#think of your monster and how it did the same to you

[iphigeniacomplex]

[Transcript:

Twenty-One Things You Don’t Say to a Transsexual by Riki Anne Wilchins

[...]

Don’t # 4: “I consider you as much a woman as ANY of my friends.” What a treat for them, especially your male friends.

[...]

Don’t # 6: “When did you decide to become a woman?” Well, when did you decide to become a woman? Oh . . . I see; with you it is normal. Um-hmmmmm.

Don’t # 7: “Can you have an orgasm?” Yes, but only when I’m asked this question.

Don’t # 8: “Can you have an orgasm?”

Don’t # 9: “Can you have an orgasm?”

Don’t # 10: “Can you have an orgasm?”

[...]

Don’t # 14: “This is women-only space.” This is usually said to me by a rather red-faced lesbian, who probably believes she is confronting the live penis-monster (moi) as it approaches her very doorstep. But then, these things are so difficult today; perhaps she is really a straight woman complaining bitterly about a lack of men. The only correct response I can ever think of is, “Well I certainly feel better knowing that.”

Don’t # 15: “How did you know you’re a woman?” Well, how did you know you were a woman? Ah-humm: breasts and vagina. Well, I can introduce you to some very handsome, bearded, muscular young men of my acquaintance who began life with the very same equipment, so that’s not particularly compelling evidence, is it? . . . I see, inside you just know . . . Call me sometime, we’ll have lunch.

[...]

Don’t # 19: “You look just like a REAL woman.” How splendid, especially when you recall I’m composed almost entirely of compressed soy byproducts. And you look just like a real transsexual. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was an insult.

Don’t # 20: “Isn’t it AMAZING you’re the ONLY transsexual I know.” Yes, and isn’t it amazing, when you came out to your mother, you were the only homosexual she knew. Ho-hum. The fact that I am the only transsexual you know only emphasizes that: a.) you probably know a few hundred of us, but you don’t know you know us, and we won’t tell you that you do; b.) there are tens of thousands of us, and more all the time; c.) we are secretly plotting to take over the planet Earth, and infiltrating your prevailing nontranssexual culture is just our first step; d.) while we are waiting to take over your planet, we are amusing ourselves at your expense by seeing just how much we can fuck with your heads.

]

Twenty-One Things You Don’t Say to a Transsexual by Riki Anne Wilchins.

The fact that I am the only transsexual you know only emphasizes that…we are secretly plotting to take over the planet Earth, and infiltrating your prevailing nontranssexual culture is just our first step

In TransSisters: The Journal of Transsexual Feminism, issue 3, volume 1. 1994.

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 12 SPOILERS.

No. I'm not paying anyone's therapy after last chapter 🙄 BUT what I CAN do it sharing a fun scene of next chapter lmao 😅

—

As soon as the realization hit her, it became undeniable—unstoppable. Her chest tightened, her hands trembled. The broken gate had been sealed by Eren’s titan form, and the formation was now being lifted to the top of the walls, preparing to descend on the other side. The very same elevators that had brought them up would now take them down into the unknown.

For the first time in her life, she was seeing beyond the walls.

Fear struck hard.

‘Don’t look down,’ she told herself.

But, of course, she did.

Her breath hitched as she took in the staggering drop from the top of the wall to the endless stretch of grass below. The sheer height made her stomach twist.

And speaking of colossal things—her mind, in a cruel act of betrayal, reminded her of all the horrifying stories she’d grown up with. The monsters beyond the walls. The titans. Every worst-case scenario she’d ever been taught came rushing to the forefront of her thoughts.

Instinct took over. In a blind scramble for safety, she backed into the elevator shaft, clutching her cat against her chest like a lifeline and gripping the column beside her as if it were the only thing keeping her from plummeting into the abyss.

Armin, always perceptive, noticed immediately and approached with concern.

“Y/N… are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I just need some fresh air,” she said quickly. But her wide eyes, clenched teeth, and bone-white knuckles gripping the metal told a different story.

Like ducklings following their leader, the rest of the squad trailed after Armin, equally curious and confused.

“Fresh air?” Jean muttered, frowning. “On top of the walls?”

You could practically hear the collective thought process: There’s no place with more air than fifty meters above the ground, standing on the last wall of Paradis.

Mikasa knelt beside her, eyes scanning her carefully. “Are you dizzy? Is your blood pressure dropping?” she asked, noting how Y/N was slowly sinking to the ground.

Between ragged breaths, Y/N choked out, “I can’t go out there… I’m not going out there.”

Sasha’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Oh! You’re scared! But there’s nothing to worry about! We’ve been in Levi’s squad for a while now!”

Connie nodded enthusiastically. “The Special Operations Squad! Nobody better than us!”

Y/N looked up at them, still unconvinced. Armin added, “We’ve been serving under Captain Levi for nearly two years. You’re safe with us.”

She hesitated, frowning. Something about that number didn’t sit right. “Two years?” she repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “What happened to the last squad?”

The air shifted.

The six teenagers exchanged glances.

“Uh…”

“Ehm…”

Mikasa, deciding it was time to intervene, stepped forward, smoothly pushing Armin aside as if shielding Y/N from whatever dumb thing he might accidentally say next.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” she assured her with quiet confidence. “Captain Levi and I are the strongest. If anything happens, I’ll protect you.”

It was meant to be reassuring. But it had the exact opposite effect.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm. “So… there’s a chance something will happen?!”

“Captain…”

Levi turned, still mid-discussion over last-minute battle plans when Mikasa’s voice interrupted.

“What?” He frowned, hands on his hips. Whatever it was, it had better be important.

Mikasa hesitated, glancing toward the elevator. “We think you should check on Y/N.”

“I’M NOT GOING.”

Y/N clung to the elevator’s frame like her life depended on it, legs locked, refusing to step foot outside.

Levi stood beside her, arms crossed, “I told you, you need to come with us,” he repeated, voice low and firm.

“NO.” She shook her head wildly, gripping the metal tighter. “I don’t want to die!”

Levi exhaled sharply, trying to keep his patience. “I already told you, there are no more titans. I wouldn’t take you out if there were.”

“How do you know?! Have you even looked outside?! IT’S HUGE OUT THERE!”

Levi stared at her, deadpan.

He had spent more time outside the walls than inside them. And yet here she was, explaining it to him.

His pride crumbled. His instincts as an alpha did, too. Only adding to the recent events.

His inner alpha bristled slightly at the scent of her fear. It stung his pride—not just as a soldier, but as a mate. Alphas were supposed to be a source of security, a symbol of strength. Omegas chose alphas based on their ability to protect them and their offspring. Normally, his reputation alone was enough to reassure anyone, let alone his own wife.

Yet here she was, outright terrified, and his presence wasn’t helping at all. But right now, standing beside his mate, all he could smell was her fear.

It was a blow to his pride.

“Y/N,” he said, this time more firmly. “I wouldn’t take you if it wasn’t safe.” His tone was measured, steady. If she was his, then she needed to trust him. “Don’t you trust me?”

Without hesitation—without even thinking—she blurted out:

“NO.”

Silence.

Dead. Absolute silence.

Hange, who had wandered over to investigate, let out a wheezing laugh so intense they had to clutch their stomach.

Levi, meanwhile, just stared.

A sharp "Tch—" escaped him as he scratched the back of his head, trying to mask the sting. Ouch.

Hange, still gasping for breath, spread their arms dramatically. “Ah, no worries, my dear! Your fear is simply due to the unknown! That’s perfectly natural! But have no fear—I’ll teach you everything about titans, and I will keep you safe!”

As if spring had just arrived and they were a pair of rutting bucks trying to prove themselves, both alphas now stood in front of her. There was an unspoken challenge in the air. Two alphas—Hange and Levi—instinctively competing to reassure the terrified omega. A display of dominance in its most ridiculous form.

Y/N blinked. Then, in the flattest, most unimpressed tone imaginable, she deadpanned:

“How are you gonna keep me safe? You can’t even spot titans—you’re missing an eye.”

Hange’s proud smile froze. Their face fell into an expression of sheer offense and heartbreak.

Levi choked on a laugh. He tried to hide it—tried so damn hard—but his shoulders shook, and a muffled snort escaped before he could stop it.

“Don’t laugh, you asshole,” Hange hissed at him, glaring.

The three alphas—Levi, Hange, and Mikasa—stood together, momentarily humbled. If this were the animal kingdom, they had just been denied their mating rights.

[pinkykats-place]

One Piece x Reader

Tumblr Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories below are mine.

Mostly female reader inserts.

Some contain mature content.

Gif not mine.

Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!

Pair

Zoro x afab!Reader

𝓢UMMARY: zoro thinks of what could be the best present to show how much you mean to him

Sleeptalking

Zoro x reader

Summary: zoro having really really really wet dreams with y/n

Bows & Swords

Zoro x feminine!Reader

I wish you would

Zoro x reader

Zoro knows you're his--all his--and gets the most perverse thrill from flaunting it in front of Sanji.

Nurse

Zoro x fem!Reader

synopsis: a mysterious man crash lands on your gloomy island, and you patch him up... unaware of his odd relationship with your father.

oiran

Zoro x reader

synopsis: while luffy and the others are off saving sanji, zoro is assigned the role of a ronin, and told to keep a low profile as he roams the land of wano... but he risks revealing himself and the entire crew when he discovers you're a nearby oiran, and in need of his rescue.

Giving Zoro a hand when he’s injured

stein

Zoro x reader

synopsis: while you're laughing at the stories told to you by some rando at the bar, zoro can't help but be affected by the green-eyed monster. nami and robin try to quell his worries... but things take a turn for the worst when the man puts his hands on you.

Smut

Franky x reader

Put the goggles on

Shipwright Paulie x reader

Summary: Two idiots who don't dare to make the move.

Absalom x female reader

absalom general relationship headcanons

Strawhats x former slave!Reader

Request: Can I ask for something with reader, who was formerly a slave, being a part of the Strawhat crew and their kindness just baffle her.

Summary: How your boyfriend would react if they saw you on deck, wearing a skimpy skirt with no underwear.

guidance

ft. monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji

Smut

Going Down On You

ft. Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Calling them daddy

ft. Roronoa Zoro, Shanks, Smoker

It's getting hot in here...

Straw-Hats x afab!Reader

Summary: After a nice meal, you start to feel weird. Did you eat something funny? It turns out everyone is feeling the same, and there's only one thing to do about it.

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥!

summary: how the straw hat pirates treat you, a free use member of the crew

pairing: straw hat crew x afab!reader, appropriate characters only ofc!

A plushie substitute

F! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, Law

Otkuhotgirl’s Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

[renae-nicole-lynn]

Invincible x Frankenstein’s Monster!Reader

(GIFS are not mine)

So 'Why Him?' did pretty well, and it turns out I missed writing fanfiction so I decided to try my hand at some other Mark x Reader stuff. Holy fuck this is so bad I am so sorry 🫠.

Originally I thought of idea as an OC but I can’t draw for shit so Reader it is!

Why Frankenstein's Creature/The Bride? Best explanation I can come up with is watching Creature Commandos and Invincible in a short timespan 🤷‍♀️. I took inspiration from a couple of different Frankenstein's Monster/The Bride tropes from different sources and squished them all together; so that means white streaks in your hair and scars/stitches hold your limbs together and your powers are super strength, enhanced intelligence, and the ability to detach your limbs from your body and retain sentience over them.

The first time you saw him, you were perched on top of a building picking off the flaxan invaders with a rifle as they streamed through the portal and you see him through your scope. He's familiar to you, but in the moment the 'why and where' wasn't important as Atom Eve yelled at him to take the civilian in his arms to the hospital. It's not until three days later when he approaches Eve at school does it click. You've seen him around school for years, and only now does he have super powers; Mark Grayson is [title card].

Things are a little… rocky at first. You think he’s too easily influenced by his father and he thinks you’re out of your mind for that. Poor Eve is forced to play referee as arguments start spilling into the hero side of things, but even your best friend couldn’t get through you, or him for that matter.

“Why don’t hate me so much!?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t hate you!”

You’d be a hypocrite if you did.

Mark crossed his arms. “Bullshit!”

“I don’t… you piss me off because I know you have the potential to be so good, probably one of the best! But you’re too caught up in being just like daddy dearest!”

He started floating. “My dad is one of the best.”

…you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t attack you here in a high school lab, but that doesn’t stop your fists from clenching. “So that means what? You’re content on being a copy of your father instead of your own person?”

“I am my own person!”

“Bullshit!”

“Who’s going to teach me then, you?”

“You bet your ass I will! 5:00pm at Teen Team headquarters!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

You didn’t really mean to offer to teach him, but your offer stayed in the front of your mind as you punched away at one of the punching bags engineered for your strength. It's not like he's going to show up. Except he did, and you were surprised he even showed up around the time you gave... granted, ten minutes late.

Mark doesn't know why he showed up. Maybe it was a pride thing, maybe it was because of what you said. He came in almost shyly, asking if you really think he could be one of the best. You surprise both him and yourself with how quickly you reaffirm what you said before.

"Just because I do though, doesn't mean I'm going take it easy on you."

He kind of scoffed when you said this. "No offence, but I have super strength."

"Oh no way." You crack your knuckles with a grin. "So do I. Keep fighting until tap out?"

"You're on!"

You won, mostly because you managed to outmaneuver him.

Mark stayed on the ground when you realeased him from the hold you had him in. "So did you do all this to kick my ass?"

You scoff and drag a hand through your hair. "No, just seeing what I have to work with... I'm not saying learning from your dad is a bad thing." Oh how wrong you were. "But knowing different disciplines is going to help you in the long run."

He... didn't quite know what to say to that. In a way, what you were saying was similar to what his mother has been telling him and his father for years. "Same time next week?"

From there the two of you come to an agreement; the two of you spar together and you stay off each other's cases in civilian life. Plain and simple right? Wrong.

In civilian life, the two of you end up gravitating towards each other. Turns out you can find that you have a lot in common with someone when you're not constantly at each other's throats (comic books of all things, ya freakin' nerds). Before you know it, you can comfortably call him a friend, much to Eve's delight.

It's not long before the two of you hang out together outside of the supersuits, whether you're just walking around town or going to the comic book stores for the latest issues of your respective favorites. You tease him for Seance Dog and he teases you for your favorite.

You roll your eyes as you (carefully) snatch the issue back from him. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

"Only if you read at least one issue of Seance Dog."

"...Fine."

He grinned brightly cutely as the two of you traded comic books “Fine!”

At some point, you do show him the rest of your abilities. He’s amazed by your intelligence, but lowkey freaks out when you casually pop your hand off your wrist and subtly let it drop to the floor. He can only watch in horrified amazement as your hand uses your fingers to scuttle along the ground and up your leg so you can reattach it. The look on his face when you yanked your head clean off your shoulders was absolutely priceless and you may or may not have a picture of it.

The two of you begin confiding in each other. He tells you about Viltrum and how he doesn't know how to live up to the legacy, to which you reiterated that just being himself should be enough and if his father or other viltrumites thought otherwise they can fuck right off. Oh the way he looked at you when you said that…

You tell him how you were created, your subsequent abandonment, and how you had to learn everything from scratch. Mark tries to ignore the white hot anger because who the fuck would just abandon you like that?! The person he's gotten to know over the last few months, as hidden as your kind heart is, you didn't deserve that. When he tells you as much, something in your eyes shifts and (surprising you both) you shyly squeeze his hand in thanks but say nothing else. Neither of you pull away for a very long time .

Realization hits for the both of you when you’re running along rooftops for patrol and swan dive off a skyscraper. You never like talking about your past, it always put you in a bad headspace. So maybe you let yourself get a little too close to the ground, not that it would have killed you you’ve tried that and other ways with obvious results. You had your grappling line ready, but before you could fire it at the next building, Mark appears out of nowhere and all but plucks you out of the air before flying to the top of the closest building.

You blink in shock at your friend as he sets you on your feet but doesn’t take his hands off your hips. “Hi?”

Even with the goggles you knew his eyes were staring deep into yours. “You’re not disposable.”

“What are you-”

His grip ever-so-slightly tightened. “You mean a lot to people; Eve, the Guardians-”

You grimaced at that. “I’m pretty sure the Guardians old or new couldn’t give-"

“Will you please let me finish?!” Something in the way his voice cracked kept you from saying anything else, and he paused before continuing on. “You mean a lot to me… If you ever feel like this again, you call me. Call me and I’ll be there.”

Your heart started doing a weird dance in your chest, and you tried to bring yourself back to reality. “You mean a lot to me too. But we’re heroes, Mark. You can’t just promise that.”

Something clicked for Mark then. Getting to know you, speed running to a level of trust and vulnerability that usually took years to get to within the span of a few months, what else was there to say? “Fine, then we’ll just have to stick together.”

Oh.

Oh.

It clicked for you then. This boy trusts and cares about you. He cares about your physical and emotional wellbeing and whether or not you were safe, and seems hellbent on ensuring it.

You hug him close, burying your face in his shoulder when he hugs you back.

“Okay.”

Everything and nothing changed. Despite the words and actions shared on the rooftop that evening, you both carried on as usual… save for now always being together for hero work and the emotional tension in the air.

True to the nature of your relationship leading up to this point, both of you were waiting for the other to crack. Remember the flirty sparring matches comment I made on 'Why Him'? As Mark gets better with hand-to-hand and the two of you find a flow when sparring together, a few teasing comments from the both of you are thrown here and there until eventually the two of you are point blank flirting.

Later, you'll insist he was the one who said it first and he'll argue right back that you were the one to say it.

"Loser kisses the winner?"

"You're on.”

[sapphicandgraphic]

The Girl Next Door—Chapter 8

Synopsis: A new neighbor turns Melissa’s world upside down.

Chapter: 8/10 (The Fight)

Series Warnings: Slow burn, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, protective Melissa, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings: Drinking, jealous Melissa, past relationship trauma, hurt people hurt people, we’re in the home stretch of all this gay angst and I swear it will work out!

———————-

It had been one week since your “date” with Melissa. Two days since the “fire.” Your head felt like a trashed hotel room—TV busted, sheets shredded, graffiti on the walls—and your heart was the petulant rock star doing all the damage. You were carrying one hell of a torch for the girl next door; overanalyzing all the mixed signals she was sending; replaying the sound of her raspy voice; daydreaming about the way she looked when you caught her off guard, flustered her, made her laugh. It was delicious agony, a kind of sweet torture you’d never experienced before.

After your shift on Friday, you joined about a dozen other paramedics at the bar, everyone ready to decompress from the long week. Boone had barely ordered the first round before he launched into an animated retelling of the Hot Principal hitting on you at Abbott, and the MILF Teacher watching the whole exchange with murder in her eyes.

“That’s our little heartbreaker,” he said, ruffling your hair affectionately before you could swat him away.

Everyone was roaring with laughter by the end of the story, some slapping their hands on the tabletop or razzing you with wolf-whistles.

“Really?” You shook your head at Boone as he shuffled over, cheeks already rosy from his beer. “MILF?”

“What?” He shrugged. “She’s not my type but…game recognize game.”

One of the rookie EMTs (Brett? Brent?) was holding court nearby with some other meatheads. You leaned back, downing the rest of your drink with a frown on your face.

“Hey Hotshot,” he called. “Which one do you think you’ll bag first?”

“See?” You glared at Boone and yanked your jacket off, suddenly feeling a bit hot under the collar. “You’ve created a monster.”

“Personally,” Brent or Brett continued. “I’d start with the hot principal, make the MILF jealous. Jealous girls are always so wild in bed.”

“Yeah,” you said loudly. “That’s what I love about your mom.”

Everyone in earshot, even his friends, dissolved into laughter.

“Keep him away from me,” you growled to Boone, standing up and walking toward the bar. Your partner followed, hands gesticulating an apology before he even opened his mouth.

“Ok, maybe I got a little carried away earlier,” he said. “But you’re down bad for this one, and we need get your mind off her for at least one night.”

You scrubbed a hand over your face. “How?”

“Tequila!” Boone declared. He’d always been able to sell a bad idea like no one else. You flagged down a waitress and ordered another round.

Little did you know, Melissa was across town doing almost the exact same thing—albeit with a slightly different cast of characters.

“Yeah, this week was a shit show,” Ava was saying. “But at least I got to meet my sexy lil’ Florence Nightingale.”

“Who?” Melissa huffed.

“She means the EMT,” Jacob said, oblivious to Melissa’s mounting fury. “The hot one.”

“First of all, Florence Nightingale was a nurse,” Janine corrected, before arching an eyebrow at Jacob. “And second of all…the hot one?”

“What?” He shrugged. “She’s not my type, but…game recognize game.”

Melissa stalked over to the bar, ordering another drink. Barbara appeared soon after, regarding her friend with a mixture of concern and sympathy.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Barb,” Melissa said, throwing back most of her drink in one go.

“Well that’s too bad,” Barbara said sweetly. “Because you’re not leaving here until we do.”

Melissa groaned.

“Now I admit, I don’t have every piece of this particular puzzle,” Barbara began, with all the caution of someone entering a minefield. “But it seems like your…feelings for your…neighbor are more than…platonic.”

The redhead couldn’t help but laugh. “Real diplomatic, Mrs. Howard. As always.”

“And now, Ava’s….advances seem to have agitated you,” Barbara continued, brow furrowing slightly. “Despite the fact that anyone with eyeballs can see this girl is smitten with you.”

Melissa flushed.

“It ain’t that simple, Barb. Sure, maybe she likes me and maybe I like her…” she trailed off, a pensive look on her face.

“But?” Barbara prompted.

“But she’s too good for me,” Melissa said quietly, bitterly.

Barbara Howard sat up straight on her barstool, a look of thunderous outrage clouding her features. “Of all the absurd…downright asinine…”

Melissa looked at her friend uncertainly. Barbara leaned forward, a towering figure. “You are Melissa Schemmenti,” she growled. “Fierce, loyal, brilliant, beautiful, courageous—“

“Alright, alright,” the redhead conceded with an embarrassed smile. “Sit down, Barb, ya made your point.”

Barbara scrutinized the other woman, noticing the slouchy way she held herself, the flicker of doubt behind her otherwise brave mask. She’d always known Melissa to be an unstoppable force in the world, a wrecking ball with a heart of gold, a consummate survivor. Admittedly, the last few years had been hard: first, the messy dissolution of an unhappy marriage, followed by a trail of several unworthy suitors. Melissa had gotten through it all with her usual toughness and fortitude. But now Barbara saw—really saw—that these experiences had indeed left scars.

She reached out a hand, playing with a strand of the other woman’s auburn hair. “There is no such thing as too good for you, my sweet Melissa.”

Barbara’s uncharacteristic tenderness was rewarded with a wobbly smile. Melissa opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the phone in her lap vibrating. Looking down, she saw your name light up the screen. Barbara gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Tell her how you feel,” she urged, before picking up her drink and gliding away.

Melissa swallowed thickly. “Hello?”

“Howdy, neighbor.” Melissa could just picture the lopsided smile on your face.

“Hi,” she said, a little shyly.

“I wanna see you.” By now a warm, confident feeling had settled in your chest. Your head was pleasantly foggy with desire. “Tonight.”

“Bossy,” Melissa chided, even as a coil of excitement tightened in her belly. She fiddled with a cocktail napkin. “Where are ya?”

“I just texted the address.” Your tone was smooth, commanding.

Melissa glanced over at the other teachers then back down at her phone. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

When she arrived, Melissa saw that you’d invited her to a proper dive. She gave the flickering neon sign a doubtful look before stepping into the dimly lit bar. It was crowded, but she noticed you right away, easily picking you out from the crowd of EMTs gathered at a high-top. Melissa experienced a brief tremor of insecurity. Just for a second, she considered bolting.

“What are ya doing, Schemmenti?” she muttered, smoothing her shirt nervously.

Then your eyes met hers and she felt that magnetic pull again, warm and irresistible. A smug smile made its way across your face, and she couldn’t help but smile back. As Melissa approached, a few of the other paramedics looked up and whooped.

“Yeah, hotshot!” someone called.

You turned on your heel, silencing them with a glare.

“Hi,” you said, taking her hand and redirecting her away from the crowd. “Let’s go somewhere a bit more private.”

You led her through the bar and toward the mostly vacant back patio.

“I didn’t realize paramedics traveled in packs,” Melissa said dryly.

“Yeah, sorry about them,” you said. “They’re a bunch of wild animals.”

“Is that right?” Melissa smirked, tugging you suddenly by the lapels of your jacket until you were pressed flush against her. “What about you? Are you a wild animal or can ya be…domesticated?”

You bit back a moan as she slotted her leg in between yours, pressing slightly against your groin. All coherent thoughts vanished from your brain. Your whole world shrank to the feeling of Melissa in front of you, beneath you, around you. You hooked your thumbs into the belt loops of her pants, tugging her even closer.

“Domesticated?” You repeated, suddenly breathless. You walked her backwards until she was caged in by your arms against the brick wall. “I’ll be gentle as a pussycat.”

Melissa chuckled, regarding you in the low light.

You leaned down and she tipped her head to the side, giving you more access. Her breath stuttered as you ran your warm mouth over her jawline, her throat, the sensitive skin behind her ear. You could smell the faint, spicy cloud of whiskey on her. You raked your teeth over her pulse point, nipping and sucking as you gripped her hips, slipping one hand under her shirt and palming the soft flesh. She canted forward slightly, grinding against you.

“Let’s get out of here,” she suggested, voice tight, eyes dark with desire.

You sighed in agreement. “My place or yours?”

You held the door open for her, barely containing a pleasant shiver as she swayed past.

“I just gotta close my tab,” you said. “Meet me out front?”

You dashed off toward the bar and Melissa stood there for a second, dazed and smiling. The restless energy from earlier was settling, falling away.

Just as she turned to head outside, one of the other paramedics intercepted her. He had a vacant, drunken grin on his face, the kind that instantly put Melissa on guard.

“So we were wondering,” he said loudly and with no preamble. “Are you the MILF Teacher or the Hot Principal?”

“Am I what?” Melissa scoffed, affronted and confused.

“You could be either,” he said. “Which is like, totally a compliment.”

Melissa looked down and saw that he was holding a piece of paper in his hands. There were two columns, each labeled and filled with their fair share of pencil tallies.

“Most people think you’re the MILF, but I bet you’re the Hot Principal because—“ and here his eyes scanned down Melissa’s body “—well, you look like a woman who likes to take charge.”

Before she could think how to answer, you returned from the bar, instinctively putting yourself between Melissa and Brett/Brent. “Is he bothering you?”

She shook her head, zipping up her coat.

“Ya spelled principal wrong,” Melissa told him icily, before her eyes flickered to you. “Jackass.”

She stalked toward the door.

“What’s —“ you glanced down at the paper, scanning the text and then snatching it angrily away from him. “What the fuck is this?”

You gripped the front of his shirt tightly in your fist, shoving him backwards hard enough that he lost his balance and toppled to the floor. A security guard materialized almost instantly, wrapping a huge arm around your midsection and practically carrying you to the door where he dropped you on the sidewalk.

You scrambled to your feet, looking left and right.

“Melissa, wait!” you cried, taking off down the block. The older woman was trying to hail a cab.

“It’s not what it looks like, I can explain,” you panted, catching up enough to reach for her arm. She rounded on you immediately and yanked out of your grasp.

“Is this some kinda game to you?”

She noticed but chose to ignore the flicker of wounded disbelief that flashed across your face.

“Of course not.” You reached for her hand again but she stepped back. “Melissa, I swear this is just a misunderstanding.”

“Really?” she spat. “So your little friends weren’t just taking bets on who you’re gonna fuck first?”

You closed your eyes. Of course, from her perspective, you could see how bad this looked.

“I didn’t know about…whatever was going on in there, but I would never do something like that,” you explained, desperate to make her understand. “And I didn’t even text that principal.”

“You still took her number though, right, hotshot?”

You bristled at the use of the nickname, the thinly veiled implication in her words.

“What’s the supposed to mean?”

A dozen fights with Joe were rushing back to her, activating a cruel muscle memory. Over the years, she had a developed a talent for finding and exploiting weak spots.

“It means you’re a player,” Melissa hissed. “A love-‘em-and-leave-‘em fuckboy, just like your friend in there.”

“I took her number,” you said, anger lighting up your voice for the first time. “Because you had just introduced me to everyone as your neighbor, remember?”

Melissa’s cheeks went red, but she didn’t back down. If she had learned one thing from all those years of arguments, it was the power of having the last word.

“Yeah, and that’s how it should stay,” she said, turning away. “Because this was a bad idea.”

Suddenly, something inside you snapped.

“Godammit!” you exploded. “You can’t keep doing this to me! I’m not some light switch you can just keep flicking on and off!”

You took a shaky breath, trying to calm down.

“I may be young,” you said. “But I have feelings. For you. And I’ve done nothing but try and be honest about that since we kissed.”

Melissa felt a brief, familiar shadow of guilt. She knew you were right, and she couldn’t stand it.

“You’re drunk,” she said, choosing to ignore the fact that she’d also been drinking earlier.

“And you’re deflecting, again,” you accused, hackles rising. “At least I have the balls to say how I actually feel.”

“Bravo, hon,” she said, fear and pride ripping through her chest like two relentless jackhammers. “You want a gold star for spilling your guts?”

You stared at Melissa for a moment, long enough to notice the protective way she held herself, the mistrust in her bright green eyes. You knew she was scared. But there was something between you, something real and messy and magical. Didn’t she feel it?

“Can’t you just….” Your voice was suddenly rough, jagged with unshed tears. “At least admit that you—”

“Admit what?” She asked suddenly, flicking her hair out of her eyes, crossing her arms. “That I think you’d be a good fuck?”

You recoiled as if she’d slapped you, stung by the callous disregard in her voice. The sky, which had been heavy and threatening rain all night, suddenly opened up, releasing big fat drops that popped against the pavement like gunfire.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” you laughed, trying to hide your devastation.

Melissa deflated, regret and shame finally winning out over the many emotions warring within her. She opened her mouth to take it back, wishing she could unring the terrible, vicious bell of her own words. Thunder cracked overhead and you flinched, stumbling over your own feet which felt numb and heavy.

“Careful,” she said, stepping forward. But you held up your hand to forestall her approach, remaining just out of reach.

“I get it,” you said, wiping your shirtsleeve cross your face. “I wouldn’t get involved with someone like me either.”

“That’s not—” she started.

But the damage was done.

You shoved your hands deep in your pockets and walked away. When she called your name, you didn’t turn around. A few blocks over, you found another shitty dive and ducked inside to get out of the rain.

“What can I get ya?”

“Whiskey,” you croaked, parking yourself at the end of the bar. “Make it a double.”

Outwardly, you were calm, detached even. The bartender slid you a glass; you thanked him and made some small talk until he walked away. But inside, your rockstar heart was raging—breaking windows, flipping tables, lighting fires. It was time to burn it all down.

[sweetiecelin]

The Blind Leading the Blind

A Sam Winchester x Reader

You and Sam the biggest idiots. Sometimes, when you want to see something you have to take a step back. It's just you and Sam are just into being really good friends. Everyone else can see beside you dumbasses.

A/N: Feedback is very much appreciated, but even just liking it validates me into writing more chapters for this.

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How you started to hunt with the Winchester brothers was a mess. You ended up on the same hunt as them, saved their asses and they saved yours. The demons were some nasty bitches, but it made them realize you may need back up since the case was a setup for you. The Wincesters were just an added bonus. Sam was the one who suggested you start hunting with them, stay at the bunker, especially since you were now a known target of demons and whatever monsters you pissed off in your 5 years of hunting. Dean was against it at first but when you proved to him you knew your shit and a little about cars, he warmed up to you. 

Moving into the bunker was another story. The amount of times that you got lost in what you’d call a maze was unbelievable. Originally you tried to find a room with a bathroom, but unfortunately for you it was a bunker meant for MEN of Letters. You were shit out of luck. The room you picked was 2-3 rooms away from the boys’ (just to maximize your privacy). 

Very quickly you adjusted to your newfound life, found your groove with Sam and Dean. You’d help research and look for cases. It reminded you of living with your brothers, only a less violent homelife. Dean and you discussed the nuances of Scooby Doo, Sam and you would discuss the current books you were reading. You and Sam could go on and on about the damn books, he was like your best friend. Sometimes on those late nights, you and Sam would stay up until about 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning discussing which writer was better or which story had a better plot or commentary. Most of the time, it’d be so late and you’d both be so tired you’d fall asleep in the same bed. But obviously, it was just what friends did.

Sam came over, calling your name to wake you out of your daydream, “Hey, you good?”

Looking up at him, you just smiled softly, “Yeah, I’m good. Doing perfectly fine.”

“What were you thinking about?” He sat down across from you at one of the library tables and placed his laptop in front of him.

With a shake of your head, “It’s nothing. ‘M  just thinking about how we ended up here, or more like how I ended up here.”

Dean walked into the library on his way to the kitchen in that stupid robe of his that he just happened to find, “ ‘Cause you majorly pissed off a lot of people.” 

“Well, yeah of course. But you guys didn’t need to let me stay,” Looking at Dean and then passing a quick glance at Sam, “I’m grateful for it though.”

“We’re happy to have you on our side.”

LORD, why did Sam have to be so nice? He’s been one of nicest people you've met, especially for hunters, but he didn’t need to be. He was so considerate, always asking what you needed before going on a run, always having your back on a hunt. Dean did that too, just not like Sam did. It was probably because you guys were closer than you were with Dean. 

After about 30 more minutes of small talk you went back into your room. It was getting late, so you decided to just change into some leisure clothes. You put on a tank top, some shorts and a flannel. The flannel looked like one of yours, but just bigger. You didn’t mind though, worst case scenario it was one of the boys’. On your way to the kitchen to grab something to drink, you saw Sam working on his computer and cross-referencing some lore books. 

You, again, took the seat across from him, “Whatcha doin’, some boring shit?”.

You threw him a goofy look and he just chuckled, eyes not moving from the laptop, “You could say that.”

“Sam, take a damn break. You’ve been at this all day, reading some lore about a monster for a case we don’t even know is a case yet.”

Sighing, he only looked up at you for a second before turning back to his research, “It’s just not adding up, there are too many differences for a usual haunting or some other monster.”

Leaning over the table, you took a peek at his research, “Wow, you’re kinda ignoring an obvious answer.”

“Oh am I, please look and tell me what I’m missing”, He sarcastically replied. Then he looked up at you, his eyes dipped to the shirt that fell down as you bent over the table to see what he was working on.

“Yeah”, You pointed to the lore book he had in front of him, “If it’s not a ghost or a poltergeist, moving between homes and targeting other people, it’s probably a shadow walker.”

He attempted to pry his eyes away from one of the best views he’s seen before you noticed, surprisingly managing to do so, “O-Oh yeah, such an uhm obvious thing. I can’t believe I missed it.”

Skeptically looking at him, confused as to why suddenly switched up with his voice. You raised an eyebrow to him.

“Sam, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, just tired.”

Seeing his exhaustion, you just sighed, “I’ve told you so many times, you can’t just spend hours looking at something by yourself. You start to miss things because you’re trying to find an answer that isn’t obvious to you, but probably to someone else. Primarily me.”

He chuckled, “..Y’know by now, I should follow your advice.”

“But we both know you’re saying that now, but next time you’re going to completely forget what I told you. So take a break, right now. Talk to me, c’mon.”

The pleading look in your eyes, he couldn’t resist. You started talking to him about one of your shows that you were currently hyper focused on in between hunts. Sam would just get so interested just because you would just start going off about the main character and how she’s completely oblivious to the fact that the villain is actually her best friend and using her. Or how you critique the fact that most of the shows nowadays are filmed in Vancouver, even if they’re based somewhere in the U.S.

After a while Dean came in with some grocery bags, pulling you both out of the tangent that Sam let you go off on.

“So guys, I’m thinking we blow off some steam,” Dean suggested, holding up a bottle of cheap ass whiskey. 

With a mischievous look on your face, you giggled, “And what play 20 questions?”

Sam threw his head back with a loud laugh, when Dean actually agreed.

So now, it was the three of you with a bottle between you. It’s way past 20 questions and you three are just trying to embarrass each other. 

It was Dean’s turn, he already knew most of his brother’s embarrassing stories. The older Wincehster decided he wanted to push your buttons, smoothly mentioning your name, “What’s your most embarrassing sex story?”

“Yeah, um so..” You immediately took a bigass drink from your cup, signaling you’re going to pass.

“Ahhh, so it was that bad? You can't even speak of it?” Dean pressed a little harder, trying to get you to break.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to help you, or rather the pickle you found yourself in, “I think it’s her turn to ask a question.”

Shooting Sam a grateful look but turned slightly apologetic. “So Sam..”, he gulped as he saw the cogs turning behind your eyes and a menacing grin appearing on your lips, while trying not to make it obvious he was staring at them, “What’s your favorite pick up line?”

Dean started looking between you two like he had missed something, when Sam was pulled out of his thoughts, “Are you a magician? Because when I look at you the world just disappears?”

You stare at him for a moment, before cracking up, “Oh my Lord, that’s one of the cheesiest nerdiest lines, I’ve heard. Does it actually work?” 

“Well did it work on you, sweetheart?” Dean rapidly asked which Sam then sent a glare at him.

You shook your head, laughing your ass off, “Oh definitely not, maybe when I was 16 and was one of the dorkiest people there was.”

You took another drink from your cup, before filling it back up. You were determined as hell to keep up with them, not only taking a sip when you wanted to pass the question.

“Sam, it’s your turn to ask a question.”

He wanted to ask a question of the same caliber but settled on picking on his brother, “Dean, what one thing you thought you wouldn’t like but turned out you did?”

Dean thought about it for a second before replying, “Easy, sarsaparilla.”

“My turn,” looking at you, “What’s one thing you look for in a man?”

Caught off guard, you had to think about it for a second before sneaking a glance at Sam, “Someone who shares the same interests and I get along with. Even if we’re both in a bad mood.”

Sam smiled which you returned. He figured you said that because you learned that you’ve got to find someone compatible with and get you like he did, you wanted to be with someone who would feel like your best friend. Feeling satisfied that he helped raise your standards.

This goes on for about another hour before both brothers realized you might be a little too drunk. You kept trying to keep up with them but as they’re two physically inclined men over 6 foot, you didn’t stand a chance. Dean suggested you go to bed, but the moment you tried to walk away, you almost fell on your ass.

Luckily, your best friend was there to catch you. Sam helped you stand and to get to your room as you leaned on him for support.

When the two of you reached your room, you turned and looked at him with a drunken, adoring look in your eyes, “Y’know Sam… You’re kinda my type.”

Stunned, he looked at you with wide eyes before you started giggling uncontrollably. He always thought you looked adorable when you were laughing, so he relaxed a bit.

“I’m sure you’re not even going to remember in the morning, go ahead and just get into bed.”

Helping you stumble to your bed, he goes to throw some blankets over you when you start to unbutton the flannel mumbling, “‘s too hot in here, Sammy.”

He started getting flustered as he moved hastily to get you covered up before he saw anything. Once he did that and started to walk a way your hand shot out and grabbed his.

“Sammy, just cuddle me until I go to bed.. Please Sammy?”

He looked back at you and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to cuddle you, but as a friend(Y’know how friends do). He sighed and just loosened your grip around his wrist, shutting the light off as he left your room and closed the door.

Once he walked back into the library to clean up a little and put things away, Dean was still sitting there at the table. His older brother had this knowing look, with a wide grin on his face.

“What are you laughing about, ya jerk?”

“Oh, nothing,” Taking a gulp of his whiskey, finishing it, “Just love to see such good friends.”

Sam was going to tell his brother off, but before he could Dean hightailed it out of the communal area to his room.

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Also to the one that encouraged to start this @cherrygxth

[elainsgirl]

It upsets me how people think so low of Azriel. He's such an amazing character. I don't see Elriels saying bad stuff about him but the gwnyriels and eluciens. Im sorry but if you think so low of a man you want your favorite with.... something is wrong with you.

honestly, I can promise you, Sjm did not intend for her “readers” to have come up with such a disgusting, twisted view of his character. The same man that waited for “offer and permission”, stayed away from Elain bcs he knew she had a mate & knew his feelings were “wrong” for her, literally spent his days helping the women become valkryies, is polite and cordial to lucien - to the point he doesn’t keep tabs on him to respect Elain, someone who didnt fold his arms in front of Clotho so he didn’t appear as intimidating- thats who they want to compare to Tamlin? Beron? Thats who they’re calling an incel? Making him out to be some over-possesive monster when in reality all he did was wonder the same thing Feyre asked in acowar. And there’s so many more things they’ve accused him off that make 0 sense and are taking it too far.

Exactly. If you truly believe Az to be this terrible person why on earth are you shipping him with Gwyn? Who you claim to be your favourite? You can’t pick and choose someones issues and who they affect/dont affect. Thats not how it goes. And these “issues” Az has only occur with Elain. With Gwyn they’re non-existent and he’s the perfect gentleman.

if you genuinely think Sjm is going to write a male Li that flints from one woman to another, uses a woman to fulfil his desire on before discarding her for his “mate” then you dont rlly know Sjm at all. And if you have to twist a character to be completely different from canon just so you can make another ship look “bad” it just goes to show how insecure you are in your ship.

[mikomidnight]

Curlya AU: Anya and Curly Stop Jimmy from Crashing the Ship

Hi, friends! 💙😊 Since several of you expressed interest in seeing my scripts and outlines for my Curlya fic, I provided everything I've written so far below the cut! Shoutout to a good friend of mine who helped me come up with some of the ideas here. Thank you for your help and support. I appreciate you a lot ���

They tie Jimmy up for the rest of the flight.

Anya insists Curly sleeps well and continues psych evals so he's in good shape to help her deliver her baby when the day arrives. They read up on delivering a baby.

Every night, Swansea keeps an eye on Jimmy so he doesn’t escape. Curly initially wants to watch Jimmy, but Swansea insists he’ll do it because Jimmy won’t get under Swansea’s skin the way he gets under Curly’s skin. Swansea insists Curly watch over Anya.

Anya sleeps in med bay every night with the door locked.

Curly offers to stay with her to make sure she’s safe. She agrees.

Curly sleeps on the second cot beside her behind the curtain.

Each night, they talk through the curtain and grow closer.

One night, Anya opens the curtain to see him. She asks if he can sleep beside her. He agrees.

Curly and Daisuke help Anya deliver the baby on the ship. It’s a baby girl.

As Anya delivers the baby, Jimmy and Swansea hear her down the hall.

Swansea: How does it feel knowing that you were the one who caused all of this mess? 

Jimmy: I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. 

Swansea: If you didn’t mean for any of this to happen you wouldn’t have done what you did.

When they return home, they report Jimmy. Jimmy is arrested. 

Curly quickly finds a remote job and offers Anya a room in his apartment. He also offers to help her pay for medical school if she applies. She reluctantly agrees, initially embarrassed that she needs Curly’s help to pay for rent and college. Curly applies for higher-paying jobs so he can save for Anya’s college payments. 

Curly, Swansea, and Daisuke help Anya care for the baby. Curly spends the most time with her. Curly stays with Anya every night to take turns caring for the baby.

After a few months, Curly is offered a higher paying job.

One night, after Anya and Curly put the baby to bed, Anya comments how she knows Curly is helping her out of guilt, but she suspects there’s something more underneath. She tells Curly how her feelings for him are starting to return. He says he feels the same way. They kiss.

When the baby is old enough for day care, Anya applies to medical schools and is accepted. 

Anya’s feelings for Curly continue to grow. She’s uncomfortable with her feelings for him. One day she tells him about her feelings.

Anya: I’ve been thinking about you in… intimate situations.

Curly: Oh, Anya, you never have to worry about that around me. I would never do anything to hurt you.

Anya: I know. That’s not what I mean. Curly I… I want you.

Curly: I see.

Anya: How do you feel about me?

Curly: …I’ve felt the same way for a long time. But, I’ve kept it to myself out of respect for you. And, I can keep my distance if you’d feel more comfortable with that.

Anya: No, no. Please. I just… I feel so undeserving of everything you’ve given me. I’m used baggage. How could anyone want me?

Curly: Oh, Anya.

Curly sits beside Anya.

Curly: Someone very wise once told me our worst moments don’t make us monsters. Do you believe that?

Anya: I… I don’t know anymore.

Anya looks away.

Curly: Well, if it means anything, I believe it. You want to know why? It’s because you prove it every day.

Anya looks at him with a pained expression.

Anya: How?

Curly gets up, picks up her medical university acceptance letter off the coffee table, and hands it to her.

Curly: And that’s just one small piece of evidence.

Anya rubs her thumb along the paper.

Curly: Despite the hardship, despite the pain, you continue fighting for what you value. And you’re thriving.

Curly takes the other end of the acceptance letter in his hands.

Curly: The amount of courage you have is something I can only dream of.

Anya and Curly look into each other’s eyes.

Anya: Standing up for me is courageous.

Curly: But, it will never amount to yours. Anya…

Curly offers his hand to Anya. Anya takes it.

Curly: Promise me you’ll continue doing what you value?

Anya tears up.

Anya: I promise.

They kiss.

Anya starts going to medical school. She makes a point of studying extra hard to pass her classes.

As Anya’s baby grows, her love for Curly and her baby grows too. The same goes for Curly. Anya is initially terrified about her feelings of love for her child, but Curly helps her through it. He loves her child too, and struggles with this as well.

One day, when Curly is rocking Anya’s baby to sleep, the baby calls him “dada.” Curly is initially stunned. He doesn’t know what to do or how to feel. He holds the baby close and says, “Yes, I’m your dada. I’m your…” Curly weeps. When the baby falls asleep, Curly returns to bed and lays beside Anya. Anya turns to face him. She wraps her arms around him.

Curly: Anya, love.

Anya: Hmm?

Curly: (Baby name) said her first word.

Anya fully awakens.

Anya: She did?

Curly: Mmhmm.

Anya: What did she say?

Curly tears up.

Curly: Dada.

Anya also tears up.

Anya: Oh, Grant…

They embrace. It’s an overwhelming sensation of joy and grief.

Anya suggests they go to couples’ therapy. Curly agrees. During the intake, the therapist asks what their relationship status is. They aren’t entirely sure how to answer.

After the therapy intake, on the drive home, Anya asks Curly if he ever considered marriage. Initially, they’re both terrified of the idea, Anya because of her past trauma and Curly because he doesn’t want to hurt Anya. They initially agree to try out dating to see how things go.

They go out on dates. It’s strange at first, but they quickly adjust. Swansea babysits whenever they go on dates. 

Their love for each other changes as the months of dating go by. The topic of intimacy returns. On one special date, they have sex. Curly is very careful to make sure Anya feels safe and comfortable and that they use protection.

After a year of dating and couple’s therapy, they discuss marriage again.

As the child continues growing and reaches 4 years old, she takes on less of Anya’s features and more of Jimmy’s. His nose, his eyes, his hair. One morning, as Anya brushes her daughter’s hair, her daughter remarks:

Daughter: Mommy, how come I don’t look like you or daddy?

Anya stops brushing. She’s stunned.

Anya: Why do you ask, sweetie?

Daughter: Because all my friends at school look like their mommies and daddies but I don’t.

Anya tries not to panic. She swallows a burning lump lodged in her throat.

Anya: It’s a lot to explain. Can I tell you after school today? Is that okay, sweetie?

Daughter: Okay.

When Anya drops her daughter off at preschool, she sobs in the car. When she returns home, Curly consoles her. Curly doesn’t know how to approach the subject to their daughter either. They return to couple’s therapy. They eventually tell their daughter in a manner that doesn’t upset or traumatize her.

Daughter: Is that why you aren’t married?

Anya: Oh, sweetie, no. That’s not why.

Curly: We’ve been talking about getting married for a long time now.

Daughter: Then why don’t you get married?

They hesitate.

Anya: We’re waiting until we’re ready.

Daughter: When will you be ready?

Anya: We’ll tell you when we’re ready. Does that sound good, sweetie?

Daughter: Okay.

That night, after Anya and Curly tuck their daughter in bed, they discuss marriage again.

Anya: She’s right. Why aren’t we married yet?

Curly: Honestly, honey…

Curly takes Anya’s hands in his.

Curly: I really was waiting until you were ready. 

Anya: Are you ready?

Curly: I am. Are you?

Anya: Yes.

Curly: Can you give me a minute?

Anya: Okay.

Curly leaves. Anya is confused. Curly returns with his hands behind his back.

Anya: Curly, what are you-

Curly gets down on one knee in front of her.

Curly: Anya, my love…

Anya covers her mouth with her hands.

Anya: Curly, oh my god.

Curly reveals what he was hiding behind his back. It’s an engagement ring box. He opens the box. A simple, but elegant silver ring is inside.

Curly: Will you ma-

Anya: Yes, yes, absolutely yes.

Anya embraces Curly tightly and sobs. Curly returns the embrace. He sobs as well.

They pull away momentarily.

Anya: Can you put it on before I turn into a puddle?

Anya laughs as she wipes away tears. Curly laughs and gently slides the ring onto her finger.

Anya embraces Curly again. They crumple into a heap on the floor.

Curly: Should I have waited to propose during a nice vacation?

Anya: Babe, you can propose to me a thousand times and I would sob every time.

Curly: Good to know. In that case, would you like to do a more official proposal in the near future?

Anya kisses him.

Anya: This is as official as it gets.

As they prepare for their wedding over the next several months, their mood lightens. Curly is so giddy that he finds the silliest of situations to re-propose to Anya with ring-shaped objects. At the grocery store with donuts. At restaurants with onion rings. At the hardware store with washers. Anya finds it endearing, while their daughter gets very annoyed, stating, "Daddy, you already proposed to Mommy. You can't propose again!"

After months of preparation, Anya and Curly marry. Their daughter is the flower girl.

The years pass. Anya’s daughter graduates elementary grade levels, Anya continues medical school, and Curly continues working. By the time Anya completes her medical degree and residency, her daughter is in middle school.

💙🤍

[cawyden-gaming]

Devil's advocate here.

I do think Xavier is a wretch(?) (in german I would say "Scheusal" but the english translation "monster" isn't very fitting I think) and surely would have no issues to use any means necessary to reach his goals.

But I don't really get the (sexual) predatory vibe.

This is the text and I do agree that the sensitive hands part is a bit irritating:

"I am fully aware of what I am doing — I am outlining our relationship. Need I remind you that the unsleeping eye of the Imperium is watching you even in your bedchamber? And not just the eye, but the Imperium's sensitive hands as well — in this case, my assistants and I."

But I think he used the bedchamber to convey that this is the most private place one can usually have (aside from the bathroom) where you are also most vulnerable - because if you sleep you don't see what is happening, you can't protect and defend yourself easily. So him saying, you are never safe, not even there in your most private area or during sleep is just adding to the intimidation he has going on in this conversation.

The term "unsleeping eye" seems to be connected to Ordo Scriptorum. Not sure how widespread that information is, if RT would even know that Xavier is referring to that. But from the context, def. Inquisition observing/watching RT. Hands can touch, harm, protect - so RT isn't just observed but might also be reached (to be helped or to be punished) by the Inquisition. He also speaks not just about himself but also his assistants (his agents, his retinue - so likely Heinrix, Emelina, Aishara, Tanakia etc. whom maybe with the exception of Tanakia who is an undercover specialist doesn't strike me as seductive).

It is for sure a threat that RT is not out of the Inquisitions reach.

Regarding the way he looks at RT:

"The same man you saw among your guests is waiting for you in your chambers with the look of someone who is supposed to be there. He casts a cold, assessing gaze over you from top to bottom. No one save Theodora has ever allowed themselves the liberty of looking at you in such a way."

That doesn't sound sexually in my opinion. It is cold and assessing - he is analysing RT. They even make the comparison with Theodora and I don't think she looked sexually interested at the RT as well.

Xavier is very powerful and also charismatic. I am not sure if he really manipulated the people around him; I just don't think he needed to. Heinrix is very aware that Xavier only cared about his sorcery powers. From what Heinrix told us, he saw it as honor, an improvement over his position as psyker in the guard. It granted him also more freedom as if he had stayed with the guard. Xavier might not care much about Heinrix personally but he does value him as resource and maybe even as potential successor (he does need a successor, he knows he can't stay forever in power). So I don't think he would have needed to manipulate Heinrix into being loyal to him. Xavier did allow Heinrix to restore his appearance over a decade - he would have noticed/known I think and could have denied Heinrix this. Was this done to manipulate Heinrix to make him thankful? I don't know, I just think Xavier wouldn't have needed to do this, but of course, doesn't mean he didn't.

Heinrix is afraid of what Xavier might do to RT for sure (or what his master might force him to do) - this is why he warns RT. He also mentioned before (after Footfall) that Xavier is usually not lenient. He is sincerely afraid that RT is in danger from Xavier (to what ever extent this might be) - even more for an iconoclast/heretic RT who really did push the borders of what is acceptable for a Rogue Trader - meaning Xavier would even be in his right to be harsh, seeing how the Inquisition usually operates.

But to say that Heinrix sees how RT is treated by Xavier and it reminds him of what he had to go through himself? We don't really know what he had to endure (aside from suffering from loosing his augments - that is of course already bad enough). He was treated as a tool (whatever that entails of course) and that is how Xavier treats everyone. Even himself - seeing that he is even willing to sacrifice himself for RT in some endings. Everyone is just a resource, a tool for a greater goal. Everyone is disposable. But regarding RT I think that really hits home in act 4 when/if Xavier sends Aishara to kill RT. If RT is dogmatic, that doesn't even happen though.

Was he punished by Xavier before? Heinrix does seem to value Xavier as teacher, he might have been punished but seeing that we never learn about any consequences for him that he warned RT and Xavier only commenting he will get a remark in his file when he learns that Heinrix told us about Emelina I wonder if he really received harsh punishments or (aside from the augment part) abuse before. Especially since Xavier seemed to be satisfied with his performance so far.

So Heinrix was treated as a tool and I do think while Heinrix even says that all agents are disposable the genuine shock he has when he learns how Xavier treated Emelina ("like waste") he expected more from his personal teacher. That his, or better their lives mattered more. But that comes quite late in the game so before that I think he might just be afraid Xavier might act against a heretic/iconoclast RT due to their actions.

I do agree that anything that threatens RT and others is more likely to open Heinrix eyes as he does seem to think (for a long time) he deserves the pain and all that happened to him. I am just wondering if his life under Xavier was really so terrible full of abuse and manipulation that he is afraid that Xavier would do that to RT as well. It might be - but I think we lack information for that to know for sure.

A possibility that’s occurred to me:

XC seems to have some kind of weird vibe with the RT. (Maybe just in general, we don’t see him with that many people. But the bit about the Inquisition’s hands? Him looking her up and down? I’m getting a leering vibe. Maybe it’s a tactic, maybe it’s real, maybe he’s Just Like That all the time… in any case, it’s there.)

WHAT IF Heinrix picked up on it, felt protective of RT over it — not in a jealous way, but in a “this feels skeevy and bad, and I need to defend her from that” vibe.

And then he’s forced to think about why he has this instinct to protect RT from his mentor/boss, why XC feels predatory all of a sudden…

It’s not enough on its own. But as part of a larger arc about realizing how messed up the Inquisition and Imperium are, it’s one more straw on the camel’s back.

And I think Heinrix might have more clarity in a situation where he’s not the one being harmed or threatened or coerced. (Because if it was him, well that’s just a sacrifice he has to make for the Imperium, it would be weak to want anything else, and he should be grateful for the chance to do it so he can justify his continued existence. But when it’s someone else that he cares about?)

[lord-squiggletits]

Y'know I kind of feel like when Megatron killed Tarn and said 'I want you to spend your final moments thinking of this: that everything you've done has been for nothing' he was kind of self-projecting onto Tarn? Mainly because at Megatron's statue, M and T had a conversation where Tarn explicitly asked if all the Decepticons in service to Megatron died for nothing, if HE did everything he did for nothing. (And I think M even gave an answer along the lines of 'idk I think we basically did'). And then after Megatron killed the DJD and Rodimus teleported in to rescue him, there was that silent moment where Megatron just stared at Rodimus not moving at all before he finally took his hand at the last moment.

It honestly feels to me like for a while, Megatron fully intended to murder-suicide himself. Murder the DJD, his monsters and his creation, and then take himself out alongside them, because he is also a monster. Because he also feels that everything he's ever done has been for nothing.

Goddamn it's no wonder I liked that scene so much LMAO, as someone who thinks villain Megatron > Autobot Megatron, literally one of his key traits is that Megatron basically took his pain/trauma/worldview and used it to lash out at the universe and try to subjugate it to his vision. So the fact that he took his own pain and brutally murdered the DJD while telling them the very same thing that puts him through so much agony is so very deliciously ironic. And a return, however brief, to the Megatron characterization that I know and love.

[icewindandboringhorror]

just a few little bits from the past few days

[em-b-sides]

I think about that tiktok trend where you like paint your partners eye color on your nails or make a bracelet or something with the color a lot actually

[kira-the-whump-enthusiast]

sorry this took me a while to get to!!

Historical or Futuristic

Defff prefer historical stuff. Idk I’m not really into sci-fi? Usually I write/read semi-modern or fantasy stuff. I have a soft spot for dystopian settings tho :D

Opening or Closing Chapter

I’m gonna be honest here, I have never written an ending chapter. And I don’t know how to! I’m bad at finishing things! It’s much easier for me to begin. And not even at the beginning. I just write something from the middle of a silly plot in my head and post it and just be like “here’s 3 sentences of explanation, have fun” and that’s my idea of an opening chapter woohoo.

Light and Fluffy or Dark and Gritty

Seriously, mad respect to the people who can write fluff. I can’t. I am anti fluff. All characters need to be in situations. Dark and gritty stuff is great but I think my tastes lie a bit in between. It can’t be all dark and gritty. Gotta be a little light stuff in there. Something to hope for. Otherwise I get depressed. 

Animal Companion or Found Family

I have a cat. I do not have a lowkey kinda shit family forcing me to rely on friends for all my family needs. I think my OCs usually end up with nice friend groups rather than like found family stuff specifically. Also one of my OCs has a time kitty who can control time. I think that’s really cool.

Horror or Romance

Look. Cocaine Bear vs Hallmark movies. I know which I’d rather watch. Obviously cocaine bear is not peak horror lmao but girl I am literally so tired of the romance genre and it’s 6 million cishet white man and cishet white girl fall in love Twilight-ass bullshit 😭 Also I’m aromantic. Romance isn’t cool unless it’s dysfunctional and toxic as fuck but not in like the heterosexual way in the queer way. If you get what I mean. Or they eat each other. Idk man. Horror is better. Honestly I think whump could count as a form of horror itself--some of the most horrifying stories I’ve read have been other people’s whump pieces. Horror is fucked up and owns it and I like that. I could go on but let’s leave it there.

Hard Magic System or Soft Magic System

Look I am so bad at making consistent rules. I just get a silly idea and I’m like “yeah I’ll make that work.” I could never make a comprehensive system for all this unless I bullshitted it. It feels like inventing math.

Stand Alone or Series

Literally can’t consistently write a series for the life of me. The devil grants me my writing skills and he gifts me motivation at completely random times for completely random ideas. The shit I post? That’s up to Satan, baby. Also I’m bad at making series so everything ends up being stand alone anyways just in case I never write the next one. I love love love reading series tho. Shoutout to writers who can do that I love you all very much.

One Project at a Time or Always Juggling 2+ 

Just look at my masterlist. My WIPs folder has like 10 projects in there. Never, ever have I been able to do one project at a time. Too many silly ideas in this accursed brain.

One Award Winner or One Bestseller 

I’d get embarrassed if so many people read my book,,, also I feel like winning an award is easier to brag about. Actually no if I do become a published author, I would ideally like to have a small but dedicated fanbase that makes a fuck ton of video essays and dissertations about my book. Also they have to be at least 10 years late.

Fantasy or Sci-Fi 

I like the silly things you can do in fantasy. Like immortality and curses and stuff. Idk how to explain it man. Also fantasy outfits are cooler sorry.

Character Description or Setting Description 

I am so bad at settings. Theyre all kinda vague in my head. Characters I’m better at. Also cuz I usually get a visual reference for them so it’s easier to describe them.

First Draft or Final Draft 

If I can get to it, that is.

---

tagging uhhhh anyone who wants to jump in cuz I am become Tired and I cannot do a thought rn. have fun guys :D

This or That Tag

Thanks @verkja for the tag!

Historical or Futuristic

Hm…I prefer to write in a setting that’s loosely based on irl historically-inspired timelines. It serves as a sort of backdrop I can manipulate into an entirely different setting— which works great for writing fantasy. But if I’m reading, I love a futuristic setting.

Opening or Closing Chapter

Okay I love both but an opening chapter sets the stage— it can have so much tension and I love it when a story hits the ground running.

Light and Fluffy or Dark and Gritty

Dark and gritty! Serious undertones and desperate characters and the snap of a lighter in the background? Yes please.

Animal Companion or Found Family

Well, I’ve never written a character with an Animal Companion before, so we’re going with Found Family.

Horror or Romance

Eh, neither. Romance stories really aren’t something I enjoy and Horror may be slightly better, but if I had a choice, I wouldn’t read horror either.

Hard Magic System or Soft Magic System

I like the creative license a soft magic system gives me. I have tried to write a hard magic system but I often box myself in with rules that contradict themselves…so soft magic system it is.

Stand Alone or Series

Cannot for the life of me write a stand alone. The stories always drag on way past the ending I had planned so I usually try to write in trilogies or in interconnected stories.

One Project at a Time or Always Juggling 2+

Oh lord, I wish I wasn’t juggling so many. But my brain refuses to just work on one WIP— always bringing in different ideas, like the jerk it is.

One Award Winner or One Bestseller

If I was ever traditionally published, then I’d have to go with the award winner. I feel like it would be more satisfying, but idk.

Fantasy or Sci-Fi

Fantasy. Yes. That’s all >:D

Character Description or Setting Description

I struggle more with setting description than with describing my characters. I guess I’m worried I’ll bore my readers by over describing the scenery, and so by default writing setting also bores me.

First Draft or Final Draft

Ha it would be great if I could finish either. But yeah, final draft— I can’t think of anything I want more than holding a completed manuscript in my hands.

tagging: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @another-whump-sideblog, @whump-queen, @whither-wander-whump— if you want to, no pressure!

[random-autie-fangirl]

The saddest idea for what happened to Chara in Deltarune is that they climbed the Mt. Ebbot like in Undertale but well...since the monsters left early on, there's no-one to save Chara when they fall and so they just lie there or wander around wounded until they are..."erased from existence" just like they always wanted.

[widevibratobitch]

laalalalala another vent post because i have no therapist to pay for listening to my bullshit

[rickybaby]

“If the stars don’t align …”