that needs to be chained up. Tamed and stopped. An animal, after just discovering how good it feels to be dirty.

You try again, leaning forward with a desperate gasp and attempting to land your lips on his. Not even just the skin of them, but like you’re trying to get in his mouth. You want to be physically inside of him, he’s your God now. You want to sink your teeth into his tanned skin and melt into him.

Your hips press again, and that’s his breaking point. He shakes his head for the millionth time, grabbing your waist with one hand and your hands with the other. The waist to stop you from moving closer, the hands to stop you from reaching down and touching him–partially in an attempt to stop you from discovering the fact that he’s hardening in his pants, as much as he hates to.

“No.” He nearly shouts, but holds himself back. He can forcefully stop you, but he’d never actually yell.

His hand on your waist pushes you, making you stagger backward until your knees hit his old leather couch. Creased and indented from many years spent lounging with a beer, his belt undone and tummy hanging out in comfort.

He wants to help you, not feed into those desires. Not that he cares about you not believing anymore, but this isn’t the way to go about it.

“Sweetheart, you’re still your father’s daughter,” he huffs, stepping in front of you once you’ve fallen into a sitting position on his couch. “Don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doin,’ forcing yourself onto me like that. Ain’t the way to go about this.”

You try your best to listen, but your mind is consumed by the way he pushed you back onto the couch. Even in a moment where he’s trying to keep you in line, save you from going too far, you’re being disgusting. Can’t stop looking at him. At his vascular hands, at his angry face, at his stomach where his shirt is coming untucked, and definitely at his crotch where he might be twitching under the layers of fabric.

Still, you manage to calm down. He’s never gotten angry with you like this, so it gives you a tiny moment of clarity. You gulp and nod mindlessly, finally giving up on the idea of getting into his pants tonight.

So much for the thong.

He sighs, at least a little glad to see the fire in your eyes die down. And when your gaze flickers up from his body and finally lands on his face, he can recognize you again.

“Look. I’m not gonna pretend to get it. I understand you’re goin’ through something, with God and shit, but this is too far. Just because you don’t believe anymore doesn’t mean you should be throwin’ yourself away like this.”

His words come to you in a more vivid understanding once you’ve managed to calm your filthy mind down, and it starts to hurt a bit. The realization dawns on you of what you’re doing, forcing yourself onto a man–on a Sunday, of all days.

Tears sting your eyes in seconds. Not exactly shame, but frustration. It all feels like an unbearable fullness, you don’t know what to do. Not with your body, not with your heart, not with Joel. Don’t know what you want.

“I need you, though. Please.” You try one last time, except this time it’s quieter–unbelieving. You rub your nose when it leaks a little alongside the tears, sniffling and shifting in your seat.

Joel sighs. He looks so tortured, stressed. It makes you feel a little bad.

He sits down on the couch, leaning back and letting out a quiet noise with the crack of his knees. Old and manly. Hands reaching down to rest on his thighs.

“Gotta slow down. Ain’t you, angel. Not what you need.”

His hand moves from his own thigh to yours, just resting on your knee like a grounding presence. Settling you. And after all you just tried to do, he’s still patient with you. Like he actually believes in you and wants to help.

Your savior. Your God. Your Joel.

A few quiet moments pass where you stare at each other, a few lonely tears dropping from your eyes, weighing down your lashes. Your lipstick is smudged. The wetness and ache between your legs is going away.

And now, part of you wants to wait and believe him.

“...I need you.”

The same words leave your mouth again, but in a different meaning this time. Instead of desperation and sexuality, it’s a softer yearning. You don’t just need him physically, you’re realizing you do need him to help you.

He nods in understanding, squeezing your thigh. His free hand snakes up behind you, wrapping around you to grip your shoulder. He brings his lips to your head, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of it, feeling your soft hair on his skin. Brushing against his cheek, making him want to rest his head there for eternity.

“And I’m here. I’m not goin’ anywhere, but I’m not gonna take anything from you when you’re like this. You’re not steady.”

What he says makes sense. You need to learn to control yourself, to deal with the urges and act slowly. What you did today wasn’t only desperation but a subconscious ‘fuck you’ to God–an extreme, blasphemous rebellion. It wasn’t the right move.

You want to pull him close, but not to have you. Just to hold.

Except you listen to him, not acting on everything you want. You go at his pace, let him hold you, because to you, he knows all. He makes it better. He’s ready to shield you from the world and guide you, even shield you from yourself.

“I’ve got you. Promise. You’re not alone in this, not tonight.”

And somehow, for the first time since you returned home, you believe something. You believe Joel.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

HIII thank yall sm for all the support recently! i've been loving writing this fic so so so much i adore where the plot is going and DON'T WORRY there'll be some real smut soon (dual-sided, don't fret) comment or go in my asks if you're wanting anything specific to happen or be included and i'll try my best to feed yalls delusions! thank u love u mwah mwah mwah

@joeldarling @ssssc0m @melmel-fandom @rafeovermorals @lilac-boo @funkifiedzee

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cosmica-galaxy · 3 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/cosmica-galaxy/780231625341550592/httpswwwtumblrcomcosmica-galaxy7802251982103?source=share

Ok gonna reveal it was me who sent this idea...

Now I feel like I need a fic of these shenanigans like I can also imagine (sharing ideas both for laughs and potential fic ideas...for either one fic or multiple...maybe one cookie sized human and one human sized...human. good at making senarios but not good with writing...also your writing is amazing and adored your last fic so ye!)....or im curious your thoughts lmao:

Idea 1, human sized human:

Human: *runs away screaming!*

Cookies: *runs away screaming!*

Human, looking back and realizes they are running opposite way: oh thank God, they must not be hungry! ^-^

*cookies suddenly pause...and have a convo that y/n can't hear because they are too tiny...said convo is cookies realizing y/n is more afraid of them then they are of y/n...cue turn around and suddenly start chasing!*

Human: NEVERMIND, THEY WANNA EAT ME!

*cue hilarious chase...like the cute video of the guy getting chased by ducklings!*

Idea 2, human sized human:

Gingerbrave: human, come down! We all worked together to bake you this giant peace offering cupcake!

Human: how do I know it's not poisoned to kill me?

Gingerbrave: y/n, none of us want to eat you!

Y/n: that's what someone who wants to eat me would say!

(Maybe cupcake is a peace offering cupcake oooor a trap like y/n says but not to kill em but instead put em into a deep sleep so they don't notice cookies climbing up to their safe spot.)

Idea 3, if y/n was a human who was cookie sized:

https://youtube.com/shorts/deMoAFNp9xk?si=e74Tf-3yPGMKWPuM

Gingerbrave: y/n, we see you behind that tree!

Y/n: no you don't!

Gingerbrave: YES WE DO! GET OVER HERE!

*Gingerbrave grabs y/n and tries to yank em out!*

Y/n: AAAAA GET THE HELL OFF ME!

Gingerbrave: IM TRYING TO HUG YOU!

Y/n: NO YOU WANNA KILL ME!

Gingerbrave: I WOULD NEVER DO THAT!

Y/n: I HEARD WHAT COOKIES DO TO HUMANS TO BOTH ASCEND TO GODHOOD AND TAKE REVENGE ON US!

Gingerbrave: NO YOU HAVEN'T!

*later, gingerbrave and y/n are chilling...eating ice cream while y/n is being held by a cookie.*

Y/n: ...ok, you were right, this is nice.

Idea 4, human sized human:

Gingerbrave: it's ok human, just come down...slowly...it's ok. None of us wanna hurt you...we wanna be friends too...see? We can all be friends together...

*at last...after the 3 days stand still...y/n slowly starts to get down and the cookies start to light up in glee.*

Hollyberry: it's happening!

Chef, running out of a tent: hey everyone, I finally found my knife set and my recipe for amazing meat pies in celebration of getting y/n down!

*y/n, hearing that and assuming THEY were the meat and not knowing the chef meant jelly meat, IMMEDIETLY scooted back to their spot, looking twice as paniked as before! the cookies all stared at the chef...like 'are you freaking kidding me right now?'*

Chef: ...oops? ^-^'

Gingerbrave: oh witches... -_-'

Idea 5, human sized human:

*one super strong cookie had lifted a tree and was now waving it at y/n...*

cookie: come on, come on down! Take the tasty tree!

Cookie 2: are you seriously trying to lure them down with a tree?

Cookie: you got any better ideas for treats? We already tried a (cake monster/cakehound) but they cried, saying they were too cute to eat...so we have to result to things that aren't alive or cute! Trees are neither cute nor alive so...

Cookie 2: ....we need a better lure. -_-'

LMAO! Like I said, there's a lot of various routes that these AUs can go down depending on the timeline.

The poor human is lost in a world where they believe that these sweet little inhabitants are "vicious human eating machines that take them down in packs". Then the cookies are like "OMG the witches are wondering around and trying to eat cookies in the world!!" and there's just so much confusion and tension and shenanigans. XD Depending on the size of the human, lots of things can be very different! It's mostly up to what you prefer or what you would believe will happen if something is a certain way. I do love these little idea nugget. They are such tasty snacks to me. <: )

#snowflake4275 #haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #crk tag #crk #cookies and humans

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Make You Wish (Alastor x Reader) Chapter One -- Seven Years

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (Hazbin Hotel)

Warnings: Um, language?????? no gore in tis one. Tbh, this chapter is pretty chill.

Word Count: 1,278

Master List Links:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I'm back from the dead. Hi.

"Love you... Bye." Charlie hung up the phone.

Quietly, she slipped back inside the hotel, shutting the door behind her. Things had not gone as planned today and they had not gone well either. She wanted this hotel to work, more than anything in the world she wanted to do what she could for her people. At the same time, it was hard not to feel hopeless after the mess on TV earlier and the lack of response from her mother. Letting out a protected sigh, she shut her eyes, leaning against the door.

As soon as Charlie's back hit the stained glass paneling, there came a quiet knock. Opening her eyes, she pulled herself from the door and tentatively turned towards it. Hope and a twinge of fear battled for control of Charlie as, at the sound of the person knocking a second time, she opened the door.

"Hel-"

Charlie shut the door right in the Radio Demon's face. Brow furrowed with confusion, doubt at what she had seen obscuring her mind, she opened it again.

"-lo!"

Charlie shut the door once again. Turning slowly, her eyes wide and her mind whirling, she headed into the main sitting area of the lobby.

"Hey Vaggie?" Charlie called for her girlfriend as she entered.

"What?" Vaggie asked, throwing her head over the back of the couch she was resting on as she did so, meeting Charlie's anxious eyes.

"The Radio Demon is at the door!" Charlie replied, her tone hiding nothing as she mocked the demon's well known smile, pointing back to the hotel entrance.

Vaggie straightened up immedeatly.

"What!" she exclaimed.

Angel, who was sitting on the couch beside her enjoying a popsicle, looked over in mild confusion. Shrugging, he decided he didn't really care and returned to his treat.

"What should I do?" Charlie practically begged.

"Well, don't let him in." Vaggie almost seemed more stressed by the situation than her girlfriend.

Charlie sighed, turning to look back at the door. Slowly, ignoring Vaggie's protests, she approached it once again. Steeling herself, Charlie opened the door.

"May I speak now?" the Radio Demon asked.

Charlie crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him with an unamused expression.

"You may."

The speed with which the demon shot out his hand to shake her own took Charlie aback.

"Alastor." he announced, bowing so that they were eye to eye, "Pleasure to be meeting you. Yes, quite the pleasure."

Y/n's life had changed a lot in the past seven years. From the top of Hell to the bottom, her own personal fall. Not that she'd ever really been at the top, no. Just next to it. The spotlight had never really been her thing.

Hell had been Y/n's home for nearly seventy years. The picture perfect housewife gone mad. In life, she had secured her place after death in blood. Abusive didn't look good on her dearly departed husband after all and what was the point of life if not ridding out the rot to save the flowers?

Death had not come easily or without pain. After the police had caught her, she'd been found innocent for reason of insanity in the courts and sent to an asylum. No one seemed to want to hear or believe her part of the story. Just a year or so after her husband's death, she found peace through a failed lobotomy in 1955 and woke up to red skies.

Thankfully, Hell was large and inhabited enough that she never seemed to run into him down here. Y/n wasn't proud of what she had done in life, but she didn't regret it either. The truth was, she loved Hell. It was vibrant and lively. It was interesting. She had quickly found friends, moved up in the world. Then, the world had changed.

Seven years nearly to the day. Things had been rough at first, there was a new way in which she had had to learn to interact with the world around her. That was when she'd met Blitzo, in those early days of being on her own. Y/n would've thanked god but, god didn't come around these parts and far too many awful things had happened since then anyways but, she still saw their meeting as an odd sort of blessing. She had never been very good at being alone and he did save her, in a way. Even gave her a job at I.M.P., his business.

It was odd for a sinner to be working subservient to an imp in Hell, but not unheard of. Y/n got some looks on the street, sure. Some clients asked some rude questions and she wasn't technically allowed in the human realm but, neither were any of them really. Overall, she found her new life to be quite enjoyable, the good with the bad. Not as cushy or pleasant as her old life, but she saw no use in dwelling on any of that. It had been seven years, for heaven's sake. She couldn't hold out hope for something that would clearly never happen. Besides, she had always had a bit of a mean streak and the job helped deal with that.

She was a sinner, it was obvious. About a head taller than Blitzo, she was a 1950s dream: all movie star hair and legs. When he had first joined I.M.P. a few years ago, she'd even worn the dresses to match. Once they started getting actual jobs, once Blitzo had found a way to travel to the human realm, that had changed. Y/n had seen the fashions of the knew world and enjoyed them quite a bit.

Rings on five of ten fingers, heaps of necklaces, even a tattoo or two. She topped off the whole look with black cargo pants, tank tops, and a choker with spikes and a ring on it. It all went rather well with the attributes she'd acquired once arriving in hell.

She come off lucky in regards to changes in her body when she had died. When people fell into the pits, they received attributes that somehow related to the person they were on earth as well as how they died. Y/n had been harmless on the outside, and able to cause real harm if pushed to it. Docile and gentle, but angry. So she'd ended up like this, with little freckles and a white dots of various sizes marring her now grey skin. Sweet little horns perched on the top of her head, a thin forked tail, and sharp teeth when she was provoked. It made sense, if it was a bit stereotypical. Overall, she couldn't complain.

She had been lying in bed in the apartment she now shared with Blitzo and Loona when she'd felt it in her bones. It was an odd sort of shiver that went down her spine, a tingle at the back of her head. The world had changed again. Y/n didn't know how she knew that, or why, or even in what ways things had become different, but laying there in the dark, something shifted.

She sat up, looking out the window over the darkened landscape of pentagram city. Off in the distance, she could just barley make out the lights of the Princess of Hell's new passion project, some rehab center for sinners or something of the like. Y/n let out a sigh.

The last time she felt this way, her whole life had fallen apart. As she laid back down, she couldn't help but pray to whoever was listening it wouldn't be happening again.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Two -- Where Is She

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islandlobster · 10 months ago

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hai . thinking about wind waker's food 😵‍💫

theres a lot of emphasis on seafood in fanon but in reality there are NO fish out there to be eaten.

on the other hand, both pigs and crabs look pretty abundant, so i think theyre used as the main sources of protein ^.^ seagulls are a potential too but i feel the other two options are easier and quicker to capture and prep. seagulls are prob mostly esten by seafarers that didn't ration their supplies very well

iii can see a lot of soups stews and hotpots being a staple in the average great sea inhabitant's diet, obv the Main food item we see is grandma's soup which helps 👍 i personally think her soup is some sort of red lentil soup, with crabmeat and spices and a teeny bit of blue chu jelly ^_^ blue chus are super rare so grandma was saving it for link's birthday treat :)

something to be said abt the elixir soup is how it acts like a blue potion, so i can for sure see islanders using chu jelly in food and beverages rather than Solely for potionmaking, especially bc of how many places chus spawn . i think theyd be good for making a sweet treat ^_^

more onto drinks, ww had a coffee shop! explicitly saying that it has coffee and coffee beans too 🥳🥳🥳 it's particularly fun bc irl pirates had a history of drinking coffee a lot lol

theres way more to be picked apart but this is getting long as hell and i'm sleepy . okay bye foreverrr

#hai. sorry im on mobile and this is all off the top of my hesd otherwise i wouldve added images and made it look nicer #p.txt #sighs . i love winndwaker . no one gets me *stands in the corner facing the wall*#WINDWAKER ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️I LOVE YUO

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luckyorchid · 6 months ago

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The sun’s up

Comic 1 (PT. 1)

(Lore + Context is below!)

Hoo boy here we go (SPOILERS for anyone who wants to experience sky by themselves!)

Sky lore for Non-players (Feel free to skip, just added this since the story is a bit tied to the lore in game)

Some of the basics:

Core / Flame = Life source.

The ancestors are the original “humanoid” inhabitants of the world. Light creatures (animals) were the first inhabitants though. Sky beings were the last creations to solidify the inhabitants.

Light creatures & Sky beings all have a “core” which means they’re all connected and living off of light as their life source.

Sky beings are essentially just stars that fell on the world and decided to exist LMAO. You can't make one, so you just have to pray really hard for a shooting star.

Realms & Elders:

ignoring the middle one for now, there are 6 realms. Each realm has different climates (But it wasn’t always like that), and settings.

Isle of Dawn - Sandy terrain

Daylight prairie - Hills, grass, oceans and flowers.

Hidden forest - A forest where it rains non-stop

Valley of Triumph - A valley / mountainside that snows non-stop

Golden wasteland - Hell (/j) / Sandy terrain with toxic water.

Vault of Knowledge - Massive tower stored with history and knowledge

In the comic, they’re in “Hidden Forest.” Each realm has an Elder, who is essentially someone who governs the realm. They’re just here to make sure everything is stable.

History (This is all based off of my own observation + Tom Zhao's concept art!):

For that middle realm, it's called "Eye of Eden" and or where the "Storm" originated from. It also has an elder, but he's more or less "King of all kings" sort of thing. He had the say in most things. Eye of Eden never had a clear vision on what it was before the storm, but I'd imagine it would be a sort of sanctuary.

Speaking of before the storm, some realms weren't how they are right now, like how Isle of dawn used to be like Daylight prairie.

Moving on, at first every one was pretty chill, until the king found something called Dark stone. Dark stone is like...the opposite of light? It's like if you shoved a rock into gasoline and something radioactive. Despite it, the elders find out dark stone can be used to make advanced technology, so of course they take the chance to overuse it.

The light creatures and sky beings suffer from the effects of this. While sky beings were taken to areas with less dark stone, light creatures were treated with more hostility. This causes the ancestors and light creatures to go to war with each other.

Long story short; Dark stone corrupted the ancestors and started destroying the environment, because it literally uses light / fire as its power. The creatures said "Nuh-uh" and started fighting back. The final fight (that transpired in Eden) gets so bad that most of the dark stone explodes and creates a massive storm that affects all the realms, and most of the people die including the elders and king 😭

This is where "Dark creatures" start to thrive. These silly little guys are similar to dark stone, they love eating light.

Ratio & Kakavasha Lore

Ratio was born before the storm, while Kakavasha was born when the storm had already happened.

Veritas Ratio Lore:

Ratio was a smart kid, and a lot of people noticed it. That's it/j In fact, a lot of people noticed it, so he was dragged into the Sky version of the intelligentsia guild- in training, of course. He's too young to start running stuff, even if he insists on it.

It got to the point where even the elders acknowledged him, and some wanted him to be their advisor when he reached the right age. Veritas is (internally) ecstatic about this. He still holds the ideals of OG ratio, universal knowledge, and as an advisor he can further be of influence for good.

He was never close to his peers, in fact they couldn't count on their fingers just how many times he's called them idiots and other remarks, but he'd never go as far as to say he hated them. Fond? Maybe, just a teensy bit. A silent room is nice, but after a prolonged period, he may seek out that background noise of chatter. (Or not)

(Ref used: S1 arcane poster) Then the storm came. The storm pretty much threw all of his dreams to the abyss, and not only that- he had to witness the things he loved and cared for either die or go into shambles. He's one of the few survivors, but he's harboring a lot of guilt and contempt towards most things. (aka everything. He always thinks of "Why's" Why did the elders let it get this far? Why were the ancestors so selfish? Why couldn't he do anything to stop his friends from being eaten by those dark creatures?)

He stays with other survivors in safe realms (Daylight prairie), and he tries his best to be of help. Specifically: hunting. (Haha get it cause the hunt *cough*) He likes to join in hunting squads to kill dark creatures in the Hidden Forest, and if he can; study the body. It's morbid, but he wants to find ways to mitigate attacks.

Kakavasha Lore

The Avgin clan are all semi-dark creatures. Their landing spot is always within an area full of dark stone, so it's like their core merges with it. They can all turn into "Krills" (Sky version of dragon). Despite this, most of them have a kind nature and wouldn't go out of their way to hurt Sky beings. They settle on eating fruits, birds, and fish.

They live in Wasteland, which is littered with dark creatures. Despite sharing the same origins, even they have to be careful. Hungry creatures aren't picky after all.

But due to their advantage, they can usually freely travel through the Valley and Hidden Forest to scavenge for food and other materials.

Kakavasha loves to join his sister for scavenging, and he loves finding out about things in general, so much so his sister always has to look behind her shoulder to make sure he isn't doing anything risky. "High risk, high reward!" He still can't turn into a krill, but he can make his hands sharp! Other than that, he's pretty happy. The storm hasn't affected them much- in fact, it's an advantage. Though, he always wonders what's beyond the forest, snow and sands.

Post-storm Kakavasha happens when the storm starts to calm down and the sky beings start to regain their footing. This is how his clan gets found out and gets hunted down, until he and a few were the only survivors. He's used as a test subject to better understand dark creatures, but of course there was no consideration of his well-being. As long as he isn't dead. Similar to the OG hsr lore, he ended up killing the people who 'owned' him. But this time, he was freed with pardon because damn look at all that trauma. In this AU he's free to do whatever without someone shackling him down, but it doesn't make him feel any better to what happened to his clan and himself. He feels a bit of spite towards Sky beings, but he doesn't outright act on it...much.

This ended up having more lore than it's supposed to have 😭 I'll make a continuation comic of their first meeting, and some other random shenanigans these two end up getting into LMAO. Thanks for reading and have a good day <33

#dr ratio x aventurine #ratiorine #raturine #aventurine #dr ratio #sky cotl #the sun's up

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vikkirosko · 2 years ago

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Hello. Since you're writing for Hazbin Hotel, how about Husk, Alastor, Valentino and Sir Pentious with S/O, who's way too determined for their own good? Like, even when it's obvious that S/O should cut their losses and retreat, they instead will try and try again.

Headcanons Excessive determination

📻 Alastor x Reader 🎙

Alastor often witnessed fights in which you participated. You fought a lot and quite often you fought until your opponents gave up or ran away. You were overly determined and it didn't seem like it should have been a problem, but in fact it really was a problem

You were ready to fight even if your opponents outnumbered you and were armed. Alastor rarely interfered in your fights, watching you continue to fight with confidence. Quite often you got injured because of this, but even that couldn't break your resolve

When Alastor saw that you had absolutely no chance of winning, he intervened. He didn't even need to get into a fight to do that, the only thing he needed to do was approach. The sight of him alone scared most of the inhabitants of Hell. At times like this, you told him that you could have handled it on your own. He just smiled at you and agreed with you, but he wasn't going to leave you if you could die because of your determination and stubbornness

Alastor was amused to watch how your determination made your life difficult. However, when he saw that you were about to do something that was obviously too dangerous, he stopped you. He didn't need to convince you not to do it for a long time, because under his pressure your resolve was cracking

🃏 Husk x Reader 🥃

Husk has known you for a long time and knew what kind of person you were. You were overly determined. You were not afraid of fights and often became a participant in them, even if your opponents outnumbered or outgunned you. You simply didn't pay attention to it, confident of your victory. However, you didn't always come out of fights unscathed

Every time you came to him wounded after fights, he would loudly scold you, telling you to think with your head when you fight. He was angry that you were so careless about your own safety and your own health. Even though he didn't tell you, he was worried that after another fight like this, you might not come back

When you returned wounded late, he would come out from behind the bar and treat your wounds without ceasing to grumble. He felt calmer when you came back, because you were alive. He told you every time to be careful and not to continue fighting if the chances of winning were small. Husk knew that you probably wouldn't listen to him, but he told you about it anyway

Husk was well aware that your excessive determination was a problem, even though you didn't think it was. Husk could only hope that you would finally begin to rationalize your chances and strengths, and your excessive determination would not cause your second death

💞 Valentino x Reader 🚬

It was the first time Valentino heard about you from friends. They talked about you as a determined person, but it was only through personal acquaintance that he found out that your determination could sometimes go to your own detriment. This was especially understandable when you became part of a conflict

He witnessed one of these conflicts. You fought alone against several bandits with whom you did not share something. There were more of them and they were better armed than you, but you didn't care about that yourself. You were ready to keep fighting even if it meant you could get hurt yourself

Several times he watched as his subordinates treated your wounds that you received after another fight. You claimed you were fine, but Valentino wouldn't let his subordinates stop treating your wounds. He saw perfectly well the state you were in and wasn't going to let your excessive determination hurt you

He began to send several of his people with you more often so that you would not get into trouble. You were against it, but Valentino didn't ask for your opinion on the matter. He liked you and he didn't want you to get hurt because you always relied on yourself, even when the difference in strength was obvious

🐍Sir Pentious x Reader 🎩

For a long time, you have been not only a partner for Sir Pentious, but also a partner in his attempts to gain more power. You were always the first to rush into battle and at first he was delighted with your determination, until he realized that very often it hurts you more than it helps

The realization of this came to him after several fights in which you participated. Every time you fought like you didn't feel any pain and risked yourself even if you were outnumbered. Sir Pentious saw you fight against several sinners who, unlike you, were well armed, but you did not even think to retreat, confident that you could win

Every time after such fights, he was busy treating your wounds. Even with his help, you couldn't avoid getting hurt, but you didn't get upset about it. He asked you to be careful, but you rarely listened to him, which is why you returned, although pleased with your victory, but wounded again

Pentious knew that your determination was too strong, but there wasn't much he could do. The only thing he could really do was try to be close to you and, if necessary, come to your aid so that you would not die, because even in Hell it was possible to die

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Hazbin Hotel headcanons #Alastor #Alastor x Reader #Husk #Husk x Reader #Valentino #Valentino x Reader #Sir Pentious #Sir Pentious x Reader

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helluverse-rewrites · 7 months ago

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Rewriting the Sins

Special thanks to @helluvablenda for probably unintentionally and lowkey accidentally giving me a super sick idea :)

Gonna cover this first before going into each individual sin. I'm not gonna be having their sins be their only personality trait. I want their to be nuance and interesting characters, but at first glance it appears that way, and that's pretty much how everyone sees them. Asmodeus being called the lust/horny guy by hell, Belphegor being known as the lazy one, etc. etc.

But they are so much more than their sins but hell doesn't realize that and borderline refuses to acknowledge it. So they all kinda knew that no matter how hard they tried, it's not gonna change anything. So they ended up making their respective sins their only personality trait

Anyways let's talk about Asmodeus guys

Asmodeus

Doing these in order of appearance btw

One of the only characters I would actually smash. I hate what they did to Asmodeus (and Fizzarolli... and their dynamic but I'm getting into that later) even though I'm not sure if I'm gonna fix him all that well

Basically the idea is that growing up (if the sins actually had childhoods) he was a real sweetheart, a real gentle giant, a guy who would never hurt a fly. He would never raise his voice and has the patience of a saint. He could be talking to the Vegan Teacher and never lose his temper. Mostly because he's a people pleaser. Yes, he knows he should toughen up and gain a backbone, but it just... It feels so wrong!!!

Enter Fizzarolli, I will eventually make a post about Fizzmodeus as well as the rest of the ships, but the two don't exactly get along at first, but eventually they start to get along. And the imp taught Asmodeus how to speak up for himself :) and even though Asmodeus is still a sweetheart, he is a bit of an asshole sometimes (Fizzy's influence)

I have more things I wanna say, but I'm waiting to talk about Fizzmodeus (and Fizz) So I'm not quite done with him, just for now

Till we meet again Ozzie >:)

Beelzebub

Ah yes, the creator of Hellhounds herself (I think. Whenever someone brings up Bee and the Hellhounds I always get so confused. So if you don't like when I talk about them in this section... uh, sorry)

When Bee created the Hellhounds, the initial idea was that so hell could just have more inhabitants. More people = more partying! It's literally the most flawless plan

... Until during a meeting with the sins, Lucifer brought an idea that shook Bee to her core. How about the Hellhounds work under the upper class? And have adoption homes? Bee never really liked Lucifer all that much, he's petty, never admits when he's wrong, and is super annoying. What shocks Bee even more is that most of the sins agreed (except for Ozzie) and Bee is about to exclaim that she's the one who created Hellhounds! Shouldn't she get a say in all of this? That is until she catches Lucifer's eye. Sure, he's annoying and really fucking short, but she saw how he gets when things don't go his way

He's giving her a look that goes "Don't even think about speaking unless you want to die tonight."

So Bee just had to sit there and accept it. The fact that the very things she created were being turned into fucking slaves and abused under her rule... it's just awful. And relationships with the Hellhounds weren't the same after that. Some downright hated her and would treat her the way Stolas was treated in Mastermind basically. They wouldn't listen when Bee tried to explain to them that it was out of her control, and she honestly doesn't blame her. Some do understand but they do end up keeping her distance from now on

So to make up for it she tries to host as many parties as possible for the Hellhounds, and when Lucifer isn't involved she does try to speak up against this injustice which raises the question "Where were you when we needed you?" And she hasn't gotten over this guilt since the day it happened

I'm sorry that might've not been the best explanation for Hellhounds and such but I did want to make Bee likeable and keep in the whole thing with Hellhounds so I just thought about an instance where maybe it was out of her control. One thing's for certain, she constantly beats herself up for not being able to stand up against Lucifer

Now personality wise, relatively the same. Still blunt and shoves cotton candy down people's throats. I just mostly wanted to cover the main issue I see a lot of people have with Bee and rightly so

Mammon

Mammon is honestly kind of the same. Still manipulative and abusive. A greedy little guy

But I will be taking out the insensitive fat jokes directed at him. See, for Mammon, he likes to act stupid, like he doesn't know what he's doing to lure others into a false sense of security

One trait I want to give Mammon though is that he's a sucker for kids. He's great with them. He loved babysitting baby Charlie and always got up in little shenanigans with her. He's all for manipulating and hurting adults, but if he were to do that with a kid would be crossing the line in his eyes

Leviathan

Okay so Leviathan and Belphegor are going to be a bit difficult because there's almost no information about them in regards to the helluverse but I'm going to try my best

I want the heads to be at each other's throats, like constantly. Since Levi's the sin of envy, the heads are extremely envious of each other, always bickering and shit. Only once every thousand years will you see them get along

But when they do get along? They will bully you endlessly. They bring out the worst of each other

The human head in my mind is more extroverted and loves talking while the dragon head is introverted and hates having to talk to people

Eh it's not much but at least it's something

Belphegor

(Ignore Bee and Ozzie)

Okay I'm gonna be real, I have no idea what I want to do with her. At least with Leviathan I had somewhat of an idea. But with Belphegor I got nothing

I did see this really cool theory with her and the sloth ring so I might do something with that

Idk pls share your ideas with me if you have any. Who knows? Maybe Belphegor might be important in the future

Oh wait she's a woman nevermind-

Satan

Ah yes. Satan. Now I don't really have much to change either (wow. What an interesting post I'm making/sar)

I do like the thought of him and Yogirt being boyfriends though. I think that's fun and silly :3

Even though Satan does have a temper and is very dramatic at times. There is one thing that he loves more than anything: the sins

Okay well technically that's several things but he sees them all as little brothers/sisters and would destroy all of the rings of hell if it would make them happy

He loves them all. Except for one...

Lucifer

Goddam his smug face pisses me off so much how do people find him attractive???

Anyways. He's a bad guy now. An antagonist :)

He was very absent in Charlie's life and would just get one of the other sins to babysit her. Which... they love her, but it does get a bit frustrating when he drops them off on their doorstep with no prior warning. Especially when they have other business to attend to

He is extremely condescending and views everyone as beneath him. He's clearly better than these good for nothing sinners! His condescending nature is something Charlie unfortunately picked up, which is why she ends up treating others like children (she isn't even aware of this fact)

He just thinks people in hell don't deserve mercy. Or anything good, really. He often talks down to Charlie and not so subtly dunks on her dream at any chance he gets. He finds it so funny how people can't stand up for him because they know he's more powerful than he looks

He never admits when he's wrong and immediately kills anyone who tries to call him out

#anti spindlehorse #anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #spindlehorse criticism #helluva boss rewrite #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel rewrite

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